Enemy Lovers (17 page)

“Yeah.”

“Oh, bro. You blurted it out, didn't you?”

“I asked,” Dallas said, uncomfortably aware he was guilty of the charge.

“Women go for romance, and Laura deserves it after the crap you two have gone through. You need a plan.” Patrick's eyes sparkled with devilment.

Dallas let out a heavy exhalation. “Let's hear it.”

Chapter Sixteen

Laura fought the smile threatening to blossom as she witnessed the telltale signs of nervousness in Dallas. To quell her jittery excitement, the rush of sweet, sweet anticipation—because both the signs and strong hints from Patrick led her in the marriage direction—she pretended interest in the Auckland skyline.

From their cozy, window-side restaurant table at the top of the Sky Tower, she studied the volcanic cones studding the landscape to her left. In front of her, the harbor spread in glistening blue, studded with yachts and cargo ships and the brooding presence of Rangitoto Island, yet another of Auckland's dormant volcanoes.

“Would you like me to order for you?” Dallas asked.

“You look very sexy in a suit. It makes me want to rip it off. Maybe with my teeth.”

“Behave.”

“Ooh,”
she said, bundling the sound with a teasing smile. He'd planned this for her—a weekend in Auckland, staying at a nice hotel and now a special dinner. Tomorrow he'd promised more sightseeing. She reached for his hand, his arm now free of the plaster. “I'd love you to order for me.”

While Dallas conferred with the waiter, she went back to watching the landmarks and the gradual creep of the day toward darkness. It was beautiful.

If only her family hadn't insisted on their everything or nothing stance. If only they'd expressed their happiness at her independence.
If only
.

None of that would happen, not when her parents clutched the feud to their chests like a precious heirloom. She sighed. Talk about an understatement. They intended to take their self-righteous pride and sense of wronged, kicking and screaming to their graves.

“You are no longer my daughter,” her father had said when she'd gone to Clare with James to collect her possessions. James had persuaded her to undertake the visit and give her parents a chance to reconsider their stance. The face-to-face meet hadn't gone well.

“You're written out of the will,” her mother had told her in an icy voice.

Boohoo. Tough shit
.

She didn't care.

Laura, with James at her side, had packed her belongings and ignored the hovering presence of her mother, there to check she didn't pack any Drummond valuables.

She had James and Steven, Patrick and even Quinn seemed to have come around. She'd spoken to Dallas's parents via Skype. Although his parents had spoken with reserve, it was clear they were willing to give her a chance. It was her family who was busy keeping the feud alive, and she wanted no part of the stupid argument. Past history. It was time to embrace the future. Her future.

Dallas made her happy.

The waiter left, and Dallas picked up her hand, holding it in his. “Okay?”

“I'm so glad fate allowed us to meet, Dallas. I can't imagine my life without you. I love you, Dallas.”

“God, Laura,” he said, squeezing her hand painfully hard. His eyes shone with bright emotion as he slowly smiled. “You've never told me before.”

“I was right
. You needed the words. I'm sorry. I wanted the right setting and moment. I wanted to make my declaration special. I wanted impact so you'd never, ever forget.” She'd given up everything for him and gained so much in exchange. “I love you very much, Dallas O'Grady.”

“Hell, yes, I wanted you to say the words. I fell for you, and after everything with Maria, your reassurance would've helped. And if you tell my brothers I said that, I might have to spank you,” he added.

“It'll be our secret. Dallas, I want you for my friend and lover.” She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “I want to marry you, if only you'd get around to asking me in a proper manner.”

“I think I'll spank you anyway.” He released her hand and reached into his pocket to retrieve a black box. He opened it and extended it to her, the flash of a diamond and sapphire ring grabbing her attention.

“Oh, Dallas.”

Dallas cleared his throat. “I love you, Laura Drummond. Will you please make me a happy man and marry me?”

“Yes.” She never hesitated.

They shared a long glance, communicating so much more than mere words as he slid the ring on her finger.

“We'll get married in Clare with your family and our friends,” Laura said. “I'll send my parents an invitation, even though they won't come.”

Dallas linked their fingers again. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. This is the end result of a fight I started long before I met you. Besides, your parents and brothers are great and our friends make up for the lack of family on my side. I'm sad, but I'm not going to dwell on their behavior and let it spoil the rest of my life. Our life.”

“We'll be happy, Laura.”

“I know we will. What do you think of having our engagement party at the Clare pub? Use it as a grand opening?”

“If that's what you want.”

Laura smiled. “I do. I made some good friends before my parents sent me away to boarding school. It would be great to catch up with the Shakespeare girls.”

They discussed plans and ate delicious fish and seasonal vegetables, and the entire time joy bubbled inside her, almost too much for her body to contain.

“Would you like coffee?” the waitress asked.

“Not for me,” Laura said.

“Can we have the bill?” Dallas took care of the check, and together, they wandered from the restaurant to wait for the elevator to take them to the ground floor.

Laura linked her arm with Dallas's. “It's such a nice night. Why don't we walk to the hotel?”

“I was hoping to hit our room sooner rather than later,” Dallas said. “I want to celebrate our engagement in privacy.”

Laura laughed and walked faster.

In the hotel, Dallas used their keycard and they burst into their room. Dallas shouldered the door shut and reached for her.

“I can't believe we're engaged.”

“Did you worry I wouldn't say yes?” Laura asked.

“The thought did cross my mind, but a man can hope.”

“Dallas, there wasn't a chance of me saying no. Not a chance.”

Dallas's grin broadened as he tugged her close. He cupped her face, his blue eyes full of love and laughter. Their lips met, a loving give, a sensual take, and hot passion slid through Laura's veins. When their mouths parted, her breathing was faster, choppy.

“I want to make love with you,” Dallas said.

“Yes.”

Their clothes melted away, and they fell on the king-size bed in a flurry of limbs and warm skin. He nibbled her neck and moved lower to concentrate on the throbbing pulse at her throat. Sensations, emotions roared through her colliding, ricocheting, exploding like a Guy Fawkes fireworks spectacular. She ran her hand down the center of his chest, stopped to tease his nipples then reached down to curl her fingers around his heavy shaft.

Dallas moaned at the back of his throat, the dark sound shooting an arrow of heat to her pussy.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” she whispered. “I'm so glad you stopped to help me with my flat.”

“Best move I've ever made.” Dallas rolled and took control, pressing her against the mattress with his bulk. His blue eyes sparkled as he angled his mouth over hers. He claimed her lips, and she rocked against him, impatient for his possession.

“Hurry,” she said.

Dallas reached for a condom. “This time. Next time is going to be slow.”

“Anything you want.” She kissed him, his shoulder, his neck, his biceps while Dallas rolled on protection. Then he was pushing inside her, filling her.

Their lovemaking was sweet and romantic, each touch, each caress a message of love. Laura gripped his shoulders, her heart lurching under the delicious assault. She cried out, “Love you, Dallas.”

“Mine,” he said and drove into her, satisfaction slashing his sexy mouth.

Her climax hit her in a violent spasm, and Dallas came seconds later. They held each other tight, luxuriating in the aftershocks and everything pleasurable as they formalized the ceasefire between this particular Drummond and O'Grady.

Laura smiled, a soft smile full of love, full of contentment as she breathed in Dallas's scent and listened to his heartbeat settle.
Long live the loving truce.

About the Author

Shelley Munro is tall and curvaceous with blue eyes and a smile that turns masculine heads everywhere she goes. She's a university tutor and an explorer/treasure hunter during her vacations. Skilled with weapons and combat, she is currently in talks with a producer about a television series based on her world adventures.

Shelley is also a writer blessed with a VERY vivid imagination and lives with her very own hero in New Zealand. She writes mainly erotic romance in the contemporary, paranormal and historical genres.

You can learn more about Shelley and her books at
www.ShelleyMunro.com
. Also, feel free to drop her a line at
[email protected]
or join her newsletter
http://eepurl.com/A2xfH
to hear more about new and upcoming titles.

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Look for these titles by Shelley Munro

Now Available:

Tea for Two

Seeking Kokopelli

Lone Wolf

Mistress of Merrivale

Love and Friendship

The Bottom Line

Past Regrets

Farmer Wants a Wife

The Clare Chronicles

Part-Time Lovers

Enemy Lovers

The heart's best defense is a lusty offense.

Part-Time Lovers

© 2014 Shelley Munro

Clare Chronicles, Book 1

Now that Nolan Penrith is finished with the
Farmer Wants a Wife
reality show, he's ready to get back to the farm and a normal life free of publicity. Normal also means resuming his relationship with divorced, solo mother Yvonne McDonald.

Except she seems determined to resist any talk of reconciliation. On to plan B: woo her to his way of thinking. And if persuasion includes plenty of raunchy sex, he's ready to man up.

Yvonne McDonald might still have feelings for Nolan, but she resents the way he expects to pick up right where they left off. Still, she's a healthy woman with a body that—damn it—melts for him, so maybe she can twist this situation to suit her needs.

All she needs to do is hold her heart out of reach, hold her head high, and enjoy his brand of lusty sex without a care in the world. Easy-peasy. At least until her plan gets a little kink in it…

Warning:
Contains hot country loving between an arrogant, sexy farmer and a woman who intends to prick his confidence and slap him down—her way!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Part-Time Lovers:

Lord, her feet hurt.

Yvonne McDonald thumped the spent coffee grounds into her bin and started making a soy latte and two flat whites. While the coffee dribbled into cups, she filled a teapot with peppermint tea leaves and poured over boiling water while trying not to think about her cozy sheepskin slippers waiting for her at home.

The Clare town festival to celebrate the New Zealand spring was great in theory. Aunt Gina was cackling gleefully about their bumper takings this week, but they needed someone stationed at the door to draft customers into their bookstore café in manageable groups rather than massive herds. A set of the mobile yards the local farmers used for their cattle would do the job.

The bell over the door dinged a cheerful welcome. Yvonne didn't bother to glance up since they'd hired two students to help. The two teenage girls could do the smiling thing. She bashed her bell to signal order up.

“My feet hurt.” Kelsey loaded her tray with the coffee, tea and a plate of fresh scones, jam and clotted cream.

“We need to hit Gina up for spa visits,” Yvonne said, almost moaning at the decadent thought. What she wouldn't give for a man to greet her at home. Never mind the hot sex. She'd settle for a foot rub.

A flood of whispers stormed the café. Stray words struck Yvonne like bullets.
Farmer. Reality show. Susan. Nolan.

“Yvonne.” The familiar masculine voice hurled her into the past…

A dark bedroom.

Naked bodies sliding together.

Mind-numbing touches.

Pleasure storming her body, culminating in sweet, sweet bliss.

Stellar sex. Superior and awesome and stellar sex.

Another word bullet hit, and her head jerked up at the repeat of her name.

Nolan.

Damn, the man.

Her gaze settled, and irritation punched her in the chest, stealing her ability to breathe for a few seconds. She glared at Nolan Penrith, the bane of her life. Tall and lean from hard physical farm work, he was a male in his prime. His light brown hair—currently full of blond streaks from a fortnight of spring sunshine—needed a cut but he suited the unruly curls. His brown eyes sparkled with open admiration as he stared at her, and his sensual lips curved upward in a smile of greeting.

This acknowledgement with the underpinning of lust was a new development, and the hair lifted at the back of her neck in a silent warning to take care.

She ripped her scowl from his tempting smile and started to build the next order. A skim milk latte and a hot chocolate. Her disobedient mind refused to focus and like a rambunctious child, darted back to thoughts of sexy Nolan.

The man owned a farm on the outskirts of Clare and recently he'd brought fame and notoriety to the country town when he took part in the reality show
Farmer Wants a Wife
. The minute he'd started dating women from the show, their…fling—the best description for their relationship—ended.

Kaput.
A full stop on her sex life.

Yvonne frothed a jug of milk, the hiss and whir of the coffee machine overly loud and rubbing her nerves raw. The café section of the bookshop had become library quiet, but she didn't intend to glance up to see why.

She. Would. Not.

She sucked in a deep breath, tried to ignore the zing of sensual awareness tugging her breasts, the tremor of her hand guiding the coffee machine, the clamp of invisible hands constricting her ribs. She brushed off her hormones' celebratory rumba.

“Yvonne.”

Cursing under her breath, she gave up the fight. She tore her gaze from the steaming milk and glowered at the man. “Nolan, what can I get you today?”

“I'm here to ask you to dinner,” he said in a husky, jump-in-bed-with-me-now voice. “Tonight.”

Yvonne's mouth dropped open. Shock kicked her square in the solar plexus while irritation charged like a mad bull seconds later. “You have
got
to be kidding me.”

Her voice emerged in a high-pitch shriek, the register of her tone reminding of her of a squeaky cartoon character. The customers in the café were pin-drop quiet now, entertained by the impromptu
Nolan and The Dumped Girlfriend
show.

Nolan straightened, his good humor visibly cooling. He shot a glance to his left, one to his right. “No. I'm asking you on a date. If tonight doesn't work, we can try another night.”

“You've treated me like a dirty secret,” she snapped. “And I don't need your mother's shrewish attention focused on me again.”

The man had rocks in his head if he thought she'd come running after his behavior. And the way his witch mother had flown around town on her broomstick to spread rumors about Yvonne's morals.
Bah.
Elizabeth Penrith might consider herself Clare royalty, but that didn't give her the right to treat people like crap for not measuring up to her lofty standards.

“Our dating has nothing to do with my mother. Look, we can't discuss this here. The café is too busy. I'll see you later at your place.”

The bell tinkled as someone left the café.

Yvonne didn't blink. “I'm not a disposable commodity for you to discard then pick up when you have no better offers. I'm tired, my feet hurt and all I want to do is go to bed.” Her good-for-nothing husband had left her and walked away with another man. Nolan had searched for a wife elsewhere. The third time was
not
a charm.

“You tell him, love,” an elderly woman called from her table over by the magazine stand.

“Make him grovel,” another woman shouted out her advice.

“Don't throw him away,” a teenage girl said. “Give him a chance, or better yet, toss him my way.”

“Make him work for you. He should apologize.” Elderly Mrs. Wright added her two cents in a deep voice.

Yvonne felt heat rise up her neck to take residence in her cheeks and gave silent thanks to her Maori grandmother. Not many people would notice her discomfort.

“Tonight,” Nolan repeated in a firm voice. He turned to face the café patrons and bowed from the waist, straightened and strode from the café. The doorbell tinkled for long moments then silence fell—a long one in which everyone studied Yvonne.

Ignoring the weight of stares, she focused on her coffee art. Once she'd completed her design on the top of her latte, she set the coffee on the counter. “Order up!”