Shot of Sultry (2 page)

Double
damn!
Trey was a thigh man, through and through. When he wrapped a woman’s legs around his hips, he wanted to feel soft flesh, not bone, and he wanted between California’s luscious thighs more than he wanted the Cubs to win the World Series. Well, not quite that much—a man had to keep his priorities straight—but enough to fight off every other drooling fool in the bar that night. Trey didn’t know California’s name or how long she planned to stay in town, but one thing was certain: he’d take her home tonight or die trying.

Ignoring the ache in his leg, he hopped down from his bar stool and ambled slowly toward the door, appearing in no hurry. California glanced up and her eyes widened, revealing warm, green irises that reminded Trey of the undersides of leaves when the sun shone through them.

“Need some help with your luggage?” Trey nodded toward her suitcase.

For several seconds she said nothing, just rubbed the tip of her cute button nose. Finally her full, red lips curved into a smile that would kick the wind out of any man’s lungs. “What’s your name, cowboy?”

Cowboy? Trey was from Chicago, but whatever. He’d play along. “Trey,” he said, smiling and making sure to flash his dimples, those surefire, panty-removing gifts from God. “How ’bout you?”

California’s lips parted in awe—a classic case of dimple daze. “I’m Bobbi. Are you single?”

Wow, she didn’t waste any time. Holding up his left hand to showcase the absence of a wedding ring, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Totally single? No girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend.” His ill-fated relationship with Trish, the cocktail waitress at Shooters, had ended over a year ago. “I’m all yours, darlin’.”

“Great!” She scratched her nose again and smiled wider. “Let’s get together later and chat.”

Score! Thank you, baby Jesus! This was shaping up to be the easiest lay ever. That was, until a new voice joined the conversation.

“Well, now, Trey,” Colton Bea said in his slow drawl, “who’s your friend?”

Trey felt his back stiffen. Colton was poaching tail, a direct violation of the Bro Code.

“I’m Bobbi,” California answered while looking Colton up and down, seeming pleased with what she saw. Not surprising since the crazy, cockblocking bastard had inherited the lethal combination of russet skin and jet-black hair from his Cherokee mama and blue-green eyes from his Scots-Irish daddy. All the local girls flopped onto their backs like trout when Colton walked by. “Are you single?” she asked him.

“Oh, yeah.” Colton used his index finger to tip back his Stetson. “You’re safe with me, honey. I’m a lawman.”

“Only because his granddaddy’s the county judge,” Trey retorted. “Don’t you have someplace to be,
Colt
?”

“Wonderful.” California clapped her hands together and leaned forward, just enough to give Trey a peek down the front of her blouse, where the curves of her voluptuous breasts strained to escape the confines of her black lace bra.
Triple
damn!
“I have to meet someone real quick, but then we should all get together. I have a proposition for you gentlemen.”

Good Lord, what kind of kinky shit was this girl into? Trey didn’t care how hot she was, threesomes were off the menu, especially when another dude was involved. The risk of crossing swords was too high. Plus, nobody liked boldly going where their friends had just gone before.

Colton raised his black eyebrows and gave a shrug that said
I’m up for it
. “I’ll be right over there, honey,” he said, tilting his hat toward the pool tables. “Just holler when you’re ready.”

“Hey,” she said to Trey when Colton had walked away. “Can you tell me where to find Luke Gallagher?”

Oh, snap. Now everything made sense. Before Luke married his childhood sweetheart, June, he’d avoided relationships in favor of cheap, one-night stands. From the stories Luke had told, it sounded like most of the women he’d slept with were straight-up freaks, like this one. He knew Luke had come a long way and busted his butt to get June to marry him, and Trey wasn’t about to let some old booty call ruin things for his buddy.

“He’s probably home,” Trey said, knowing full well Luke was in the back office. “With his
wife
. What do you want with him?”

“I’m his sister.”

Trey couldn’t help but laugh. This chick had moxie; he’d give her that. “Nice try, darlin’. Too bad you’re talking to his best friend. I happen to know Luke’s an only child.” California was undeniably sexy as hell, but it was time to take out the trash. “Why don’t I give you a ride back out of town?”

“No, really.” Her posture stiffened and she folded both arms beneath her breasts. “He’s my half-brother.”

“Give it up, lady. Luke’s done with skanks. Now, how about that ride?”

“Wha—” A crimson flush crept up her long, slim neck, past her cheeks, and all the way to her hairline. “You can take that ride and shove it up your—”

“You’re leaving here one way or the other.” Trey pushed open the front door, grabbed her suitcase, and tossed it out onto the gravel parking lot. “You gonna come peacefully?”

“You sonofabitch! Who the hell do you think—”

Then Trey did what any good friend would do: he hauled her meddling, home-wrecking ass out of there. Leaning into her midsection, he hoisted California over one shoulder, clamped a hand over her sweet thighs, and carried her into the muggy haze. Squinting against the sunlight, he walked toward his Chevy pickup while the screeching hellcat pounded her fists right into his kidney.

“Goddamnit!” he hissed, stumbling from the pain. Someone had taught this girl to fight. He slapped her hard on the backside—enjoying it a little too much—and she screamed like he’d just appeared outside her shower with a butcher knife.

“Hey!” Luke’s familiar voice yelled from behind. “What’s going on out here?”

“Luke! Get this asshole off-a-me!” California cried, laying it on thick with the damsel-in-distress act.

“Just go back inside,” Trey said, giving Luke a pointed look. “I got this.”

Luke fell back a step like he’d taken a bucket of water to the face. “What the hell’re you doing to my sister?”

“Your what?” Stupefied, Trey let California slide to her feet while blinking in shock at his oldest friend. “You never told me you had a sister.”

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to…”

“Well, ain’t that some shit.” Trey guessed he should apologize to California. But when he glanced at her again, it was only to see her closed fist hurtling toward his eye.

The Jolly Green Giant, clad in his signature leafy toga, flashed a toothy grin at Bobbi from the bag of frozen Niblets molded around her fist.
Ho, ho, ho
, he seemed to say.
You
should’ve gone for the balls
.

Of course, the overgrown sprout was right. Daddy Bruce had taught her to hit a man’s soft parts—she’d known better than to attack the face—but when that caveman, Trey, had walloped her on the ass, her temper had choked out all rational thought.

Gritting her teeth, she tentatively stretched and flexed her fingers while jagged barbs skittered beneath the surface of her frostbitten skin. Had she broken her hand? She sure hoped not, because her health insurance had vanished right along with her job, and she couldn’t afford an out-of-pocket trip to the ER. Heck, she barely had enough cash to get through the summer, and that was assuming Luke agreed to let her stay.

She peeked up through her lashes at her big brother, seeing her own green eyes narrowed beneath a mop of brown hair. He gave a disapproving shake of his head and settled behind the most disorganized desk she’d ever seen, its nicked, mahogany surface barely visible beneath piles of paperwork, loose receipts, Coke cans, and old pizza boxes that reeked of stale onions. The room’s dingy, wood-paneled walls seemed to close in around her, and a charged silence rippled the air, reminding her of many past visits to the principal’s office. Just like old times, side-by-side with another bully who’d mistakenly pegged her as an easy target.

She squirmed on the oak seat and slid a glare at Trey, wishing she could knock the smirk off his annoyingly exquisite lips. The burning imprint of his hand still raked the surface of her skin, throbbing with each thump of her heart. And the worst part? There wasn’t a single mark on the jerk. He’d dipped his chin at the last second, so her fist had connected with the top of his hard, blond head, instead of her original target. A dirty trick, but damned clever. She couldn’t help admiring his quick reflexes.

“Sorry, buddy,” Trey said, watching her with those turquoise eyes, but talking to Luke. “What was I supposed to think? She was trying to set up a devil’s threesome with me and Crazy Colt.”

“
What?
” Luke tipped back in his chair and grabbed the desk for support. “Jesus Christ, Bobbi!”

“In your dreams!” This guy made jumping to conclusions look like an Olympic event. Bobbi stood, pointing one frigid finger at Trey, while the bag of corn plunked to the floor. “I said I wanted to talk!”

“She asked if we were single.” Trey ignored her protest, moving to sit on the edge of Luke’s desk and crossing his long, jean-clad legs at the ankles. “Then said we should get together later—she had a
proposition
for us.” He tilted his head and lifted one brow. “What does that sound like to you?”

“Well?” Luke folded his arms and flashed a stern expression that clearly showed whose side he was on. So much for blood being thicker than water.

Closing her eyes, Bobbi sank back into her chair and took a deep, cleansing breath. She felt control slipping though her fingers like a wet bar of Dial, and she wouldn’t give the rednecks of Sultry Springs the satisfaction of saying she’d turned out just like her crazy mama. When she opened her eyes, she plastered on a grin and channeled the saccharine voice of a flight attendant. “Seems we had a miscommunication. I’m here to film a documentary, and I wanted you and that other gentleman to be a part of it.”

“Where I come from, we call that porn, darlin’.” Trey snickered and shook his head, sending a few locks of wheat-colored hair in motion across his forehead. “And I’m not into sharing my private fun with the world.”

“It’s not porn, you moron. I’m supposed to find a couple of single, rural guys and record their journey to find love. Kind of like a dating reality show. I thought you two would be a good fit.”

And by “good fit” she meant dead sexy, but in totally different ways. First, the dark and dangerous bad boy, Colt. One hundred percent pure, wild mischief had danced across his features, and she knew he was trouble—with a capital T and that rhymed with B and that stood for bat-shit crazy—but her viewing audience would eat him up with a spoon and lick the bowl clean.

And then the golden boy, Trey, with his blond hair, Technicolor-blue eyes, strong, angular jaw, and a pair of dimples that went deeper than Aristotle. Although Bobbi wanted to push him into the path of an oncoming Mack truck, she couldn’t deny he had a face that would tempt a saint and a body made for sinning—tall and lithe and bulky in all the right places. Even now it was hard to ignore his rounded biceps or the way his broad shoulders stretched that thin, white T-shirt within an inch of its life. From time to time, he’d reach down to massage one of his muscular thighs, which drew her attention to his jumbo-sized—
look
away!

Too bad the personality didn’t match the packaging.

“But,” she cleared her throat and reached down to retrieve her frozen veggies, “I can see that was a huge mistake. You’re out of the running.”

“Aw, shucks.” Trey snapped his fingers and flashed a sarcastic smile. “How ’bout Colton?”

“I still want him.”

“Might wanna rethink that. We don’t call him Crazy Colt for nothing.”

“You’re serious?” Luke rubbed the stubble darkening his jaw. “This doesn’t sound like…uh…your kind of thing.”

“It’s not.” Luke knew her pretty well considering they’d only spent a couple of weekends together over the past few years. “I’m not going to lie,” she lied, scratching her nose. “I only took this assignment so we could spend some time together. Wouldn’t it be fun if I stayed with you for the summer?”

“Well, yeah, but why didn’t you call first?”

Because she couldn’t risk him saying no. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“So let me get this straight.” Luke pushed away from his desk and walked to a porthole-sized fish tank built into the wall. Three translucent, pink jellyfish flitted like tiny phantoms inside, and Luke tapped the glass as if to greet them. “You’re gonna follow around strange guys like Colt while they go carousing and barhopping and trying to pick up women?”

“In a nutshell.”

“Where’s your crew?”

“My cameraman and sound boom guy fly in next week.” And, God help her, Bong and Weezus would stand out like ink on a wedding dress in this tiny town.

“What about the rest?”

She shrugged. “There is no rest.” In more ways than one. “It’s a small project.”

He turned, grabbing his hips while his brows reached for the sky. “So you’re doing this with no protection?”

“Oh, come on, Luke.” She stood and tossed the Niblets onto a Domino’s box. “Don’t start on me with that sexist crap. I spent a weekend with the Crip Queens, so I think I can handle a couple of good ol’ boys.”

Luke went quiet, returning his attention to the graceful jellies, while Bobbi glanced at his littered desk and wrestled the urge to sort through the clutter with her one good hand. It looked like a paper shredder blew chunks in here. How could anyone run a business like this? The Coors delivery receipt was so soiled with pepperoni grease she couldn’t read the amount due, and sweet mother of God, someone’s red thong was peeking out from beneath a pile of invoices. It probably belonged to his wife, but that didn’t make it any less disturbing.

Eventually, Bobbi had to close her eyes. Just looking at the chaos made her feel all squirrely inside, and Luke probably wouldn’t appreciate her going through his things. She’d do it another time, when he wasn’t around. Maybe introduce him to the magic of accordion files.

“Wait.” Luke’s voice interrupted Bobbi’s plans for staging an organizational coup. He spun on his heel and studied her in silence, narrowing one eye like he was trying to bend a spoon with his mind. Then his gaze danced a cha-cha between her and Trey, causing her tummy to sink. She didn’t like the look of this.

“You can stay with me and June on one condition.” Luke set his jaw in a way that said he wouldn’t negotiate. “You have to use Trey as one of your subjects.”

“
What?
” they both said in unison.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy.” Trey held his palm forward. “Don’t get me roped into this cluster. I don’t want her following me around with a camera, and you know I don’t do relationships—”

“No surprise there,” Bobbi interrupted. “I’m not working with this barbarian. You saw what he did to me.”

“I was about to apologize.” Trey pushed off the desk and tapped one finger against his skull. “Right before you decked me.”

“You broke my hand!”

“Oh, don’t be a baby. Let me see.” Before she could object, Trey lunged forward and claimed her fingers. After holding the ice pack for so long, the contrast of his hot grasp blazed a trail over her skin as he skimmed one callused palm over hers. She gasped, and Trey glanced up in alarm, softening his grip. But it wasn’t pain that had made her breath catch. It was his hands—massive and powerful and even rougher than his personality—nothing like the smooth, manicured touch of the guys she’d dated back in LA. She suddenly felt very small, like Thumbelina cupped in his palm, and she yanked free.

“It’s not even swollen,” he declared with a dismissive wave.

While Bobbi cradled her fingers protectively against her chest, Luke clapped Trey on the shoulder.

“You’re the only guy I trust to look after my kid sister.”

“I’m not a kid.” But her voice came out in a half-whine, making her sound like one.

“I dunno, buddy.” Trey raked a hand through his hair. “Looks like she can take care of herself just fine.”

Trey regarded her for a moment, and Bobbi nodded a silent thanks. Luke, however, wasn’t having it.

“What if
you
had a sister?” he pressed. “Would you leave her alone with Colton? That SOB’s got the sneakiest fingers in the county, and he’s hornier than a four-balled tomcat. Any other loser she snags for this project will be just as bad.”

Bobbi laughed at her brother. “If you’re worried about my virtue, I’m afraid that ship’s sailed. It circumnavigated the globe by now. I played my V-card at sixtee—”

“Stop!” Luke cupped his hands over his ears, and Bobbi half expected him to follow with
La-la-la-la, I can’t hear you!
“I don’t wanna know that.”

Trey groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dude, ask me for anything else, just not this.”

“Please.” Luke dipped his head, giving his friend a pleading look, complete with wide, hound-dog eyes. “Do me a solid here.”

A set of creases rippled Trey’s forehead, and several emotions played across his face—mostly hesitation, but Bobbi detected more. A lot more, like panic. Her story radar beeped a red alert. Something was up with Golden Boy. “Ah, Jesus. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Luke took that for a yes. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Goddamn right you do.” Trey heaved a sigh, and Bobbi took in his stiff shoulders and the muscles tightening the thick column of his neck. Interesting. The signature body language of a guy with something to hide. Her radar went from red alert to DEFCON 1. “I gotta talk to you,” he said to Luke. Then, turning his blue gaze on her, he added, “In private.”

No matter. She’d get it out of him eventually; she always did. Bobbi didn’t know why she cared, but once piqued, her curiosity wasn’t easily sated.

“Let’s get back on track.” Bobbi flexed her hand again, satisfied it wasn’t broken after all. “I can’t work with him. It’ll come across on camera and kill the mood if he’s not even trying.”

Luke turned his back on her and began stacking pizza boxes. When he uncovered the thong, he shoved it casually into his front pocket as if panties crossed his desk every day. “Well, you better figure out a way to make it work or find another place to crash. That’s final.”

Bobbi chewed her lower lip, studying Trey as he kneaded his thigh and muttered curses under his breath. Even though he wasn’t her type, she imagined he didn’t have to sleep alone very often. If he’d take direction, she should be able to hook him up with some nice little Texan—a country girl who thought God gave women small feet so they could stand closer to the stove—someone who wouldn’t mind Trey’s sandpapered hands or his brutish attitude. Nodding at him, she conceded, “Okay, but you have to try. Even if it’s just a summer fling.”

“Fine.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But I’m not gettin’ busy on camera, and I’m not gonna lie and say I’m looking for something serious.”

“You mean you actually
talk
to women instead of throwing them over your shoulder and hauling them back to your cave?” She stood and grabbed her purse from the edge of Luke’s desk. “I need to touch base with Colt.” And clear things up if he’d made the same crazy three-way assumption.

Luke walked her to the door while Trey stepped aside. “Listen,” Luke said, “I need a minute with Trey. You go on and handle your business, and I’ll meet you out front and take you home.”

“I’ve got a rental, so I’ll follow you.”

“A rental? For the whole summer?” Luke shook his head. “That’ll cost a fortune. We’ll drop it off on the way to my place, and you can use Bruiser, June’s old car.”

Bobbi picked a piece of lint from her hot-pink blouse and feigned indifference, but on the inside, she shimmied her hips in a wild victory dance. The money she’d save might be enough to repay Papa the retainer fee he’d leant her. As for the rest of her legal fees, that would take more time. Like a lifetime. “You sure she won’t mind?”

“Nope. We were about to donate it to Goodwill ’cause no one else’ll have it. It’s not pretty—”

Trey laughed without humor. “Uglier than a lard bucket full of toads. You won’t get carjacked, that’s for sure. But it’s the Chuck Norris of hatchbacks. The thing won’t die.”

“I’m not picky.” As long as it got her from point A to point B, she didn’t care what the beater looked like. With one last glance into Trey’s sea-blue eyes, she chirped, “I’ll be in touch, Golden Boy. Get yourself in the mood for love.”

***

“I gotta call June.” Luke slammed the door behind Bobbi. “Think she’ll be pissed?”