Pick Me (3 page)

Her breath hitched. She parted her lips, and he took advantage. Captured her mouth with a kiss he’d been fantasizing about for six long months. When she skated her tongue along his, he released a moan, and hauled her body against his. She was so damn small, and he was so damned turned on, he had a hard time keeping the right angle. Without losing contact with those lush lips of hers, he cupped her ass. Raising her off the asphalt, he pressed her against the driver’s side window and wrapped her legs around his back.

Her dress hiked up around her hips, her heels bit into his backside, but he could give two shits. His denim-clad cock was right where it belonged—between her silky soft thighs.

He shoved himself against her, wanting her to know what she did to him, then weaseled a hand beneath the waistband of her panties. When he cupped her bare ass, she released another throaty moan that had his erection doing the two-step. She drove her fingers through his hair, knocking his Stetson to the ground.

God he wanted her naked. Naked on his bed. In the kitchen, the shower, hell, it didn’t matter. She was a turbulent combination of sweet and spicy. Smelled like strawberries and made love like a wild cat. Driving his tongue deep into her hot mouth, mimicking the thrust of his cock—if he were as naked as a jay bird—he palmed her bare bottom, dipped a finger in the crevice until he found exactly what he was searching for.

Warm and wet, she soaked his finger and he released a satisfied grunt. When she whimpered and broke the kiss, drawing in deep breaths and letting her head bang against the roof of the sedan, he drove two fingers between her heat. In the short time he’d spent with her, he’d learned how to trigger an orgasm from her. Right now, he wanted to make her come apart for him. Not necessarily an ego thing, although watching her beautiful face contort with ecstasy had given him great satisfaction. Nope, he simply wanted to know they still shared a connection. That the one night they’d spent together in Denver wasn’t simply a dream or fantasy, or even the clichéd one-night stand. But the real deal. If she hadn’t left him high and dry, he’d have found a way to pursue something, anything with Valentina. In a matter of hours, she had crawled under his skin and ferreted her way into his heart.

Now, with her inner muscles clenching around his fingers, he was determined to see if they could finish what they’d started in Denver. Smart and sassy, sexy and gorgeous as hell, she’d set the bar, and since Denver, he hadn’t found a woman to match her.

Driving his fingers deep, he wished he had more than two hands. One was between her thighs, the other squeezed her rear, if he’d had more he’d shove down her dress so he could latch onto one of her nipples. But he wasn’t an octopus. Determined to seek the satisfaction he craved, or at least some semblance, he buried his head between her cleavage, darted his tongue over her soft flesh, nipping and licking. Then he moved lower and captured a nipple, covered with too much foo-foo material, between his teeth.

She tightened her legs around his back, moaned with satisfaction before raising her head and cupping his cheeks. “I’m...going...” He stole the rest of her words with a searing kiss, while scraping a third finger along her clit before driving it home to join the others.

Whimpering and moaning into his mouth, she matched the rhythm of his tongue, gyrated her hips against his hand, then tore her mouth away. Her thighs shook, her entire body trembled, then she sucked in a deep breath and snared his gaze. He sucked in a breath, too. Because he’d never imagined seeing her dark eyes glazing over with desire again, or feeling...sharing the intimacy they’d created that one, blustery night.

He’d never thought one woman could penetrate his gut with something more than mere lust.

As she let herself go, came with muted moans, she kept her eyes on his. She’d done this before and he thought it was sexy as hell. As if she wanted him to know he was the only one who could make her shatter.

Unable to resist her parted lips, he sank his own against hers in a kiss he’d hoped would let her know how much this moment meant to him. She kissed him back, tangled her tongue with his, then abruptly pulled away.

“Oh my God, put me down,” she said, in a hushed, rushed tone.

“Why? I was enjoying myself.” He nipped her shoulder. “I thought you were, too.”

“I am, was...please, put me down.”

He couldn’t resist the pleading in those eyes of hers, and gently settled her feet to the ground. With care, he removed his hand from beneath her panties, then smoothed her dress over her hips. All the while, his cock twitched and pulsed with the need for release. But he was a patient man. Okay, at this point his patience had hit an all time low, but he felt satisfaction on knowing he gave her such pleasure.

Cupping her cheeks, brushing his thumb along her jaw line, he kissed her temple. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect that to happen.”

She gripped his biceps. “Me either.” Blowing out a slow breath, she rested her forehead against his. “But, I’m sorry, this can’t happen again.”

Feeling as if someone had just turned a fire hose loaded with ice cold water on him, Colt froze and lifted his eyes to hers. “Why?”

“Why? I told you before, if the producer of the show finds out that we actually know each other, we’ll be booted.”

“And I told you before that I don’t care.”

“Well, coming on the show might have satisfied some juvenile bet for you, but it doesn’t mean that I still don’t want this.”

“Want what? Me? Or the show?” he asked, needing to know the answer. For the first time in his life, it was important for him to know. No other woman had ever intrigued him like Valentina.

Instead of answering him, she dropped to the ground and picked up her keys. “I have to go.”

He gave her space, knowing she needed it by the way she’d gone from slack and satisfied to rigid and temperamental.

Opening the car door, she slid into her seat, then gripped the door handle. He wanted to lean in and give her one last kiss, but based on her sudden change he decided to bide his time. After all, they had a scheduled date for tomorrow. If the show meant that much to her, she wouldn’t miss it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

She nodded, while white-knuckling the door handle. “Tomorrow?” she asked as if she’d forgotten about their date. Then her eyes widened, and she ran a shaky hand across her forehead. “Oh, yeah...tomorrow.”

“Yep, I’m figuring we’ll take my Ranger out into the woods where we’ll do some target practice. I’m looking forward to introducing you to my ranch.” He leaned into the car, and grinned when she released the door handle and shot back into her seat. Dark eyes wide as a full moon, lips, still moist from kissing him, parted. She flinched when he ran a finger along her cheek, then her eyes fluttered shut when he moved to her exposed neck, then collar bone. Eyes on the rise and fall of her breasts, he breathed in her berry scent, then said, “Actually, I can’t wait to watch you pump my twelve gauge.”

Her eyes flashed fire, a molten combination of desire and anger that had his dick hard as a fence post. “You’re unbelievable.” She pushed his hand away, then shoved the key into the ignition. “I just told you that we can’t have sex.”

Giving her a nonchalant shrug, even though his entire body, every muscle, every pore and nerve ending were wound tighter than a calf roped at a rodeo, he reached for his hat and plunked it on his head. “Who said anything about sex?”

She groaned, not the ecstasy kind she’d made only moments ago, but a throaty, frustrated groan. “You just did, damn it, with your talk of pumping your
twelve
gauge.”

“Well, now I’m sorry your mind’s drifting to the gutter, but I appreciate the compliment.” Tipping his hat, he gave her a two finger salute.

“Compliment?” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?

Resting the sole of his boot on the edge of the car, he draped his arms on the roof and leaned in again. “I think I do all right in the anatomy department, and you didn’t seem to have any complaints back in Denver, but twelve inches is a bit of a stretch.”

That combusting look in her eyes returned as she held his gaze for a fraction, then she skidded it down his torso and zeroed in on his erection. “So you weren’t talking about...”

“Not unless you want to. Otherwise I was referring to my twelve gauge pump shotgun,” he said with another shrug, while wanting to beat his chest like a gorilla because it appeared she’d actually thought he was hung like a frickin’ bull.

Shaking her head, she mumbled, “Shotgun.” Then she turned the key in the ignition. She moved her eyes to his erection again, then released a deep breath. “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I guess you will.”

Holding his gaze, she opened her mouth, then quickly pressed her lips together. Seconds passed and she finally said, “I guess should go.”

“I guess you should.” But he couldn’t just let her go, not after finally finding her again, or after making her come apart in the parking lot. She was as hot as a branding iron and still held an attraction for him, even after six months. Only now he had to date her on television, which sucked worse than Red’s home brewed moonshine. He didn’t like having to compete with a couple of other guys, and didn’t buy her excuse of doing the show for money. That dress she wore had to have cost several hundred dollars. Not that he knew much about women’s fashion, but he’d been with enough women to know a designer brand when he saw one.

Leaning in, arms draped over the roof because he was afraid he’d haul her into his arms again and screw everything up, he stopped an inch from her parted lips. “Lookin’ forward to our date,” he murmured, then veered away from her tempting lips and kissed her temple.

When he drew back, he caught the heat and confusion warring in her eyes, but she quickly averted her gaze and pressed her foot to the brake. With her gaze on anything but him, he pushed away, closed her car door, then rapped the roof. He watched her tear out of the parking lot, tires squealing, and shook his head as he walked toward his truck.

He had some planning to do for tomorrow. Unfortunately, there would be cameras involved, but he’d find a way to make sure he had some quality alone time with Valentina. And when he was done, a twelve gauge pump shotgun would have a whole new meaning.

Chapter 3

This is so not going well.
Valentina cringed and stared at the passing terrain from the open window of Colt’s Ford F-150. A little over an hour into her first date with Colt and she’d already managed to not only botch things up, but make a foo
l of herself in the process—on camera no less.

Sure, everything had started as planned. Danny had shown at her apartment with a two person camera crew to film the initial beginning of her and Colt’s date. Instead of acting the part of the bubbly bachelorette, she’d allowed her physical attraction for Colt to scare her into silence. Unable to tear her eyes off his lean, rugged body when he’d filled her doorframe, she’d suddenly been struck dumb, and pretty much mute. She’d stumbled over incomplete sentences, while forcing a big smile that still left her cheeks hurting, then managed to trip on the uneven sidewalk as they’d walked toward Colt’s truck. She hoped to God the editing department could splice what little footage the cameras had caught and at least make the beginning of their date somewhat entertaining, minus her near miss with the sidewalk, of course.

As the warm wind from the open window whipped through her hair, she thought about Danny. If today was any indication of what the next four weeks were going to be like, he had his work cut out for him. She didn’t mean for things to turn out the way they had this morning, and while it upset her that Danny was probably ticked off that she and Colt hadn’t given them much footage to work with, she had bigger things to worry about.

Shifting her gaze toward Colt’s lap, she wanted to groan. How could she not have known he was talking about a twelve gauge shot gun and not his penis? Because after what he’d done to her in the parking lot, against her car, all she had been able to think about was how much she had wanted his enormous erection inside of her. But, she’d made a mess of that, too. Instead of doing what her body had wanted—down and dirty, hot and erotic sex, she’d gone back to the apartment, berating herself for telling him they couldn’t have sex, period.

So, rather than basking in the glow of a well needed orgasm, she’d sat in the uncomfortable apartment Derek had rented for her to use during the duration of the show, running through the entire night. The fear of being on stage, the dumb questions she’d had to ask. The fact Colt actually wanted to pursue a real relationship.

A gust of wind blew through the cab of the truck, and pieces of her hair stuck to her lips. While knocking the irritating strands away, she also knocked any foolish ideas of romance and sex, too. While Colt might be on the show to own up on a bet, he could be Derek’s infamous red herring.

Last night, while she had lay in bed, she’d dissected the three bachelors, trying to figure out who was most likely Derek’s poser. Brad, the himbo, didn’t seem to be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, and with his buff build and dreams of opening a gym, she believed he was the real deal. Now Trent was a different story. A rocker dentist? With tattoos covering his arms like a sweater, she couldn’t image that the man actually had a dental practice. He’d have to wear long sleeves and a turtle neck to hide his ink stains, and there was no hiding all that long hair.

Then there was Colt. While in Denver, they’d never talked about what they did for a living. Yet, the producers wanted her to believe he was a sports agent. A rancher sounded more like it, with his build, his big ol’ belt buckle, cowboy boots and hat. But sports agent? That would be a big fat no. Her oldest brother, Dom, was good friends with a guy from high school who’d gone on to become a sports agent. Dylan Macavey had always been a staple in their house—crashing over, staying for dinner, sharing the holidays. He’d gone to Northwestern University, her alma mater, for law school, and last she’d heard he’d become quite successful. According to Dom, he represented half a dozen athletes, drove a BMW, and had women chasing him and his money.

Colt didn’t fit the picture Dom had painted of Dylan. She couldn’t imagine him wearing an Armani suit, although he’d look fabulous in one with those long muscular legs, slim hips and wide shoulders. She couldn’t picture him driving a sporty beamer, either. The truck suited him, so did the jeans and cowboy boots. Yeah, Colt could definitely be Derek’s red herring, too.

She’d figure it out. She had to, and quick. Colt might be giving her the silent treatment right now. But she had a feeling, based on how he’d left things last night, and the heat that had darkened his denim eyes when he’d arrived at the apartment this morning, that he was nowhere near done. That he wasn’t about to let a nationally televised show stop him from gaining what he wanted—her. The thought spiked her body temperature. She wanted him, too. But choosing the wrong bachelor, even if he felt oh so right, would not bode well for her ego.

Somehow, she always managed to pick the wrong guy—the cheater, the deadbeat, the trumped-up, wannabe movie star. When she’d first met Colt, she’d come off a one year sexual hiatus. Her time with the show hadn’t allowed her the convenience of a normal relationship, which led her boyfriend at the time to dip his stick elsewhere. After a year with no sex, little time for socializing with the few friends she’d kept in touch with, she’d ached for someone to hold her. To pretend that, for one night, she’d meant something to someone.

“We’re almost there,” Colt said, finally breaking the silence as he veered the truck off the highway.

She stared at his profile, the rugged plains and angles of his handsome face, and wished he would have removed his hat. He had great hair. Thick and brown, sun kissed probably from being outdoors. Her fingers tingled at the thought of running her hand through his hair, knocking his hat off like she’d done last night in the parking lot, and drawing him in for a kiss.

“Super,” she said, then rolled her eyes to the passing terrain. Why couldn’t she seem to make more than a one word sentence today?

Because you could put your mouth to better use,
her inner vixen reminded her. She shut that voice down, then perked up when she saw a large, weatherworn billboard.

Welcome to Sunny Springs, population 725.

“Is this where you live?” Finally a full sentence, she sighed with relief.

“Yep, although we have a few miles until we reach my ranch.”

As he drove through the small town, one of the store fronts caught her attention.
Red’s Taxidermy.

“Is that the Red you were talking about last night?”

He grinned, but kept his eyes on the road. “Yep.”

“You weren’t actually serious about stuffing a coyote for me to display in my living room, were you.”

“Nah,” he chuckled. “They’re ugly creatures.”

“Let me guess, all of your answers, including the whole gun toting thing had been your way of trying to make yourself less appealing so I wouldn’t have picked you.”

“That was the plan,” he drawled and, after nearly eighty miles of driving together, glanced at her. That same simmering look she’d seen in his eyes last night, and again at the apartment this morning, was there. And it was doing a job on her nerves and the sexual tension coursing through her body. “But I’m glad it didn’t work.” He winked, then swerved off the paved road onto a dirt trail.

She gripped the door for leverage as the truck jumped and jostled, the backend fishing to the right as they met a dip in the dirt lined with gravel. “I’m assuming your ranch is somewhere off this dirt path.”

“It’s not a path. It’s a road, just a bumpy one.”

“Danny said he has GPS in the van, but is your dirt
road
going to register?”

“It should, and if it doesn’t, he’ll call me on my cell.”

“You actually have reception out here?” Oh the city girl in her was
not
believing any of that. They were eighty miles from Dallas, and the nearest town’s biggest sign boasted that of a taxidermist.

“Believe it or not, even us hicks have technology.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“No worries, I know you didn’t. I never did have a chance to ask you where you were from, and don’t tell me Dallas, because I know a Midwestern accent when I hear one.”

He never had the chance because when they had been in Denver, they’d skipped the “getting to know you stuff” and dove right into sex.

“Chicago.”

He glanced at her again. “Well, Sunny Springs is far cry from the Chicago
or
Dallas, but I’m betting what you see ahead won’t have you missing those bright lights and all that concrete.” He shifted his gaze back to the dirt road and nodded. “Look, there she is.”

Valentina caught her breath, and for the first time since leaving her parents’ small bungalow when she’d left for college, she had an overwhelming sense of coming home. Stone pillars, with iron gates shaped into the image of running broncos, led to a beautiful, large colonial home with a three car garage. Huge oak trees shaded the winding driveway, while horses either ran or grazed in the pasture. The view of the lake flanking one side of the property was breathtaking. She could image her and Colt taking a picnic basket filled with wine and munchies, and watching the sunset there, while the horses softly neighed nearby, and the night creatures began to awaken and stir. As they made love on a blanket, the evening sky would be riddled with stars, not clouded by smoke from a processing plant or outshined by the city lights.

As quickly as the image ran through her mind, she shoved it away. Dating Colt was a job. A means to an end. Four weeks, that was all she’d have to endure. Four weeks of dating him and two other guys, oh God, on camera, then she was free to go—with a signed contract guaranteeing a raise, a promotion, and the chance to have Derek seriously consider one of the screenplays she’d pitched to him.

She stopped craning her neck at the lake as Colt drove closer to the house. Near the three car garage sat what appeared to be some sort of souped up golf cart with tires like a four wheeler and a cargo hold in the back end. “What is that thing?” she asked, hoping she’d have an opportunity to ride in it. The four wheeler looked like fun, and she would love to use it to explore Colt’s property.

“It’s the Ranger I’d told you about last night,” Colt said as he parked the truck. “I asked my brother, Ruger, to stop by, bring it out from the barn, and make sure she was gassed up.”

“Ruger? You mean like the gun?” she asked, then grinned.

His cheeks reddened, and she melted. There was something about seeing her rugged, badass cowboy blush that did a number on her. Not that he was hers, but damn, maybe in another lifetime.

“Yep, my dad had a thing for guns, and named all us kids after a firearm.”

“
Us
kids, how many are in your family?”

“I’ve got an older brother, Win, named after the Winchester rifle, then there’s me, Ruger, then Barrett, and finally my sister, Remy.”

“Let me guess, her full name is Remington.”

He winked. “That’s right. Hell, when we were growing up, we even had a couple dogs named Smith and Wesson.”

Laughing she shifted in her seat and caught his teasing gaze. “Liar.”

“I wish I was. You could say my dad was a bit fanatical. Hang tight,” he said as he climbed out of his seat. He ran around the front of the truck, then opened her door. “Let me help you.”

She was grateful for his assistance. Not only wouldn’t she break her neck trying to exit his gigantic truck, but it gave her a chance to touch him again. An excuse to allow him to touch her, despite the rules she’d laid out last night.

Touch her, he did. Lifting her by the waist, rather than taking her hand, he pulled her from her seat and swung her around. Instead of setting her to the gravel, he held her against him for a second, then slowly slid her body down the length of his.

By the time her hiking boots touched the ground, her nipples were hard. Thankfully, her knees didn’t give way. The man had that much of an effect on her, especially with his big hands still holding her waist, a few calloused fingers brushing the skin exposed by the slight rise of her tank top. 

Needing a distraction, a way to put some distance between them before she threw her career away and took
him
against the truck, she opened her mouth to thank him, but he beat her to the punch. “So now you know about my name, I’ve been wondering about yours. I know you’re Italian,” he said, and ran a finger along a few curls that couldn’t be tamed by the flat iron, while he kept his other hand secured around her waist. “Is Valentina a family name or were you born on Valentine’s Day?” As he asked, he brushed loose tendrils away from her cheek. His closeness, his gentle caress had her heart racing and her body ready to explode with irrational need.

She sent him a wry smile, while battling with the urge to draw his firm, sexy lips closer to hers. “Cliché, but true. I’m a Valentine’s baby.”

One rough thumb stroked her cheek, while the other, her hip. She fought to control her breathing, to not allow him to know how bad she had it for him. Otherwise,
Pick Me
was doomed before it even had a chance to air—so was her career. But instead of pulling away, she stood there. Loving every wrong moment. Because it felt so right.