His Southern Temptation

chapter Three


Taylor wanted her gun back.

Glaring at Lucky’s back as he trudged up the stairs, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and her gun peeking out of his waistband, her brain whirled with all the reasons why shooting him would make her feel better. It was bad enough she was back in this podunk, backwater excuse for a town, but now she was stuck in this house with the man who made her lose her mind. And not always in the good way. Although he did that plenty.

Knowing he’d resent her scrutiny, she took the opportunity to check him out—same broad shoulders, long, lanky legs, and delectable ass. His hair was longer than his usual military cut, now lying in unruly waves on his head, the curls catching the light. Her fingers itched to tangle in the corn-silk blond strands and pull his mouth back to hers to finish what they’d started. But in spite of the scorching kiss downstairs less than an hour ago, Lucky was determined to act as if it hadn’t happened.

Once they’d managed to get Sheriff Burke out of the house without calling Teague and waking him, Lucky had confiscated her gun. He hadn’t asked her, hadn’t consulted her on whether she wanted to be unarmed in this big old house with multiple entrances and exits. Nope. All he’d done was empty out the bullets, place them in her hand, and stick the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

Curiosity forced the question out of her mouth. “Hey, why are you keeping my gun? You afraid I might still shoot you?”

“Nope, but I might want to shoot myself later,” he huffed out on a laugh that didn’t quite erase the tension in his voice or loosen the rigid set in his shoulders.

Drama queen.

She wasn’t surprised at his reaction, though. Things were always complicated between them. Timing. Teague. Her family. His family. His job and her great escape to the other side of the world had never put them in a place where they could settle it once and for all. They’d had fun together over the years, in and out of bed, but the last time had been different, and it had left a loose end that made her itchy.

Maybe now was the time. Fate. Karma. The Almighty. Whoever. Something had put them here to hash this out and get the hell over whatever was between them.

She was all for that plan.

She could lay Lucky—pun entirely intended—and a few other demons to rest before heading back to Hawaii and her future.

“So, where were you out so late at night? Hot date?”

He chuckled. “No. I was at the Jolly Gent trying to get a stripper to tell me about a missing girl. I’m working a case for Jack Cantrell and getting nowhere. Sarah Morgan has been missing for two weeks and I can’t find a trace of her.”

“Well, that explains the body glitter.” She laughed when he flipped her the bird, a grumpy look twisting his handsome features. “Must be tough having to get all up close and personal with a girl in a G-string.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Did you get what you needed?”

“No. The girls won’t talk to me or Jack.” He glanced over at her as they made their way upstairs, his smile a little self-conscious. “We decided the case needs a woman’s touch.”

“You mean a woman to make nice with the strippers and get them to talk?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that.” She punched him on the arm when he made a face. He didn’t know everything about her, and her secret skills would blow his mind. “I’ve worked at a strip club before. No full frontal, but we did shimmy down to a G-string bikini. I could definitely pass as one of the girls.”

“No way. The Gent is a pit, Bodean Taggert is a scumbag, and I wouldn’t let him in the same zip code with you.”

“I’m just saying I could do it. I could get you the information you need.”

“No. Forget it. Not gonna happen.”

“You’re being a stubborn ass.” She didn’t even try to hide the irritation in her voice. He was being unreasonable and overprotective. This job sounded simple enough.

“You always said my ass was one of my better qualities.” Lucky nudged her with his shoulder, his sweeter tone clearly calculated to try to coax her out of any fight they were hurtling toward.

“Whatever.” Taylor took a breath and decided to let it go for now.

They reached the top of the stairs, the landing as big as the downstairs parlor and dimly lit by one solitary lamp on a side table. The house was old—built before the Civil War—and everything was fashioned on a large, gracious scale, and the low lighting gave it a romantic and intimate feel. As a kid, she loved to curl up on one of the comfortable sofas and listen to the endless stream of guests her parents hosted for parties. Occasionally, she would have to take off when a couple would wander up from the party to sneak in a make-out session in one of the secluded alcoves.

“So, I guess we need to discuss our sleeping arrangements,” she said.

She edged into his personal space, amused when he took a step backward. It looked as though her big, bad Marine was a little worried about her intentions. Smart man. She’d proven to herself the past seven years that she controlled her own life and her emotions. Sleeping with Lucky didn’t have to be anything but blowing off a little steam. She wouldn’t be here long enough to risk any of the unnecessary emotional entanglements that marred their last time together.

“I’ll take the guest room.” Avoiding eye contact with her, Lucky shifted the duffel bag toward the front of his body in an obvious attempt to keep some distance between the two of them. She bit back a laugh; pissing him off wouldn’t help her make her case. When he turned toward the direction of the guest room, she touched his forearm, instantly enjoying the warmth of his skin under the dusting of hair. His muscles jumped at her touch and the rapid pulse point in his wrist proved he wasn’t as cool as he looked.

“The guest room has no furniture in it. Mother took it when she left.” She motioned down to the opposite end of the hall. “Your options are Mother and Father’s roo—”

“There is no way in hell I’m sleeping in there.” Lucky looked at her then. The pure, unadulterated horror etched on his features was comical, and she made a halfhearted attempt to mask her own giggle at the sight.

“Yeah, I think I threw up a little when I said it.”

He barked out a laugh and relaxed his stance enough for her to brush his abdomen with the back of her hand. His T-shirt was warm, soft, and clinging to the hard muscle underneath. He stiffened at her touch, his jaw tightening into a firm edge, eyes narrowed to slits of darkest blue in the dim light. She could almost hear the voice in his head rehearsing the million reasons why he was going to tell her no.

Taylor took a half step closer, now able to fully explore the breadth of his chest with both hands. Lucky’s breath hitched when her fingernail grazed his nipple, and she almost took pity on him when his heartbeat kicked up another notch. She was faring no better—this proximity was making her hands shake, and the heat gathering in her belly was consuming her. Leaning up on tiptoe, she traced the line of his neck with her lips—not quite kissing, but enough pressure to leave goose bumps in her wake.

“Stay with me.” Now she tasted him, punctuating her request with a small bite just below his ear, followed by a moist kiss to soothe the burn. He tasted so good—male, spicy, and accented by the tang of sweat. Her mouth watered as she mindlessly made her way to his mouth, unable to resist having more of what she’d sampled earlier on the parlor floor.

His lips were supple and open for her. Warm, wet mouth, tongue like velvet as it tangled with hers. The arousal from their earlier encounter was only a banked fire, never fully extinguished, and now it flared back to life, making her burn. Her knees gave out, and Taylor bunched his shirt in one hand, the other one hooking into the waistband of his jeans to keep her from sliding down to the ground. One touch of his hard body and she couldn’t resist exploring further, her fingers dipping down to trace the rigid length of his cock through the soft denim. He was hot, filling her palm with the weight of his desire.

The duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, freeing Lucky to weave his fingers in her hair, tugging gently to tilt her head at an angle to align their mouths better for a deeper, wetter kiss. This one was dark, filled with need and years of lust as he forcefully controlled the depth and pressure of the kiss—his passion taking it to the sharp edge of total possession. She whimpered, the sound echoing off the walls and matching the trembling in her body as she threw herself into this moment with the man who’d haunted her dreams for half her life.

She knew how good it was between them, and it made this all the hotter.

Lucky rotated them until the cool plaster of the wall was against her back, and the contrast made her shiver, but she didn’t stay cool for long. Her temperature shot up to fever levels once more when he pressed between her legs, roughly hoisting her a fraction higher so that his hard cock fit perfectly against her sex. She cried out at the impact, jolts of pleasure rocketing up her spine. It felt so good she had no choice but to grind back against him, her body seeking release and needing to make him just as crazy.

“F*ck, Tay. Are you trying to kill me tonight?” Lucky pulled back, his voice gruff and punctuated by rapid pants of air against her cheek. He also sounded angry, frustrated, and ready to explode. She knew exactly how to take care of that little problem.

“What? You worried a little girl is going to be the one to take down the big, bad Marine?”

He laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Stay with me. Come to bed.”

No answer.

She wasn’t above cajoling. Begging was a different question, but cajoling she could do. “Come on. For old time’s sake.”

He sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re not supposed to think.” She trailed her hand down his chest, the pounding of his heart a tattoo against her palm. “Just a little fun between friends.”

“Just friends, huh? Are you sure about that?”

He lifted her hand to press a hot kiss to the palm, his tongue lingering on the sensitive spot in the middle. She shuddered under the press of his lips and the hot fire in his eyes. She’d seen that look before and it still scared her, made her nervous.

Something between them had shifted over time, becoming less about fun and games and more about the electric current of connection that stretched between the two of them like hot wire. She’d fought it. He’d appeared willing to explore it. She’d panicked. He’d left. Fast-forward two years to now.

The last thing she wanted was to get her foolish heart involved with this man. Love was fleeting; marriage and relationships devolved into humiliating compromise and pain. She’d learned that the hard way, firsthand and in graphic detail.

Definitely not on her agenda.

Unless it was mindless hours in bed, getting sweaty and exorcising this thing between them, she wasn’t interested. But it looked like Lucky was up for more, and they were once again at a possible impasse.

She sighed, stepping back to give them a little space.

“I can’t do this.” He motioned between them.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter?” His tone was pure frustration, matching her mood as well.

“Yes, I think it does.”

“How long are you going to be here?” He surprised her with the change in topic.

“Two weeks. Three tops.” Taylor crossed her arms over her chest, the sinking feeling in her stomach increasing with the way his expression shut down even more with each word she uttered. “Just long enough to pack and store what won’t be sold with the house.”

“Your parents are selling Elliott House?” He was genuinely shocked. Apparently Teague had done a good job of hiding some of their dirty laundry from this town.

“Father isn’t coming back from his tacky love nest in Costa Rica, and Mother will not return to the scene of her public humiliation. Apparently, my father violated the most important marriage vow when he ran off with his paralegal.”

“What vow is that?”

“To be discreet.” She tried to curb the venom in her voice, but the situation of her parents’ divorce did nothing but piss her off with its sordidness. If their fake marriage hadn’t been enough cause for her to swear off relationships, the divorce sealed her dislike of the institution entirely.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do. Not everyone grew up on Promised Land farm.”

That was a low blow. Ashamed, she bit her tongue to stop anything uglier from spilling from her lips. His parents’ marriage appeared to be one of the rare ones that was going to last, but his life hadn’t been perfect. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do—he’d seen enough pain in his lifetime.

She continued, speaking mainly to fill the heavy silence and make up for her foolish tongue. “I’m just here to get the house ready for sale so I can get my cut of the proceeds and go back to Hawaii to start my massage therapy business. There’s a tight window of time since my investment opportunity expires in a few weeks, but we’ve already got a couple of folks interested in the house so the Realtor believes it will be a quick sale.”

“There’s no chance of you staying in Elliott?”

“No.” This town held nothing but memories of how she’d been tricked into playing the part of the best little girl in the world—complete with matching sweater sets and the perfect fiancé. Every corner held a part of the past she’d spent seven years burying under a life lived on her own terms.

“So, you want a three-week booty call? Scratch an itch while you’re here in town?” Lucky shook his head, laughing roughly as he stooped to grab the duffel off the floor and headed down the hall, walking past her room to stop in front of Teague’s door.

She followed, knowing she wasn’t going to win him over tonight but taking the chance to plant seeds in his mind of what was on offer. She had three weeks to wear him down…

“Lucky, it would be more than that. We’re friends, not some random bar pickup.” She ducked under the arm he had propped against the doorframe, sidling up close but not touching. In the intimate circle created by their bodies, she dropped her voice, forcing him to lean down to catch her words. “It’s been a long time. I miss you.”

“What happened to the good girl who grew up in this house?” His voice was low, more of a growl than actual words, and she barely managed to keep her hands to herself with the heat it shot through her veins.

“I gave up being good a long time ago. You know that.” She risked trailing one finger down his chest, over the ridges of muscle on his abdomen, ending with a gentle tug on the waistband of his jeans and a fleeting caress of the hard-on just below. His sharp inhale of breath was her reward. “It isn’t like we haven’t shared a bed before. What’s the problem?”

“That wasn’t here in Elliott and it was before…” He stopped, pressing his lips into a firm line as if he forcefully kept the rest of his words from spilling out.

She didn’t ask the next logical question. She knew why it was different, and it scared the hell out of her. They wanted different things from what lived and breathed between them.

“Shit. I am in so much trouble.” He dropped his head to his chest, his dark laugh shaking his shoulders. “Your brother would kill me for even having this conversation with you.”

“I’m not going to tell him.”

“Listen, I’m here to fix things, get my shit together, and you’re just one big complication I can’t handle right now. Taking you to bed is something the old Lucky would do.” He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, shifting her to the side and out of his path to the safe place behind the door. “The new Lucky is going to bed. Alone.”

“You’re running away?”

“I’m beat. I’m covered in stripper glitter, I’ve almost been shot, I was lectured by the local sheriff at gunpoint, and you aren’t wearing any underwear.” He rubbed a hand over his face, the stubble rasping loudly in the still of the night. He really did look exhausted. With one good shove, he’d probably fall over and sleep on the floor. “A good soldier knows when to make a tactical retreat in order to fight another day.”

“Fine.” It wasn’t a final no. She could live with it for now. Taylor stepped up, weaving her fingers through his hair to pull him down for the briefest of kisses. They pressed their foreheads together, and she cherished the moment to just soak in his warmth and the combination of musk and saddle leather that was always pure Lucky. It reminded her of the few afternoons spent on the Landon farm, soaking up the sun and the peace. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Lucky nudged her lips up for another whisper of a kiss before turning the doorknob and pushing the door open to her brother’s old room. He shot her a glance over his shoulder, his blue eyes filled with affection and a hint of the sizzle that made her insides melt. “Next time, do me a favor and put on some panties.”

Laughing, she shuffled down the hall as his door closed with a firm click. She’d be fortunate to get a couple of hours of sleep with the arousal buzzing in her veins and the knowledge that he slept in the room at the other end of a Jack-and-Jill bathroom. No worries—she’d use the time to plan. Fate had dropped Lucky in her lap, and it was her goal to ensure that she went back to Hawaii with enough memories of him to last a lifetime. Her mind was a disco, tons of ideas dancing around and doing the Electric Slide.

And none of them involved wearing underwear.