by Anita DeVito
“What?” Kate challenged, her voice too high. “You knew we were building a rack.”
“I didn’t think it would actually work.”
Tom snorted and broke any tension that remained. “Your mistake. Show me what you did. This is freaking cool. Where did you get the plans?”
“Internet. Then I improvised.”
Butch followed Tom’s lead to inspect his wife’s latest project. He beamed with pride.
Jeb took Carolina’s hand when she came within reach. He brought her knuckles to his mouth and teased. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t get into trouble.”
She flashed her innocent baby blues. “I wasn’t in trouble. I was perfectly fine.”
He rolled his eyes, pulled her under his shoulder, and turned to the sheriff. “Sheriff Hugh Quinn, this is Carolina Walker. I gotta tell ya, Quinn, I have no idea how you call this one in.”
Quinn took off his hat and scratched his head. “Voluntary bondage isn’t against any law I know. I’ll let you all get back to your, uh, dinner. Ma’am. Jeb.” Quinn nodded to Beck before he walked out of the barn, shaking his head.
…
Carolina sat with her legs curled under her, listening to the soft sound of the shower. Jeb liked to shower at night, wash the day away. She showered in the morning. It woke her up and gave her time to order her thoughts. Though, after the whirlwind day she had, perhaps jumping in with him would settle her racing thoughts.
She’d hid in his bedroom. She had closed the window facing the courtyard, wanting privacy. Then Katie had come and given her a better option.
She laughed, remembering that glimmer in Katie’s eye when Hagerman flirted with them. Really, what was the man thinking?
She turned to Jeb as he came out of the shower, steam billowing out behind him. “Katie is right. Men are so easy.”
Beneath the towel he rubbed over his head, he smiled. “Men are easy? How so?”
“I’ll show you.” She came to her knees and pulled off the long shirt, revealing the push-up bra and matching lace panties.
His focus settled a few inches south of her chin. He licked his lips.
She flung her hair over her shoulder with a cocky smile on her lips. “See? Easy.”
He snapped his gaze to hers. “Women are trouble. Nothing but trouble.” His voice was a sexy growl as he leaned across the bed, the towel tucked low across his hips.
She had other ideas. She let him come forward, allowing him to think he was setting the agenda. His lips brushed hers. She tilted her chin, lifting her hands to trace the hard lines of his chest down his stomach, and then dug her fingers into that ticklish spot on his hips.
He collapsed on the firm mattress and bounced away from her. Laughter stole his breath. It took a moment before he shouted a reprimand. “Woman!”
She cocked her head and gave him her best “good girl” smile. “Yes?”
He clutched at the shifting towel, eyes blazing as he fought for his modesty when he normally preferred to be naked. The towel tucked back in place, he pointed a finger at her, trying to be stern. “Don’t you, don’t you do that!”
Her smile turned devilish. “Or what?”
Jeb crawled onto the bed again, going for her waist. Before he could pin her, she tickled him again. High on the back of his leg, just below his butt and other sensitive parts. She jumped on his back, straddling him while she ruthlessly exploited his sensitive areas. Back of his knees. Ribs. Under his arms. She worked to flood his body with sensation, riding as he bucked under her relentless attack. He bucked her off and slid into a heap on the ground.
She looked down at him from her perch. Her breasts spilled out of the satin cups. Her hair hung free and wild, matching the way she felt.
“I’m warning you,” he said severely though he hadn’t stopped laughing.
“I’m warning you,” she mimicked.
He climbed to his feet while the towel stayed on the floor. He circled the bed, holding her gaze while plotting out his approach. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” The smile on her face was playful and inviting.
He took the bait again and launched himself at her. She dove to the side, but he caught her foot and began tickling. She barely noticed, opening an all-out assault on his senses again. Hips, knees, thighs, neck. She was like an octopus. He pried her hand off one place and it appeared impossibly fast in another.
“You’re a devil. A soft, sweet-scented, sexy devil.” He laughed until he cried under her corporeal attack. He tried to fight back but only gave ground. “I’m stronger than you, damn it.”
When he rolled she followed, catching that spot on the back of his leg again. He fell to the floor, wrapping an arm around her waist at the last minute to pull her with him. She landed sprawled across his chest. Recovering quickly, she grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.
“Do you give up?” Her breasts swayed directly above his face.
“I surrender. You got me. Do your worst.”
She straddled him. Leaving his hands above his head, she stroked his hard muscles, and caressed the scars that covered him. She looked into his face. His eyes were closed but the broad smile said it all. He was happy. He didn’t smile much, she thought. She’d have to work on that. Jebediah McCormick needed a reason to smile. She slid down his body, her teeth followed the line of his rib cage down to his hips. She took her breast in her hand, using the soft mound to stroke the hard length of him.
“You’ll have to tell me what you like. I don’t have much experience in this particular area.” With the tip of her tongue, she daringly touched the little divot just below his head of his cock. His thick chest filled and held as his cock pressed against her tongue for more attention. She didn’t have experience…but she’d read books. It took courage to put that scandalous bit of knowledge to use. With him, she could be brave. Giving the part of her brain that worried about everything the night off, she settled in to savor him. She caressed and tasted, sucked and tempted him. Her fingers explored the carnal places where his pulse raced while her mouth attended to his shaft. His big body quivered beneath her touch, empowering her. She couldn’t see his face but loved the way he rolled his head one way and then the other. His fingers clawed the thick carpeting.
“Get a condom. Now.” He used his knees to change her position. “I need to be in you.”
As she reached for the drawer, her bra fell down her arms. His hands cupped her breasts. She managed to retrieve a foil packet despite the havoc he wreaked on her body. “Do you want me to…”
“Another night.” He grabbed the condom from her hand and had it in place by the time she shimmied out of her panties. “Come here, beautiful.”
With a confidence that came from happiness and trust, she crawled like a cat back up his body. Her knees straddled his hips and sank down around his hard length.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m not going to last.”
She intentionally tightened her body, sliding up and then down him. She moved slowly, drawing out his pleasure. Without warning, his arms banded around her, locking her to his chest as his body convulsed beneath her.
He started to laugh. “This is embarrassing. Oh, hell. If that’s you not having much experience, I can’t wait to see what happens when you learn a trick or two.”
She’d rocked his body and didn’t that make her feel like the queen of the mountain. “I never did that before…but I read books. Some had sketches.”
He rolled her to her back. “I gotta see these books of yours. Get comfortable, you’re about to experience some of my tricks.”
Chapter Twelve
Saturday night, Landon Finch walked into the dinner of political elites with a gorgeous blonde on his arm, just like he was supposed to. Carolina Walker, in a black evening gown, was every bit a power accessory as his Armani suit.
Jeb paced behind him, reading the situation and unhappy with the entire setup. Beck walked at h
is shoulder, playing his role. Jeb’s gut clenched at the site of Carolina’s heavenly body on another man’s arm—even Finch’s, even if it was their best move in this obscene game. His gaze repeatedly fell to the sway of her hips as she walked. He bit his cheek, forcing himself to focus on the job.
Tense, Beck scanned the broad space. He elbowed Jeb. “People are coming and going from five different entry points. If Hooker and Cooper are here, we could be in a world of trouble.”
“I know.”
Millstone stood close to the bar with three men of equal dignity. He interrupted his conversation and, flanked by his own power, went directly to Carolina, taking her hand from Finch’s arm. “You look absolutely ravishing, Caro.”
She smiled at Millstone as he bent to kiss her hand. “It’s amazing what you can do with a few hours and a platinum credit card.”
“I suspect twenty minutes in a Goodwill store would have yielded equally stunning results. It is, after all, the woman who makes the clothes.” From across the room, a tall man with a hooked nose raised his hand for Millstone’s attention. “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.”
Jeb exchanged a quick look with Beck and the two stepped back to cage Millstone’s “assistant.” “Excellent driving yesterday,” Jeb said conversationally. “Jebediah McCormick. This is John Beck.”
The man was younger than their initial assessment. His dark, flawless face looked closer to thirty than forty. And he was big. His size and strength were in no way diminished by the black tuxedo. The man looked the pair up and down, huffed out a low growl, and went back to surveying the crowd. “Heathcliff Ryder.”
Beck leaned close, speaking in a low, calm voice. “I made you yesterday. Before that prissy little shit got in the way.”
Ryder snorted. “You did not.”
“I did,” Beck repeated. “You’re good. I’m better.”
Ryder turned and faced Beck. “Care to make a bet on that?”
Jeb pushed between the two, glaring at Beck in reprimand. “Our mutual friend. Do you know who he is?”
“Was. Terrance Lee Hooker.”
Jeb swore under his breath. “Why were you following us?”
Ryder snorted derisively. “Millstone wanted to ensure Miss Walker arrived safely at the airport. Next time you come to town, rent something with balls.” At Millstone’s signal, Ryder left their company for the pleasure of business.
Finch beckoned Jeb with a look. “Miss Walker, I suggest you see the observation deck before it closes. The view is spectacular.”
She shook her head. “I’m here to talk to Lincoln Kennedy.”
Beck stepped in front of her, his elbow extended. “I’ve never seen Atlanta from seven hundred feet in the air.”
She looked at Jeb, her expression transforming from one of confidence that he would take her side, to disbelief that he wouldn’t, to irritation at being herded out of the event.
He’d make it up to her, Jeb thought as he followed Finch across the room to the bar. Finch accepted the bourbon on the rocks from the bartender and slipped a nice bill into the tip jar. Accepting the bartender’s acknowledgment, he began to stroll around the room. Jeb played his role, staying just off Finch’s shoulder. They had argued over this point: him shadowing his partner. Finch wanted to use Beck, creating a distance between Jeb and Kennedy, in case Jeb’s temper reared its ugly head. Jeb shut him down. He needed to see and hear for himself. Seeing but not being seen. Hearing but not being heard.
A powerful floral scent reached him a moment before a woman called out.
“Landon Finch! What a delight to find you here!”
“Mrs. Rhodes! You look stunning as always.” The first lady of the state of New York twirled in a small circle to show off the sequined gown that sparkled in the light of the chandeliers. Jeb knew Finch genuinely admired Sylvia Rhodes. She had retired from the cutthroat world of high stakes advertising to take on the cutthroat world of New York State politics. With her flawless makeup and coiffed auburn hair, she looked like somebody’s wealthy grandmother. But behind that ruby red lipstick were razor-sharp teeth that a shark like Finch respected. Hell, he was likely jealous. She leaned in, and Finch dutifully kissed her powdered cheek.
“Sylvia. After all our years and adventures, we are well past the misters and missuses, my dear Landon. At least with you here, I know I’ll have some fun. Who are we out to get?”
Finch smiled smoothly, one corner turning up in conspiracy. “Sylvia. You are a dangerous woman, do you know that?”
“Of course I do, now stop avoiding my question.”
“I’m not ‘out to get’ anyone. I’m a businessman. I’m here to meet someone…”
“And talk business?” she finished.
“Exactly. You know I started a new company. Chameleon. We provide personal protection services.”
She slid into a wicked little smile. “You never struck me as one especially concerned with personal protection. Did you ever settle that paternity suit?”
He sighed loudly, and Jeb choked behind him. “It was, as I said at the time, merely a mistaken identity.”
She patted him on the cheek. “I believe you, my dear Landon. You all do look the same with your pants down. Now, who are you here to shake down?”
Finch shook his head, giving up. “Lincoln Kennedy.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Proposition or blackmail?”
“Is there a difference?”
She linked her arm in Finch’s and began to parade him around the ballroom. “You should make some time to come up to Albany. We could play golf, a foursome with the governor and our daughter, Ursula. She’s just finished her master’s degree from George Washington. I know you two would hit it off.”
Finch flinched. Jeb had never seen him do that before. Then he shifted, trying to gain another inch of space for himself. “Is it hot in here?”
“Not at all, my dear Landon. Ah, here we are.” Sylvia smoothly inserted herself into a small group. “Mr. Kennedy.”
The man at the heart of the group was of average height with extraordinarily sharp eyes. His well-tailored suit covered the paunch but failed to hide it. A poster child for authority and indulgence, he sported a thick head of hair touched with enough gray to be respectable, experienced but without giving away youth and vanity. “Mrs. Rhodes. I heard you and the governor were in attendance. How are you finding Atlanta?”
“Hot and sticky. It is no wonder to me that the wives of our forefathers remained in England while the sweat of men settled this land. Who could have lived here before the invention of air conditioning?” The party politely chuckled.
“Now, be honest, Mrs. Rhodes. October in Georgia is beautiful,” Kennedy chastised gently.
“You will have to get out more, Mr. Kennedy. Nothing is more alive with beauty than the Catskills in the fall. May I introduce a valued friend of mine, Landon Finch. Make sure he has money left in his pockets when you send him back to me. We do have a campaign of our own to finance.” With a final pat on Finch’s cheek, Sylvia spun and caught onto the arm of the chief of staff for the governor of Pennsylvania.
“That woman is the reason Edgar Rhodes is governor of New York,” Kennedy said, watching her work the dumbfounded man from the Keystone State. “Have you known Sylvia long?”
“Nearly ten years. I acted as their consultant and attorney prior to his election.”
Kennedy gave him a nod of respect. “You are the other reason Edgar Rhodes is governor of New York. Or, at least the reason he had the money to become governor, so I have heard.”
Carolina entered the ballroom once again with Beck on her heels. She sauntered in, laughing and looking over her shoulder. Beck’s thick brows were pressed down as he stalked after her. Jeb’s jaw tightened as he wondered what trouble she’d given Beck.
Jeb edged toward his woman while Finch gave a little bow to Kennedy. “I am flattered. I had no idea my renown had reached to sunny Florida. It appears dinner is about to begin. Why is
it food and function always seem to interrupt business?”
Kennedy raised his glass. “I toast the old days when men would retire to a smoke-filled room and hash out the details of business and politics free from the wrangling of women. The bar here has an excellent selection of brandy. Shall we reconvene after dinner?”
“Looking forward to it.” Finch gracefully left Kennedy, following Jeb across the expansive room. “Down boy. I never thought I’d see the day a woman had Jebediah McCormick foaming at the mouth.”
Jeb looked over his shoulder without breaking stride. “Ursula Rhodes.”
Finch flinched. Again. “Ursula. I can picture the poor girl now. Cow-like face with Sylvia’s coiffed auburn hair.”
Carolina moved quickly across the floor, her dress hugging her lovingly. She took Finch’s arm but her gaze went to the man next to him.
“What did you do?” Jeb wore the game face he made famous as sheriff, the one that brought out the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
“Your Mr. Beck dislikes heights. I, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed the observation deck.”
The tapping of a crystal glass rung out as their host for the evening encouraged guests to their seats. Fifty waiters in brisk black and white began whirling around the tables with trays of salads and breads. Millstone beckoned Carolina to the chair next to him while Jeb body blocked a middle-aged man without a ring on his finger. Finch sat on the other side of Millstone, leaving Beck and Ryder on the wings to buffer the two couples who filled out the table.
As the first course was served, Beck maintained a penetrating stare at Carolina, which she avoided by keeping her chin down.
“What is your problem?” Finch asked the question calmly to Beck.
“He’s afraid of heights,” Carolina answered quickly.
“I am not!” Beck sounded flustered and dangerous enough to have the other couples looking at him in question. He ignored them, his eyes on hers. “You have no sense of self-preservation. You could have fallen to your death. It’s my job to keep you alive.”