Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) (10 page)

Sliding to the edge of the paper-thin mattress, Beau jumped down from the bunk. Jenna was sitting on the bench seat at the table. She glanced up for only a second before going back to carving on the metal that covered the window. She had succeeded in making a small circle, which wasn’t that great a feat considering the fact that she’d been at it off and on for the last five states.

“Give it a rest, MacGyver,” Beau said as he walked over to the mini-fridge and opened it. The cool air felt so good he thought about shoving his head inside. With only one vent in the ceiling, the camper was like a prison hot box. Which explained why he was strutting around in nothing but his boxer briefs. That, and he wanted to fluster Jenna. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

He shot her an annoyed look before he took out the milk and a can of Hawaiian Punch. After setting the items on the counter, he lifted the box of Honey-Combs and poured it into the bowl he’d left there earlier. He preferred Cocoa Krispies, but whoever had stocked the cupboards had done so with only one cereal choice. They had also stocked them with enough bread, peanut butter, and jelly to feed an entire preschool for a month.

Beau hated peanut butter. Or anything that stuck around for too long.

He poured milk on his cereal and glanced over his shoulder. “Still planning on diving out of a moving vehicle?” He pressed the cereal pieces down in the bowl with his spoon to help them absorb more milk, then picked up the bowl and can of punch and moved over to the bench opposite Jenna.

“No, but I can signal someone for help.” She continued to saw with her bent butter knife. She had pulled all that wheat-colored hair up on top of her head with some rubber bands she’d found in the drawer, exposing a neck that seemed to go on forever. A bead of sweat trickled down it, and Beau had the strongest urge to lean over and kiss it off. He resisted the temptation. Mostly because he didn’t want to get punched in the head.

Being held captive did not agree with Jenna Jay.

Trying to cool his thoughts down, Beau popped open the can and took a deep drink. “Sort of like you signaling that trucker from the little window in the bunk? All that got you was a…” He held up a fist and tugged it twice. “Beep. Beep.”

Jenna tossed the knife to the table where it knocked over the rooster saltshaker. “At least I’m making an effort to get us out of here. You, on the other hand, couldn’t even be bothered to help me kick in the door the last time we stopped.”

“Because I’m more brain than brawn.” He took a heaping bite of cereal. The slight crunch had him setting his spoon back down.

Jenna snorted. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re working on a plan?”

Beau was working on a plan. Just not a plan to escape. At their very first stop, while Jenna had been kicking at
the door, Beau had been looking out the bunk window. What he saw had alleviated any concerns he might’ve had about being kidnapped by someone who planned on harming them. And since God had seen fit to give him this opportunity, he wasn’t about to waste it on escape plans. Instead, he was working on getting Jenna back in bed.

And failing miserably.

Since she had discovered that Bruno wasn’t taking them to Jersey, her mind had been consumed with two things: escape, and nailing the responsible parties’ balls to the wall. If he could only figure out how to get all Jenna’s fire focused on sex, he’d have it made. Of course, without a condom, he couldn’t have intercourse with her, but he could think of about a million other things he wanted to do with her sweet body.

If his mileage calculations were correct, he only had one more night. The night before, she’d figured out how to make the table into a bed and left him in the bunk all alone with his fantasies. He didn’t intend to let that happen again.

“And just when do you plan on implementing this great plan?” she asked. “You’ve done nothing for the last day and a half but sleep, eat, and run around in your underwear.” She picked up his spoon and helped herself to a bite of his cereal.

If Beau had learned anything while traveling with her, it was that Jenna loved to eat almost as much as he did and was much happier when she had a full belly. Which was why he decided to share.

“You can’t expect a man to wear clothes when it’s hotter than blue blazes in this tin can. And as for the food and sleep, I’m just building up my strength.” He lifted his
uninjured arm and flexed. She gave his bicep one unimpressed glance before taking another bite.

Beau lowered his arm and tried not to feel deflated. It was getting harder and harder. If the trip lasted much longer, he wouldn’t have any self-esteem left at all.

“It’s almost like you’re enjoying this,” she said.

“It’s not that bad.” He sent her one of his best smiles. “Don’t you like to camp?”

“This isn’t exactly what I’d call camping. We’re hostages, for God’s sake.”

“It’s all in the way you want to look at it. I prefer to look at it as just another adventure.”

“Well, unlike wealthy business owners,” she said over another mouthful of cereal, “I don’t have time for adventures. I have rent to pay.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a wealthy business owner. I’m more of a drifter.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “A drifter whose family owns most of Texas.” When he lifted his own eyebrow, she smiled. “Before I stopped talking with my family, I got an earful about the Cates brothers. My mama just failed to mention the youngest one.”

“Younger,” he corrected. “Beckett is the youngest boy.”

“Does he get a kick out of riding bulls and buying whorehouses, too?”

He smiled at the thought of his bookish little brother on a bull or in a whorehouse. “No. He’s gotten a little citified since college.”

She finished off the last of his cereal before she set the spoon down and studied him. “So what’s up with the invitation, Beau?”

It wasn’t exactly the topic he wanted to talk about. He
would’ve much rather talked about something more entertaining, like the way her nipples pressed against the cotton of her white top. But the mulish look on her face said that she wasn’t up for a topic change. And he figured he’d put the truth off long enough.

“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea,” he said as he reached over and grabbed the box of cereal, hoping she’d left him enough milk for soaking. “Minnie’s an eccentric old gal who has a mind of her own. She sends out the invitations in hopes that the henhouse will return to its former glory.”

“But hasn’t it already been restored? It looks like a nineteenth-century mansion to me.”

He poured more cereal into the bowl, and when she reached out and nabbed a Honey-Comb off the top, he pulled the box in between her and his bowl. “She doesn’t just want it to
look
like Miss Hattie’s. She wants it to
be
Miss Hattie’s, complete with new hens.”

Jenna stopped crunching. “Hens as in prostitutes?”

Since Beau had never thought of the hens like that, it took a moment for him to answer. During which time, Jenna choked on her bite of cereal. He reached out to thump her on the back, but she shoved his hand away and picked up his can of Hawaiian punch. It took more than a few swallows before she could talk.

“Are you saying that Minnie wants me to be a prostitute?”

Beau shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure that one out. The only woman to take her up on an invitation is about as far from being a prostitute as you can get. So I’m hoping that the old gals just want a little female company in their old age.”

“But why me?”

He took a deep breath and released it, figuring that his
chance for sex with Jenna was just about to fly right out the window. “Because they think you’re related to a hen.”

Her eyes widened. “But that’s crazy. I know for a fact that the only job my mama’s ever had in her life is at The Feed and Seed. And my grandmas were all churchgoing housewives.”

Beau held up his hands. “I tried to explain to Minnie that she got the wrong girl, but once she gets something in her head, it’s hard to get it out. For some reason, she’s convinced that you’re the descendant of a hen.” He laughed. “Obviously, she hasn’t met you.”

Jenna’s brow knotted. “Are you saying that I wouldn’t make a good prostitute?”

He stopped with the can of fruit punch halfway to his mouth. Before he could figure out how to answer the no-win question, she continued.

“I suppose this has to do with you not getting an orgasm.”

It really didn’t, but now that she brought it up…

“You do owe me.” He tipped up the can and took a deep drink. It ended up spilling down his chest when she jumped to her feet and jarred the table.

“I don’t owe you anything!” She thumped herself in the chest. “And I’m good in bed. In fact, I’m great in bed.” Before he could suggest that she prove it, she did a complete one-eighty. “Okay, so maybe lately I’ve had a little bit of a slow spell, but everyone has bad months.” She pointed at him. “Even world-traveling playboys.”

“Hey,” he held up a hand, “don’t bring me into your duel-personality tirade. Up until I met you, my sex life has been just fine.”

“Really?” She stared at him. “If that’s so, then why couldn’t you get it up with Peggy Super Boobs?”

He slammed down the can and got up. “And just who told you that?”

“Straight from the horse’s mouth.” Jenna smiled smugly. “Of course, Peggy thought it had to do with your concern over cheating on your dear, sweet wife.” The smile slipped, and she looked slightly confused. “Why couldn’t you get it up with her?” Her gaze dropped to his boxers. “Because you don’t seem to have any problem getting it up with…” Her eyes widened. “Oh. It’s more a problem of completing the act.”

It was the final straw. The woman had taken him for an unwanted ride in a carriage, lost him a bull-riding championship, and gotten him knocked out and kidnapped. And now she was going to question his virility.

Like hell.

He reached out and pulled her against him. “Shall I prove it?”

The smug smile returned. “Sorry, but no condom, remember?”

Any charm he’d ever possessed had been snuffed out by two days spent with her sassy ass, and he dropped his charm and went straight to obnoxious.

“I’m not looking for the works, sweetheart. A hand job will do.”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth flapped for a few seconds before she could get any words out. “You’ve got cabin fever if you think that I’m going to give you a hand job.” She shoved past him, but he wasn’t quite done yet.

He followed her to the tiny sink and moved behind her, pressing her up against the counter with his hips. “Oh, come on, sweetheart. I promise it won’t take long. Five minutes tops.”

He curled his fingers around her waist right before he dipped his head to nibble on her shoulder. She tasted of salt and something much more erotic. Something he couldn’t seem to get enough of as he kissed his way up her long neck. He thought she would’ve slugged him by now, but instead she just stood there, her hands gripping the counter and her breath softly rushing out. He made a pit stop at her earlobe and pulled it into his mouth for a gentle suck.

“Just touch it, Jen,” he whispered. “Just a little, sweetheart.” Except he wasn’t trying to piss her off anymore. He wanted her to touch him. To slip those cool fingers into his boxers and stroke the length of him. A length that was growing by the second.

He nipped at the spot behind her ear. “Pretty please.”

Jenna turned toward him, her head tilting up and her lips reaching for a kiss. He gave it to her. Gave her the kind of kiss that he’d wanted to give her since wrestling with her in the back of the carriage. Deep. Wet. No holds barred.

She responded immediately, her hands sliding into his hair and manipulating his head so she could devour him at will. Then after she had deep-fried his brain, she did something that totally shocked him.

One hand slipped down to his throbbing penis.

Another thing he’d learned about Jenna was when she decided to do something she didn’t beat around the bush. Without hesitation, she firmly took him in hand. Then with a stroke that had his knees almost buckling, she gave him what he’d asked for.

Except he didn’t expect to like it so much. While hand jobs were nice, they had never been his preferred
technique for reaching orgasm. He liked oral. Loved intercourse. But hand jobs were just foreplay, a mildly fun interlude on the way to the grand finale.

Jenna changed his mind. There was something about being in her hand that excited him more than he thought possible. Maybe it was her enthusiasm. Or her strength. Or her rhythm. Whatever it was, he liked it. A helluva lot. In fact, so much that he closed his eyes, tipped back his head, and waited for nirvana.

It didn’t come. Correction: he didn’t come. Right when he was about to reach the summit, she stopped. Thinking she just needed a breather, he waited. While he waited, he noticed a few things.

The camper wasn’t moving.

And someone was unlocking the door.

Beau barely had time to remove Jenna’s hand and snap the elastic of his boxer briefs back in place before the door was being swung open. He expected to see a grinning cowboy. Instead, he saw an entire town. An entire town of folks who started out smiling, but then looked a little stunned.

“Lord have mercy,” Rachel Dean fanned a large hand in front of her face, “whoever said that size don’t matter ain’t seen Beau’s.”

J
ENNA LOOKED OUT THE DOOR
of the camper and couldn’t quite believe her eyes. She’d been prepared for Bruno’s goons or a bunch of Mexican drug lords. What she wasn’t prepared for were the townsfolk of Bramble, Texas. Townsfolk who appeared to have gotten over their shock and were now grinning like they had just been given the best birthday present ever. Of course, the women’s eyes all seemed to be plastered on Beau.

And not his face.

Annoyance bubbled up in Jenna. She tried to push her way by him, but he was too big and the space too little. They ended up pressed together like two slices of bread in a peanut butter sandwich. Crunchy peanut butter since there was no hiding the fact that Beau hadn’t cooled off just yet.