Anticipation prickled her skin, leaving behind a fine sheen of perspiration. Tate slowly stroked the sweat trickling between her breasts. She wondered why he wasn’t sweltering. In this heat, covering that fine, fine body in pesky clothes seemed a waste of fabric.
She fanned herself, imagining her zealous hands easing off his shirt. No, tearing off his shirt. Running eager fingers down his long, muscular arms. Or using her teeth to lift the flimsy tank top to expose his lean stomach…
He turned and seemed to look right at her.
Tate dropped the curtain back into place and stepped from sight. Yeah, that’d be great. Attacking the man in her front yard.
When he paused to jot on a clipboard, she deemed her hormones under control and stepped outside.
The sun beat down as clouds of chalky dust kicked around her ankles. Nathan smiled but remained intent on inspecting both sides of the street, running a stick with a wheel on the end parallel to the curb. After adding to his notes, he used a red bandana to mop the sweat beaded on his forehead. “Give me another minute, okay? I want to check something in back.”
“Why don’t you come through the house? I’ve made some cookies and iced tea.” Tate could’ve smacked herself in the head. Cookies and iced tea? What had she been thinking? And then we can adjourn to the backyard for a rousing game of croquet. Sheesh. Nathan LeBeau was probably used to women who offered themselves as refreshment, not geeky girls with questionable seduction skills.
In the small backyard, he studied the white paint peeling from the slats of the eight-foot-high wooden fence.
“I know that fence needs some work,” she said.
He faced her, seeming surprised she’d stayed. “Nothing a power washing and a coat of paint won’t cure. Now I’m ready to talk specifics.”
Once inside the house Nathan seemed to relax. Strange that his enormous frame didn’t look silly perched on her aunt’s prissy brocade sofa. “This is a great house.” His gaze swept the newly painted walls against the mahogany woodwork and the antiques, books, knickknacks and artwork scattered about.
“Thanks.” She dabbed powdered sugar from her fingertips and reached for her glass, accidentally bumping his knee. “An inheritance from my Aunt Beatrice.”
“Is that why you’re back in Spearfish?”
“Yeah. Took some time off to settle her estate,” Tate said. Surprising how easily that half-truth slipped out. “It needed updating, and I went a little gung-ho at first until…my poor checkbook balance screamed stop.”
His eyes reflected understanding. “Remodeling can get expensive in a hurry.”
“Tell me about it.” She gestured to his clipboard propped on the scarred coffee table. “Once everything has passed inspection, I’ll put it on the market and head back to Denver.”
“Seems a shame to do all this work and not get to enjoy it.” Nathan studied her curiously as he drained his tea. “Val told me you’re a hotshot graphic artist with a pretty high-powered job. You must miss it if you’re so eager to return.”
Better not confess she might not even have a job in another few weeks. “I don’t miss the hours. Luckily we didn’t have any huge projects looming, so this mini-sabbatical was perfectly timed.”
He frowned at the ice cubes in his empty glass. “Does seem odd that a company would let you take such an extended leave.”
Not odd. Unheard of. Pretty shrewd question, however. “It’s unpaid, falling under the ‘family emergency category’, hence my precarious financial situation.”
“Can’t your family help out?”
Her mouth tightened. Perceptive man, but again, she didn’t want to detail that horror either. “They’ve offered. I’ve refused.” Forcing a smile, she held out the silver platter. “More shortbread?”
He waved the plate away. “Val knows all this?”
“What? That I want to strangle all those home improvement hosts on HGTV that make it look so easy?”
“Funny, but not what I meant. She knows that you aren’t getting financial support from your family?”
“Yes.” Change the subject before he delves too deeply. “I’m stubbornly self-supporting, so I’ve come up with some pretty funky ideas to solve my cash-flow problems. Grace Fitzgerald is paying me to teach art at the Girls Club. And now this trade with you will serve a couple of my needs.” Tate cringed and dropped her gaze to the Oriental rug. God. Talk about a crude implication.
Awkward silence.
With a gentle tone, Nathan said, “Tate, look at me.”
Her gaze met his, expecting pity. But something dangerous and unbelievably sexy lurked there. “Look, Nathan, I don’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind—”
His mouth, soft yet insistent, was on hers before she finished the sentence.
He set her glass on the table without breaking the kiss. Hauled her onto his lap as if she weighed nothing. His large hands circled her hips as he gently coaxed her lips to respond to his sweet heat.
Tate yielded to him without hesitation.
Their breath mingled while warm, tender flesh brushed across warm, tender flesh. A nibble. A lick. A sigh.
When Nathan’s tongue darted toward hers, Tate canted her head and opened fully for his kiss. Her heart thudded madly as he swamped her senses with the delicious, erotic ways he used his tongue. He explored patiently, not trying to reach her tonsils on the first go-round.
Six months wouldn’t be enough time to delve into the mysteries of his succulent mouth, let alone six measly weeks. The scent of aroused male surrounded her; heat from his remarkably firm body burned her from the inside out. Her dizzy moan of delight turned into a surprised gasp when he broke the kiss.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since last night.” He nipped her bottom lip between his sharp teeth and slid his strong hands around her hips to squeeze her rear. “Damn if you don’t taste as good as I imagined.”
“Then why did you stop?”
He lifted her back into her corner of the couch. “Because we need to talk about the project and set up some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” Why were they discussing business when her lips positively tingled and she’d finally experienced her first real taste of passion?
“About the deal. The business end is easy. You’ll pay for the raw materials; I’ll provide the labor and act as mediator with the city planning office and the Beautification Committee. Since I’m booked for the rest of the summer, my work here will be limited to weekends. That okay?”
“Fine.” She toyed with his long, silky braid before wrapping the thick plait around her palm. Heartened by his quick intake of breath, she tugged him closer by his captive hair and crushed her lips to his.
It didn’t take him long to take complete control.
Nathan scorched her lips in a manner that left Tate gasping. Good God he scrambled her brain. Made her sweat in places she hadn’t realized she had glands. Her body was damp and needy…from just a kiss.
“I’ll be surprised if I get any work done with you around, hot stuff.” Her bottom lip trembled under the soothing stroke of his thumb. “You are a disruption to my already weak train of thought.”
Tate smiled before climbing back onto his lap. When he let loose a lusty groan, her smile grew, as did her confidence.
“Why did I think you were shy?” Nathan asked.
“I usually am.”
He blinked in confusion.
“It’s true,” she argued. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
Nathan had the grace to balk at that. “Meaning?”
“I’m not a freckle-faced little blonde waif, helpless, cute as a bug and all those nauseating descriptions.”
His gaze darkened. His rough fingers smoothed the silky skin of her nape until she nearly purred. “I don’t see you that way at all.”
“Really?”
“Really. So what else do you want out of this deal?”
Tate curled the tips of her fingers over the jagged planes of his cheekbones
. His rugged face looked hard, but his hazel eyes were soft, like melted toffee. “I’ll get real specific about what else I want if you promise not to laugh.”
His hand stroked a swath of warmth over her spine that bespoke of sexual heat, not comfort. “Nothing you could say would make me laugh.”
“Okay, here goes.” She buried her face in the warm curve of his neck, inhaling a unique mix of sweat, soap and an underlying hint of the outdoors. “In addition to expanding your professional boundaries, what could be better than you and me exploring our sexual boundaries?”
“Sweet Jesus.”
Her hope bloomed when he didn’t protest further. “What do you want?”
Nathan sure took his own sweet time in answering. “I want that too, eventually, but I’d rather get to know you first.”
Why wasn’t he delighting in the idea of their naked, damp bodies rolling around on sweat-drenched satin sheets? Or in the dirt? Or anyplace at all?
She couldn’t stop the dismayed, “Why?”
“Can we talk about those particulars later? We need to address another thing first: Val.”
“What about Val?”
“Because you’re her friend and she’s my sister I do not want her to know the intimate details between us.”
Tate’s hopes deflated. Hell’s bells. Who was she supposed to rave to about her great new sex life now? Unfair, when she dangled on the precipice of experiencing sexual bliss. “But—”
“No buts. This is a nonnegotiable point.”
She blew out an exasperated sigh. “Anything else?”
Nathan fingered the dent in her chin and softly brushed his warm lips over it. “I should schedule those art lessons, but the only thing I can think of right now is how badly I want to eat you up.”
And he tried. Grazing his teeth down the column of her throat, followed by soft flicks of his tongue. Tate’s thighs clenched. Her hopes soared. “Would you like to go upstairs and see my etchings?” she murmured.
Laughing softly, he rested his forehead against her chest in mock defeat. “One more comment like that and I’ll haul your cute ass straight to bed. To hell with taking it slow.”
Her body threatened to liquefy at the gruffness of his tone and his hot breath teasing her nipples. But she knew this was her big chance to lay everything out up front without any misunderstandings. “Uh-uh. I don’t want to take things slow. Nor do I want our first time to be in a bed.”
Beneath her, he went rigid. “What?”
“Not in a bed or in missionary position. Something inventive.” She licked the inside whorl of his ear and flouted her newfound bravado, “Something erotic and entirely unexpected.”
“Winyan, you’re going to be the death of me.”
“What’s winyan mean?” she asked, hoping it was Lakota for goddess.
“Woman.”
“Mmm. Big guy like you can handle this winyan just fine. Now kiss me.”
Locking their gazes, Nathan captured her mouth in a wet kiss that sucked all lucid thoughts from her head. He touched her, floating his hands up her stomach, caressing her rib cage, cupping her breasts with his wide palms.
The ripples of pleasure made a mockery of anything she’d felt before. Her nipples grew taut under the steady rhythm of his stroking thumbs. She melted into him while his mouth continued to destroy her. Dizzy and aching, she tipped her pelvis forward, wishing all barriers between them were gone and they were skin to skin.
His cell phone trilled.
“Sorry,” he mumbled against her mouth.
She attempted to convince him to ignore it by reattaching their lips, but Nathan scooted her back into the corner of the couch.
After a muffled curse, he answered, “LeBeau… Yeah… When? It was fine an hour ago. No, don’t touch it. I’ll be there in ten.” He stood. “Sorry.”
Tate sighed with regret, extending her tongue over her lips for another heady taste of him. When she glanced up, he was watching her with unabashed hunger. “Something serious?”
“Got a piece of machinery acting up, and Steve can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.”
“Can you fix it?”
He shrugged. “Probably. Don’t know how long it’ll take.”
There went her plans for a little afternoon delight. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. Then I’ve got to check on another job in Deadwood. I won’t get back into town until later tonight.” He scratched his chin, adding as an afterthought, “Which also means I can’t even think about starting on your project until next weekend. Provided you can help me finish the preliminary sketches before then.” He reached over to straighten the mess he’d made of her shirt. His rough-skinned knuckles arced over the bare flesh on the inside of her arm, lightly teasing the swell of her breast.
Her mind nearly shut down at the sensuality of his simple touch. She laid her hand over his, threading their fingers together before rising to her feet.
Nathan peered at her intently. “Have plans for later?”
“No.”
“Can I come by later and take you…”
Take you. God, yes. The prospect of hot sex lit her insides like a neon sign. Visions of him taking her every conceivable way. Against the pillars on the porch. On the hood of his monster-sized pickup. Hanging upside down from a tree in the backyard—
“Tate?”
Somehow she climbed down from the branch of that particular fantasy and shifted her focus back to him. “Mmm?”
“What do you say? Wanna go out for ice cream?”
“Ice cream?” she repeated inanely. Not exactly the decadent treat she had in mind, which indicated how far she’d gone out of her mind with lust. She never turned down ice cream. But the possibility of licking Nathan LeBeau? The sugary confection definitely plunged to last place.
“Yeah, ice cream,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling. “I love swirling my tongue around those incredibly sweet, creamy mounds. Lapping up every inch until I’ve had my fill.” His scorching gaze descended to her cleavage, dawdled, then took the long way back up to meet her eyes. “What do you say?”
Tate licked her lips. “What time?”
“Oh God, that was sooo good.” Tate stretched languidly, arching her arms above her head with utter abandon.
“Can you handle some more?” Nathan inched closer to drag one blunt fingertip down her cheek.
“No.” She shivered when his breath tickled her collarbone. “Two is plenty for one night, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. I liked watching you enjoy it with unrestrained gusto.” His hot mouth brushed her ear. “It was sexy as hell.”
Tate purred, “Is it that obvious?”
“That you love ice cream?” Using the callused pad of his thumb, he cleaned a chocolate smudge from her chin. “In some places more than others.”
“So what now?”
“Want to go for a walk?” He pushed up from the park bench and held out his hand to help her to her feet. “It’s a nice night.”
It was perfect—warm, balmy summer air with the faint twinkle of stars. The only things missing from the romantic moonlit evening was the sweet scent of jasmine and a strolling violinist.
And a super-size box of condoms.
Lord. What was happening to her? She’d never ever ever in her adult life had crazy, strictly sexual thoughts like this. Unless… Her older friends had warned her sex drive would change dramatically when she hit the big three-oh, but that was more than five months away.
“Tate?” He tilted her face up to meet his quizzical gaze. “Would you rather go home?”
“Sorry. The sugar high must’ve affected my brain. I’d love to go for a walk.” She placed her hand in his, pressing her face against his sleek biceps. Fantasized about running her tongue between his thick fingers up to his massive shoulder.
Take a deep breath and get your mental mouth off his body.
They strolled companionably through the deserted park. The dichotomy surprised her. They�
�d attained a level of comfort in such a short amount of time, and yet a casual brush of his skin across hers made her burn. Made her ache to know the intense side of Nathan that showed no comfort whatsoever.
No time like the present to find out.
Tate’s clever yawn had the effect she’d intended; he took her home immediately.
Beneath the arbor at the front gate, she asked, “Want to come in for a nightcap?” Or to see my nightgown?
“I can’t. I’ve got an early day.” When her disappointment showed, he promptly backtracked. “Although I can’t start any dirt work until the weekend, we still can see each other.”
“Anxious to get started on those art lessons?”
“Soon.” He rested his shoulder on the porch pillar. “Would you like to go out tomorrow night?”
“Is this some of that ‘getting to know you’ stuff you were talking about earlier?” Tate asked suspiciously.
“Yep.”
This wasn’t going the direction she’d hoped, but she was adaptable. “Where, when and what time?”
Nathan grinned. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you? Tell you what. I’ll swing by the night after next. It’ll be a surprise.”
“Will you at least give me a hint?”
“Sure.” He kissed her chastely on the forehead before his lips nibbled a seductive path to her ear. “I guarantee after I’m done with you, your head will be spinning. Until then,” he whispered, “sweet dreams.”
As Tate watched him disappear into the darkness, she knew there wouldn’t be one sweet thing about her dreams tonight.
Tate watched as her friend Grace Fitzgerald shoved aside the chips and salsa to make room on the table for her briefcase. Grace popped the locks and rummaged around until she unearthed the spiral notebook.
“Aren’t you having a margarita?” Tate asked.
“No.” Grace shut the briefcase and set it on the floor.
Dirty Deeds: Standalone sexy romance Page 4