by Ann Jacobs
She grinned. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Craig’s mind didn’t function when Casey was within arms’ reach, reminding him of sweet, tart lime sherbet melting in his mouth on a sultry day. “You pretty much steal my thoughts away, pretty lady,” he said, grateful his brain still worked well enough to formulate a halfway cohesive reply.
His cock had no problem expressing its needs. His tongue felt as though he’d swallowed cotton. His jaw wouldn’t work. His gaze settled on her breasts that would spill from his hands, and on tight little nipples he imagined would taste so sweet when he drew them into his mouth.
He’d always been partial to lime sherbet.
“Cat got your tongue, there?” she asked, her dark eyes sparkling.
“Just thinking, pretty lady.” And getting hornier by the minute.
“What about?” She raked him with an assessing gaze that settled on the hard-on that had grown past proportions that his loose shorts could conceal.
“Oooh,” she said, her grin widening as if she liked knowing what she did to him.
As if she wanted to do some sexual research of her own.
He sure as hell wanted to do some with her. “Want to grab a late snack after you get off from work?” he asked.
“Sure.” Casey’s smile brightened even more, and her dark eyes twinkled with amusement— or was it promise?
Chapter Two
Casey would have pinched herself, but she didn’t want to show up black and blue for Craig. Glancing at her watch once she got home, she saw she had less than half an hour to change for their date.
She didn’t have time to worry or to drool. But she couldn’t help it.
No sane woman could help drooling over Craig McDermott. He was the kind of hunk she’d dreamed about attracting when she spent her college years in Lubbock under the watchful eye of her great-aunt. The kind of prime male specimen she’d never even seen in Bone Gap, Texas, population 468.
Tall, dark, and gorgeous, with a body to die for and brilliant blue eyes that would melt the clothes off a nun, Craig was way out of the league of Cassandra Thompson, hick girl from the Texas sticks.
Casey didn’t kid herself. She might flirt and wear sexy clothes, but inside she was still the naive rancher’s daughter whose fiancé had dumped her. When it came down to the wire, I couldn’t picture crawling in bed with my best friend. Buck’s shamefaced confession still rang in Casey’s ears.
But she’d put that behind her. Damn it, she’d become a new woman. She was going to indulge her senses and grab everything life offered. Including having hot, fantastic sex with Craig McDermott if her luck held out.
Maybe Casey had finally attracted a real live hunk who’d rid her of her inconvenient innocence. Anticipation zinged through her body, along with a shiver of trepidation. What if Craig realized she wasn’t at all the savvy woman she pretended to be?
She couldn’t let him find out. No way was she going to spend her whole life getting rejected because she was too sweet, too innocent, too much like some guy’s little sister.
“Going out?” Lisa stuck her head through Casey’s bedroom door and grinned.
“Yeah.” Good. At least she could still sound casual.
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Craig McDermott.”
Lisa joined Casey in her bedroom and plopped down on the window seat. “See. I told you that outfit ought to do the trick.”
Casey took a breath, then faced the mirror and dared to glance at the chartreuse unitard her roommate had insisted she wear today. “Oh no,” she muttered as she watched her cheeks turn beet-red at the sight of her nipples, hard as rock and jutting out like tiny erections against the skin-tight material.
“Sexy, isn’t it? Didn’t I tell you—”
“You told me. I just didn’t realize it looked quite this tartish.” Casey peeled off her second skin and started rummaging through a drawer. “I’ve got to hurry. He’s picking me up in twenty minutes.”
Lisa picked up the handful of lycra Casey had just shed and tossed it in the laundry basket. “Was the lawyer of every woman’s dreams salivating when he saw you in this?”
“Not exactly. He did look…well, excited.”
“Horny’s more like it.” Lisa met Casey’s gaze and frowned. “Honey, are you sure you’re ready—”
“I’m certain. If I don’t do it now, I’ll lose my nerve. Besides, this guy’s gorgeous. Those eyes. That smile. Do you think he likes me?”
“Get real. There’s not a straight, red-blooded man alive who wouldn’t want to crawl in the sack with a woman who looks like you do in workout togs.” Lisa’s brow wrinkled, and she shifted her gaze to the floor. “Just don’t make seducing you too easy for him.”
“I don’t want to make it too hard, either.”
“That’s exactly what you do want. Keep his cock so hard he can’t think straight.” Lisa shot her a knowing grin.
“How?”
“Hot looks. Sexy innuendo. Lots of ‘accidental’ casual touching in erogenous places. That ought to do it for a start. Oh, and go for lots of tongue action when he kisses you goodnight.”
“Accidental?”
“Think subtle. Lay your hand on his thigh while he’s driving. Let your breasts brush against his chest when you’re slow dancing. Get in close enough to rub against his cock. I can’t believe you. Don’t you know anything at all?”
Casey hoped it would be dark if, when, and where she got the nerve up to touch Craig’s hard-muscled thigh. Otherwise he’d see her blush and realize she was nothing but a fraud.
“I know how to French-kiss,” she told Lisa without making eye contact as she tugged on tight jeans and struggled with the zipper.
“That’s something.”
Not much, if Lisa’s tone conveyed the sarcasm Casey thought it did.
Casey slipped a low-cut, belly-baring tank top over the lacy red bra Lisa had helped her pick out last weekend at the mall.
“Does this look okay?”
“It looks dynamite. But wait. I’ve got shoes that’ll be a perfect match.”
Lisa got up. When she came back, she had a spike-heeled red sandal twirling around on the index finger of each hand. “Here. Wear these instead of those cowboy boots you like so well. McDermott’s plenty tall, and he strikes me as a guy who’d appreciate a pair of legs in high-heeled shoes.”
“He’s not going to see my legs,” Casey said, but she sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off one boot. “Is he?”
“Not tonight unless he’s one hell of a fast mover. But these shoes will make him think about how those legs will feel wrapped around his waist. Trust me.”
Casey had relied on Lisa this far. She might as well trust her for the whole journey from simpering virgin to bona fide bad girl. Bending, she pried off her other boot and put on Lisa’s heels.
Then she stood and looked in the full-length mirror. The lightweight silk knit crop-top clung to her breasts almost as lovingly as the unitard had a few minutes earlier. “Do I need something else on under this?”
“Absolutely not. You want to look hot.”
When Casey glanced at her reflection again, she wasn’t so sure. “I suppose I do.”
“Then relax. You’ll have McDermott panting after you like a rabid dog.”
She wasn’t at all sure she liked that analogy. “I think I’d rather have him panting like a faithful puppy.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Lisa shook her head. “Too tame. You want rabid. Trust me.”
Casey guessed she’d have to. Her own knowledge about men and sex left a lot to be desired.
“Casey?”
“Yes, I trust you. I don’t know what I’d have done when I got here if you hadn’t taken me under your wing.”
“You’d have managed. Hey, girlfriend, you’d better hurry. That’s your date knocking at our door.”
* * * * *
What was he thinking about, taking Cas
ey Thompson on a date?
Hell, Craig knew exactly what he was doing. Field work. Sort of a background investigation to help him figure the best way to prosecute the Road Rage Ranger.
So he was going to have to forfeit his virginity in order to do his job as an assistant district attorney. So what? He was up for the sacrifice. In more ways than one.
The door opened, and he caught a whiff of something that reminded him of the wisteria vines that bloomed in his grandma’s garden every spring. An innocent smell, sweet and a little bit old-fashioned. A good-girl smell.
Then he caught an eyeful of Casey. Her silky fire-engine red top bared the upper curve of her breasts, then stopped several inches above her exposed belly button. It fit her like a glove. Hugged her the way he itched to do.
Seeing her in that top would give any grandma apoplexy.
Only a blind man could fail to have noticed her low-riding, skin-tight jeans or the spike-heeled red “fuck-me” sandals on her feet.
Craig didn’t think good girls wore stiletto heels with their jeans.
He knew damn well that good boys didn’t salivate over the idea of finding out whether a girl’s silky top or her naked breasts would feel softer to their hands and tongues.
Craig definitely was salivating. Of course his good-boy days would soon come to a screeching halt, assuming he could talk Casey into bed.
“Hi, Craig.”
“Hi.” He hoped his tongue wasn’t hanging out. He knew damn well his cock was trying to bust out of his jeans when he stared at Casey framed in the open doorway.
Anything for his career.
Who the hell was he kidding? The need to check out the logic of the Ranger’s insanity defense was only an excuse to sample what Casey had been tempting him with for weeks.
Windblown dark brown hair curved against her cheeks and caressed the smooth tanned skin of her neck and shoulders.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as they made their way to his car.
He couldn’t help ogling her. Those jeans might as well have been a lethal weapon, the way they hugged her supple curves.
When he unlocked the door and helped her in, the sensation of his fingertips on her bare elbow went through him like an electric shock.
That jolt got strong enough to make a man cry when her top slipped off one shoulder. The glimpse he got of cleavage framed against silky red material and the black leather of the bucket seat raised his temperature at least a hundred degrees.
“Are you?”
What was she talking about? “What?”
“Are you hungry?”
He had asked her that, hadn’t he?
“Yeah.” He was hungry all right. But not for food.
Maybe if they went someplace dark, he could manage not to drool over her as though she were a prime T-bone steak cooked rare.
“I know a neat little country-western place on the north end of town. I thought we’d go have some barbecue and work off the calories with a little dancing. Sound okay?”
“Sure.”
That one sultry syllable conjured up some arousing images. The two of them on a crowded dance floor, him holding her as close as two people could get and still have on all their clothes.
Anticipation thrummed through his brain as he maneuvered into a parking spot.
Damn it, every minute he spent with Casey in the close confines of his two-seater BMW made the Ranger’s defense seem more plausible.
* * * * *
Joe Ray’s Best Texas-style Barbecue and Honky Tonk reminded Casey of roadhouses near Lubbock where she’d gone with Buck. She looked around, surprised that Craig seemed right at home here until she remembered him saying he was originally a Texan, too, during the fifteen-minute drive out here.
To get her mind off the sizzling sensation that flooded her when he put his hand on the bare strip of skin above her waist, she tried to concentrate on the beat of the country music and the smells wafting inside from the outdoor open pit.
The mouth-watering aroma of sizzling beef and Joe Ray’s secret sauce should have distracted her, but all she could think about was how good she imagined Craig would taste when he kissed her.
When they sat down, she focused on the dancers. Each couple swayed slowly, their bodies brushing together on a dance floor not much bigger than a postage stamp. Somehow they all seemed to have found intimacy in the midst of the raucous crowd.
Buck had probably met Daisy Lee at a place not much different from this one.
When Casey looked at Craig across the scarred table, she realized she didn’t care. In the smoky room, those brilliant blue eyes of his—startling against his darkly tanned cheeks and dark-brown hair—drew her to him like a magnet. He was a stranger, but she wanted to get personal with him.
Very personal.
Just looking at him, Casey got hot, tingling sensations between her legs and in her nipples. For the first time she understood the feeling—the heady rush of desire a husky-voiced singer was crooning about onstage.
She wanted him to hold her, warm her in all the places on her body where icy blasts from Joe Ray’s high-efficiency air conditioning system had her skin puckering up with goose bumps. She could hardly wait to run her fingers through his expertly cut dark hair, rest her head against his chest, and listen to his heart beat while they swayed in time with a slow love song.
He held her hand, massaged her palm with his thumb.
Funny. Casey thought she’d noticed everything about Craig when she watched him work out at the gym, but she hadn’t realized he had such large, strong hands. Sexy hands. She hadn’t even considered that hands could be sexy.
But Craig’s were. They were big, with long fingers dusted on the knuckles with impossibly soft, dark hair. Callused but clean, like the man himself who exuded rugged strength along with his city-lawyer polish.
She’d seen him grip hefty barbells with authority—but Casey sensed that he’d handle a woman gently. Muscles rippled in his forearms, reminding her that under the rolled-up sleeves of a charcoal-gray western-style shirt, more well-honed male flesh hid.
“Casey. You there?”
She met his gaze, felt his amusement. “I’m here.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Do you want beef or chicken?”
He must have thought she’d lost her mind. So must the tired looking waitress standing beside their table, her pad and pencil in hand.
“Beef.”
Casey hoped the woman hadn’t been waiting for long.
He turned to the waitress. “Two sliced beef sandwiches. Sauce on the side. I’ll have a draft beer. Casey?”
“Beer’s fine.”
“Make that two.”
The way he spoke—low and resonant, not loud but deep and compelling—reminded Casey he made his living talking juries into putting criminals away. When he turned the full force of his gaze on her, she shivered. He’d have very little trouble persuading her to follow anywhere he led.
He even oozed sex appeal while he ate.
When Casey watched him bite into the spicy-hot sandwich, she noticed the alignment of his bright white teeth was imperfect enough to make him seem real. The flaw set off a face that otherwise seemed perfect, from those mesmerizing eyes that had haunted her recent dreams to a stubborn jaw and an aristocratic looking nose.
She’d always thought of blue as a cool color. But his eyes radiated heat. That heat threatened to consume her when he settled his gaze on her breasts.
How would she feel when he brushed his mouth across them? Her nipples tensed at the thought of him licking her there, nipping that sensitive flesh between his teeth.
Her cheeks burning, Casey dragged her gaze away and sipped her beer. The icy liquid did little to cool her off, nothing to dispel the arousing pictures from her mind.
“Want to dance?” he asked after he drained his mug.
Casey nodded and took his hand. The chemistry was there for him, too. She could tell by the heat in his
eyes and the husky, almost hoarse tone of his voice.
Slowly they wound their way through the crowd to the center of the tiny dance floor. He set her hands on his shoulders, then wrapped his sinewy arms around her waist.
The song was slow, its lyrics about a guy who’d found a girl who wasn’t at all what he’d dreamed of—and fallen in love. Casey rested her head on Craig’s shoulder and let her imagination soar.
He wasn’t the average guy she’d envisioned. The kind of everyday Joe who’d jump at what she had to offer. Just like the singer wailed about his girl, Craig was more. Much more than she dreamed of. More as in movie star gorgeous, successful and self-assured.
He was accustomed, Casey was certain, to having women who knew just how to ring his bells.
The lights were dim. He held her close but not too tight and led her in the slow, sensual dance with utter self-assurance but without the slightest hint of force.
Yes, Craig was more than Casey had bargained for in every way.
She laid her cheek on the soft material of his shirt and rubbed the stubbly hairs on the back of his neck. The tang of his woodsy aftershave mingled with her own perfume and the aroma of barbecue that permeated Joe Ray’s place.
The smells turned her on. The music turned her on. Most of all, Craig turned her on.
She snuggled closer, took pleasure in feeling his hot, hard muscles against her thighs—and in his obvious erection that throbbed against the sensitive flesh of her lower abdomen. She’d never felt this way with Buck, all tingly and hot and acutely conscious of every place where their bodies made contact.
Casey had mildly anticipated a wedding night with Buck. But she wanted Craig on a level that went far deeper. A primal level, female needing male. A level that didn’t require a wedding band to make it right.
His hot, hard penis scorched her belly through their clothes, fed the flame inside her.
Silently she reiterated her determination to unleash the sexual, sensual side of herself. The part of her that strict parents, Buck, and Bone Gap, Texas had suppressed for so long.
“You’ve got to know what you do to me.” Craig’s whisper rumbled in Casey’s ears.
She wiggled her hips and blew gently against the exposed skin above his collar. “Do I turn you on?”