Animal Instincts [The Andersons 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (9 page)

“Heavens, no. I prefer old-fashioned romance.” She wrinkled her pert nose, adding, “Though, thinking about it, there are knights in science fiction, ones with magical swords and who live in mythical lands. So a brave knight on a white horse charging to the rescue of a fair maiden is romantic.”

“And I’m that brave knight,” Raven piped up, a megawatt smile far from gallant plastered over his face.

“Oh, pur-lease. Asshole meet Beretta.”

Detecting the sudden tense air between Raven and Matt, then noticing it extended to Ross, and not wanting to make the situation worse by laughing at Matt’s muttered comment, Rex searched the area for Ramona. She wasn’t hard to miss. His cock instantly stirred. And it had nothing to do with the way she was licking food off her fingers. Well, okay, maybe just a little bit. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and get something to eat. I missed lunch and my stomach’s beginning to think that my throat’s been cut.”

“I’ll bet food’s not all you wanna eat.”

This time, Raven’s comment, which Rex felt was targeted specifically at Ramona, again made his fingers twitch. But before the temptation manifested further, there was a low chuckle and another utterance from Matt.

“Go ahead. Make my day.”

* * * *

With her third vegetables marinated in tomato and wild herb sauce tortilla wrap going down as equally as well as the first two, Ramona licked her fingers clean—why waste a paper napkin on the remnants of delicious food?—and placed the plate on the table. She attracted the attention of Charlotte Coy, Emily’s mother, who was serving John Stanford. “My compliments to the chef.”

“That would be your father.”

“Mmm, I thought there was something familiar about those wraps.” Fearing a fourth wrap would tempt her, Ramona moved away and propped a hip against the same railing outside Rustlers that Rex had leaned against earlier. Stanford, ever clad in jeans, plaid shirt, and scuffed cowboy boots joined her. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“Because as owner I can do what I want,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food. He swallowed, and his rugged face broke into a grin. “Besides, I have complete faith in my staff not to bail the moment I do. Not that I’m complaining, what with the till ringing every second, but it’s chaos in there.”

“Yeah, Mark said.”

Stanford swiped a napkin across his mouth. “Damn, these are good. Still, a touch of garlic wouldn’t have gone amiss.”

Ramona pulled a face just as a warm, Southern voice drawled in her ear, sending tingles down her spine, “Kick Bud Watson all the way to Helena, hey?”

“John! Get your butt back in here!”

Ramona burst into giggles as Darlene, Rustlers’ longest serving and sassiest waitress appeared and, despite his protests, dragged Stanford back inside the bar. She turned to Rex, noticing for the first time his usually shaven face was rough with stubble. He’d still used his cologne, though. She could smell it. The spicy aroma enveloped her senses, quickened both her pulse and heart rate, and sizzled the air between them. “You liked him?” she asked, wondering if that husky tone had actually come from her.

“Oh, more than life itself.”

“I did warn you.”

“That you did.” Rex gestured to the dance floor. “May I have the honor?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ve just gotta introduce you to my parents first.”

“Already done.”

“What did you think of them?”

“They’re good people. Samantha’s shy. Matt’s sarcastic. And Mark is… Who is Mark again?”

“Interested in dating Sammy. Though he hasn’t asked her out yet. He’s not Matt’s biggest fan.”

“I did notice.”

His hand on her elbow, Ramona allowed Rex to escort her to the dance floor. It was only the merest of touches, but every male cell within that hot body of his made their presence known to her, relaying the message, as his eyes had done earlier, to sample and taste what he had to offer. As she turned and stood before him, she wickedly thought what he would do or say if she dropped to her knees and blew him there and then. “Did Matt warn you off Emily?”

“No, why would he?”

“Let’s just say you were getting very familiar with her.”

“Ah. Keen on her, is he?”

She stepped closer, inhaled an invigorating lungful of his solid masculinity, his heat, his spicy cologne, and smiled up at him. “Actually, as long as they live in the real world, Matt’s keen on anything with tits and an ass.”

* * * *

As soon as Rex took Ramona into his arms, he knew he was in trouble. Her “tits and ass” comment had made him acutely aware of hers. Not that his hand was anywhere near her well-rounded ass, but her breasts, courtesy of her four-inch heels, were fitted rather snugly against his chest. He dared not think about the color of her bra, if she wore one at all. He sucked in a deep breath and stuck his own ass outward, thus preventing another snug fit—that of his stiffening cock to the junction of her thighs.

She was a good dancer, matching his every step and turn, even when the tempo changed to a much slower beat. Great, that was all he needed, music that required a closer and more intimate dancing position. She met and locked her striking emerald eyes with his, and he began to drown. “I consider myself to be the luckiest man in town,” he told her once he remembered how to breathe.

“How so?”

“No disrespect to your sister, but I’m dancing with the loveliest woman ever to grace this earth.”

Ramona beamed and blew him an air kiss. Rex stuck his ass out further, almost pushing Samantha into the band’s two backing singers as she danced by with Raven. “Sorry,” he said to Samantha while glaring at Raven for his lewd smirk.

“No worries. Have you told him yet, Mona?”

“Told me what?” Rex asked Ramona the moment Samantha and Raven were out of earshot. Was it his imagination or were the fingers of her free hand delving under the back of his sweater? No, definitely not as she caressed his spine, up to his neck muscles then down to his waistband. He actually trembled. Not even Stacey had induced that reaction.

“Greg phoned this morning. You wire him the money and you’re my partner. But it does come with one condition…”

“We keep the name ‘Greg Stephens Veterinarian Practice,’” he finished. “Yeah, I thought so. Greg told me he spent many years building his business and procuring its good name. Keeping it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. You?”

“Nope.” Her green gaze sharpened slightly. “Are you gonna sell your half of the house to me?”

“No.”

“Move out?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip, seemingly discouraged, but then a soft, promising smile played the corners of her mouth. “Why don’t we celebrate? And I’m not talking about toasting with champagne, either. Unless, of course, it involves licking it off me.”

Rex barely registered Ramona’s words as her fingers glided around to tease his stomach, warming him inside and out and stiffening his cock to almost a painful level as it rubbed against the zipper. “What are you saying, Ramona?”

“Do you agree we have red-hot chemistry?”

He nodded. “Tauter than a violin bow.”

“Want to loosen it? With me? In my bed?”

Oh, Rex definitely wanted to loosen it with Ramona, in her bed. Repeatedly. Until he was slick with sweat and she was screwed senseless. But wait…

It was obvious Ramona wanted him as much as he wanted her, but how much more did she want? Would she at some point in the future want to further things between them? Being a partner at work was one thing, but in bed, it spelled “commitment.” Would she want marriage? Kids? Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Rex grimly suspected it was because no matter how many times he’d told himself Ramona was off-limits, his cock and his brain had ultimately fused together.

Ramona was inching closer, her ripe, luscious mouth parting for a kiss, her pink tongue visible and waiting. Fuck, no! If anything cooled his wanting to release his aching cock into Ramona’s slick and hot pussy, it was the thought of that walk down the aisle. He pushed her away. “No, Ramona. I’m not interested. Not now. Not ever.”

Then before he changed his mind, because, honestly, another second, with his cock ramrod stiff and refusing to listen to reason, he would have done, Rex strode away.

* * * *

Her mouth wide open, Ramona added another description as Rex occupied himself with another woman—Cindy “Legs” Lopez, no less—before she could blink. SOB. Who the hell did he think he was? She’d practically offered herself on a plate, and he’d given her the brush-off in the coldest, cruelest way possible—in public.

Mounting anger mixed with mortification, Ramona swiftly left the dance floor, even managing a smile at a worried-looking Samantha, and went straight to Rustlers. She needed a drink that was as stiff as the hard-on Rex had prodded against her, and the same hard-on that Cindy “Legs” Lopez was probably being prodded with right now.

At that thought, her anger reached “eruption level.”
The flash from a camera right in her face made it spew. “Get the fuck out of my face!” she snarled at… Well, at nothing, just a fading shimmering light. What the…? Had she just seen a ghost?

It was at that moment that Stanford noticed her agitated state and served her with a chilled glass of white wine. He then led her to the cellar, telling her it was a great place for cooling off and thinking.

Five minutes of sitting on an empty crate and Ramona couldn’t agree more with Stanford. She no longer felt the need to shout, swear, and inflict bodily harm on Rex “Smug SOB” Latimer. What she did need, though, was payback. And the plan that began to crystallize as she sipped her wine was very subtle.

And oh, so appropriate.

“Doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?” Rex said to himself, a scowl darkening his already grim mood as he tore “July” from Mimi’s desktop calendar, crumpled it into a ball, and lobbed it into the wastepaper bin.

He had been a resident of Silver Creek for one whole month. And he liked it. The locals were friendly and had made him feel welcome and part of the community, so much so it felt like he’d lived in the town for years. He’d definitely come home. Accepting Stephens’s offer of employment and leaving his old life behind had been a wise choice.

Furthermore, for the last twenty-five days of that one whole month, he’d been co-owner of the “Greg Stephens Veterinarian Practice.” He liked that, too. Mimi Parish, who bore a remarkable likeness to Angela Lansbury, had taken to him like a mother and fussed around him at every possible opportunity. He didn’t mind in the least, especially when she’d discovered his weakness for peanut butter cookies. The only problem was, not only was he susceptible with piling on the pounds, but if he kept on eating them at the rate which Mimi baked them, he’d soon begin to look like one.

And Ramona… Well, what of Ramona? The woman filled his dreams and stirred his cock like no other woman could, so there had been no one-night stands or flings. He couldn’t do it. He hadn’t even shared Ramona’s bed, yet it felt like he would be cheating on her if he had sex with another woman. Hence the reason for his nonexistent sex life. On the subject of the house, she continued to ask him to sell his share to her, and if he was going to move out. He continued to give the same answer on both—an unequivocal no.

Sharing the same house as Ramona had its plus and minus points. More minus than plus, but then again what did he expect when she continued to leave the bathroom looking like a bomb site?

Another minus was her apparent refusal to even consider his idea of turning the smallest bedroom into another bathroom. Another was her fluctuating moods. One day, she was sweetness and light and an outrageous flirt. The next, she was as cranky as hell. He just didn
’
t get her, not that he was an expert at understanding women.

But the biggest minus of them all had to be Bud Watson. While they shared the patients who attended the surgery and took any weekend emergency callouts in turn, Ramona consistently left him to deal with Watson. He thought that was unfair. They should share the pain in the ass.

And last night, finally, Rex thought she had conceded.

Watson had telephoned asking for assistance with his foaling mare. Ramona had taken the call and agreed to attend. But halfway through the evening, he’d received a call from her asking him—no, ordering him—to go to the Watson ranch and deliver the foal himself. Her reason? She was needed elsewhere. Other than that lame excuse, he hadn’t been able to demand a proper explanation because she hadn’t returned home.

And that was why Rex was waiting in reception, not for Mimi and her peanut butter cookies, but for Ramona.

“
So what the hell was the emergency last night?” he demanded the moment she stepped across the threshold. She looked pale and drawn, her usually sparkling eyes dull and lifeless. He didn’t care. “I’d made dinner plans, and I wasn
’
t too impressed about having to cancel them to go and deliver a foal because you were needed elsewhere.” He hadn
’
t really had any dinner plans but, frankly, was too pissed to let her know that.

A warning light blinked in her eyes.
“
Oh, I
’
m dreadfully sorry,” she purred, her tone dripping with scorn. “But I think the rape of my sister was more important than worrying about your guts.
”