The Virgin's Revenge: Rancho del Cielo, Book 4

by Dee Tenorio

  At least she’d gotten that. The stunned look on his face when he’d pulled away suddenly had actually been sort of worth not winning. As if he were as floored as she was at the deliciousness of their mouths coming together.

  He’d gotten her melty enough to go to dinner with him, where they talked about her plans for her house and—of all things—her work schedule. She almost didn’t want to know why her hours were of such importance to him. Without a doubt, the man was up to something—separate from trying to get her to marry him—but she didn’t have enough pieces to guess what it could be. No matter how she’d tried to get it out of him.

  By the time they’d gotten back to her place, she’d actually had it in her mind that she’d get him inside. And then inside. It seemed reasonable, she thought, but nope. He’d left her at her front door with a damn near chaste press of his lips to hers and a promise to see her the next day.

  The ice cream in her freezer had paid a very dear price for that disappointment.

  And now, so had her body. It was humming, throbbing, still waiting for a release that wasn’t coming. She grabbed one of her pillows with the lacy edges and covered her face with it, allowing herself a full-grown scream this time. Why hold it in? There was no one anywhere near her bed to protest.

  No doubt about it. This seduction plan was not going the way it was supposed to. First of all, he was the one supposed to be getting seduced. He needed to be lured into her bed and kept there until she’d satisfied every question and desire she could come up with. And she had so very many.

  Many, many, maaaaaaany.

  There had to be a good reason he wasn’t taking her obvious cues. A really good one, because despite Cole having morals—usually—it wasn’t like she was being subtle about her interest. Not in that dress. Not with those kisses. She couldn’t help it. Being blunt was all she had—sexual sophistication wasn’t in her skill set yet. But bluntness could be sexy, right?

  She thought back to the look on his face when he’d kicked her tire and sent her car smashing into the ground.

  Okay, maybe a little finesse might be in order. Something Cole must have realized because he had certainly used it last night to win.

  She frowned, that annoying crease between her brow tingling as she hugged her knees to her chest. He’d been determined to distract her. He’d done the same thing—minus the kisses and hand-holding—while kicking her ass at Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit. In fact, he got that same glint in his eyes while speaking Elvish to confuse her brothers—That bastard! He played me!

  But…why?

  That question brought her up short. He all but had a red carpet invitation to her bedroom after that game, and he hadn’t taken it. He had Locke’s engraved permission slip to do whatever was necessary to make her fall in love with him and he hadn’t taken advantage of that, either. What could he possibly plan to get out of winning that game? She thought back, considering angles and how they worked for Cole.

  Date girl you’ve known forever. Scary, she will likely expect commitment.

  She responds well to kissing. And touching. And her dress is practically designed to escort you to third base. Excellent, but will I have to call her tomorrow? Probably. Definite no.

  Don’t need a bet to score a homerun with her, but you do everything you can to ensure you win selection rights on the next date and leave your overexcited date all by herself for the rest of the night.

  The Cole in her head was as cryptically silent as the real-life one.

  What are you trying to do, Cole?

  If it were any other situation, she’d think he was trying to lead her into something she didn’t want to do. But Cole would have no reason to trick her into anything. He already knew she’d probably do whatever as long as he asked. Normally, she was dumb like that.

  Then again, from his perspective, she wasn’t exactly acting normal, was she?

  So why hadn’t he asked, even once, why she wasn’t?

  Her breath caught.

  He knew! He knew she was up to something.

  No… He couldn’t…

  But he might. He was always the first to figure out when she was doing something sneaky to get back at her brothers. He never let it slip, either, but he always knew. The question she needed to be asking was…what could he have figured out?

  She gnawed on her thumbnail, thinking for a few seconds. The only time she’d said anything was last night in the bathroom, to Susie. Sure, he’d been at the table when she got back, but she should have known better than to spill without making sure she wasn’t overheard. That was Rule One in this town.

  She did a fast recap on what she’d said to her friend, her stomach dropping like a screaming rollercoaster dip. Mostly her evil plan to use him for sex and drop him, but also that she knew Locke was behind his sudden interest. Not good, but what had her groaning most were Susie’s arguments about Amanda’s crush on him. What if he’d heard that?

  She rubbed her eyes to keep from kicking herself. Not that it would help. Hell, blinding herself at this point wouldn’t help. She forced a calming breath. This wasn’t the end of the world or even her plans. It didn’t matter if he knew. If was the operative word. There was no way to know that he’d listened in. He could also just be up to something all on his own. In either case, she couldn’t just sit there all day pondering the possibilities going through Cole’s head. She had to open the store today, and she still needed a shower.

  But the question plagued her even as she washed, dressed and hopped into her new car. Cole wanted her compliance for something, and whatever that something could be, it definitely wasn’t sex.

  Which meant it was something she should be seriously concerned about.

  Usually, she’d only be a little nervous, because Cole was too nice to do anything as worrisome as what her brothers could think up. But this Cole, the one who’d agreed to let Locke control him—another unfathomable mystery that plagued her—she just wasn’t sure what he might be up to.

  She pulled up behind the Suite Shoppe, mired in her thoughts. In the end, it really didn’t matter what Cole was up to. She wasn’t going to outthink him until she knew more about this next date. Her only option was to worry about her own plans—how to make her brother realize he had no right to control her and how to get Cole to give in.

  Locke was easy. All she had to do was make sure her antics were getting back to him. That would practically take care of itself, once she got started.

  Getting Cole to get over his innate fear of Locke, on the other hand, not to mention into her bed, wasn’t going to happen overnight, no matter how eager she was. Last night proved that. She’d have to ease him into it. Get him comfortable. Work the bases, to stick with the sexual vernacular she knew.

  Wait, did men have a second base?

  She’d have to ask Susie.

  For now, first base had been achieved with that kiss in Shaky Jake’s and after the game the night before. He liked kissing her, too. That much she could tell. And she really liked kissing him. Liked the taste of him, the feel. She sighed, remembering that especially. The way he held her, not so tightly that he hurt her, but…urgent. Like he didn’t want her going anywhere. Ever.

  Like he was losing himself in her, the way she lost sense of anything but him as soon as his lips touched hers.

  She gave herself a full minute to savor the dangerous seduction of that thought. But only one minute. Not long enough to get carried away.

  Tempting or not, she couldn’t let herself get sucked into thinking that any of this seduction—his or hers—was real. It wasn’t. Cole didn’t have relationships, and she couldn’t forget that. She had to emulate his cavalier attitude. Sex was just sex to him. It could be to her too. Or it would be, if she could get the man to give her what she wanted. She’d just have to take a page out of his book and trick him into it.

  “And I’m going to have to up the ante,” she whispered to herself, leaning on the steering wheel with her chin on her hands. But how? Bein
g new to this sucked. Her buttons were all too obvious to him. There had to be a way to push a few more of his.

  Amanda bit her lip before getting out of the car. The answers weren’t going to come to her here. He’d asked her to be ready to go out after work, in casual clothes she wouldn’t mind getting dirty. She could be ready. And she could definitely be ready to get dirty…

  Cole walked up the steps to Amanda’s house, the late afternoon sun warm on his shoulders and a surprising sense of anticipation putting a spring in his step. She wouldn’t see this coming. If all worked out as planned, she wouldn’t think to slug him for luring her into this. He rang the doorbell and waited.

  And waited.

  He checked his phone, but nope, he was right on time, as usual. With the exception of the night with the flat, Amanda wasn’t big on making people wait, either. He looked to the driveway, but just as he remembered, the Mini was parked and gleaming just where it should be. The sedan she’d been ignoring was there on the street too, right in front of his bike. He turned back to the front of the building, checking the windows and noting they were open. Unlike Billy, he wasn’t going to just stick his face in one, though.

  “Amanda, you in there?” He waited, keeping his gaze fixed on the porch floorboards. “Amanda?”

  At first he thought the thin reply was his imagination, but then he heard it again. Definitely her, calling his name.

  “Are you okay in there?”

  “No!” That word came through loud and clear…and kind of exasperated.

  He allowed himself a peer into the dim living room, looking around for anything obviously wrong. Lightning hadn’t hit the house. No fire or smoke anywhere. No flooding that he could see or hear, so she hadn’t blown a main. She definitely wasn’t in the living room though, so something drastic might have happened in one of the other rooms. Maybe the bathroom pipes had burst.

  “Ope…oor!”

  He hoped that last word was door. “How?”

  More muffled words, but he thought he picked out the word “key”. Which probably meant she had a hide-a-key somewhere on the porch, like they had at the main Jackman house. He checked the flowerpots near the door first, but they held nothing but dirt. The top of the lintel only had a layer of dust. Well, not anymore. He wiped his hands on his butt and looked around a little more. The welcome mat was less than helpful, and all the rocks were actual rocks. Which brought him back to the four flowerpots. Since there was nothing else to check, he nudged them with his boot. The first barely moved. The second wasn’t much lighter, but the third scooted with almost no effort at all. Bingo!

  He lifted the pot, and as expected, under the bottom was a foam space big enough to push a key into place. Proving it paid to be dexterous, he pulled the key out in triumph and replaced the plant. A couple of quick jostles in the locks and he was inside. He quickly tucked the key into his back pocket and closed the door again.

  “Amanda?”

  “Back here, in the bedroom!”

  Cole froze. Call it animal instinct or maybe simple self-preservation, but he had a very strong feeling that he was about to walk into trouble. Lots and lots of trouble. Considering what he’d walked into last time, he had to ask, “Are you decent?”

  She was quiet way too long.

  “’Amanda?”

  “How do you define decent, exactly?”

  Can I see your nipples?

  Please?

  Cole shook off that last line of thought before the words got through to his mouth. He coughed into his fist instead. “Should I come in with my eyes covered?”

  “How are you supposed to help me that way?”

  By not seeing a thing and not forgetting that you’ll hate me if I give you what you want from me.

  “Cole? Are you still there?”

  He could have groaned at the nervous timbre to her voice. He was going to have to go in there. “Please, God, don’t let me do anything stupid.”

  He walked down the hall, following where the light poured in from the open doors. The first room was a small guest bedroom. Simple bed, desk and chair, all decorated in lavender. The next was a bathroom, the mirror still foggy and the smell of something faintly floral permeating the air. He recognized it, his stomach tightening a little. Lilac. Just like that, last night’s kiss rammed to the front of his mind like a freight train.

  Never before had he thought of miniature golf as a sensual torment, but damn if he could picture it any other way now. Amanda laughing, her hair pulled up at the top and flowing down her back in satiny streams, was already enough to give a man thoughts he shouldn’t have. Especially him, who’d had years of thoughts about her he had tucked away because he couldn’t possibly give her the family warmth and attention she was used to. Amanda purposely trying to get his attention, her eyes all smoky and filled with intentions he couldn’t allow himself to indulge in, had taken that misapprehension and blown it to kingdom come. By the end of the night, he was nothing but warmth for her.

  He’d welcomed the torture of her pert ass sticking out ever so slightly as she tried to concentrate on hitting the neon blue ball hard enough to get past each obstacle. Savored her growing curiosity with every kiss she instigated. Soft little ones, when he felt her tiny gasps of excitement. Longer, fuller ones, when he’d get to forget all about everything but the taste of her and getting her to make that little moan of pleasure in the back of her throat. Completely enjoyed the opportunity to study exactly how long her legs were and guess how they might feel wrapped around his waist, if only because her cheeks would turn that special shade of pink, and he knew that meant she was loving every second of his admiration. Basking in it, soaking it up and getting more daring with each new discovery.

  If he was going to die of a terminal erection, he couldn’t think of a better reason to go.

  Leaving her at her front door was possibly the most excruciating thing he’d ever done to himself, but it had to be done. Otherwise, he’d have found himself in her bedroom—hell, to be honest, he probably wouldn’t have gotten all the way to her couch, much less her bed—finding out which tiny panties she’d decided to wear under that sinful little dress.

  No, his role in this disaster was bad enough already. He couldn’t take advantage of her on top of it all. At least that’s what he thought before he turned the corner and walked into her bedroom.

  Then it was a miracle he was capable of thinking at all.

  Amanda sat on her bed, her hair piled up in some kind of bun held by a chopstick, of all things, holding a towel over her breasts with one hand. The other waved at him halfheartedly from within one side of a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs.

  Oh yeah, this was more than trouble. It might just be a new, complicated form of homicide. Murder by willfully rushing the blood from the victim’s brain to his cock at speeds unsafe for the human body.

  All because the other loop connected her to her brass bedpost.

  Dear God, I’ve just become a kink convert.

  “Amanda?”

  She smiled at his croak, her cheeks pink again, nervousness all over her like a cloak. Which was good, because that little towel was not at all interested in covering her. The side of her breast was spilling past the edge of the towel she was desperately trying to keep in place. Her legs were folded almost in front of her, her feet barely covering the shadowy space under the curve of her ass. And yes, that was definitely her ass—he looked twice, just to be sure. The towel had ridden up enough to keep her from total coverage, and his hormones were so grateful it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen to his knees in supplication. “Hi.”

  You’ve been set up, Engstrom! Run. Run like your life depends on it.

  He might have done it too, if he hadn’t looked into her eyes. Her miserable, blue-gray eyes. Then he noticed that her legs weren’t drawn up out of modesty. They were quivering ever so slightly, flexed tight. Almost as if they were holding something… Uh-oh.

  Not a set up.

  At least, not anymore. That desper
ation on her face was real.

  And yet…he was still horribly aroused by the sight of her.

  I am a terrible human being.

  “I’d ask how this happened—” he began, hoping like hell if he concentrated hard enough on her dilemma, he could stop thinking about her nudity.

  “Please don’t,” she sighed, dropping her head forward.

  “—but I have the feeling things are getting urgent.”

  “You have no idea.” She turned even deeper shades of red at the admission.

  Okay, that took a lot of the edge off. He couldn’t possibly think about sex while she was so uncomfortable. Of course, once he got her free, all bets were off and he was probably toast, but until then, Amanda was firmly back in the friend category. Friend-in-need category, even better. Friends in need trumped sex every time.

  Now if he could just figure out how to help her.

  The made bed was smooth beneath her, and the nightstand was clear of everything but a jewelry box and a framed picture of her with her brothers. “Where’s the key?”

  “I dropped it,” she said into her chest, as if she couldn’t bear looking at him.

  He frowned. “Under the bed?”

  She shook her head. “Into the grate.” The hand inside the handcuff pointed down to the floor between her bed and the nightstand.

  Cole stepped forward a little, stretching his neck to try to see what she was showing him. Just like she’d said, there was a small floor grate down there, no doubt part of a central heating system. The size of it was not encouraging. He’d been lucky to get the hide-a-key out. There was no way he’d be able to get his fingers in between those slim slats. Another step forward and he saw what he hoped would be their salvation—two small screws holding the grate in place.

  “You sure it fell in there?”

  Amanda lifted her head, her lashes decidedly moister and her eyes slightly red-rimmed. “What?”

  The sight of what could only be threatening tears flipped his heart over and started something that felt a little like panic powering through him. Lust disappeared completely, which worked out because guilt immediately took its place. He could guess why she might have the cuffs. He’d worked them both up the night before, even if he hadn’t meant to. If she’d planned to lure him into her bedroom and make use of those cuffs, it could only be because she didn’t want a repeat of his gentlemanly retreat. “You’re sure it’s in the grate?”