Million Dollar Baby. Janice Maynard

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      “That’s not really how a one-night stand works, honey.”

      She looked mortified. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “I thought you’d be more comfortable if you had your bag. Women like to have their little bits and pieces with them.”

      Mandy wrapped her arms around her waist and scanned the room like she was casing it for fire exits.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked, reminding himself that patience was a virtue.

      Her bottom lip trembled. “I just realized something. If tonight is your first time to have sex in six years, I can’t go through with this. That’s too much pressure for me. Honestly.”

      He burst out laughing, and then laughed even harder at the look of indignation on her face. “Not to worry,” he said, wiping his cheeks and trying to get himself under control. His companion clearly didn’t see the humor in the situation. “I’ve had sex. Occasionally. And besides, if what you said were true, we’d never have made it out of the parking lot back at the bar. So no pressure, okay? Just you and me and all that wild excitement you wanted.”

      Some of the tension drained from her body. “Oh. Well, that’s good. I guess.”

      “Come here, honey.” He held out his hand.

      She came to him willingly. But her gaze didn’t quite meet his, and her cheeks were flushed.

      He unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. “Your skin is like cream. Beautiful and smooth.” Brushing the tops of her breasts with his fingertips, he smiled inwardly when she sighed.

      “You’re still wearing your hat,” she said.

      “And we’re still not in bed.”

      “Close enough.” She reached up and took off his Stetson. After tossing it on the nearest chair, she massaged his head with both hands. “You shouldn’t cover up your hair. Women would kill for this color.”

      He could tell she was more comfortable with him now. That was a very good thing, because he didn’t want a timid partner in bed. “Feel free to take off anything else that catches your fancy.”

      “Very funny.” She toyed with his belt buckle. “Why aren’t you calling me Mandy?”

      “Because you don’t look like a Mandy. It’s not your real name. So I’ll stick with honey. Unless you want to fess up and tell me the truth. It’s not like I’m going to stalk you.”

      “I know that.” The snippy response was the tiniest bit sulky. And her bottom lip stuck out. It was so damned cute, he wanted to suck on it.

      Gently, he pulled her shirt loose from the waistband of her jeans and slid his hands underneath. Her skin was warm and soft. So soft. He wanted to make this night good for her.

      He unhooked her bra. It still bothered him that he didn’t know why she was here...not really. But his brain was losing the battle with the driving urge to give her what she wanted. What he wanted.

      When he slipped her shirt from her shoulders and took her bra right along with it, she didn’t protest. The sight of her standing there, all white creamy skin and big gray eyes and rosy pink nipples, stole his breath and tightened his gut. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he said huskily, breathing it like a prayer.

      He hadn’t lied to her. There had been a handful of women in six years. But those had been real one-night stands. Women whose names and faces he barely remembered. Divorcées. Widows hurting like he was. The sex had slaked a momentary physical need, but afterward, his grief had been just as deep, just as raw.

      In a way, it had been easier not to have sex, because that way he didn’t have to be reminded of all he had lost.

      He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Something about tonight felt different. Maybe because his mystery woman was ridiculously charming and vulnerable and maybe even a little bit naive. She brought out his protective instincts and tapped into raw emotions inside him that he would have sworn were dead and buried.

      With her he felt the need to be tender.

      “Hang on, honey.” Hitching her higher on his chest, he grabbed for the comforter with one hand and dragged it and the sheet halfway down the bed. Then he dropped the big-eyed blonde on the mattress and tried not to pounce on her. Instead, he came down beside her and propped his head on his hand.

      Lazily, he traced a fingertip from her collarbone, down between her breasts, over her concave belly to her tiny cute navel. “Tell me what you’re thinking, sweet lady. I swear I don’t bite.”

      Her body was so rigid it was giving him a headache.

      She gnawed her lower lip. “I forgot about protection.”

      “Not to worry. We’re good for two rounds.” He reached in his back pocket and extracted a duo of condom packets. “I had these in the truck.”

      “Oh. That’s nice.”

      “Tell me your name,” he coaxed. He bent over her and kissed his way from her navel up along her rib cage, pausing just at the slope of her breast and waiting until her breathing ratcheted up a notch and a shudder worked its way through her body.

      “You’re not playing fair...” She gazed up at him from underneath sultry lashes.

      Did she have any idea what that look did to a man? He flicked his tongue across her nipple...barely a graze. “I play to win, honey. You wanted wild and exciting? That usually means breaking the rules.”

      He was breathing hard, barely holding it together. Playing this game was fun, more fun than he’d had in a hell of a long time. But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. Already he wanted her so badly he was shaking.

      “Brooke,” she whispered. “My name is Brooke.”

      The trust on her face made him ashamed. She was doing something out of character. He knew it. And he was prepared to help her in her quest for a night of reckless passion. What kind of man did that make him?

      He swallowed hard. “Brooke. I like it. With an e or no e?”

      She smiled. “Does it matter?”

      “It does to me.” And it did. When this was over and they went their separate ways, he wanted to remember her exactly like this. He wanted to know everything there was to know.

      She caressed his chin, feeling the stubble. He’d shaved at six that morning. “With an e, Cowboy. Now it’s your turn.”

      He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Austin,” he groaned. “My name is Austin.” Moving his lips across her breast, he kissed his way up hills and down valleys and back again until Brooke panted and whimpered and begged. That was the sign he had been waiting for.

      He rolled to his feet and ripped at his shirt, dragging it over his head in one frustrated motion. Then he toed off his boots and shucked out of his jeans and boxers. When he was buck-ass naked, he stood СКАЧАТЬ