Tex Appeal (6 page)

T
HEY WERE
actually doing it.

Cheryl stared through the windshield at the sizeable tent perched in her brother’s front yard. Lanterns gleamed inside, casting various shadows against the canvas. She made out her mother’s shape as it leaned over and wrestled with a sleeping bag.

A sleeping bag. In a tent. At night.
Outside.

She climbed out of the car, her wedges sinking into the soft grass as she started for the tent.

She was halfway across the yard when she heard her mother’s voice.

“Get him, Harold!”

Before she could take another step, a large figure tackled her from behind and wrestled her to the ground.

“I hate to do this, son,” Harold Cash grunted as he pressed her face into the ground and held her arms behind her back, “but you’ve been brainwashed.”

“That’s right, dear. You need an intervention. That’s why we’re here.”

“Mom,” she gasped at the woman who’d come barreling out of the tent.

“Cheryl?” Her mother leaned down and squinted through the darkness. “Harold, it’s Cheryl Anne.”

“Go away, dear,” her dad said, adjusting his grip. “This might get ugly.”

“She’s not here,” her mother said, motioning around them. “She’s there.” She pointed to the ground. “You tackled the wrong person.”

“Cheryl?” Her father’s grip loosened as he leaned down.

“Hi, Dad.”

“I told you to wear the night-vision goggles we picked up at the camping store,” Dora Cash said as Harold loosened his grasp.

“They don’t fit over my glasses.”

“But you’re not wearing your glasses.”

“I didn’t want them to get broken during a struggle. The deprogrammer said no sharp objects.”

“She wasn’t talking about eye glasses. She meant no knives or forks or ball point pens. And only after we get Dillon in a holding pattern. It doesn’t count during the actual take-down—”

“Excuse me,” Cheryl Anne cut in. “I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sorry, dear.” Her father climbed off and helped her to her feet. “I thought you were Dillon. Your mother gave me the go-ahead.”

“How was I supposed to know it was Cheryl Anne? That’s not her car. Dear.” Her mother nailed her with a stare. “That’s not your car.”

“It is now. I traded in my old one. I wanted something more sporty.”

“A Mustang?” Her mother’s mouth dropped open and a surge of victory went through Cheryl Anne.

“They’re fast,” she told her mother.

“Not half as fast as your brother’s motorcycle. Why, we’ve come
this
close to nabbing him three times now. But then he sees us and poof, he’s gone.”

“He saw you,” her father pointed out. “And it’s no wonder what with the way you were waving that bug lantern at him trying to keep the mosquitos away during the take-down.”

“It wasn’t just for mosquitos. I told you I saw an armadillo early this morning.”

“So?”

“So do you know how many diseases armadillos carry? The last thing we need is for you to tackle an armadillo.”

“I think I know my own son, thank you very much.”

“For your information, you just took down your daughter.”

“At your call. You’re the one who said to get him.”

“You’re the one—” her mother started to say, before Cheryl jumped in.

“So you haven’t had a chance to talk to Dillon?” she asked her parents.

“Not talk, dear. Deprogram. See, we’ve come to realize that your brother isn’t just going through a phase. There’s something seriously wrong and the only thing we can figure is that he’s fallen in with the wrong crowd.” Her mother lowered her voice. “A cult.”

“In Skull Creek? Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?”

“We’ve got Shriners.”

Okay, so her mother did have a point. “Maybe Dillon’s just tired of being bored,” Cheryl Anne added. “Maybe he’s trying to liven things up.”

“And maybe I’m going to miss my flu shot this year.” Her mother shook her head. “Who chucks their entire way of life just to liven things up?”

“Someone who eats dinner with his parents every Friday night while most other guys his age are dating.”

“That’s nonsense. He’s welcome to bring a guest if he wants.”

“Mom, you’re missing the point. It’s not about bringing a guest. It’s about spicing things up.”

“Things are plenty spicy. Why, I made spaghetti the last time, and I even used a double dose of paprika which has been clinically proven as an antioxidant—”

“I’m teaching sex techniques,” Cheryl blurted.

“Excuse me?”

Yeah, excuse me? While she was trying to shake things up in her own boring life, she didn’t want to give her parents a mutual heart attack. At the same time, she’d changed everything, swung to the opposite end of the pendulum. A little outrage wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m teaching women how to have better sex with their partners.” The words tumbled out, fueled by her pride and the sudden urge to prove to herself that she really was different now.

That Dayne Branson hadn’t been holding back tonight because he lacked spontaneity and oomph, but because she did—because for all her determination to change, she was still every bit the same boring, predictable,
safe
Cheryl Anne.

“That’s why I quit To Dye For and put away my manicure kit. I’m bored and I need a little oomph in my life, so I started my own business. I had my first class last night. I gave demonstrations and served Cheez Whiz, and I even sucked down some myself.” If the sex demo didn’t prove to them that she’d morphed into a wild child, ingesting a can of pure, processed fat would do the trick.

“So you think your brother is bored because he wants Cheez Whiz?”

So much for proving herself. She shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

A
FTER SWEARING
to call her parents if Dillon contacted her, Cheryl Anne climbed into her Mustang and headed back to her hotel room to get some much-needed sleep. It was late, a quarter past midnight, and she had a busy day ahead of her. Tomorrow night was lesson number two and she was determined not to let Winona show her up again.

But when she pulled into the parking lot, she couldn’t make herself climb out of the car.

Her heart pounded and her blood rushed and she felt restless. Anxious. Unfulfilled. As spectacular as the orgasm had been, it hadn’t been enough. She’d wanted all of Dayne. No hesitation. No holding back.

He’d done both.

Why?

Because he was the same old Dayne?

Or because, deep down, despite her best efforts, she was still the same old Cheryl and she simply didn’t excite him as much as she once had?

Crazy. She’d changed. He hadn’t.

It was that simple.

That complicated.

The notion stuck in her head as she turned down the dirt road that led to Skull Creek, determined to prove to herself once and for all that she wasn’t the same naive scaredy cat she’d been years ago.

She didn’t have a hidden agenda as she shoved the car into Park, climbed out and stripped off her clothes. She hadn’t been desperate to lose her virginity and prove to Dayne that she was every bit as exciting as all of the other girls who clamored for his attention. No, tonight wasn’t about proving anything to him. This was for herself.

She ignored a shiver of self-consciousness and walked out onto the dock. Grabbing the rope that hung from a towering oak, she clutched the nylon cord, ran a few feet and swung out over the water. Just like that, she was airborne, her body weightless, her heart hammering with excitement as she sailed through the air. Fear rushed through her, but she kicked it aside and forced her fingers to let go. A split-second later, she plunged into the cool water.

The creek closed over her head for several long moments before she managed to kick her way to the surface. She bobbed up, sputtering and gulping for air. Water burned her nostrils and her chest ached as she grappled for the dock. Soon, her hand closed around one cedar plank. She held tight to the wood and heaved herself onto the flat surface. She sat for a few seconds, her legs dangling in the water as she tried to catch her breath. Her panic quickly subsided and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

And that’s when she heard the steady
clap, clap, clap
of applause.

She twisted around to see Dayne standing a few feet away. “Not bad for a first-timer.”

“Says you.” She coughed, her throat still burning. “You didn’t get a mouthful of water.” She wiped at her eyes and climbed to her feet.

“You’re supposed to yell before you take the plunge, not after.”

His words registered and a jolt of awareness went through her. “How long have you been standing there?” She swept a gaze over him. He wore only a pair of blue jeans and a straw Resistol. His feet were bare, his muscled torso reflecting moonlight.

“Long enough.”

Meaning he’d been an eyewitness to the stripping. The swinging. The near-drowning.

Embarrassment flooded her, but was quickly replaced by a rush of simmering heat as her gaze locked with his.

He tossed the cowboy hat next to the boots and T-shirt that sat discarded a few feet away. Just the shirt and boots, she noted. There wasn’t a beeper or a cell phone in sight.

Panic niggled at her, along with excitement. “What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you at the Inn and followed you here.” His hands went to his zipper. The teeth parted. He hooked his fingers in his waistband and shoved his jeans and underwear down in one quick motion. “We’ve got some unfinished business.” Stepping out of the jeans, he chucked them to the side with the rest of his stuff and stood before her.

His shoulders were broad, his chest solid. His tanned skin gleamed in the moonlight. Dark hair sprinkled his torso, swirling down his abdomen. His penis, huge and hot and hungry for her, twitched beneath her stare, and an echoing tremor rippled through her.

He stroked himself, his long, strong fingers moving up and down his thick, rigid length. The sight of him, so bold and uninhibited, charged her own sense of wantonness.

Her heart pounded faster and blood rushed through her veins, warming her already dangerously hot body. Her nostrils flared, drinking in his scent—the intoxicating aroma of aroused male and barely checked lust.

“Come here.” His voice was gruff, hoarse. Aqua eyes sizzled, gleaming with a predatory light that was unmistakable.

Instinctively, she knew that this wasn’t the man who’d cornered her in the bathroom tonight.

No, this was the man who haunted her dreams.

Her fantasies.

Three steps and she reached him. Before she could decide what was happening, his lips covered hers. He thrust his tongue deep, plundering and stirring until she was breathless. Her ears buzzed and her heart raced and her hands trembled. His hands swept up and down her body, stroking and stirring until she wanted to scream from the sensation.

There was no holding back this time. She felt it in the way his hands slid between her legs and parted her slick folds. She heard it in the groan that rumbled from deep in his throat when he found her wet and ready. She tasted it in his deep, plunging kiss.

They clung to each other for a long moment, touching and kissing, until Dayne seemed to reach his limit. He scooped her up and walked toward the car. Easing her down his hard length, he turned her away from him and placed her hands on the still warm hood. The motion bent her forward and lifted her bottom. He stroked her, fingertips trailing over the wet heat between her legs, testing her, readying her.

She shivered and rotated her hips, as he moved away from her to retrieve a condom. He sheathed himself and answered her silent plea. She felt him straining in the cleft between her buttocks before he bent his knees and plunged deeply into her, one steel arm anchoring her in place.

He took her savagely, pushing deeper with each thrust, claiming and conquering and loving her in a way that no man ever had.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. “And remember how good it was between us.”

But suddenly she didn’t want a blast from the past. Because what she’d felt back then—however wild and wicked and wonderful—didn’t begin to compare with the rush of sensation that whirled inside of her right now. At this moment. With this man.

She fixed her gaze on her own fingers splayed against the hood of her car, felt the damp dirt and leaves beneath her feet, heard the soft lap of the water against the bank, and smelled the musky fragrance of raw earth and hot sex.

Just sex.

There were no soft touches. No whispered words of tenderness. No staring deep into one another’s eyes.

Regret niggled at her, but then Dayne slid deep enough to hit the spot that made her toes curl and her knees tremble, and all emotion faded in a rush of pure, intense pleasure.

E
ASY
.

The command thundered through Dayne’s head, pushing past the haze of sensation that overwhelmed him. The feel of her so hot and tight, pulsing around him, sucking at him, nearly made him spill himself then and there. But this was about more than sex. He didn’t just want Cheryl Anne to remember how good it
had been
between them. He wanted her to know how good it
could be.

Tonight.

Tomorrow.

Forever.

He withdrew and turned her in his arms. Grasping her sweet ass, he lifted her onto the hood of her car and urged her backward until she lay before him, her lush body bathed in moonlight. He trailed the head of his cock along the length of her slit for a quick shuddering moment before plunging back inside her. Her body tightened instinctively around his as if she never wanted to let him go.

He held tight to that hope and pumped harder. Faster. When her body arched and she climaxed, he caught her moan with his mouth. Every muscle in his body went tight and he plunged one last time. His mind went blank as he exploded, emptying himself inside her, his own groan rumbling past his lips as he tore his mouth from hers. He collapsed atop her, his heart thumping wildly as he tried to catch his breath.

When her hands slid up around his neck, it took every ounce of courage he had not to gather her close and savor the moment. But Dayne was determined not to mess this up. Cheryl Anne wanted wild and spontaneous.