Devil in Texas

by Calista Fox

  Surely, Levi Strauss & Co. had a man like this in mind when they’d created 501s. Hell, the Devil in Blue Jeans may as well have been the one to form the mold.

  To be fair, the bulge in front was equally impressive. She commended herself for noticing before he’d moved away. She might help herself get laid after all.

  Speaking over one impossibly broad shoulder, he said, “I’ve got a pale ale on tap, if you’re interested.”

  Oh she was interested all right!

  “That’ll do nicely,” she replied, though it really didn’t matter what he poured. She’d just found the crown jewels of the never-ending cowboy kingdom that was Texas!

  Now, what to do with him…

  Her very first wicked grin teased her lips at the endless possibilities suddenly running rampant through her mind. Visions of naked limbs tangled together and body parts joined flashed in her head. Her moans of ecstasy mingled with his groans of pleasure. Oh yes… He was definitely a delicacy she wanted to sample!

  The Devil returned and set the frost-covered pilsner in front of her. She eyed the half-inch of frothy head and the small slivers of ice that slid down the outside of the glass, suddenly realizing how hot she was. And the reason for her escalating internal temperature had nothing to do with being down south in the middle of summer.

  She shifted on her stool, feeling uncomfortable in a sexy, tingly way. The bartender’s half-assed grin and the sensual gleam in his ultra-blue eyes, which were fringed by sooty lashes, did the most titillating things to her inner thighs. A sizzling sensation mingled with the slightest quivering of her flesh, as though his fingers had just skimmed over that highly sensitive part of her body. Making her even hotter.

  As she reached for the cold glass, the sexy cowboy asked, “So how about that shot?”

  “What about it?” She’d forgotten that part of her drink order, because she was totally lost in thought over how her body responded to him. Savoring how her body responded to him.

  “What kind of shot do you want, darlin’?” The glimmer in his eyes told her he found her amusing. The slow, easy tipping of his full mouth was as sinful-looking as his perfect ass. When his grin deepened, a sigh-worthy dimple made the left cheek up top as appealing as the one she wanted to take a nip at.

  People magazine could call off their search for the Sexiest Man Alive. She’d found him in Hill Country. He was a tall, cool glass of water at the end of a twenty-mile trek through the desert…and this girl was parched!

  Taking another sip to douse the flames flickering at every erogenous zone she hadn’t even known she possessed—because no one had ever bothered to help her discover them—Elizabeth waded through the lust-induced haze clouding her mind.

  Searching for an impressive liquor selection, she recalled her father’s tequila preference. “Make it Patrón.” Her voice still sounded as breathless as she felt, not helping her plight to appear calm and collected.

  The Devil either didn’t know what to make of her selection or her Marilyn Monroe tone. He studied her a moment longer as though trying to figure her out. His gaze swept over her in a slow, almost predatory way that once again made her thighs ignite. His roving eyes halted at the deep vee in the bodice of her clingy dress. The neckline dipped low and there was plenty of cleavage front and center for his viewing pleasure.

  Good call on the dress, girlfriend. The push-up pads were clearly a worthwhile investment as well. Though, she wouldn’t be surprised if her rock-hard nipples tented the flimsy material of her bra and dress.

  When the Devil’s gaze returned to her face, there was no missing the heated interest that flared again in the deep blue irises she’d dream about for weeks to come. Global warming had nothing on this guy. He could single-handedly melt the glaciers of Antarctica with his ultra-hot gaze.

  Finally tearing his eyes from her, he reached for a bottle, filling the glass he’d just cleaned. “Shaker of salt an’ a slice of lime,” he said as he served up both with her shot.

  His voice was a bit rougher this time. As though his visual assessment of her generated the same excitement she’d experienced when she’d sized him up earlier. The same excitement that continued to course through every inch of her, keeping her super-charged from head to toe. She wondered if his cock responded to her as quickly and easily as her cunt reacted to every flirtatious gaze he shot her way. Hard to tell when he stepped closer to the bar, effectively concealing that part of his body.

  But his strained tone was a good indication she turned him on. That rough voice was just as sexy as the playful one and she mentally recorded both for future fantasy usage. If she didn’t succeed in hooking up with him this evening, at least she could conjure the image of his hotter than hell body and the sound of his erotically stirring voice to relieve some tension and get her through the night. He wouldn’t be whispering sweet nothings in her ear, either. No, siree. When she fantasized about this man, he’d be talking dirty to her.

  Considering how aroused she was, a few naughty suggestions coming from him would have her coming in a flash.

  With slightly shaky fingers, she sprinkled salt on her hand, then reached for the lime he’d provided, speared by a red plastic sword, the hilt and tip balancing on the rim of the shot glass. He stepped away as she contemplated the liquor while still thinking about that hot and sweaty sex she was dying to have.

  The sexy cowboy moved along the bar to make small talk with the other patrons and pour fresh cocktails for them while she took a moment to steel herself for a huge shock to the system. Elizabeth downed the shot, wincing at the slow burn in her throat and belly. It took several seconds to compose herself. Not just from the alcohol, but from the fiery sensations the Devil evoked. All with a seductive look and an arousing voice that kept an inferno of lust and longing raging inside her.

  The gent to her left gave her a knowing smile and she realized it was damn obvious to everyone in the saloon she wasn’t a tequila drinker. And that she was on a manhunt. Kind of embarrassing to be so transparent, but as her gaze swept over the crowd, she noted a few other women who appeared to be on a similar mission. Some even gave her the evil eye.

  Because the ultra-hot bartender had taken an interest in her? If so, it was a small victory she desperately needed to help repair her damaged ego, so she didn’t feel the least bit guilty over nabbing his attention.

  While the Devil continued to make the rounds further down the bar, Elizabeth took the opportunity to whip out a small compact from her purse and check her appearance. She quickly fluffed the shoulder-length chestnut curls and lamented the fact she was due for new highlights. Nothing to be done about that tonight, though, so she moved on to her makeup, still looking as fresh as when she’d applied it earlier in the evening. The scarlet lipstick was a nice touch for the vixen look she’d been hoping to achieve. The black liner was a bit thicker than normal around her bright green eyes, but again, it fit the persona she’d adopted for the evening.

  Besides, if his first comment to her was any indication, the devilish bartender liked her eyes as much as he seemed to like her legs and breasts. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that her lackluster love life had led her to the neighborhood gym on a regular basis to relieve her tension—not having the quality fantasy material she now possessed to help get the job done.

  Hell, she’d probably look like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model today if she’d devoted even more time to a personal trainer rather than wasting her evenings hosting Peter’s cocktail parties and letting him parade her around town like a prized science experiment. Or a trained monkey, take your pick. Sad to discover her only purpose in his life had been arm candy to help advance his career and perpetuate the façade with his colleagues that he was actually a faithful heterosexual.

  But why dwell on the Asshole when she had the Devil to focus on?

  Satisfied everything was still in place on her face, she snapped the compact closed and returned her attention to the man who’d garnered it since she’d walked into t
he joint. He swaggered back toward her as if she was a magnet and he was steel. A river of fire flowed through her veins as he descended upon her.

  He eyed her empty glass and she gave a slight nod of her head, indicating she wanted another shot.

  She reached into the far recesses of her mind for something flirty and fun to say as the hot-’n-hunky bartender served her tequila. He then rested his forearms on the bar and leaned toward her, saving her from a tedious brain search.

  “Just passing through town or are you settling in?” His tone was back to the low, intimate, sensual drawl that oozed down her spine like warm honey. The way he spoke to her while gazing deep into her eyes….good Lord, they may as well be lovers already!

  Reaching for the salt shaker sitting next to the second shot the Devil had poured, she contemplated his question. Not too many people would do what she’d just done—ditch an entire life on a whim. In fact, Elizabeth was still shocked she’d pulled such an impulsive and brazen move. But she’d needed a break from her stifling, oppressive reality. Once she’d kicked up some dust and lived a little, she’d decide how permanent her escape was.

  Her prospective one-night stand didn’t need to know about the debacle that was her life, so she simply said, “I’m renting a cottage on the lake for a few weeks while I make up my mind.”

  “Well, then. Welcome to Wilder, darlin’.” His tone and the wicked glint in his eyes seemed to suggest he knew something she didn’t.

  Suppressing a sigh of longing—the man really was too sinfully hot for words—she made a big production out of wetting the crook of her hand between her thumb and forefinger. Her tongue darted out and touched the skin. She coyly shot him a look to see if she’d evoked a physical response. His jaw clenched for a brief moment and she gloated inwardly. Sprinkling a little salt on her damp flesh, she then licked her skin in one slow stroke, like she intended to do to his cock if they ever got that far. Finally, she slammed the shot and reached for the lime, sucking it hard.

  She heard a low groan slip from his parted lips. In fact, his voice was gruff again as he asked, “So, where are you from, sweetheart?”

  “I’m sure you only need one guess,” she said as she tossed the drained lime into the empty glass. Though she didn’t have much of a New York accent—likely her father’s influence—her cosmopolitan look, including her Dolce & Gabbana dress and accessories, had to be a dead giveaway.

  The Devil’s eyes slid over her once more and a cocky grin lifted one corner of his sexy mouth. Which she really wanted to kiss. “Minot, North Dakota?” he ventured with a wink.

  She laughed as he poured tequila in a new glass. Sexy and witty—what a combination! The dimple was just plain overkill, but she loved it anyway. Truly, there was nothing fair about this man. He didn’t leave a dry thong in his wake. Could’ve made Mother Teresa wet, she was sure.

  “Few states to the east,” Elizabeth said. “Born and raised in Manhattan. Though I should get credit for having Texas in the blood. My father was from Austin.”

  He nodded, the dimple still showing. His eyes, however, took on a more subdued glow. “Was?”

  Perceptive of him to pick up on that. “He died about ten years ago,” she said. “Plane crash. The reason I drive, not fly.” She swallowed down her third shot, then toyed with the empty glass, knowing she’d already had too much to drink, but suddenly wanting another one, given the subject matter. She resisted the urge, though, and the Devil helped to minimize her inevitable hangover by not offering a refill.

  “So you were headed there and ended up here?”

  A slight shake of her head. “Not so much.”

  How kooky would it sound if she told him the truth? She gave this some thought, then conceded that she was enjoying the conversation, so why not keep it real?

  Admittedly, though, her explanation sounded crazy to her own ears as she said, “I pinned a mammoth map of Texas to my office wall and threw a dart at it.” Vowing she’d give whatever town she hit a try. “So here I am.”

  “Interesting,” he said, though not in a patronizing way. More as if he understood the importance of her spontaneity, her need for a clean break.

  But, of course, that was impossible. Even she hadn’t processed what she’d just done.

  “You know, darlin’, sometimes Fate deals an unexpected hand.”

  “And forces us to make something of it?”

  His beautiful blue irises sparkled as his eyes crinkled around the edges. “Hold ‘em or fold ‘em. It’s up to you.”

  How true. And how funny that she could feel lighthearted, unsettled and turned-on all at the same time. It was a curious mixture of sensations that left her a bit on edge, but which also made her body hum with a new energy she’d not felt before. As if she was on the verge of a significant precipice—a new discovery of herself. A new existence with limitless opportunities because, this time around, she wouldn’t let anyone dictate what she did and how she did it. Henceforth, she was taking complete responsibility for herself. No man—and certainly not her mother—would influence her decisions to their self-serving benefit.

  “Looks like you’re done here,” the hot bartender said as he whisked away the discarded glasses. “Unless you want one more for last call,” he added with another wink, indicating he already knew her answer.

  “Think I’ve hit my quota.”

  “Then you’re gonna need a ride home.”

  The independent, responsible Elizabeth her mother had drilled into her since birth caused her to automatically reach for the cell phone in her purse and hold it up. “Got the number to the cab company on speed dial.”

  As the words spewed forth from her mouth, she realized her colossal mistake. She’d just declined the invitation she’d been angling for tonight.

  Damn! I really do suck at this!

  The disappointment that flickered in the Devil’s eyes made her consider amending her statement. Ask if he was offering to take her home, so she could accept. God, how she wanted to feel this man’s hands on her body and his cock in her wet cunt. It was more than an unwavering desire. It was an unrelenting craving!

  But her rejection stood between them, as though scrawled across a wall in big red letters. The next thing she knew, he was turning away to get the check.

  Fuck!

  She paid the bill while contemplating a way to reengage the sexy cowboy. She’d blown it badly, she knew. But hitting on a man—particularly one who promised instant sexual gratification with just a wink and a smile—clearly wasn’t her forte. And any attempt to rectify the situation would make her look desperate. She may not have a life anymore, but damn it, she still had a shred of dignity left. She clung to the last vestiges of her pride with all her might because, in the grand scheme of things, it was all she had.

  Well, hell. There was reality again, trying to get the best of her.

  She slid off the barstool and tucked her clutch under her arm. Unfortunately, it took a bit more effort to hold her head high as she slinked off than it had when she’d strutted in. “Thanks for the drinks, cowboy.”

  As she walked away, she hit the speed dial number she’d programmed in earlier. She’d hoped to not need it. Elizabeth had come to Wade’s Saloon looking for action, plain and simple. Yet letting off some sexual steam was clearly not in the cards tonight.

  “Hey, wait!” the Devil called out behind her, but she was already headed toward the door, determined not to become further fodder for the Wilder rumor mill.

  Much to her dismay, when the dispatcher for the only cab company in town came on the line, she advised Elizabeth it would be at least twenty minutes before someone could pick her up—about the same amount of time it’d taken for to get picked up back at her cottage when she’d started this misadventure. She pushed her way through the small crowd clamoring for last call and shoved open the heavy door that led to the stifling Texas heat and humidity.

  Wow, twenty minutes…

  She swore under her breath, momentarily missing New
York and its quick escape from scenes such as this. A multitude of rapid ways in which to flee her own idiocy.

  Then she thought of Peter’s betrayal, which had been followed by a desperate plea to marry him. She now knew that was merely necessary for him to perpetuate the façade he maintained. Adding insult to injury, her controlling mother had rented her apartment right out from underneath Elizabeth in an attempt to force her hand at Peter’s marriage proposal. Oh and she couldn’t forget the way her boss, CEO of one of the world’s largest industrial risk insurance companies, had thrown her under the bus over a corporate debacle that would cost millions to rectify. She’d provided her public relations expertise and crisis management skills, to no avail. After weeks of back peddling, he’d inevitably used Elizabeth and her PR department as a scapegoat to save his own reputation.

  Alas, her love life wasn’t the only thing to hit the skids. The reminder once again made New York the last place she wanted to be.

  Plopping her D&G-clad butt on a tree stump—a clever, decorative landscaping tool that could only be pulled off in a town like this—she tossed the phone back in her bag. Dragging in a full breath of thick, possibly jasmine-scented air, she decided it really was time for a new persona. A new Elizabeth Brooks.

  No.

  She let the air out of her lungs as she thought a little about what she really wanted. Who she really wanted to be.

  She’d never liked Elizabeth, though it was what her mother always insisted she go by. What she needed now was something simpler, something less formal. Something friendly and inviting.

  Beth Brooks? Liz Brooks?

  Neither seemed to fit.

  Her father had called her Liza when she was a little girl, with a drawn-out accent on the “i”. Until her mother had browbeat him into using her full name.

  Hmm. Liza Brooks… She liked it.

  Liza didn’t even realize she was smiling until she heard the molasses-laced voice of the Devil in Blue Jeans. “You’ll be waiting all night if you called a cab, darlin’. Only one in town,” he reminded her.