His Southern Temptation (3 page)

His hands explored her skin, coasting along the length of her thigh, across the strip of silken flesh exposed by her tank top inching further up her body. A glancing brush against the lower swell of her breast had Taylor arching into him, her body a perfect fit with his erection and hinting of what could be if they lost the clothes. As if she read his mind, her nimble fingers inched under the hem of his T-shirt, rucking it up as she caressed his back in a spine-melting massage.

“Lucky Landon, what the
hell
are you doing?”

Lucky broke off the kiss, his body automatically shielding Taylor from the unexpected intruder and poising for attack. Shaking off the haze of desire, he blinked as Sheriff Burke and a young, red-faced deputy peeked over his shoulder. He groaned at the absurdity of the situation. They must be a sight. Sprawled on the floor, in a lip-lock, and groping each other like teenagers. The only thing dampening the humor of the situation was the gun pointed at them and the grumpy law enforcement officer attached to the end of it.

“Lucky, we got a distress call from this house, and then I walk in and find you mauling some half-dressed woman on the floor.” The sheriff hitched his gun a little higher so that it didn’t point right at him, but he didn’t put it away. “It’s almost time for me to go home, and I don’t have time for your usual bullshit. So why don’t you explain why you’re here, or I can call and tell Teague to get his ass over here to explain it to me.”

Lucky froze. The thought of what Teague would do to him if he found out he’d been all over Taylor made whatever was left of his arousal disappear. Good. At least he wasn’t in danger of doing anything really stupid. Like sleeping with his best friend’s little sister. Again.

That was the old Lucky. The Lucky who was reckless, always getting into a tough scrape and having to fast-talk his way out of it. The new Lucky was going to help his parents get out of debt, walk away from the trail of death he left behind him, and settle down with a great woman who wanted the same kind of future.

He glanced down at Taylor, her expression now wary with a touch of “what the hell did I almost do?” written all over it. Good. They just needed to give each other a wide berth and they’d both emerge from this encounter no worse for the wear.

Taylor shifted under him, turning her head to give the sheriff the smile that had won her at least two Junior Miss Virginia pageants. Sheriff Burke smiled back and lowered the gun completely as if she’d cast a spell on him. God help the poor man—he had no idea what he was up against.

“Sheriff, I’m so sorry to call you for a false alarm. You might remember me, I’m Mary-Taylor Elliott.” Her grin spread even wider and she added a little batting of the eyelashes to ensure neither of them would go to jail and have to face Teague this late at night. “I’m staying here for a little while and had no idea Lucky was here as well. We scared each other half to death.”

The meaning of her words sunk in and he ground his teeth with the effort to bite back a groan.

She was staying here? In the same house? Alone. With him.

He should have let her shoot him.

Chapter Three

Taylor wanted her gun back.

Glaring at Lucky’s back as he trudged up the stairs, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and her gun peeking out of his waistband, her brain whirled with all the reasons why shooting him would make her feel better. It was bad enough she was back in this podunk, backwater excuse for a town, but now she was stuck in this house with the man who made her lose her mind. And not always in the good way. Although he did that plenty.

Knowing he’d resent her scrutiny, she took the opportunity to check him out—same broad shoulders, long, lanky legs, and delectable ass. His hair was longer than his usual military cut, now lying in unruly waves on his head, the curls catching the light. Her fingers itched to tangle in the corn-silk blond strands and pull his mouth back to hers to finish what they’d started. But in spite of the scorching kiss downstairs less than an hour ago, Lucky was determined to act as if it hadn’t happened.

Once they’d managed to get Sheriff Burke out of the house without calling Teague and waking him, Lucky had confiscated her gun. He hadn’t asked her, hadn’t consulted her on whether she wanted to be unarmed in this big old house with multiple entrances and exits. Nope. All he’d done was empty out the bullets, place them in her hand, and stick the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

Curiosity forced the question out of her mouth. “Hey, why are you keeping my gun? You afraid I might still shoot you?”

“Nope, but I might want to shoot myself later,” he huffed out on a laugh that didn’t quite erase the tension in his voice or loosen the rigid set in his shoulders.

Drama queen.

She wasn’t surprised at his reaction, though. Things were always complicated between them. Timing. Teague. Her family. His family. His job and her great escape to the other side of the world had never put them in a place where they could settle it once and for all. They’d had fun together over the years, in and out of bed, but the last time had been different, and it had left a loose end that made her itchy.

Maybe now was the time. Fate. Karma. The Almighty. Whoever. Something had put them here to hash this out and get the hell over whatever was between them.

She was all for that plan.

She could lay Lucky—pun entirely intended—and a few other demons to rest before heading back to Hawaii and her future.

“So, where were you out so late at night? Hot date?”

He chuckled. “No. I was at the Jolly Gent trying to get a stripper to tell me about a missing girl. I’m working a case for Jack Cantrell and getting nowhere. Sarah Morgan has been missing for two weeks and I can’t find a trace of her.”

“Well, that explains the body glitter.” She laughed when he flipped her the bird, a grumpy look twisting his handsome features. “Must be tough having to get all up close and personal with a girl in a G-string.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Did you get what you needed?”

“No. The girls won’t talk to me or Jack.” He glanced over at her as they made their way upstairs, his smile a little self-conscious. “We decided the case needs a woman’s touch.”

“You mean a woman to make nice with the strippers and get them to talk?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that.” She punched him on the arm when he made a face. He didn’t know everything about her, and her secret skills would blow his mind. “I’ve worked at a strip club before. No full frontal, but we did shimmy down to a G-string bikini. I could definitely pass as one of the girls.”

“No way. The Gent is a pit, Bodean Taggert is a scumbag, and I wouldn’t let him in the same zip code with you.”

“I’m just saying I could do it. I could get you the information you need.”

“No. Forget it. Not gonna happen.”

“You’re being a stubborn ass.” She didn’t even try to hide the irritation in her voice. He was being unreasonable and overprotective. This job sounded simple enough.

“You always said my ass was one of my better qualities.” Lucky nudged her with his shoulder, his sweeter tone clearly calculated to try to coax her out of any fight they were hurtling toward.

“Whatever.” Taylor took a breath and decided to let it go for now.

They reached the top of the stairs, the landing as big as the downstairs parlor and dimly lit by one solitary lamp on a side table. The house was old—built before the Civil War—and everything was fashioned on a large, gracious scale, and the low lighting gave it a romantic and intimate feel. As a kid, she loved to curl up on one of the comfortable sofas and listen to the endless stream of guests her parents hosted for parties. Occasionally, she would have to take off when a couple would wander up from the party to sneak in a make-out session in one of the secluded alcoves.

“So, I guess we need to discuss our sleeping arrangements,” she said.

She edged into his personal space, amused when he took a step backward. It looked as though her big, bad Marine was a little worried about her intentions. Smart man. She’d proven to herself the past seven years that she controlled her own life and her emotions. Sleeping with Lucky didn’t have to be anything but blowing off a little steam. She wouldn’t be here long enough to risk any of the unnecessary emotional entanglements that marred their last time together.

“I’ll take the guest room.” Avoiding eye contact with her, Lucky shifted the duffel bag toward the front of his body in an obvious attempt to keep some distance between the two of them. She bit back a laugh; pissing him off wouldn’t help her make her case. When he turned toward the direction of the guest room, she touched his forearm, instantly enjoying the warmth of his skin under the dusting of hair. His muscles jumped at her touch and the rapid pulse point in his wrist proved he wasn’t as cool as he looked.

“The guest room has no furniture in it. Mother took it when she left.” She motioned down to the opposite end of the hall. “Your options are Mother and Father’s roo—”

“There is
no way
in hell I’m sleeping in there.” Lucky looked at her then. The pure, unadulterated horror etched on his features was comical, and she made a halfhearted attempt to mask her own giggle at the sight.

“Yeah, I think I threw up a little when I said it.”

He barked out a laugh and relaxed his stance enough for her to brush his abdomen with the back of her hand. His T-shirt was warm, soft, and clinging to the hard muscle underneath. He stiffened at her touch, his jaw tightening into a firm edge, eyes narrowed to slits of darkest blue in the dim light. She could almost hear the voice in his head rehearsing the million reasons why he was going to tell her no.

Taylor took a half step closer, now able to fully explore the breadth of his chest with both hands. Lucky’s breath hitched when her fingernail grazed his nipple, and she almost took pity on him when his heartbeat kicked up another notch. She was faring no better—this proximity was making her hands shake, and the heat gathering in her belly was consuming her. Leaning up on tiptoe, she traced the line of his neck with her lips—not quite kissing, but enough pressure to leave goose bumps in her wake.

“Stay with me.” Now she tasted him, punctuating her request with a small bite just below his ear, followed by a moist kiss to soothe the burn. He tasted so good—male, spicy, and accented by the tang of sweat. Her mouth watered as she mindlessly made her way to his mouth, unable to resist having more of what she’d sampled earlier on the parlor floor.

His lips were supple and open for her. Warm, wet mouth, tongue like velvet as it tangled with hers. The arousal from their earlier encounter was only a banked fire, never fully extinguished, and now it flared back to life, making her burn. Her knees gave out, and Taylor bunched his shirt in one hand, the other one hooking into the waistband of his jeans to keep her from sliding down to the ground. One touch of his hard body and she couldn’t resist exploring further, her fingers dipping down to trace the rigid length of his cock through the soft denim. He was hot, filling her palm with the weight of his desire.

The duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, freeing Lucky to weave his fingers in her hair, tugging gently to tilt her head at an angle to align their mouths better for a deeper, wetter kiss. This one was dark, filled with need and years of lust as he forcefully controlled the depth and pressure of the kiss—his passion taking it to the sharp edge of total possession. She whimpered, the sound echoing off the walls and matching the trembling in her body as she threw herself into this moment with the man who’d haunted her dreams for half her life.

She knew how good it was between them, and it made this all the hotter.

Lucky rotated them until the cool plaster of the wall was against her back, and the contrast made her shiver, but she didn’t stay cool for long. Her temperature shot up to fever levels once more when he pressed between her legs, roughly hoisting her a fraction higher so that his hard cock fit perfectly against her sex. She cried out at the impact, jolts of pleasure rocketing up her spine. It felt so good she had no choice but to grind back against him, her body seeking release and needing to make him just as crazy.

“Fuck, Tay. Are you
trying
to kill me tonight?” Lucky pulled back, his voice gruff and punctuated by rapid pants of air against her cheek. He also sounded angry, frustrated, and ready to explode. She knew exactly how to take care of that little problem.

“What? You worried a little girl is going to be the one to take down the big, bad Marine?”

He laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Stay with me. Come to bed.”

No answer.

She wasn’t above cajoling. Begging was a different question, but cajoling she could do. “Come on. For old time’s sake.”

He sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re not supposed to think.” She trailed her hand down his chest, the pounding of his heart a tattoo against her palm. “Just a little fun between friends.”

“Just friends, huh? Are you sure about that?”

He lifted her hand to press a hot kiss to the palm, his tongue lingering on the sensitive spot in the middle. She shuddered under the press of his lips and the hot fire in his eyes. She’d seen that look before and it still scared her, made her nervous.

Something between them had shifted over time, becoming less about fun and games and more about the electric current of connection that stretched between the two of them like hot wire. She’d fought it. He’d appeared willing to explore it. She’d panicked. He’d left. Fast-forward two years to now.

The last thing she wanted was to get her foolish heart involved with this man. Love was fleeting; marriage and relationships devolved into humiliating compromise and pain. She’d learned that the hard way, firsthand and in graphic detail.

Definitely not
on her agenda.

Unless it was mindless hours in bed, getting sweaty and exorcising this thing between them, she wasn’t interested. But it looked like Lucky was up for more, and they were once again at a possible impasse.