by Jennie Jones
He’d bought the bar at below market value the same way Charlotte would have with the B&B—there was nothing in town to keep the market buoyed. There would be though, and he wondered if perhaps Red might be able to keep her little B&B going despite the likelihood of the hotel taking most of her business. He hadn’t expected the B&B to sell before his hotel was up and running so hadn’t been concerned about pushing anyone out of the market. Could they get along without being business rivals? Could they be friends, even? Maybe, if she was willing to back down as much as he was. He didn’t want to hurt her business because that would hurt her, not just her plans.
Shuffling one large page over another, he studied the plans showing the pitch and ceiling heights of each of the seven rooms. He looked up from the documents as the door opened, and lost all thought of square metres and plumbing as an electrical current ran down his spine.
Red.
The light from the day outside shone around her, dappled a little because he hadn’t opened the blinds on the front windows yet, hadn’t realised he’d unlocked the doors, come to that, or he’d have been looking through his plans in the back room not the front bar.
She peered at him, but didn’t come in, maybe waiting for him to speak, but his mouth had gone dry. She’d changed from that sassy little skirt she’d shimmied over her hips and down her slim legs last night, was back in her tans and whites.
‘I came to say thanks for taking me home and sorry for your trouble.’ She was using her prim voice. ‘It won’t happen again.’
Her hair was a little damp and looked as though she’d tugged a comb through it quickly after showering. Her skin was a bit pale but that was probably due to her disgruntled frame of mind at having to apologise to him, and nothing whatsoever to do with any vulnerability she didn’t feel when around him. Although the veil of uncertainty in her eyes clutched at his heart.
‘Did you hear me? I came in to apologise.’
He smiled at her. ‘Come over here and apologise.’
She glanced at the street behind her, as though expecting someone to creep up on her. ‘What?’ she asked, looking back at him, brow creased.
It didn’t fool him. She was trying her utmost to appear her usual flippant self but it wasn’t working. Not today. ‘I said come over here. I want to hear that apology again.’ He gave her a serious frown. ‘Do you have any idea how much trouble you could have got into? Could have got me into? Our reputations are at stake.’
She stepped forwards as though in a rush, then stopped as the door closed behind her with a clunk. ‘I’m really very sorry.’ She looked over her shoulder, maybe wondering if the door had locked behind her and she was stuck with him. Alone with him.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I was joking. Just want a closer look at your bloodshot eyes.’
Her resolve fired up, the clear whites of her eyes shining against the pupils. Ready to run or fight. Dan folded the plans and tucked them beneath the bar. When had he begun to read her so well? Or had he only recently started understanding what had always been in front of him?
‘I’m still joking, Charlotte. Come on over here.’ He beckoned her. She took a step and stopped again. ‘Right up here.’
She walked to the bar, stopped in front of him and pulled in a breath. ‘I suppose there’s a pay off?’
‘Yeah.’
‘All right then.’ She wiggled her fingers at him. ‘I’m ready. Give.’
Cute, but was she really ready? Dan smiled as the adrenaline inside him rose at the expectation of what was to come—the heightened moment before a fight or a tackle, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his blood pumped faster.
‘Sock it to me,’ she said. ‘Do your worst.’
She expected a verbal exercise.
‘I can take it,’ she said. ‘Don’t hold back.’
‘Okay, I won’t.’ He leaned forwards, took hold of her under her arms, pulled her over the bar and hit her mouth with his.
Her hands slapped on the counter to steady herself and suddenly the bar was too wide for him, too much of a barrier. She was braced on it, her waist against it, her feet off the ground but she made no attempt to move from his kiss. He pressed his mouth on hers, prising her lips apart. Holy Jesus, he was kissing Red. She tilted her head, giving him a better opportunity to taste her. Firecracker Charlotte had her tongue against his, soft and gentle, but probing nonetheless, and she wouldn’t get an iota of an argument about it from him. He hadn’t felt sparks like this in—not ever. Electric sparks in his fingers, on his lips, running down the back of his legs.
He broke from the kiss and let her down. She slid to her side of the bar, holding onto it, but she didn’t lose his gaze. Lake-green stillness in her widened eyes. What would she do now? He straightened and put both hands to the counter. What would he do now?
She tugged at her shirt, fiddling with the buttons as though they’d come undone. Impossible. The bar had been in the way. If he hadn’t had to keep her lifted with both hands, he might have unbuttoned one or two … or all five.
‘Well,’ she said, unblinking, looking as though he’d sent a volley of flaming arrows her way. ‘Some pay off.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’m not sure.’
Neither was he—of anything except the current still washing through him. He made his way around the bar.
‘What are you doing?’
He didn’t exactly know, but it was going to involve her mouth.
A car’s engine revved outside. They both looked out of the half-shuttered windows of the doors as the car sped off from the petrol station.
‘He’s going too fast,’ she said. ‘Somebody ought to stop him.’ She marched to the door, away from Dan. ‘It’s a main thoroughfare. Six cars an hour.’
Dan moved until he stood behind her. He studied the top of her head.
‘It’s a drive-carefully zone,’ she said. ‘There are signs everywhere.’ She waved a hand at Main Street. ‘Do you think he didn’t see them?’
Her hair had feather-light streaks of paler auburn in it. He caught the smell of it, freshly washed, and he wanted to put his fingers through it. ‘I think he noticed the signs,’ he said quietly. ‘He ignored them.’
She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Why would he ignore them?’
Dan shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Maybe he was being bullish about things.’
She turned to face him. ‘It’s reckless,’ she said, her gaze a little bewildered-looking. ‘People could get hurt.’
‘Yeah.’ He took hold of her arms.
‘He’s going too fast …’
‘Yeah. But he doesn’t care.’ He pulled her into his chest and lowered his mouth to hers.
Charlotte caught hold of the top of his arms as his mouth got closer. No way was he going to grab her and kiss her like he was in charge. Like he’d made the decision. If there was any more kissing to be done, she was in on it as an equal partner. She lifted her face for his kiss as his arms came around her. Their mouths touched, lips already parted. He pressed her to him tightly, tighter still. She wound her arms around his neck. His mouth was heaven. Strong coffee heaven. And his body …
A car horn beeped and they parted. A split second and they were out of each other’s arms, breaths suspended.
He stared down at her but his focus was neither sheepish nor regretful. The shine in his eyes was one she’d seen before—the day outside the beauty parlour when she laughed and caught him smiling at her, as though he’d taken his first look.
‘What did I say to you last night?’ she asked. ‘What did I do?’
‘You said you had a memory like an elephant. Looks like you meant sieve.’
Anybody would forgive her for blushing—she’d been kissed unexpectedly. What woman wouldn’t feel a little heated? ‘I don’t know where the kiss came from, but let’s forget it.’
‘I think it might have been heading our way for a while, don’t you?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t like you in that way.’ Never had. Didn’t want to start now. There was no time to start liking people … men—Daniel.
‘So why did you kiss me back?’
Why had she? And why did she want to do it again? ‘That was to put you off. I was about to lift my knee to your groin.’
His studious concentration broke as he smiled. ‘Oh yeah? You think you had a chance?’
‘I did three years of self-defence classes. I could have you on your back in two seconds flat.’ More like one class a fortnight for six months, but she’d put her all into the expertise and exercise the classes offered.
He looked at her, challenging. ‘Go on then. Get me on my back.’
She took a breath. ‘You asked for it.’ She took up her stance, feet apart, weight evenly distributed, elbows bent, hands spread, fingers eased but ready. ‘Grab me.’
‘Be my pleasure.’ He lunged and caught her wrists, bending her arms at the elbow and bringing her captured hands up to her chest in a hammer grip.
He was fast, but this was the reality of being attacked and the calculated responses she’d learned came rushing back. She grabbed his right wrist with her left hand. She twisted his wrist, brought her bent arm up and under his, ready to put an elbow to his face—not that she would do that, but she had to make the move to show him she could hurt him.
Mistake. He pulled from her grip, spun her around to face the door and bear hugged her from behind, his arms firmly around her, pressing hers to her sides. Dammit. She’d gone lax for a second. Lost her ground and her advantage.
‘Not bad,’ he said, his face close to her ear. ‘Next time remember not to lose your concentration.’
She sidestepped to his right, used her knee to smash the back of his and knocked him off balance—but not enough. He righted himself quickly, lifted her by the waist and turned her so fast her feet came off the floor in the spin. When she hit the ground again she was backed against him and he was bear hugging her again.
She twisted to look at him. His eyes were full of those dangerous lights. The ones that danced over her muscles and pummelled them like heavy rain on a rooftop. But she wasn’t finished yet. ‘That first move was a ploy,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got you exactly where I wanted to get you.’
He cocked one eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘From this position, I could flip you over like toast and land you butter-side down.’
He chuckled, low and soft. ‘Now you’re getting sexy with me.’
‘Don’t move,’ she told him as he breathed in, as though ready to make his next move. She tightened her quivering muscles as best she could. During those months of self-defence classes, not once had she encountered a situation where she wanted her pretend, proposed attacker to … pounce her. With his whole body.
He lowered his head, his cheek brushing the side of hers as he moved his mouth to her ear. ‘So what’s your next move?’ he asked, his tone a murmuring, mesmerising caress.
She gasped as the sensual drawl in his voice flitted through her. ‘It’s tactical. It might hurt and shock you.’
‘Go for it.’
He fell for her ruse and released her from his hold. Charlotte turned, grabbed the thumb on his right hand, bent it back towards his forearm, and down towards the ground.
He let out a surprised laugh, edged with pain. She gave him a second to register what had happened to him, let go of his hand, caught him around the neck and kissed him.
This was showing him. Thought she was all ice and no fire, huh? Boy, was he getting a taste now.
His arms came around her again, but this time his move had a much greater impact on her. He was strong and fluid. Her body was taut, still geared up from the shock of the events of the last few minutes. His body was warm, and softened only the way a man with self-assured control could ever have. She felt his heartbeat. A strong rhythm, unlike hers, which was knocking a hole in her chest as though her ribcage was made of flimsy cardboard.
She wasn’t sure if she’d released him from the kiss or if he’d released her, but either way, their mouths were no longer touching. She looked long and deep into his eyes until she saw the flecks of gold on mink and almost fell in.
He lifted his chin, indicating the doors behind her. ‘I could lock them,’ he said quietly. ‘My room’s thirty steps away.’
Thoughts of a dozen consequences skimmed fast and furious through her mind, battling with her yearning for what he proposed. It wasn’t easy knocking friends back, and the friend she never expected to have was standing in front of her, offering something she’d gone without for—well, long enough for it to be termed a long time. It wasn’t easy staying detached when her heart kept melting at things like the flocked wallpaper she was becoming fond of and a pink-flowering plant she’d watered and put into the shade early this morning. Not to mention home-brewed wines, and martinis mixed by the guy she didn’t care for. The guy who was making her limbs tremble. The guy who was giving her serious thoughts about getting naked next to him. The guy whose abs were undoubtedly ripped. She blinked. It was always best to check before making such a statement. She glanced down to his abdomen, and further down, to his—
‘Bet I can get you to make those noises you can’t remember how to make.’
Thought he’d get somewhere with that smoky voice, did he? She reached out and pinched his waist.
He buckled slightly, a grin on his face. ‘Hey, that’s not fair.’
‘You’re ticklish. I told you my memory was fail proof.’
‘Well if you’d like to step out to the back room with me, I’ll give you something you’ll remember through summer, autumn and possibly winter.’
She bit down the laugh rising inside her; knew by the light in his eyes he was being bold, not pushy. There was nothing cocky and boyish about him now. A man stood in front of her, ready to take her to bed and have sex with her.
His gaze narrowed on her and the mesmerising flecks threw suggestive thoughts her way. ‘Want to play, Charlotte? Want to know where else I’m ticklish?’
Her heartbeat rocketed to full-thrust level.
‘Ten minutes, that’s all it’ll take.’
‘Is that all you’ve got?’
He reached over her shoulder and locked the swing doors. He pulled the blinds fully down on the windows. The little tassels on their thin chains rattled against the wood. He manoeuvred her until her back was up against the locked and shuttered doors. ‘How long would you like it to take?’
All day and then some. Right through the night to the sunrise. Maybe until she saw the wildflowers bloom. ‘Twenty minutes’ worth or no deal.’
‘Now you’re bargaining with me?’ He grinned his boyish grin but when he bent and nuzzled her earlobe, it was the thrill of a strong and terrific man making her shudder in pleasure. It tingled through her body, from her earlobe to her toes.
‘All right,’ she said, her mouth on the soft, glossy brown hair on his head. ‘Five minutes would probably do it.’
‘Now you’re talking.’ He put his mouth on hers and kissed her as if she was a fire he had to put out. He pulled her with him as he walked backwards, his tongue probing against hers.
Her body trembled like a firework about to shoot into the sky, and her blood heated to explosion level. She was flushed all over—beneath her clothing. Too many clothes. She wore too many clothes.
‘You taste sweet, Charlotte.’ His mouth did something monumentally tormenting to her earlobe.
‘Don’t talk,’ she gasped. ‘There’s no time.’ She nudged him with her hips while she grappled with her blouse. She tore it from the waistband of her skirt and searched for the buttons at the hem, fingers shaking with anticipation.
‘Let me help you.’ He undid the buttons on her blouse quickly, without ripping the material. He must have had some serious practice at this. She’d got lucky. The man had skills and she was about to taste them. All of them, hopefully. Her life had been a drought for so long …
&nb
sp; He pushed the blouse from her shoulders so it dropped to the floor behind her.
They paused again.
They were in his bedroom, or his gym room. Charlotte didn’t look around but the fragrance of a masculine space blanketed her senses. Worn leather and steel from much-used gym equipment, the tang of freshly laundered linen, melon and sandalwood aftershave, deluxe coffee berries … and racy, stimulating desire.
She’d imagined him half naked on a tractor. She hadn’t imagined herself half naked in his bedroom-cum-gym while he stood fully clothed in front of her, looking down at her breasts. Her about-to-be-exposed breasts. Her bra felt too tight but that was okay because any minute now that penetrating gaze of his would laser it off.
She drew in a breath as he pulled her close and took hold of the clasp on her bra. Her breasts were against the solid warmth of his chest but she needed skin. ‘Your shirt,’ she said as he undid her bra.
He slid the straps down her arms and dropped her bra to one side. ‘Holy Jesus, look at you.’ He bent and took a nipple in his mouth, his hands firm on her waist, holding her in place.
‘Daniel …’
‘What was that about my shirt?’ He straightened, and held her breasts, one in each of his large, steady hands. His palms were roughened with work, physical work, bench-pressing work, outdoor wood-chopping work, but the pads on his thumbs were gentle as they swept over her, back and forth.
‘Take it off.’
He smiled.
‘Take it off,’ she said again. ‘Please.’ His chest expanded as he breathed deeply. A chest covered with too much shirt. She scrabbled for the buttons and managed to undo half of them.
‘Steady, you’re pushing me over.’
‘I’m using my attack skills on you. Don’t be frightened.’
He laughed and let her undo the rest of the buttons. She laughed with him, the shock of desire mingling with the humour they’d found. Who would have thought her first close friend would be Hotshot? She felt overwhelmingly friendly towards him, and looking below his waist, he obviously felt inclined to friendliness himself. His comfortable fit jeans didn’t look that comfortable now.