Dangerous Flirt

by Avery Flynn

  Claire crossed her arms, her head cocked to one side as she stared at her oldest brother. “Sure, we'd love to have you join us, Hank. Thanks for asking.”

  “Don't mind if I do, thanks, sis.” His gaze never left Beth. “But I can only stay for a minute. I wanted to make sure there haven't been any more calls about your grandparents' place.”

  She couldn't let him get involved. Look at how she reacted to him in public. In private, she'd never keep her panties on. That couldn't happen. Another jingle at the door saved her from having to answer.

  One of Hank's deputies poked his head in the door. “Ready to go?”

  “In a minute, Keith.” Hank made no move to get up. “So, any new incidents?”

  “Nope.” Sunday had been uneventful. No more damage or threats was good, but she wished she had learned something in her online records search. Everything she'd found revealed only a tangle of information about a vague corporation with a ghost for a CEO.

  “Good. I’ve made a few inquiries—”

  “What do you mean? I told you to stay out of it.”

  “Darlin’, you know that’s not going to happen. How's the car?”

  The abrupt topic switch threw her off track. “Mike’s checking it out now, said he'd have an estimate for me in a few days.”

  “Well, you know I'm happy to give you a ride anytime.” His hand dropped to her leg, right above the knee and his thumb rubbed against her sensitive inner thigh.

  Unable to form a thought, she mumbled incoherently.

  Nodding, he scooted his chair back and stood before giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

  Electricity jolted across her skin at the scratch of his vacation beard against her jaw. A shiver of desire ran down her spine when he pulled away.

  “See ya soon, darlin’.”

  Reflexively, her hand went to her cheek and rubbed as she watched him strut out of the bakery.

  “Oh my God,” Margret muttered from beside the cash register. “Wait until I tell Susan.” The baker uttered a tiny squeal and made a beeline to the back office.

  Great. By the time the gossip got around town, the story will be that she and Hank had gotten down and dirty in the middle of the bakery while using phallic-shaped donuts as sex toys. Gotta love living in a small town.

  “What in the hell just happened?” Claire sounded as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her.

  Beth knew the feeling. “I have no idea.”

  “Boloney sausage.”

  As always, Claire's prettied-up version of bullshit made her laugh. “He's your brother. Totally off limits. Anyway, my life's crazy enough lately without adding in your fucks-everything-that-moves brother.”

  “Hey now, that's my brother you're talking about.”

  “Yep, and I believe you were the one who called him that just a few weeks ago.”

  “No, I said dates-everything-that-moves brother. You're the one whose dirty mind took it down that path.” Her warm hand covered Beth’s suddenly cold one. “But what makes him off limits? Don’t give me crap about him sleeping around, you and I both know small-town gossip blows everything out of proportion. He’s a great guy. You’re awesome. Really, you two would be perfect for each other.”

  Beth slid her fingers from her friend’s grasp and brushed the crumbs on the table into a pile.

  Claire had never been without a loving family. She didn't understand how awful it was to lose it. She hadn't grown up without parents, hadn’t found her grandfather dead on the laundry room floor or watched dementia push her grandmother deeper and deeper into her sepia-toned memories. Beth had become a woman knowing good things come to an end way too soon and that the people you loved always left.

  Even those who hadn’t arrived yet.

  Beth fiddled with her spoon as guilt rose up. Best friends didn’t keep secrets from each other, but she hadn’t told Claire about the hysterectomy. Talking about it would make it real, solidify it as fact, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

  Claire cleared her throat. “Earth to Beth.”

  “Sorry, I've got a lot going on right now.”

  “So what's making you nuts?”

  Beth hadn't wanted to burden her best friend with her troubles. However, judging from the spill-it-now wrinkle on Claire’s brow, the time had come.

  After looking around to make sure Margaret was still ensconced somewhere relaying gossip about Hank's kiss, she leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table's cold Formica top. “So, you know how everyone near my grandparents' house has been selling to some mystery buyer?”

  Bringing her up to speed about the late-night threats delivered over the phone by a heavy-breathing man, the nasty texts, the vandalism, Sheriff Wilcox's response and her answer to his recommendation that she sell took ten minutes, punctuated by Claire’s gasps.

  “Oh man, I bet the sheriff’s head almost popped off his body when you told him what he could do with his advice to sell.” She broke off a piece of Hank's abandoned chocolate sprinkle donut and popped it in her mouth.

  “Yep, you could say that. He slammed the door shut so hard the windows rattled.”

  “That man's always been an ass. Hank says the other sheriffs avoid him like the plague.” Her friend's brown eyes narrowed. “So why haven't you told me or Hank about this sooner?”

  “Up until this week, it didn't seem that serious. Just some angry phone calls and such. Hell, most of the people who live out near my grandparents' house hate my guts right now for not selling. Sara Jane told me the other day that if I don’t sell, the developer is threatening to renege on his promise to buy everyone else's land.” She paused for a breath. “Besides, you and Jake are finally drama-free after that psycho Burlington went to jail. I didn't want to wreck that.”

  “You are such a dork,” Claire chided. “We've been best friends since grade school. What matters to you, matters to me. Now, I know you—what have you done to figure out who's behind all this?”

  The bell above the bakery door chimed and Beth jumped in her seat. One of the construction workers tearing down the burnt remains of The Harvest Bistro across the street strolled in. This whole situation had her on edge more than she wanted to admit.

  At least her quick trip to Vegas would provide a distraction. Giving her first presentation at the National Estate Attorneys Conference would take all her concentration and give her some distance from angry neighbors and pushy developers.

  “I've looked through as many of the public records as I could get ahold of. Every time I find a company name, it turns out to be a front.” Beth sipped her warm brew. It slid down her throat, heating her body from the inside out. “The whole thing stinks to high heaven and that fool Wilcox is in it up to his third chin.”

  “You really need to tell Hank about all this.”

  “My grandparents’ house is in Council County. Hank's jurisdiction ends at the Dry Creek County line.”

  “Uh-huh, so what's with him branding you like a prized calf, because you and I both know that's what that kiss was all about.”

  Her heart raced at the idea and she clasped her hands tighter around her mug to keep them from shaking. “Nothing.”

  “Has he asked you out?”

  Heat flared in Beth's cheeks.

  Eyes wide with curiosity, Claire leaned in. “Oh my God, did you sleep with him?”

  “No!” She straightened in her chair, putting as much distance as possible between her and her best friend. The words tumbled out anyway. “We kissed. That's all. It didn't mean a thing.”

  Claire shook her head, sending her auburn hair waving around her shoulders. “Yep, keep telling yourself that, Beth.”

  The alarm on her cellphone vibrated and she swiped it off the tabletop. “Come on, we gotta head out to the airport. Thanks again for dropping me off.”

  “Hey, what are friends for?” Claire grabbed her plate and Beth's empty coffee cup and placed them on the counter before they walked out the door. “You know, Hank's leaving tomorrow for
a boys' poker trip to Vegas. Chris and Sam are already out there. God, I can't imagine what trouble my three brothers are going to cook up.” She grinned at Beth. “Maybe you'll run into him. It would be the perfect opportunity to ask for help in a neutral environment, and you know, if things happen to get all hot and heavy…”

  Beth yanked open the car door and slid into the passenger seat. “That is not going to happen.” She snapped her seat belt closed.

  Claire plopped down into the driver's seat. “Mmm-hmmm. We'll see.”

  “Don't even think about it.”

  Pure deviousness crinkled the corner of Claire's brown eyes. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” She turned on the radio and started singing along to an old Motown song in an off-key voice that should only be heard in the shower.

  Giggling, Beth joined in, her own voice as jarringly out of tune as her friend's. Somewhere in Dry Creek, the dogs had to be howling along with them.

  After a short car ride to the regional airport, a quick check-in at the kiosk and an uncomfortable groping from the security agent, Beth climbed the stairs of the small commercial jet.

  Walking down the narrow walkway between the seats, she kept her gaze glued to the seat numbers for twelve-A. There it was, two rows up, a window seat. Things were looking up.

  The woman in front of her stowed a carry-on bag in the overhead storage, then sat down, giving Beth a view of the coach passengers buckling in. Her stomach did a triple flip.

  Hank looked up at her from twelve-B. “You wouldn’t be stalking me now, would you? Because I probably wouldn’t mind.”

  Chapter Seven

  The fates were against her.

  Beth's black skirt suddenly felt two sizes too small as heat spread through her limbs. Her stomach sank and fluttered at the same time and she double-checked her seat assignment. Twelve-A. Damn.

  “You sitting down or what, lady?” The short guy in a business suit behind her not-so-gently nudged her with his oversized carry on, hitting her square in the ass. She flashed him a dirty look and took in the size of his suitcase. The zipper looked about to pop. There was no way in hell that thing would fit in the overhead compartment.

  “Hold your horses, I'm moving.” But her feet, encased in pointed-toed black heels, refused to go forward.

  The line got restless behind her and the grumbling increased. Only a handful of empty seats remained in coach. Judging by the number of grumpy people still in line, switching seats wasn't going to be an option. Time to put on her big-girl panties and suck it up. The flight was only two hours. She could handle that. Right?

  She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I don't know how you managed to make this happen.”

  “Just luck, I guess.” Amusement flashed across Hank’s face and he sat up straight in the aisle seat. “Do you need me to get out or can you squeeze by?”

  Beth steeled herself. “I can get by.”

  There was just enough space for her to shuffle through, but not by much. Her bare calves brushed his knees and she faltered for a moment, grabbing the headrest of the seat in front.

  Grasping her hips, he steadied her. Each of his long fingers burned an imprint through her skirt and onto her sensitive skin. Body on high alert and anticipating pleasure, she shivered under his touch. His fingers tightened, his thumbs pressing into the tender top curve of her ass. A strangled sound, half groan and half sigh, escaped her lips.

  Like a siren blaring in the far-off distance, the audible proof of her arousal brought her back to reality. Embarrassed he could do this to her so easily and in the middle of a packed airplane, she ignored her instinct to lower herself onto his lap.

  “Steady there.” Hank's voice had gone husky. His fingers flexed over the thin material of her skirt.

  “I'm fine. Thank you.” The words came out in a shaky whisper.

  Holding her breath, she sidestepped the last few inches to her seat. As soon as her legs cleared his, a chill covered her calves from the loss of his body heat. Sitting, she stuffed her leather briefcase under the seat in front of her. The flashes of excitement skittering along her skin told her he watched her every move.

  Studiously looking out the window at the airport employees bustling around on the tarmac, she reached for her seat belt, her fingers accidentally brushing his thigh. Biting her bottom lip to keep from making any more tell-tale noises, she pulled the belt across her lap and snapped it closed. After tightening it until it was snug against her waist, she watched the baggage handlers tossing suitcases into the belly of the plane. Her purple suitcase flew into the baggage compartment. Well, at least she'd packed all of her breakable items in her briefcase.

  “Still bothers you, huh?” His voice slid across her skin like a warm breeze as he leaned closer to peer out the window.

  “It's okay, there're only clothes in it.”

  “Not your suitcase, this.” His warm hands covered hers, stilling them.

  Unknowingly, she'd been tugging at the seat belt, some part of her needing to double-check it would hold. The car accident must’ve shook her up more than she'd realized. Despite everything, his concern touched her. It had been twenty years since her parents’ fatal car crash. She'd been trapped for hours, hanging upside down, secured to her seat by her seatbelt. It had saved her life.

  “I'm okay.”

  He gave her hands a light squeeze. “Good.”

  The captain's announcement about expected weather conditions during the flight stopped any further exchange. Hank settled back into his seat and the little plane picked up speed, bouncing a bit as it barreled down the runway.

  Blood pounded in her ears and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as that old familiar fear plucked her nerves. Man, she hated flying. Clutching the armrest in a white-knuckle grip, she forced herself to breathe in slowly, hold it a second and then exhale. Her stomach dropped as the plane left the ground and she squeezed her eyes shut. All Beth could picture was her mom's long brown hair spread wide across the ceiling of the station wagon, her mouth hanging open and the wet sound of her gasps echoing in the silent night.

  “You know I've been fantasizing about you since I was twenty-two?” Hank's hand covered her smaller one. “I came home after boot camp and bam; my little sister's best friend had turned into a stone-cold fox.”

  His words pulled her away from the terror of that night. Grateful, she squeezed his hand.

  Lowering his lips until they nearly touched her ear, he hushed his voice to a throaty whisper. “I've spent a lot of time alone, thinking of how that ass of yours would feel in my hands. Hard or soft? How much would it bounce if I gave it a little slap?”

  Her gaze jumped around the plane as a fierce blush burned her cheeks. Had anyone heard? “Shut up, people will hear you.” She glanced back and spotted two junior attorneys from her office three rows behind them.

  “So?”

  “So?” The single word came out louder than she’d intended, drawing the attention of the passengers across the aisle, exactly what she'd been trying to avoid. Smiling weakly at their irritated faces, she quieted her voice. “I do not want everyone to think that I'm the latest in your parade of women.”

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Sure, I've dated a few women since the divorce, but I don't think you can call it a parade.”

  A few? A few? If he called twenty-eight a few, then he needed to rethink his math abilities. “Do you want me to name them all?”

  “So you've been keeping track, eh?” He sat up straighter in his chair, pride beaming from his hazel eyes.

  Damn. He picked up on that. Flustered, Beth wished she could think of something to say to wipe that smug smile off his face but whatever brain synapses controlled her smartass comeback function failed. Her mind stayed stubbornly blank.

  The light green flecks in his eyes disappeared as the irises darkened. “I've been chasing after you for weeks now.”

  She fiddled with her skirt hem, not daring to make eye contact or he'd know ho
w much staying away from him cost her.

  “Sure, I've dated other women, but they're not you—and I want you.”

  His words slapped her across the face.

  Don't cry. Whatever you do, don't cry.

  Biting her lip, she said nothing.

  “After Claire's party, I thought we'd turned a corner. But you're even more skittish around me than before. So, what's going to happen, Beth?”

  A thunk reverberated under her seat as the pilot raised the plane's wheels. She'd give anything to be able to say yes to him even just once, but she'd already lost too many people to do that again. “Nothing is going to happen between us.”

  The vein in his temple pulsated and his mouth formed a grim line. “Okay, I guess I have my answer.” He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “But I'm not going to stop asking.”

  By the time the fasten-your-seat-belt light blinked off a few minutes later, Hank's breathing was slow and steady.

  Her thoughts in a jumble, she reached for her briefcase. She needed work to distract her from the lusty heat building in her belly, and lower. Work always took her total concentration.

  She grabbed the folder labeled Haverstan Limited. The company name was all she'd been able to find in the real estate records filed after Mrs. Hunihan and the rest of her neighbors had agreed to sell. The deal was set to close in another week, but only if she agreed to sell too. Flipping through the sheaf of papers inside, she grabbed one at random. The Nebraska Secretary of State's Office logo, an identifiable if not overly creative outline of the state, stretched across the top of the page. According to the state, Haverstan's CEO was one Robert Reynolds of Stickland, Nebraska.

  The problem? Robert Reynolds was dead and had been for about ten years.

  A reporter with the local weekly newspaper in Stickland had e-mailed her a copy of Reynolds' obit. He'd lived a good life, raised corn and a trio of daughters until he’d dropped dead of a massive heart attack at the age of sixty-six while shopping for a new combine at John Deere.

  The estate attorney in her wondered if he'd gotten everything squared away before he'd died. Many farmers didn't, they expected to work their land until they hit ninety. Most were wrong.