by Joanne Rock
The exposed brick walls and bamboo floors had been cleaned and restored. A staircase with dark slats and a thick, Craftsman-style handrail led upward, the mirror on the landing reflecting the dull light of silver pendant lamps. The beautifully detailed hammered-tin ceiling tiles looked original.
But she didn’t have a chance to compliment him on the remodeling project in progress. He stalked toward her, his intent gaze rising from her mouth to her eyes. Her pulse quickened as she remembered why they were here.
The music from the jukebox drifted in through the open door. The rest of the world was close, but not close enough to see what was happening in here. He paused near her, took off his Stetson and settled it on a wrought-iron hook beside the door. She could see his eyes better now that the brim wasn’t casting a shadow. Jillian let her satchel fall to the floor with a soft thud. Her eyes remained on Carson. The stranger she knew.
Then his hand was cupping her face, tilting her chin. Her eyelids fell, the sensations coming so fast and fierce she needed to focus simply on what she was feeling.
His kiss chased off any reservations she might have had, providing instant clarity about what she wanted. Desire shot through her; it felt like going up too fast in an elevator. Her knees almost buckled, and her whole body was seized with dizzying sensations. She reached to steady herself against him and ended up molded to the hard expanse of his muscles, from her hips to her breasts.
Her instincts took over. Winding her arms around his neck, she sought a closer connection.
For a moment, he kissed her harder. Deeper. She sucked air into her lungs in hard pants when he finally angled back, breaking the kiss to study her.
“Are you okay with this?” he asked, his thumbs stroking lazy circles on her shoulders through the thin fabric of her blouse.
She wanted more than a kiss, she knew now. Much, much more.
“Better than okay.” She laid her palm on his cheek. Willed him to understand what she needed.
Connection. Affirmation. Him.
His jaw flexed; his breathing was as labored as hers. Then he backed her into the wall and she vaguely registered the rough brick against her spine for a moment before he hooked an arm under her hips and hefted her higher. The action slid her along the rigid length of—
Oh. My.
She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, clearing a path to his ear so she could whisper, “Don’t stop.”
* * *
Her soft plea undid him.
Up until that moment, Cody had been doing his damnedest to keep the explosive attraction in check. He’d made sure she was on board with what was happening between them. Helped her to feel safe and in control at all times. There was a bar full of people—well, a few people—just on the other side of the door.
But now?
She was like an out-of-control blaze in his arms. The chemistry was blistering. And her quiet, insistent “Don’t stop” torched the last shreds of his restraint.
Cupping her sweet curves in his hands, he brought the juncture of her thighs against his rock-hard erection, feeling the heat of her right through her long skirt. With the flip of his belt buckle, he could be inside her in no time.
“Please,” she murmured against his neck, kissing her way down his throat as she tugged at his T-shirt. “I have a clean bill of health. No partners since my last checkup.” She stopped kissing him long enough to glance up at him.
His short bark of laughter surprised him. Hell, she surprised him with the glimpses of an efficient woman beneath the passionate kisses.
“Me, too.” He set her back on her feet. “And thank you for that. I have protection somewhere. A bathroom upstairs, I think.” He’d stocked the basics, since he’d spent a few nights here overseeing the construction work when it had run late into the night.
“I have one,” she blurted, scrambling to retrieve the patchwork bag she’d dropped on the floor. “I bought it when I—well, in a fit of optimism.” She combed through the papers and electronics in her satchel. A bright pink pair of earbuds and a lipstick tube spilled out. “Here.”
She stood back up and stuffed a foil packet into his right hand, then launched herself into his arms. He wanted to move them upstairs where there was a sofa, but her fingers made quick work of his belt and the button fly, scrambling the last of his good intentions as she stroked him lightly.
“Hold on to me.” The words were a brusque command as he lifted her against him, a thigh in each hand as he helped her to wrap his legs around him. With her secured that way, he stepped close enough to the door to lock it.
She took the forgotten condom from him while he backed her against the door, a smoother surface than the brick wall. With her pinned there, he used a hand to tug her skirt higher. Out of the way.
She was in the process of tearing open the packet when he touched her through the silk of her panties, finding her hot and ready for him. He withdrew the condom from her, rolling it into place. His pulse pounded in his temples, the need for her an undeniable urge. A fierce ache. He wanted to take more time, touch her until an orgasm simmered through her. But her restless hands roved over him, peeling away his shirt and undershirt, tracing down his spine, spearing through his hair. Her hips bucked, and the slide of her soft, feminine center against his rigid length threatened to take his knees right out from under him.
Being inside her was his only option.
Slipping her panties aside, he entered her, slowly. Her fingers flexed against his arms, her nails gently biting into his skin as she held herself still. Head thrown back, she parted her lips on a sigh of pleasure. Her cheeks flushed deep pink, her lashes fluttering as she started to move with him.
The feel of her all around him was the sexiest high he could remember. From her boots hooked around his waist to her blouse sliding off one shoulder, she was all in. Her honeysuckle scent called to him, and he licked her tender skin while he buried himself deep inside her. Over and over again.
He held back when he could tell she was close. Her cheeks went from pink to small spots of red, her breath hitched and her hips went still. He slipped a hand down to touch her intimately, caressing tender circles right...there.
She came apart in his arms with a cry of pleasure that brought his release surging right afterward. Heat blasted his shoulders as sweat popped along his spine. The sensation went on and on, pummeling him, wringing everything from him. She clung to him, shifting against him as the aftershocks rocked her.
“Carson.” She breathed the word with a sigh, her eyes closed and her head thrown back.
His brother’s name on his lover’s lips brought everything inside Cody grinding to a halt. His heart rate slowed. His brain ceased working, too. Nothing made sense.
“What did you just say?” His mouth formed the words even as a chill rushed over his skin. He shifted his hold on her, barely able to think.
She peered up at him through eyelids at half-mast.
Whatever she saw in his expression must have given her pause, because she tipped her head sideways and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
“Carson,” she repeated, loud and clear, even though she looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I knew who you were when I walked into the bar. I was looking for you.”
“Not me, sweetheart.” With an effort, he straightened his shoulders. “I’m Cody McNeill. You’ve got the wrong twin.”
Three
“You’re Cody?” The color drained from the woman’s face, as if that was extraordinarily unpleasant news.
Not that he was surprised. Cody did just fine with women when he chose to, but Carson had always been the ladies’ man. Clearly, Carson was the guy she’d been hoping for. So yeah...he wasn’t surprised, but definitely a bit disappointed given the incredible encounter they’d just shared. After his last go-round with a faithless female, Cody wasn’t in the market for a woman who had h
er eyes on another man.
“In the flesh.” He disentangled himself with an effort, setting her on her feet.
Only to realize, as he tidied up, that the condom she’d given him was now in shreds. The realization—coming hard on the heels of her mistaking him from Carson—sent him stalking to the other side of the work space and slumping down in a chair.
“Oh, no.” The woman held her head in her hands. And she didn’t even know the worst of it yet.
“Maybe you’d better have a seat.” He used his boot to shove a second chair out from under the long, makeshift conference table that was a holdover from the retail store that had occupied the building long ago. “And tell me your name, for starters.”
He’d had unprotected sex with a total stranger.
And while, yes, he’d started out wanting an adventure, he hadn’t expected things to go so far. Especially not with a woman who had mistaken him for his twin.
“I’m Jillian.” She lifted her chin and picked up her bag before joining him at the table. She dropped into the utilitarian chair he’d offered her, her red curls drooping as much as her shoulders. “Jillian Ross.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“Well, Jillian Ross, we’ve got bigger problems on our hands than you mistaking me for my younger twin brother.”
“A twin.” She repeated the word, shaking her head like she’d never heard of such a thing.
Cody steeled himself against the surprise kick to his ego and shared his more pressing concern.
“Correct.” He heard his clipped tone and couldn’t help it. “But right now, I’d like to direct your attention to the fact that the condom broke.”
Her head snapped up, green eyes flashing even in the dim light.
“Excuse me?”
“Equipment malfunction,” he explained, trying to keep frustration out of his voice. “Maybe the condom was past the expiration date?”
“No.” She shook her head and then straightened her spine, seeming to recover herself a little bit. “I’m sure that’s not the case, but it doesn’t matter, since I’m disease-free, like I told you.” She pulled in a quick breath and tipped her chin up. “And as for the other concern, there’s a high percent chance that I’m...” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength. Or patience. When she opened them again, there was a glitter in her gaze. A hint of emotion he couldn’t fathom. “I’m most likely infertile.”
He hadn’t expected that. He ran a hand through his hair, his brain buzzing with unanswered questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he should ask.
Then again, they’d taken a big risk tonight. He needed to know.
“How high a percentage?” He leaned on the conference table, only just now realizing he wore no shirt. He’d been so distracted he forgot to retrieve the only clothing they’d discarded before having sex. He spotted his T-shirt in a heap on the floor. “And how can you be sure?”
“I’m not comfortable divulging all my unhappy health history.” Her words were clipped, possibly angry. “But I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry for that. But you have to admit there’s a lot at stake here.”
“No.” She shook her head. “There probably isn’t.”
Her shoulders were ramrod straight. It was a defensive posture. He told himself not to pursue the subject now. Not to push when emotions were already running high.
But then some of the tension seemed to seep back out of her. A sigh slipped from her lips.
“I’ve had extensive chemo and radiation, okay?” She held herself differently when she said it, arms crossed protectively over her midsection. “My doctors warned me before we started that it was unlikely I’d be able to carry my own children. And not that it’s any of your business, but I went so far as to freeze my eggs.” Her jaw flexed. “So don’t worry about it.”
A stab of empathy had him reaching across the table. Touching her forearm. He hadn’t meant to unearth something so personal—so huge.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She swallowed with visible effort. “I’m fine now.” Blinking fast, she shrugged and pulled away from his touch. “I’m alive.”
The quiet fierceness in her voice told him that fight had been hard-won. He wanted to know more about her—what she’d battled, how long she’d been in remission—but he didn’t want to pry on a night when they’d already gotten under one another’s skin in surprising ways.
“Very much so,” he agreed, humbled by the small glimpse of herself she’d given him. “I didn’t mean to encroach on something so private.”
A wry smile quirked her lips. “You have a right to know, given the circumstances.”
“Thank you.” He appreciated her honesty and hoped it would continue now that he had another sticky question to ask. “So tell me, Jillian Ross, what exactly did you want with my twin when you followed me in here tonight?”
* * *
For the sake of great sex, she’d set fire to her career.
How could she have missed the fact that Cody and Carson McNeill were twins when she’d been researching their ranches? Jillian couldn’t believe her bad luck as she stared across the table at the incredibly handsome shirtless rancher. Who’d be very angry with her when she revealed what she’d been trying to accomplish. She shouldn’t have been plotting to gain access to one brother through the other, and she surely should have come clean before she committed to the sensual adventure.
Then again, why had Cody refused her request to film on location without any explanation or opportunity to plead her case?
“I thought Carson might lead me to you,” she told him honestly. If she was going to lose the opportunity to film on the McNeill ranch altogether—and lose her job in the process—she would go out fighting.
“You wanted to find me?” He lifted a dark eyebrow, his brooding, skeptical expression not intimidating her so much now that he was shirtless.
She still couldn’t believe she’d had sex with him. He held her professional future in his hands.
“Yes.” Lifting her satchel, she laid it on the table and drew out the county land map. “I’ve been trying to contact you about this piece of property.”
She pointed to the location where she’d taken photographs a few weeks ago.
“Black Creek Ranch.” He spun the map to face him, smoothing the edges where it curled. “What do you want with—” He glanced up at her, recognition dawning on his face. “You’re the location scout.”
The tone of his voice made it sound like her job was in the same category as a tax collector’s. His eyes lingered on her.
“One and the same.” She smiled tightly. “I sent a letter to your business manager—”
“More than one,” he reminded her, shoving himself to his feet. He prowled along the perimeter of the room until he reached his discarded shirts, and punched his fists through the armholes. “You asked repeatedly. But I don’t want any film crews on my property.”
“So you said in your two-line refusal.” She knew she should be nice. Professional. But she’d burned that bridge when she entered the door marked Private.
“You didn’t leave me any opportunity to explain how quickly we could finish the shoot, or the options we have for sending as few people as possible onto your land—”
“Because I’m not interested in having anyone on my land. That’s the whole point of private property, isn’t it? It’s private. I don’t have to let strangers trample all over it.”
“But we’re hardly strangers now, are we?” She hadn’t been able to resist saying it. Her body was still tingling from incredible feelings—feelings she probably wouldn’t get to experience again with him. She also thought about her list and all the adventures she wouldn’t be able to accomplish if she lost her job. Real fear for her future rattled her. “Sorry. I didn’t m
ean to have this conversation with you tonight. I—”
“You hoped to sweet-talk my brother into convincing me on your behalf?” Cody McNeill had put all his clothes back on, and the forbidding expression on his face made it difficult to believe he’d teased the best orgasm of her life from her just moments ago.
She remained in her seat at the conference table, unwilling to get too close to him when her fingers still ached to touch him. “I looked up who owned the property neighboring yours, since you’re an extremely difficult man to reach.”
“My work keeps me busy.”
“Since Carson McNeill was easy enough to find online—”
“No surprise there,” he muttered, reaching for his Stetson and planting it on his head.
“—I thought fate must be smiling on me when he walked past the Thirsty Cow tonight.” She could really use the rest of that wine she’d left behind. Her head throbbed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration that Cody didn’t seem willing to give an inch.
She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, a blond wood that looked out of place in this very Western-style remodeled space.
“Except it wasn’t Carson.” His smile was a poor facsimile of the one he’d given her earlier.
Because, she realized, that hadn’t been his real smile.
An idea took hold. A dawning comprehension.
“You were pretending to be him, weren’t you?” She realized that initial exchange—when she’d first arrived in Wrangler’s—was the only time she’d seen a genuine smile from him.
Except it hadn’t been genuine at all. He had been imitating his brother. She could tell she had guessed correctly when a fleeting defensive expression crossed his face.
Indignation rose in her as she got to her feet and grabbed the map and her bag. She wouldn’t be a fool for any man again after the way her ex-boyfriend had walked out on her after surgery. She was smarter than that.