One Hot Second

by Stacy Gail

  “The way they disturbed us when we first got here?” A low laugh rumbled from him and he closed his eyes to better concentrate on her sensual ministrations. She could play with him all day and he’d be the happiest man in the world. “It’s all good, Parker. If you’re not yelling the damn roof off the place, you’re not doing the Nooner the justice it deserves.”

  He was thoroughly charmed by her snort of laughter. “And the Honeymoon Suite most of all. I wonder what else we can find in here to occupy our time? There’s some kind of seat in the shower that looks either really uncomfortable, or really fun.”

  It was amazing how his heart rate went from zero to ninety in one second flat. “I vote that’s the next thing we—”

  The electronic bleep of a cell phone cut him off. There was no force on earth that could stop him from enjoying the view when she rolled to the foot of the bed, ass up, to dig through her discarded jeans.

  “Sorry about this,” she muttered, glancing back at him as she pulled the phone out. “But that’s my assistant’s ringtone, and I’ve been waiting for a call about my next project.”

  The full throttle on his pulse collapsed like he’d suffered a power outage. Next project. Fuck. “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah. I had a choice between Bitterthorn and the Loire Valley, and crazy hairpin that I am, I chose Bitterthorn in the middle of summer. But the people who own the French property decided they were willing to wait for me to finish up here. Or at least they were,” she added darkly and hit the proper button decisively. “Hiya, Sharon.”

  Since she didn’t seem to have a need for privacy, Chandler folded his arms behind his head and listened to her half of the conversation. As he did, the irritation known as reality wormed its way into the room. He hated it with everything in him. Of course he knew their time in the Nooner’s Honeymoon Suite wasn’t going to last forever, but it would have been nice if they could have had at least a couple hours of uninterrupted time. His face tightened into a scowl as he absently studied how the thick fall of her hair parted on either side of her delicate-looking nape. They’d made a ton of progress today with the discovery of the cornerstone. Which was great. Out-fucking-standing. Except the inner him threw one pisser of a tantrum at the memory of Parker proclaiming the Throne Mansion project was in the bag. It wasn’t in the bag. All they had at the moment was an empty slab where a great building used to be. She wasn’t done with this project, not by a long shot. Not even if, by some miracle, she did locate the original blueprints that this Junker guy produced back in the day. He’d brought Parker to South Texas for six weeks of work, and by damn that was what she was going to give him. Even if the majority of that time was spent on her back as he made her scream his name..

  All she needed was some incentive to stay for the fully allotted time.

  To distract himself from his growing irritation, Chandler found himself looking through the complimentary basket on the table. He had to give old Earl Herff credit. The man really knew what he was doing when it came to supplying the Honeymoon Suite with everything an eager newlywed couple could possibly want. Condoms of all colors and sizes, flavored lubes, body glitter. He paused at a His-and-Her gel packet he didn’t immediately recognize, and blinked when he read the description and supposed effects.

  Well, well, well.

  “Sharon. I know it’s a lot of money.” There was a hint of impatience in Parker’s tone as she came to sit on the side of the bed, her back to him. More curious than anything, he opened the packet, took an experimental sniff, then decided to see if he could feel anything by smearing a sample on the crown of his penis, semi-hard thanks to Parker’s interrupted attention. Historically, sex enhancers were nothing more than fancy snake oil sold to a gullible public, but what the hell. It was here, and at the very least it might be fun for them to...

  Hello.

  “Yes, I’m thrilled we found the cornerstone and as of now my job is going to be a lot easier. But that doesn’t mean I can leave everything up in the air. We haven’t even begun the reconstruction phase. How would it look if I left now?”

  His breath shallowed out as the thin skin along the ridge tingled and puckered as though touched by a live wire. His shaft twitched and darkened with a rush of blood, the veins beginning to pulse with need. Grabbing a condom from the basket he rose to a sitting position and scooted in behind Parker, smearing his hands with the miracle stuff for her as he went.

  What could he say, he was a thoughtful and generous kind of guy. When he found something good, the first thing he wanted to do was share the happy.

  “It’s weird that the foreman called you instead of me... Well, I guess I didn’t hear my phone. Chandler,” she said to him over her shoulder, then smiled when he rested his chin on her shoulder while reaching from behind to part her legs. “There was a time capsule behind the cornerstone, which doesn’t surprise me. Time capsules or other foundation dedication customs date back to the era of the Egyptians. The foreman at the worksite called Sharon to let me know they left it in my office at the site, so we can swing by and pick it...” Her sharp inhalation sounded loud in his ears as he rubbed his coated fingers all along the cleft. Then, just to be sure he did a proper job of it, he emptied the rest of the packet onto his fingers and massaged the stuff as thoroughly as he knew how onto her hidden pleasure center. Hopefully that would be enough.

  “Um.” He heard her teeth click together suddenly, as if she wanted to take a bite out of him, and her body went unnaturally still. “Sharon, I’m with the Bitterthorn client now, so I’m afraid I can’t really t-talk...uh, talk? Oh. Ohhh, wow.”

  “I know.” He bit her shoulder, oblivious that his hips were undulating on autopilot, the pure sex motion rubbing him against the crevice of her ass. At first tingling and then throbbing, the head of his dick now pounded out a maddening beat—urgent, intoxicating, his skin beading with perspiration as he imagined it swelling like a goddamn overblown balloon. “Good, right? So good. So good.” With his free hand he stroked himself, only to realize that wasn’t what he wanted.

  He had to be inside her. Now.

  “Later, Sharon. Bye.” Parker dropped the phone to push both her hands over his, a voluptuous moan that was his name bubbling from her. Feverishly she made his fingers grind into her with a strength that startled him, while her hips rode his hand as if her goal was to spark a fire with the writhing friction of her hips. Almost by accident his fingers entered her, and when she shuddered he almost lost it. Half-blind, gasping, he pushed her onto the floor on her hands and knees, grabbed the wedge pillow he’d noted when he’d first seen the room, and draped her over it. With her forehead on the faux polar bear rug, her hands once again bringing one of his between her legs and her ass up in readiness, he plowed into her depths. The impact of his hips smacking into her ass echoed around the room, and he loved the sound so much he pulled almost all the way out and did it again.

  And again.

  Countless times.

  Endlessly.

  Impaling her so the molten-hot muscles sheathing him seemed to suck him in all the way to his hilt, only to suffer the near-complete retreat with his shaft barely within her threshold... It was primal, a savage mating he never wanted to end. But he could feel everything tightening with an overpowering tension, a pleasure so fierce it was sweetly agonizing. With what little rational mind he had left, he tried to fight it off even as he pumped harder into her.

  So good. So good...

  He never heard the whispered words falling from his lips.

  Her sudden, breathless scream coincided with the almost painful spasms of the slick depths gloving him, and if he weren’t being swallowed by the most devastating ecstasy he’d ever known he would have half-feared she’d rip his damn penis off. But the pleasure had grabbed him as well, and he arched his back as his release exploded with a wild violence that blanked his mind and soul, wiping it complet
ely clean, only to be filled by one single and all-important thought.

  Parker.

  Chapter Ten

  Who knew that indulging in a sex marathon could make walking a challenge the next day? Thankfully the first part of Parker’s day had kept her on the run, so most of the kinks got worked out. By lunchtime, however, she was running on fumes and ready for a breather. With the site now totally cleared and the initial construction process underway, she headed for the Herald across the square.

  “Hey, Doris.” There was no way Parker could stop herself from looking around the paper’s front room in search of Chandler, only to inwardly eye-roll at how deflated the world became when she didn’t see him. She was so ridiculous, acting like a swoony teen suffering her first crush. “What’s the verdict? I’ve been dying to know what’s in the time capsule ever since Chandler picked it up this morning.”

  The office manager shot a baleful glance at the open door to Chandler’s office. “You and every other person in Bitterthorn. Don’t get me wrong, I love it whenever this berg comes up with something that’s genuinely newsworthy. But when that newsworthy story is sitting right on the desk of the paper’s very own editor-in-chief, it puts me in a bad mood.”

  “I’d think you’d be over the moon about getting such an obviously exclusive scoop.”

  “I would be, if it weren’t for Mayor Weems sticking her beak into Chandler’s business every other minute. That woman’s gone off her nut with delusions of power, if you ask me.”

  “What’s she up to now?” Then Parker’s breath caught as a sudden thought struck. “She’s not still saying the reconstruction of Thorne Mansion isn’t necessary, is she?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten about it. But, just like everyone else in town, our dear Madam Mayor’s focus was on the Thorne Mansion time capsule. She rolled in bright and early this morning like she owned the place.”

  “Why would the time capsule matter to her?”

  “Beats me, but she demanded to be present when it was opened. Chandler told her he was fine with that—as long as she had a court order stating her legal reasons why she had a right to be present during a personal matter dealing with Thorne property. That’s when she completely lost it.”

  Parker was almost afraid to ask. “How so?”

  “She said she’d get a court order, all right—one that would remove Chandler as editor-in-chief of the Herald for threatening frivolous legal action, if you can believe it.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I can’t believe it. The time capsule is Thorne property and has nothing to do with the paper. How does she make the connection between the two?”

  “She’s never been able to separate the two in her mind, so this is nothing new,” came the exasperated reply. “Her last words before she left here were that if the boss didn’t stop thwarting her, she wouldn’t rest until she shut down the Herald outright and land all of us on the unemployment line. I think she was hoping she could incite Oliver and me to rise up and toss Chandler out on his ear, or something.”

  “Oh my God.” Shocked and angry at such an obvious abuse of power, fire ignited in Parker’s veins. “I don’t care who she is, she can’t do that.”

  Doris nodded. “Chandler mentioned how awful it might be for her come election time if the people of this town knew she enjoyed threatening citizens’ jobs just because she didn’t get her way. Now we’re all wondering if she really has the power to do it.”

  “The one thing you can count on is Chandler, Doris. Not only does he enjoy a good fight, but he’d never allow anyone to hurt you or the Herald. He’s got too much heart to ever let that happen.” And as she spoke, a surge of pride hit from out of nowhere. His love of fairness, and the strength of his integrity, was what made him such a good journalist, and a great man.

  Doris still looked like she wanted to bite something. “I’ve got faith in the boss, but you don’t know how the Thornes and the Weemses are. They’ve always hated each other. I wouldn’t put it past her ladyship to pull something nasty.”

  “Chandler will be ready for it if and when that happens.” Then, when the older woman didn’t look appeased, Parker tried to change conversational course. “So? Did the time capsule ever get opened, or are you still reeling from the madness that is your illustrious mayor?”

  “The boss opened it a little while ago, and he’s already decided to print up a special edition to highlight the find. But that’s not good enough for everyone, now that word has spread.” Doris shot a savage look at a couple entering behind Parker. “See what I mean? We’ve had a steady stream of lookie-lous popping in just to get a glimpse. Unless they’re here to place an ad in the Classifieds or to report an earthshaking news story, I’m going to have to start throwing people out on their rears. And that includes the mayor, if she decides to show up again.”

  With her expression worthy of any soldier going into battle, Doris moved to head off the approaching people, leaving Parker to wander through the editor-in-chief’s open door. She spied Chandler leaning over his desk along with Oliver and offered a quick knock, and when his gaze locked with hers it was as tangible as a touch. He looked at her as though he’d been waiting to see her face, and that alone made something in her chest squeeze so hard it was difficult to breathe. Without a word, he straightened to wrap his fingers warmly around hers, pulling her up to the desk.

  “You are not going to believe this. Come to find out, my ancestors and the much-honored and revered founders of Bitterthorn...were pimps.”

  For a second she was sure he was joking. “What?”

  “Well, ancestor—singular. Declan Senior apparently had a lucrative side business to help pay for the construction of Thorne Mansion. A side business that took care of the personal needs of all the area’s ranch hands, at that perennial din of iniquity—”

  “The Nooner.” Of all the things she might have expected, this was definitely not one of them. She stared at him, trying not to gape. “The twin rows of motel rooms were once bunkhouses, any blind person could see that. But silly me, I’d assumed the old-time cowboys had used those bunkhouses to...you know, bunk.”

  “If that isn’t a euphemism for doing the nasty, I don’t know what is.” Oliver was busy peering at what appeared to be an old tintype in a wooden frame. “Whether it’s the nineteenth century or the twenty-first, people will be people, won’t they? That’s what makes them all so interesting.”

  “What the hell was in that time capsule, anyway?” Parker wanted to know, peeking over Chandler’s shoulder at the items on the desk. “Is there like an arrest warrant or a written confession? Maybe a photo of Declan Senior in a leopard zoot suit, high-heeled boots and a blinged-out walking stick?”

  “That would be awesome. Declan Thorne, Pimp Daddy of Bitterthorn,” Oliver snorted, then started guiltily when the frame of the tintype went to pieces in his hands. “Oops.”

  Chandler sighed. “Put it down and go away. And remember, Oliver—keep as quiet about this as you’re capable of until we go to print, all right? The unveiling of the truth behind Thorne Mansion will have more impact if it actually is an unveiling, rather than a verification of your gossip.”

  “You sound like you don’t have any reservations about revealing your family’s ancient dirty laundry,” Parker observed after Oliver had closed the door behind him. “Declan Thorne founded this town. That means he’s right up there with the likes of Davy Crockett and Sam Houston for some people. Nobody would blame you if you wanted to keep this quiet.”

  “Are you kidding? Until today I thought all my ancestors were boring and unimaginative cattlemen. I couldn’t be prouder that I spring from people who valued the merits of a good old-fashioned roll in the hay. And speaking of which.” He curled an arm around her and kissed her until she forgot how to breathe. “Still sore?”

  “You ask that like you don’t know whethe
r to be apologetic or proud.”

  “It’s pretty much an equal mix.”

  “I think I’ll survive.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his chagrined expression. “But since I’m wiped out, how about you entertain me with what you found while I take a nice comfy seat in your chair?”

  “You’re going to love this.” Grinning like a kid at Christmas, Chandler carefully pulled some parchment from an envelope that had once been sealed by wax. “This is the contractor’s agreement Declan Senior made to have those bunkhouses built for the express purpose of housing his new venture. It states right in the document that he needed multiple private rooms for ‘wayward ladies to offer comfort to healthy men bent on releasing pent-up needs in an energetic manner’.” He glanced up from the document to leer at Parker. “I guess the term ‘horny’ hadn’t come about yet.”

  “I have no problem picturing the Nooner as an Old West bordello,” she snorted, tucking her feet under her as she perused the other items on his desk. “I’m just surprised it didn’t cause more of a scandal. You know, one that you and the rest of the family would know about. Was Declan too much of a big wheel around here to be arrested for prostitution?”

  “First off, don’t forget that Declan Senior owned the Herald around that time, so it’s not like he’d print anything unsavory about himself, now, would he? And secondly, Texas was the heart of the Wild West, and it was called ‘wild’ for a reason. At that time, women were scarce in this territory, laws were nonexistent, and this sort of thing wasn’t necessarily illegal. At least not the way Declan had it set up.”