by Leigh, Lora
“Me getting frisky with the handcuffs would be the least of your problems,” he growled back at her, and she almost believed him.
She pretended to shiver. “Should I whimper and beg for mercy?”
“Probably.” There was a grunt of laughter. “One thing is for damned sure, you’d end up spanked. Does that smart mouth of yours ever stop?”
“Only when I’m kissing cowardly sheriffs with more excuses than handcuffs.” She smiled tightly. “Go home, Zeke. I’m tired of playing with you tonight. I tell you what, the next time I’m in the mood for a little slap and tickle I’ll give you a call. Seems that’s all you’re willing to put out at any given time.”
Oh, she was pissed. She glared back at him, seeing the amusement, the careful watchfulness he displayed. He thought he could walk into her home and just play the big, bad dominant lover throwing out his little warnings? Who the hell was he this week? The dom from hell? Bullshit. She’d heard how the sheriff liked to fuck for years. All night. Hard and heavy. He was like a stallion ready to mount and ride at any given time, one widow had drawled drunkenly during a pity party of epic proportions when her studly sheriff had stopped coming to her bed. Rogue was tired of hearing the damned tales from women drowning their sorrows in her whisky.
“Smart-ass.” His voice lowered, deepened. “That one was free, sweetheart; keep it up and I’ll start running a tab for you. And I do collect.”
She pretended to shiver. “I’m shaking in my shoes.”
He looked at the shoes on the floor, then back at her feet before his lips tightened and he gave his head a hard shake.
“I’m getting the hell out of here,” he told her. “If I hear anything about the twins, I’ll let you know.”
“Just send one of your little deputies,” she ordered furiously. “I’ve decided I don’t like playing with you after all, Zeke. I think it’s time for me to consider other potential buddies.”
He stopped.
Zeke could feel the blood exploding in his head at her angry little threat, and the fact that she just might be serious. Was she serious? He stared into her eyes, keeping his eyes narrowed as he gauged her expression.
Yep, she just might be serious.
“I wouldn’t jump into anything if I were you,” he warned her. He tried to keep the warning light, but he failed miserably. He knew what he sounded like. Like a man warning his woman back from a boundary she was getting ready to cross.
He couldn’t have her, but he’d be damned if he was going to stand aside and watch some other bastard take her now that he’d had a taste of her.
That thought froze him as effectively as Rogue’s warning had. Hell, he was losing his fucking mind.
“Fuck it,” he suddenly snarled. “None of my damned business.”
“None of your damned business,” she agreed, evidently angrier now than she was to begin with.
Zeke watched the flush that mounted her cheeks, the glitter of battle in her violet eyes and almost, just almost wondered at the dominant spark that seemed to trigger a cascade of lust in his gut.
Damn her. She wasn’t supposed to challenge him. Get pissed, yeah. Challenge him? Hell no. It was the one thing he’d fought to keep from happening over the years. Rogue challenging him wasn’t something either of them wanted to test right now. Not while the taste of her lips lingered against his, while he could still feel the slick, silken juices from her pussy against his fingertips.
“Be careful, little girl,” he told her gently. “Challenging a big dog is a hell of a lot different than those little Chihuahuas you run with sometimes. They bark at the wind and tuck their tails between their asses and run when I growl back. Remember that. And you better consider that there’s a reason for it. I’m not a lapdog you can curl up with, pet and stroke a few times, and consider it a done deal. You’re a baby next to me, Rogue. It’s not the years between us that hold me back; it’s the fact that you and I both know there’s things about me you don’t want to tempt. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so damned determined to push me.”
Her brow jerked up. A perfect little sarcastic arch.
“I’ll be sure to have nightmares tonight,” she drawled. “Lock up when you leave, Sheriff. I’ve had enough of the deep, dark warnings and dominant male bullshit. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for more.”
She sauntered past him, and he let her go. He had to force his fingers not to curl into fists to hold back the urge to reach out for her. He had to force himself not to follow her when the bedroom door closed.
Hell, he had to force himself to leave her apartment. To stride across the room, turn the lock on her door, and step outside before pulling it shut behind him. Forcing himself down the stairs and through the bar was even harder.
Because he knew what she was doing. She wasn’t in a damned bubble bath. He felt her gaze the minute he stepped from the bar. She was up there watching him, the same as he had watched her enter the bar countless times. And he wondered if she was remembering the dark promise of that kiss they had shared, because he knew he sure as hell wouldn’t be forgetting it.
The kiss itself was a challenge. He should have known the minute she began battling for his taste, pressing for more, for a deeper caress, a harder taste, that he was in deep trouble where that woman was concerned.
He should have known Rogue wouldn’t listen to a warning, that she wouldn’t see reason. She was young, impulsive, wild as the wind. Too young. Son of a bitch. He jerked his truck door open and lifted himself into the seat before slamming it closed. He wanted to ram his fists into something; he wanted to howl at the fucking moon, race back inside and show her how a man hungered, how a man took his woman, and exactly how a man expected a response.
She had no business playing games with him. No damned business pushing his buttons and leaving him with a dick so damned hard that if he did manage to get it to relax, then the bastard was still tender, still ready for action. He hadn’t been this damned ready for sex in more years than he wanted to count.
The woman worked his cock quicker than old man Parsons swore Viagra worked his. This was a damned mess, and he was beginning to lose not just his control but also his common sense.
She was, quite simply, too damned young for what he hungered for.
FOUR
Rogue woke the next morning with a headache. Gremlins from hell were digging into her brain with dull little pick-axes right behind her eyeballs. She’d known when she lay down to sleep the night before that rest wouldn’t follow her into that dark void of unconsciousness. Dreams had instead. The same dreams that had tormented her for years.
Those damned pictures. That fateful night that had begun the emergence of the woman she hadn’t known resided inside her.
David and Amy Kerring. They had been strangers in town, but Caitlyn Rogue Walker hadn’t exactly been well known in her father’s bar. She hadn’t told anyone her relationship; she liked to watch, to listen, with no one knowing who she was. That night, David and Amy had been friendly. Rogue hadn’t particularly liked them, but damn, she had been so dumb. She had turned her back on them only moments, but it was long enough for them to spike her drink.
The next thing she had known she had woken in a strange bed, half dressed, reasonably certain she hadn’t been raped, but she had known something had happened.
Nadine Grace and Dayle Mackay had happened. They had been there, and her nightmares proved it. Nadine had giggled and laughed like a schoolgirl as Dayle Mackay snapped the pictures that had been used to humiliate her ever since.
Never let them see you sweat, bleed, or cry, her grandmother had once told her. Rogue had kept her head high, but it hadn’t been easy. Staring Zeke Mayes in the eye after those pictures hit the Internet had been even harder.
Now, today, four years later, she found that bravado was second nature, pissing people off came easily, and pretending to be the wild, vivacious Rogue was like a second skin now. Unfortunately, the illusion was only skin-deep. The wild, sexually aware
, teasing, motorcycle-riding hellion was just that, a game, a joke on the county and the people that had turned on her. Beneath the skin Caitlyn still lurked, waiting, watching, and fantasizing about a man she couldn’t have.
So what did she do after the best kiss of her life? Did she have incredibly erotic dreams of getting him out of uniform and devouring his hot, hard body? Of course not; she had nightmares.
And she also had a job outside of lounging around the bar. She’d skipped out on Janey the night before, but she couldn’t skip out today or tomorrow. The lunch-crowd days were murder, and the bookkeeping at the end of the day looked like something a cyclone had blown in if Rogue didn’t get a hand on it quickly.
Not that Janey couldn’t handle the paperwork; it was just that Rogue was better at it and she knew it. And she hated having to figure out Janey’s system when she called demanding help. It was a hell of a lot easier when it was Rogue’s system.
April was being especially nice when she stepped out the back door of the bar that afternoon. The early afternoon sunlight was pouring down and warming the mountains with unseasonably heated days. Perfect days for the motorcycle ride to the restaurant. The nights were colder, though, and far less hospitable, but endurable.
She missed the nights Zeke had picked her up after he went off duty at night. The sheriff’s four-by-four Tahoe had been toasty warm and smelled of Zeke. That rich, dark male scent mixed with a hint of aftershave.
Straddling the Harley, Rogue gave herself a mental shake, turned on the ignition, and kicked back the stand before pulling out of the back lot of the bar and heading toward Somerset.
The Bar was only a few miles out of town, but the drive to the Mackay restaurant was nearly a half hour. By the time she pulled into the back lot there the chill wind had sliced through her leather riding chaps and heavy jacket. Her face felt frozen, and she wasn’t looking forward to the ride home that night.
Damn, if she kept this up, she was going to have to pull that ugly sedan out of the garage where she kept it stored and start driving it again. Wouldn’t that just leave her reputation as the bad-girl biker in the dust. Her dignity, too, because that sedan was damned ugly.
Kicking the stand in place, she pulled the key from the ignition, tucked it into her front pocket, and dismounted in one smooth move before pulling the small leather backpack she carried from a saddlebag.
Janey was in the office as Rogue strode in. The other woman was sitting nice and cozy and warm in her lover’s arms where he sat in the large leather chair behind the desk.
“Chief of police caught lazing on the job,” Rogue reported tongue-in-cheek. “Sources close to the owner of the Mackay Restaurant and Café report that said chief definitely knows how to make use of a leather office chair. Pictures below.”
Janey rolled her eyes as Alex grunted, though his gray eyes were lit with amusement.
“Sources close to Rogue Walker are also well aware of a certain sheriff’s late-night visit,” he stated, though his gaze turned somber. “Has he learned anything yet?”
Rogue shook her head as she loosened the buckles to her chaps and slid them from her jeans-clad legs. “Nothing that I know of and I’ve ignored the phone this morning, so the gossip hasn’t exactly made it to me yet.”
“The gossip we can definitely do without,” Janey stated, her dark green eyes sparking with anger.
Janey had endured enough gossip since her father’s death. Dayle Mackay had been a maggot and his sister, Nadine Grace, had been even worse. Sometimes Rogue thought it rather ironic, the friendship she had developed with the other woman, considering her history with Janey’s father and aunt.
“Have you heard anything further?” She watched Alex as he lifted Janey to her feet, then rose from the chair.
The man was definite eye candy. She got a nice slow look, then arched her brow at Janey’s frown as her lips twitched in amusement. It was a game. Rogue couldn’t help it. Alex always just almost blushed, and Janey always bristled. Rogue laughed.
“I haven’t heard anything further,” Alex growled. “Stop trying to embarrass me, Rogue. It’s not going to happen.”
Rogue shrugged. “Hey, a girl needs some excitement in her life, ya know.”
Janey leaned back against the table set close to the wall and arched her brows at Rogue’s comment. “I guess that’s why Zeke called Alex no more than five minutes before you arrived. To add excitement to your life?”
Rogue glared back at her. “Yeah. Right. If he lets my life get any more exciting, I might not be able to handle it.”
“Uh-huh,” Alex murmured. “Explains the beard burn under your jaw.”
Rogue’s hand flashed to the incriminating mark, and she felt the heat flood her face. Dammit. She knew she had covered that with makeup.
He laughed in response. “Good makeup job, but I watch Janey try to hide the marks too damned often not to know what you’re hiding there. Tell him to shave before he comes around next time.”
At that, he dropped a quick kiss on his fiancée’s lips and strode from the office as Rogue plopped onto the couch facing Janey’s desk.
“I hate him,” she muttered as she flashed Janey a mocking glare.
Janey laughed as she took a seat beside Rogue on the couch. “Yeah, he has that effect on people sometimes.”
Janey tilted her head to look beneath Rogue’s jaw again as Rogue narrowed her eyes and stared back at her broodingly.
“It’s just beard burn,” Rogue muttered. “It will go away soon.”
“What is it about the men around here that they just can’t get past marking their women?” Janey asked then.
Rogue snorted. “I’ve seen the marks you leave on Alex, Janey. I swear I think you’re trying to have him for a midnight snack.”
Janey’s lips pursed with a wicked little smile. “Sometimes.”
Rogue shook her head as a feeling of loss swept through her. She was jealous of her friend. Janey had with Alex what Rogue had only dreamed of having with Zeke in the past five years.
Why the hell was she so focused on this single man to the point that no other would do? What was it about Zeke Mayes and his total reluctance to touch her that kept her dangling on that ever-present string of attraction to him? Whatever it was, it was going to have to stop.
“I’m not his woman anyway.” She shrugged as she rose from the couch, picked up her pack, and headed for the door that led into the restaurant itself. “According to him, why, little ole me is much too young for his big, bad sheriffy ass. Seems he wants more of a woman than it appears I am.”
She tossed Janey a careless smile, but it hurt. No, it didn’t just hurt, it pissed her off. She could have had a dozen lovers in the past five years. She didn’t have to sleep alone. She didn’t have to drift through the days waiting to see one man above all others.
She wasn’t ugly. No one would have to put a bag over her head to fuck her.
Rogue jerked open the door and closed it behind her before taking a deep, cleansing breath. She had work to do. Three days a week she was the manager, and it just so happened that she had to pick the three hardest days of the week.
That meant she had a lot of work to do. First off was dressing for the role. She moved to the small employee’s lounge at the back and the dressing room there. The waiters and waitresses had uniforms, but Rogue dressed as she pleased. She dressed to draw attention and send tongues wagging. Janey swore that half the clientele showed up just to see what Rogue would wear next. Tonight, she was in a wild mood. Wild, but subtle. Subtle meant everything when it came to a particular mood, she thought with a tight little smile as she pulled the well-pressed clothing from within her pack.
The schoolgirl’s checkered skirt was short but demure. It covered her ass. That was modest, but this one actually went a few inches lower and covered the tops of her thighs as well. The pleats were full and, if she turned a certain way, would flare out enticingly. With it, she wore a see-through white blouse, a shimmering gray camisole
, and beneath that, a lacy black bra. Stockings and gray stilettos finished the outfit.
An hour later the curls that cascaded around her face were pulled up to the crown of her head and secured with a thin scarf that trailed behind her head. Makeup, a quick application of bronze lipstick, and she looked subtly enticing, sexy, and wicked.
And she knew exactly who would see her looking just young, fresh, and eager to be debauched. She almost laughed at the term her mother had once used. That was exactly how she looked, and Sheriff Zeke Mayes just happened to have a reservation for dinner with his son and his aunt, Lucinda Mayes-Downes, his father’s sister.
Lucinda Mayes-Downes was no one’s fool, and that old woman was as rowdy as any Rogue had ever known. Shane Mayes, Zeke’s son, was a crackerjack. The kid was going to be a heartbreaker when he was older, if he ever managed to get hold of that penchant to fight at any given opportunity.
She shook her head, took her hands, and mussed her hair invitingly, then pursed her lips and blew a kiss toward the mirror before giving a light, anticipatory laugh and heading out to the dining room. To work.
Damn, how had she managed to let Janey convince her to actually work?
Zeke had a feeling when he met his aunt Lucinda and son in the parking lot of the restaurant that the evening wasn’t going to go nearly as planned. Once a month he was roped into taking his aunt and son out to eat. A family thing, Lucinda liked to call it. It was more along the lines of an excuse to drive from Louisville where Shane was now attending college and staying in her guest room. An excuse to get nosy, to point out the fact that he was only growing older by the day and that it was time to settle down and give Shane a brother or sister.
Thankfully, Shane didn’t seem quite so enthusiastic about the brother/sister part. He found quite a bit of amusement in listening to his great-aunt gently berate Zeke though.
Hell, it if wasn’t the Mackays driving him crazy with their shenanigans, then it was Shane and Lucinda. How the hell was a man supposed to consider an affair, let alone a relationship, when his aunt seemed to have an earful of gossip, about him, each time he saw her?