Stirring Attraction (16 page)

 

Epilogue

One year later. . .

“L
ILY?
A
RE YOU
ready?” Dominic paced back and forth in front of the door to the Big Buck's bathroom. “Noah will get suspicious if I don't get back out there soon.”

“Almost,” the woman he loved called back.

Dominic paused by the door's edge. He glanced over his shoulder but the bar's back room remained blissfully empty. No sign of Caroline yet. They hadn't even opened for business. But Noah had asked him to come in early and help add a fresh coat of polish to the bar top today. And how the hell was his best friend supposed to know that Lily would need him in the middle of a Wednesday? Dominic had started paying attention to the calendar and even he hadn't realized that they'd hit their window.

Of course he wasn't the one taking his temperature all the time, waiting and hoping the timing would be just right . . .

“Lily, honey, if you're taking the time to paint your nails to match your panties,” he murmured through the closed door, “you can stop right now. I can perform on demand.”

And yeah, that was an understatement. He'd been hard since she called. Maybe not from that exact moment. At first, he'd worried that she was sitting in her car too afraid to go into her house—­now their home. But it had been months since she'd been paralyzed with fear. Still, he knew that it would always linger. He couldn't erase it. But he sure as hell could drop everything and help her deal with it.

But then she'd informed him that she would be swinging by the bar. Oh, and by the way, would he meet her in the staff bathroom . . . and please don't tell Noah . . .

“I know you can perform when needed,” she whispered. She opened the door and let him slip inside. “But you shouldn't have to. I want this to be special.”

Dominic stared at the gorgeous blonde in hot pink lace panties and nothing else. “It doesn't get much better than this,” he murmured, looking her up and down. And yeah, her toenails matched her underwear. “But, Lil, you can seduce me another time. Right now, we need to make a baby.”

And then I need to get back to work before Noah realizes what we're doing back here.

“But I want to seduce you now.” Lily reached for his waistline and began releasing his jeans. He raised his left hand to help as she lowered the zipper. She guided his pants over his hips, taking his underwear with them. Finally she freed the part of him that planned to take center stage in the baby making process—­and love every minute of it.

But instead of resting her perfect backside on the vanity's edge and spreading her legs wide to take him in, Lily bent at the waist and captured his eager erection in his mouth.

“Ah hell,” he groaned. “Lily—­”

She pulled back. Her lips hovered over him as her hand ran up and down his hard length. “I believe I owe you a demonstration of my super-­special oral skills. This time without interruption.”

“Here?” he rasped. “Now? Lily, Noah's in the other room waiting.”

“I could put a sign outside that says ‘Blow Job in Progress.' ”

“Yeah, Noah would love that.”

She returned her mouth to his dick and he forgot all about his best friend, the bar, the reason they were in this bathroom in the middle of the day . . . His world narrowed to Lily. Her mouth, her hands . . . and he had to have her.

She drew back again, but he could feel her breath as she spoke. “I want to make you lose control. I don't want you to hold back. Not this time.”

Desire roared through him as he hauled her up. “Enough, Lily. You want wild? Rough? You've got it. I can't hold back any longer.”

His hands gripped the back of her thighs as he lifted her up. He felt her legs wrap around his waist. And he thrust into her.

I'm home.

It didn't matter where they were—­their bed, this bathroom, the backseat of his truck—­this was his home and his refuge. Lily. His love. His wife. And one day, the future mother of his child.

He drove into her, harder and faster, determined to give her what she wanted, to make her dreams for a baby come true. Her backside began to slide on the vanity. And he lifted her off. He turned and pressed her up against the windowless wall. And yeah, it was a damn good thing they'd never bothered to decorate the walls, or pictures would be tumbling to the ground right about now.

With his fingers pressed into her ass, he thrust harder and faster, driving them closer and closer . . .

“Oh my!” She threw her head back and hit the wall. He buried himself inside her, his hips forcing hers into the physical barrier at her back. He felt it give a little, the walls crumbling, giving way to the power of his need to fuck her, claim her, love her.

“Dominic!” She screamed his name over and over, her body convulsing around him as she came.

And he followed her, moaning the only words that mattered as he came inside her. “I love you, Lily. I fucking love you.”

Slowly, he stopped thrusting. The last trace of pleasure faded from his grateful cock. But the love—­the love stayed, pulsing through him as he held her against the broken bathroom wall.

“I think that might be it,” she murmured, resting her head back against the cracked surface. Hell, he'd need to replace the sheetrock this time. Noah wouldn't be happy about that. But Dominic didn't give a damn. Right now, the woman in his arms trumped everything.

“Honey, you can seduce me anytime. I want to make your dreams come true. I want this baby as much as you do.”

She tilted her head and looked at him, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Give me ten minutes and I'll show you again.

“Dominic?”

“Yeah, honey?” He lowered his mouth to hers, stealing a kiss. With her cheeks flushed, hell, he couldn't get enough of her. He never would.

“I might have lied to you.”

Bullshit. They never held anything back. Not anymore. “Might have?” he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

“My temperature's not perfect,” she admitted. “I needed to see you. I wanted everything to be perfect, but I couldn't wait until after your shift.”

“Were you scared?” he asked, concern trumping his desire. “If you are, I can come to you. Anytime.”

“No, not scared.” Her mischievous grin widened. “But I couldn't wait until tonight to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” His grip tightened, unwilling to let her go. His pulse quickened and his excitement rose even if another part of him was still too relaxed to participate yet.

“I took a test this morning. A pregnancy test. And this time . . . Dominic, it was positive.” Her voice held a world of wonder. “I wanted to be sure, so I used the entire box. All positive.”

“You're pregnant.” Saying the words out loud brought a fever pitch of happiness he'd never imagined. “We're having a baby?”

She nodded.

A baby. Their baby. Her dream come true. And now his.

“I love you, Lily. And I'm going to love our baby too.” He felt the joy rush in on the heels of pure awe. And he realized that he'd never believed he would get here. He'd never believed he would be good enough for not only Lily, but the promise of a child.

“Everything all right in there?” Noah's voice cut through the perfection.

“Great,” Dominic called back as he ran his hand down Lily's hair. “I'm great.”

And that was a fucking understatement. He felt like his heart might explode with love. The rangers, his team, and the success he'd thought he needed to claim his sweet, sexy Lily—­it felt like another lifetime. This was his future. Lily. A baby. A family.

“Yeah, well, I saw Lily's car out front,” Noah said. “So I know you're not taking apart the bathroom on your own. Take your time. I'm going to head out for a while.”

Dominic waited until he heard the door slam shut. Then he placed his hand over her stomach. “I'm going to be there for our child. I'll love this baby, Lil. With all my heart.”

“I know you will.” She rose up and brushed her lips over his. “And I know you're staying this time. I know it in my heart.”

“Damn right I'm staying. For the baby. And for you, Lil. Always for you.” Then he dropped to his knees, ignoring the broken bits of wall on the floor. “Spread your legs, honey. And let me show you how much I love you, now and forever.”

 

Sara Jane Stone continues her devastatingly sexy

Second Shot
series with

MIXING TEMPTATION

After a year spent living in hiding—­with no end in sight—­Caroline Andrews wants to reclaim her life. But the lingering trauma from her days serving with the marines leaves her afraid to trust the tempting logger who delivers friendship and the promise of something more.

Following an accident that nearly robbed him of his hopes for the future, Josh Summers believes life has given him a second chance. He wants to settle down with the woman who stole his attention and his heart. And he's willing to wait until she's ready to be more than “just friends.” When fear of discovery leaves Caroline pretending to be his date, Josh tempts her to try the real thing—­a relationship built on trust, not lies.

But then the past threatens and Caroline must risk everything—­including her freedom—­to bury her demons before she can take a chance on happy-­ever-­after.

Click here to pre-­order!

 

And keep reading for an excerpt from the first book

in the
Second Shot
series,

SERVING TROUBLE

Five years ago, Josie Fairmore left timber country in search of a bright future. Now she's back home with a mountain of debt and reeling from a loss that haunts her. Desperate for a job, she turns to the one man she wishes she could avoid. The man who rocked her world one wild night and then walked right out of it.

Former Marine Noah Tager is managing his dad's bar and holding tight to the feeling that his time overseas led to failure. The members of his small town think he's a war hero, but after everything he's witnessed, Noah doesn't want a pat on the back. The only thing he desires is a second chance with his best friend's little sister.

Josie's determined to hold on to her heart and not repeat her mistakes, but when danger arrives on Noah's doorstep and takes aim at Josie, they just might discover that sometimes love is worth the risk.

An Excerpt from

SERVING TROUBLE

“I
DROVE TO
the wrong bar.”

Josie Fairmore stared up at the unlit sign towering above the nearly vacant parking lot, her cell phone pressed to her ear. Nothing changed in Forever, Oregon. Everything from the ­people to the names of the bars remained the same. The triplets, who had to be over a hundred now, still owned The Three Sisters Café downtown. Every car and truck she'd sped past had the high school football team's flag mounted on the roof or featured on the bumper. And her father was still the chief of police.

Nothing changed. That was why she'd left for college and never looked back.

Until now.

She'd blown past the Forever town line ten minutes ago. She'd driven straight to the place that promised a rescue from her current hell. And she'd parked under the sign, which appeared determined to prove her wrong.

“Josephine Fairmore, it is ten thirty in the morning,” Daphne said through the phone, her tone oddly stern for the owner of a strip club situated outside the town limits. “The fact that you're at a bar might be your first mistake.”

Damn. If the owner of The Lost Kitten was her voice of reason, Josie was screwed.

“When did they take the ‘country' out of Big Buck's Country Bar?” Josie stared at the letters above the entrance to the town's oldest bar. She twirled the key to her red Mini, which looked out of place beside the lone monster truck in the lot. She should probably take the car back to the city. The Mini didn't belong in the land of four-­wheelers, pickups, and logging trucks. The red car would miss the parking garage.

But I can't afford the parking garage anymore. I can't even pay my rent. Or my bills. . .

“Big Buck gave in three years ago,” Daphne explained, drawing Josie's attention back to the bar parking lot. “He decided to take Noah's advice and get rid of the mechanical bull. He wanted to attract the college crowd.”

“He got rid of the bull before I went to college.” And before his son left to join the United States Marine Corps. She should know. She'd ridden the bull at his going away party.

With Noah.

And then she'd ridden Noah.

“Well, Buck made a few more changes,” Daphne said. “He added a new sound system and—­”

“He changed the name. I guess that explains why Noah came home.” She glanced at the dark, quiet bar. The hours posted by the door read “Open from noon until the cows come home (or 3am, whichever comes first!).”

“He served for five years and did two tours in Afghanistan. Stop by The Three Sisters and you'll get an earful about his heroics,” Daphne said. “But from what I've heard, Noah didn't want to sign up for another five. Not after his grandmother died last year.”

“You've seen him?” Josie looked down at her cowboy boots. She hadn't worn them since that night in Noah's barn. She'd thought they'd help her land the job at the “country” bar. But now she wished she'd worn her Converse, maybe a pair of heels.

“Yes.”

“At The Lost Kitten?” Why, after all this time, after she never responded to his apologetic letter, would she care if Noah spent his free time watching women strip off their clothes? One wild, stupid, naked night cut short by her big brother didn't offer a reason for jealousy.

But the fact that I told him I love him? That might.

“No. I bumped into him at the café.” Daphne hesitated. “He didn't smile. Not once.”

“PTSD?” she asked quietly. She couldn't imagine walking into a war zone and leaving without long-­lasting trauma. The things he probably saw . . .

“Maybe,” Daphne said. “But he's not jumpy. He just seems pissed off at the world. Elvira was behind the counter that day. She tried to thank him for serving our country after he ordered a burger. He set a ten on the counter and walked out before his food arrived.”

“He left his manners in the Middle East.” Josie stared at the door to Big Buck's. “Might hurt my chances for getting a job.”

“I think your lack of waitressing or bartending experience will be the nail in the coffin. But if Noah turns you down, you can work here.”

“I'd rather keep my shirt on while I work,” Josie said dryly.

And he won't turn me down. He promised to help me.

But that was before he turned into a surly former marine.

“You'd make more without it,” Daphne said. “Or you can tell the hospital, the collection agency—­whoever's coming after you—­the truth. You're broke.”

“I did. They gave me a payment plan and I need to stick to it.” She headed for the door. “I ignored those bills for months. Besides, what kind of mother doesn't pay her child's medical bills?”

The kind who buried her son twenty-­seven days after he was born.

Daphne didn't say the words, but Josie knew she was thinking them. Her best friend was the only person in Forever who knew the truth about why she was desperate for a paycheck. If only Daphne had inherited a restaurant or a bookstore—­a place with fully clothed employees.

“He has to agree,” Josie added. “I need that money.”

“I know.” Daphne sighed. “And I need to get to work. I have a staff of topless waitresses and dancers who depend on me for their paycheck. Good luck, Josie.”

“Thanks.” She ended the call and slipped her phone into the bag slung over her shoulder alongside her wallet and resume.

She drew a deep breath. But a churning feeling started in her belly, foreboding, threatening. She knew this feeling and she didn't like it. Something bad always followed.

Her boyfriend headed for the door convinced he was too young for a baby . . . Her water broke too early. . .

She tried the door. Locked, dammit.

Ignoring the warning bells in her head telling her to run to her best friend's club and offer to serve a topless breakfast, she raised her hand and knocked.

“Hang on a sec,” a deep voice called from the other side. She remembered that sound and could hear the echo of his words from five long years ago, before he'd joined the marines and before she'd gone to college hoping for a brighter future—­and found more heartache.

Call, email, or send a letter. Hell, send a carrier pigeon. I don't care how you get in touch, or where I am. If you need me, I'll find a way to help.

He'd meant every word. But ­people changed. They hardened. They took hits and got back up, leaving their heart beaten and wrecked on the ground.

She glanced down as if the bloody pieces of her broken heart would appear at her feet. Nope. Nothing but cement and her boots. She'd left her heart behind in Portland, dead and buried, thank you very much.

The door opened. She looked up and . . .

Oh my . . . Wow. . .

She'd gained five pounds—­well, more than that, but she'd lost the rest. She'd cried for weeks, tears running down her cheeks while she slept, and flooding her eyes when she woke. And it had aged her. There were lines on her face that made her look a lot older than twenty-­three.

But Noah . . .

He'd gained five pounds of pure muscle. His tight black T-­shirt clung to his biceps. Dark green cargo pants hung low on his hips. And his face . . .

On the drive, she'd tried to trick herself into believing he was just a friend she'd slept with one wild night. She'd made a fool of herself, losing her heart to him then.

Never again.

She'd made a promise to her broken, battered heart and she planned to keep it. She would not fall for Noah this time.

But oh, the temptation . . .

His short blond hair still looked as if he'd just run his hands through it. Stubble, the same color as his hair, covered his jaw. He'd forgotten to shave, or just didn't give a damn. But his familiar blue eyes left her ready to pass out at his feet from lack of oxygen.

He stared at her, wariness radiating from those blue depths. Five years ago, he'd smiled at her and it had touched his eyes. Not now.

“Josie?” His brow knitted as if he'd had to search his memory for her name. His grip tightened on the door. Was he debating whether to slam it in her face and pretend his mind had been playing tricks on him?

“Hi, Noah.” She placed her right boot in the doorway, determined to follow him inside if he tried to shut her out.

“You're back,” he said as if putting together the pieces of a puzzle. But still no hint of the warm, welcoming smile he'd worn with an easy-­going grace five years ago.

“I guess you didn't get the carrier pigeon,” she said, forcing a smile.
Please let him remember.
“But I need your help.”

N
OAH STARED AT
the dark-­haired beauty. Her white T-­shirt hugged her curves, and her cutoff jean shorts sent him on a trip down memory lane. And those boots . . .

The memory of Josephine Fairmore had followed him to hell and back. He'd tried to escape the feel of her full lips, the taste of her mouth, her body pressed up against his . . . and he'd failed. He'd carried every detail of that night in the barn with him to basic training. Right down to her cowgirl boots. He'd dreamed about Josie in a bikini, Josie on the mechanical bull, Josie damn near
anywhere
, while hiking through the Afghan desert. He'd spent years lying in makeshift barracks wanting and wishing for a chance to talk to her while staring into her large green eyes.

And yeah, who was he kidding? His gaze would head south and he'd let himself drink in the sight of her breasts.

He closed his eyes. He'd spent two long deployments hoping for an email, a letter—­something from her. He'd wanted confirmation that she was all right. But she never wrote. Not once. She'd reduced him to begging for tidbits from Dominic. Not that her brother had volunteered much more than a
She's fine. Stay the hell away from her.

But she wasn't fine.

He opened his eyes.

“You needed help and you sent a pigeon?” He released his grip on the door and rested his forearm against it. “You could have called.”

“I thought it would be better to apply for a job in person,” she said, her voice low and so damn sultry that his dick was on the verge of responding.

Not going to happen.

There were a helluva lot of things beyond his control. His dad's health. His grandmother's heart failure while he was stationed in Bumblefuck, Afghanistan, fighting two enemies—­and one of them should have been on his side. And the fact that the only time he felt calm, in control, and something bordering on happiness, was at the damn shooting range.

Still, he could control his own dick.

But why the hell should I?

He let his gaze drift to her chest, down her hips, and down her slim legs. He'd wanted her for five long years and here she was on his doorstep. What was stopping him from pulling her close and starting where they'd left off five years ago? He wasn't the good guy worried about her big brother's reactions or her reputation. Not anymore. Nothing he'd done in the past five years had left him feeling heroic. So why start now?

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. And while he appreciated the way her breasts lifted, he raised his gaze to meet hers.

“I'm not hiring,” he lied. Big Buck's needed a waitress or two, another bartender, and a dishwasher to keep up with the crowds pouring in from the nearby university, desperate to bump and grind to house music. But if she worked here, well hell, then he'd have another reason he shouldn't touch her. He had a rule about messing around with his female employees. It was bad business. He'd worked too hard to turn Big Buck's into something to fool around with a waitress or a bartender.

She raised an eyebrow and nodded to the Help Wanted sign he'd put up in the window. “Someone put that up without asking you?”

Shit.

“I recently filled the position,” he said, searching for an excuse that didn't touch on the truth.

“I'm too late.” She shook her head. “Perfect. I guess I should have gotten up the nerve to come home a few days ago.”

He glanced over her shoulder and saw a red Mini parked beside his truck. It looked like a toy next to his F-­250. And apart from the driver's side, every cubic inch appeared stuffed with bags.

“I thought you liked Portland. Greg from the station said you haven't been back here in a few years,” he said, knowing he should close the door and end the conversation. If he let her in, if he handed her an application followed by a Big Buck's apron, he couldn't touch her. That wasn't much different from the past five years, or the ones before the going away party, but she hadn't spent the past decade or so within arm's reach.

“It didn't work out,” she said.

“They don't have jobs up there for someone with a fancy degree? I bet you could do a lot better than serving drinks.”

She blinked and for a second he thought she might turn around and walk away, abandoning her plea for help. “I took a break from school, lost my scholarship, and then dropped out,” she said.

“What?” He stared at her. “Dominic never said—­”

“My dad didn't know I'd quit school until recently. And I don't think he told Dom,” she said quickly. “My brother has enough to worry about over there. Like not getting killed or . . .”

“Worse,” he supplied. Like losing a limb or a fellow soldier. Yeah, Noah knew plenty of guys who'd lost both. But he'd worried about losing respect for the band of brothers serving with him because they'd flat out refused to treat the woman busting her ass alongside them with an ounce of decency . . .

Except Dominic would probably have stepped in and saved the woman before she was attacked. Josie's brother wouldn't let the situation get beyond his control and then try to pick up the pieces.