Tex Appeal (4 page)

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
, Cheryl Anne stood in her kitchen and stared at the ceiling. Or what had once been the ceiling. The sheetrock had been demolished, the roof and shingles ripped away. A huge gaping hole stared down at her.

She drew a deep, shaky breath and tried not to panic as she picked her way past the chaos that filled the small room. The construction team had gutted the entire thing, including the cabinets.

And the problem is?

No problem, she told herself. The cabinets had been so old—eighty years to be exact—and old-fashioned. Peeling. Scarred. Ugly, even if they had been hand-carved and had the original glass knob handles. The newspaper was giving her a state-of-the-art kitchen. That meant lots of stainless steel and high-tech gadgets. Everything she’d ever dreamt of, including a cappuccino maker and an espresso machine. Not that she’d ever been fond of espresso. But that was the point—to ditch the old Cheryl Anne and embrace the new.

She blinked frantically against the moisture that burned her eyes and swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat.

“The boys tore them down while I was going over plans for the bathroom.” The deep, familiar voice came from behind and she whirled to find Dayne standing in the framed entrance where her kitchen door had once been.

He stood well over six feet, his hard muscled body filling up what suddenly seemed like a small space. He still wore the crisp, creased Wranglers and Branson Construction shirt he’d had on earlier.

“They really made a mess in here.” He didn’t sound any happier than she felt.

She shook away the crazy feeling and shrugged. “I hated those old cabinets anyway.”

“Really?”

Yes.
It was right there on the tip of her tongue, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Maybe
hate
is a little harsh. They weren’t
that
bad. Nice even,
if
you like vintage.”

He seemed to think about her words. “So do you?”

Once upon a time. “I’m going with a more modern, eclectic feel.”

“So it’s out with the old and in with the new?”

“That would be the plan.”

“Seems a shame to throw something away just because it isn’t as polished or as perfect as it used to be.”

“Actually, it’s a shame to hold on to something that’s served its purpose and is no longer satisfying your needs.”

“Is that why you dumped me?” He nailed her with a gaze. “Because I didn’t satisfy you?”

“Listen, it’s nothing personal. You’re a great guy, but you’re just not the guy for me.”

“That’s not what you said that night down by the creek.”

“That was a long time ago. People change.”

He eyed her, his gaze sweeping from her head to the tips of her stilettos and back up again. “Nice outfit.”

A rush of warmth went through her and she forgot all about her aching feet. She glanced down at the button-up silk shell and matching skirt she’d changed into for tonight’s class. It was bold, it was red and it made her feel more naked than clothed. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I figured it was about time that I bought something that didn’t look like it had been featured in an episode of the
Golden Girls
.”

It was his turn to smile. “You didn’t dress that bad.”

“I didn’t dress that good.” She shrugged. “But that’s all behind me now. I’m turning over a new leaf. New job. New clothes.”

“New man?”

She gathered her courage. “Eventually. Listen, I know this is hard for you to understand, but it’s something I have to do. I’m so sick of living my life in a cocoon. I want to break out. To cut loose. I want some excitement.”

“And I’m not exciting anymore.”

“I’d still like to be friends.”

“Friends, huh?” He looked ready to argue, but then his tight mouth eased into a grin. A strange glimmer danced in his gaze. “Why not?”

An awkward silence stretched between them for several long moments and she prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her. But at least it was done. She’d told him the truth and now she could truly move on. “So, um, what are you doing here this late?”

“Finishing up the demo on the bathroom. We’ve got a deadline. The bath and kitchen will take the longest, which means we have to be ready to start rebuilding first thing in the morning.”

“I hope that includes my kitchen ceiling,” she hedged, the curiosity that had pulled her out of bed in the middle of the night getting the best of her.

Okay, that and the need to pick up her
Hand Jobs Made Easy
DVD. Winona’s “tap” move had looked oddly familiar and she was anxious to see if Buxom Blonde had mentioned something even remotely similar.

“So what’s the plan?” she pressed. “Are you guys giving me a new roof?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Or maybe a solar window?”

He grinned, his lips parting to reveal a row of straight white teeth. “I could tell you, sugar, but then I’d have to kiss you.”

For a split second, she found herself pulled back to that night at Skull Creek when she and Dayne had had sex for the very first time. He’d smiled just like that and then he’d touched his lips to hers. He’d stroked and coaxed and seduced. Not that she’d needed to be seduced. She’d been ready, desperate to stop playing it safe and walk on the wild side. And Dayne had been wild with a capital
W.

Then.

She focused her attention on the polo shirt that outlined his broad shoulders. “It’s
kill,
” she told him, eager to get them back on the professional track. The past was over and done with. He was a contractor. She was a homeowner. “You could tell me, but then you’d have to
kill
me.”

“Says you.” His eyes gleamed as he took a step toward her.

And just like that, she found herself neck-deep in the water, her heart pounding and her pulse racing as Wild Dayne Branson swam toward her.

Wait a second.

She blinked, but the gleam didn’t disappear. She knew then that he was up to something. She could feel it. Even more, she could see it in the purposeful set of his stubbled jaw, the tense way he held his broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms.

Her pulse gave a wild
ka-thump
and her nipples tingled.

She tried to ignore the ripple of anticipation. She knew the first moment of contact would only be a letdown. Been there, done that. No more.

She took a step back but he matched her movements, his boots slowly gobbling up the bare concrete she tried to keep between them. “What’s wrong, sugar?” he finally asked when she came up hard against the opposite wall. “You seem skittish.”

“I’m not skittish.” She debated ducking to the side, but realized that would only confirm his thought. “I’m standoffish.”

He tipped back the brim of his hat before planting his hands on the wall on either side of her shoulders. He leaned in and nailed her with an intense stare. His blue gaze pushed into hers. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

If only.

“I thought you said we could be friends.” She planted her palms against his chest to push him back a few safe inches. His heart thudded beneath her hand, a fast, furious rhythm that totally belied his cool, calm demeanor. Her own heartbeat kicked up a notch.

“I lied.”

She stiffened, despite the enticing heat of his body that reached out and tried to lull her into submission. “I’m not going to bed with you again.”

His gaze swept their surroundings. “Just for the record, sugar, we’re in the kitchen.” A slow, sensuous grin slid across his handsome face. “And there isn’t a bed in sight.” And then he leaned down and slanted his mouth over hers.

He tasted just as good as she remembered.

Sweet.

Rich.

Reckless.

Yeah, right.

This was
Dayne.
Responsible, grown-up—safe.

Denial rushed through her as he ate at her, nibbling at her bottom lip, urging her to open up.

Pull away.

She wanted to, but then he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, drawing so hard that she felt the tug between her legs and suddenly she was eighteen all over again, and the only thing she could think of was getting closer.

Her lips parted and his tongue plunged deep to tangle with hers. Where her hands had meant to hold him back, they suddenly changed course, sliding up over the rippled expanse of his chest, his broad shoulders, to curl around the strong column of his neck. Her fingers dove into the silky hair at his nape and held on as heat sizzled through her. His body pressed into hers and he rocked his crotch against her. She felt him, huge and straining beneath his jeans. He rubbed against her and desire knifed through her.

Suddenly a kiss didn’t seem like nearly enough. She needed to get closer. To feel his bare skin against her own.

As if he sensed the need that gripped her, he dropped one hand to her waist. His fingertips played over her rib cage and circled the underside of her breast before flicking her nipple through the fabric of her blouse.

She ached to feel his hands on her bare skin, the rough texture feathering over her flesh, stirring her senses. She wanted his hands on her body, his erection filling her and drenching her senses.

He slid one button free. Then another. And another. Until her blouse fell open. Her heart pounded faster and her ears started to ring as his fingertips went to the clasp of her bra.

“Shit,” he murmured against her lips and she realized that it wasn’t her fierce reaction making her ears ring. It was his cell phone.

“I have to get that. I’m on call with this project—”

“Of course,” she blurted. Because he was Dayne Branson. Conscientious. Responsible. Safe. “I—I really need to get back to the Inn.”

“Wait—” he started, but she’d already ducked past him.

She clutched the edges of her shirt together, and then walked away as fast as her aching feet could carry her.

F
ORGET UNLEASHING
her wild side. She’d gone off the deep end. A straight plunge into full-fledged crazy.

That’s what Dayne told himself as he climbed into his pickup and headed back to the office.

Sure, it sounded nice in theory. But the whole concept was for shit. They could never be just friends. The kiss had proven as much.

He quickly covered the short distance to the two-story building that housed Branson Construction. Margene had packed up hours ago and so the place sat dark and quiet. Dayne unlocked the front door and walked inside, flipping lights as he went. He plopped down behind his desk and booted up his computer. He needed to go over the work orders to make sure he had everything for tomorrow. Cabinets. Bathroom fixtures. Flooring.

The screen came up and Dayne tried to focus on the spreadsheet in front of him. He succeeded, too. For about five seconds.

Christ, he hadn’t meant to kiss her. Hell, he hadn’t anticipated seeing her at all. He’d been working to finish up today’s list and prepare for tomorrow’s workload. He’d been busy, focused, driving himself physically so that he didn’t have to think about the emotional crap going on his life.

The woman he’d loved, the one he’d planned to eventually marry, had chucked him like a pile of cow manure.

But then that very same woman had walked in and interrupted his work, and just like that, his focus had gone out the window. He’d meant to keep his mouth shut and hang back until she left, but then when she’d looked ready to cry at the sight of her roof—or lack of—he’d had the crazy urge to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be okay.

That they would be okay.

Desperation had rushed hot and potent through him, and he’d had to step up. To do something. To kiss her and prove to himself that it wasn’t the sex.

That they still had the chemistry. That he still had it.

He’d tasted her initial shock—not because he’d kissed her, but because he’d done it so well—and his pride had prickled.

He’d held back all these years and kept a tight leash on his libido because he’d wanted to help their relationship. To build a solid foundation for a nice little house that wouldn’t crumble during the first hailstorm. He hadn’t meant to morph into a complete dud.

He’d just wanted to avoid wasting twenty years of his life only to have it end because of his damned greedy dick. He hadn’t wanted to end up like his father. Alone. Lonely.

And all because of sex.

Yet here he was. Alone. Lonely.

And all because of sex.

Mediocre
sex, a voice reminded him.

His pride burned and he turned from the computer. He hauled open the bottom drawer of his desk and rummaged inside for the small slip of paper that sat stashed behind the petty cash box and several ledger books.

He stared at the document. The edges were worn, the ink faded, but there was no mistaking the words
Eviction Notice
printed across the top. He’d kept the damned thing as a reminder. To keep himself from screwing up. From losing everything.

It had always served its purpose.

Until now.

He dropped the thing on the corner of his desk and glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. Late by his standards.

Today’s standards.

Once upon a time, he would have just been getting ready to go out. To boot-scoot his way across the Barnyard and have a good time. At one time, the local honky-tonk had been Dayne’s favorite place in the world, second only to the local rodeo arena. It was the last place he wanted to be now.

He wanted to be with Cheryl Anne.

To be inside of her.

She’d wanted it too. She’d wanted him. But she’d obviously moved on to bigger and better things. Several of them to be exact, if the size of that
SEXTOYS.COM
box had been any indication.

You’ve been replaced, buddy.

“Like hell,” he growled. If he wanted to get Cheryl Anne back, he needed to show her that there was no substitute for a real man.

A real
good
man.

He turned toward his computer and pulled up tomorrow’s work schedule. Forget Romancing the Room. It was time to break ground on Project Sex.