His Southern Temptation

chapter Five


“You can come out now. They’re gone.”

Taylor sat perched on the kitchen counter watching the opening to the back staircase, the one originally intended for the servants, for the appearance of the man she knew was lurking in the shadows. Lucky was off his game if she’d spotted him slinking back up the stairs during the chaos created when the Baptist ladies left for the day.

Over the past two days, she’d caught only a glimpse of his hot ass when he sneaked out of the house with the sunrise, and missed him completely when he came home way after dark.

“How’d you know I was here?” He descended the stairs, emerging into the light of the kitchen and blinking against the sudden change in his surroundings.

“I always know when you’re near me,” she said, her words emphasized by the slow crossing and uncrossing of her legs. The move was deliberately sexy on her part.

She watched him rake his eyes over her body, hoping he was enticed by what she was offering, from the tips of the lime-green polish on her toes to the soft curve of her breasts exposed by the neckline of her yellow sundress. When his gaze shifted to meet hers, the breath she inhaled was fire as it scorched her chest and spread wildly in her system, making her toes curl. Lucky’s stare dropped to where her nipples pressed against the flimsy fabric, his neck muscles flexing with a hard swallow.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Sometimes you had to play dirty to win.

Taylor smiled, drawing his eyes back to her face. “Hungry?”

Her question broke the moment, and he jumped a little at her voice. Stalking over to the fridge, he adjusted the half-erection pushing against the soft fabric of his low-slung sweatpants and mumbled just loud enough for her to hear, “What’s with you and no underwear?”

“It’s too confining.” She jumped down from the counter, nodding when he handed her a beer. “Most men don’t complain when a woman goes commando.”

“Oh no”—he waggled a finger at her, choking down his gulp of beverage on a laugh—“I’m not complaining. I’m all for it even though it makes me crazy. Thumbs up for the no underwear.”

“Good to know.”

They stared at each other, enjoying the moment as the hum of attraction played low between them like their own personal movie soundtrack. Lucky broke eye contact first, and Taylor took a steadying breath and a gulp of beer. The bottle slipped in her hand a little, the combination of condensation and her sweaty palms making the simple act of getting a buzz treacherous. That’s the way she always felt around Lucky—safe and familiar, but perilous and exciting at the same time. It was what had kept her hanging on all these years.

“What smells so f*cking good?” he asked, diluting the tension with his abrupt change in conversation.

She put her beer on the counter, grabbing the mitts and opening the oven door.

“That would be the chicken-and-dumpling casserole left by the ladies. Grab some plates and we’ll eat, get drunk, and watch something violent and sexy on cable,” Taylor said.

“Oh my God. Where have you been all my life?”

“At the risk of sounding too sweet for words, right under your nose.”

“Uh-uh. You weren’t always like this. I knew you.”

“Well, then, you were the only one.” She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see him pause at her words. How could he say he knew her when she hadn’t known the real Taylor until the moment at the altar when she’d declared her independence in front of three hundred and fifty guests and her gobsmacked parents?

Shrugging his shoulders, Lucky swallowed the last gulp of his beer before foraging in the cabinets for plates, and grabbed two more beers from the fridge. Taylor maneuvered the hot casserole onto the countertop, almost losing her grip on the dish when he reached up, exposing the deep grooves of his abdomen and the trail of dark-blond hair disappearing under his waistband. Suddenly her hunger for the casserole was eclipsed by a deeper need.

He looked down and caught her gawking, but she didn’t look away. The attraction simmering between them overpowered even the temperature of the oven. Tonight, she was going to make him face it and do something about it. She straightened up and began spooning portions of the amazing casserole on their plates. “Let’s go eat.”

Three hours later, the room swirled a little when she reached for her beer on the coffee table.

“Are you drunk?” Lucky asked.

“Nope. Just tipsy.” She smiled at him, letting her eyes linger on the scruff on his jaw, the blond highlights catching the muted light in the room. She remembered how good that felt against her skin, marking her with a pink flush the morning after. “Even you look good.”

“Oh, then you must be drunk.” He laughed, eyes twinkling with his own amusement over the rim of the beer bottle as he took another drink.

The alcohol made her movements languid, the fire of desire in her belly spiking to a new temperature with every brush of their hands, shoulders, and feet. The couch was big enough for several people, but they’d remained close together, pulled by their own sexual gravity toward each other.

She leaned her head back and looked up at the high ceiling bracketed by heavy molding. “I really love this house.”

“You do?” Lucky turned his head on the cushion next her, his expression puzzled. “I thought you hated this house. That’s why you want to sell it.”

“No. I want to sell it because I need the money, but I don’t hate it. It’s beautiful.” She altered her position to face him, close enough breathe in his aftershave. She’d have his scent on her clothes tomorrow, and the thought made her shiver. “I just don’t want to live here. Sometimes I think there’s too much history in these rooms.”

Lucky shifted to mirror her position, his blue eyes soft and crinkled at the edges with laugh lines. He always had a ready smile and a joke to ease your worries. The times he’d been unable to smile—when his brother had died and the times when he’d come to her after difficult deployments—had broken her heart. Taylor shook off the memories, not wanting to dwell on them when Lucky was so close and very delicious.

“So you really want to stay in Hawaii?” he asked.

“Yep. I’ve built up a solid group of clients. I like being hands-on with people. And it’s great that everyone leaves me feeling good.”

“You could do that here.”

“I could.” Taylor reached out, tracing the muscled line of his forearm with her nail, raising goose bumps all along his warm skin. He didn’t pull away so she leaned in closer. “But my future is there.”

“This town is great. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

She laughed at his earnestness. The Chamber of Commerce should bottle it and sell it as a souvenir.

“Now I know you’re drunk.”

“The mountains, the lakes, the farms, and the people. There’s no better place in the world. I’ve looked.”

“Your vision is skewed by the fact that no one is trying to shoot you here.” She paused, remembering their standoff the first night. “Well, other than me, and that was a mistake.”

“I’ll just have to show you the Elliott I know.” Lucky slid closer, his fingers brushing along her chin, wrapping around a blond strand and tugging slightly. “Maybe you’ll want to stay.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

“What if I wanted you to stay?”

And there it was. The look. The one he’d worn the last time he’d visited her in Hawaii. A night of dancing and laughing ended in her bed. Suddenly it was soft touches, whispered pleas, and looking into a gaze so intense it caused something in her chest to bloom and reach out for it.

It had scared the shit out of her. Not the feeling, but because it was something she wanted. Investing her heart in this man would take her over if she let it get even the smallest foothold. She refused to let it happen and be that vulnerable again.

Taylor pulled back, giving herself room to catch her suddenly rapid breath. He examined her face, searching for something in the depths of her eyes. She stubbornly fought the urge to close them in an effort to keep him from seeing too far into her soul, because if anyone could get in her head, in her heart, it was Lucky. Time to get back on safer ground.

“You’re tense. Let me rub your back.” She sat up, trying not to laugh at the rapid-fire emotions running across his face. “Stop. You’re overthinking this. Get your shirt off.”

“But—”

“Take. Your. Shirt. Off. Now.” She hopped up, wobbling a little on legs made woozy by the beers, but made it up the stairs and into her bath to find the oil. She skidded along the hardwood floors, anxious to get back before he changed his mind. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she descended, the rapid beats loud in her ears and transforming into a low roar when she rounded the corner into the family room and saw Lucky stretched out on the couch. Facedown, his long, lean back covered in tanned skin and defined by the angles of sleek muscles underneath. He was beautiful.

“Okay. This isn’t my table, but it should be fine.”

She knelt down next to him, pouring the oil and warming it in her hands before placing them softly on his back. It was a gentle contact, one that would allow him to become accustomed to being touched. As she moved along his spine, increasing the pressure, he tensed a little and she slipped into work mode as she eased him into the right state of mind.

“You know the drill. Tell me if anything hurts. If you want more or less pressure. If you want me to do something again.”

He nodded and she increased the force of her caress while spreading the oil over his back, following the angular lines of his body. The sandalwood oil she’d picked perfumed the air. She got into her zone and drank in the fine details of his body. The dark, heavy tribal tattoos stretching along both biceps and trailing over one shoulder, and a larger one spanning upward along his side that depicted a Joshua tree. His skin was sleek, smooth, and supple except for the battle scars—mostly old and healed over—that caused her touch to drag a little.

“Does that hurt?” she asked as her fingers coasted over a large scar.

“No.” His voice muffled in the cradle of his arms.

“Where did you get them?” She realized she’d never asked before. They weren’t usually about getting involved in each other’s real lives. There were all about fun, good times, and escape.

“Here and there. Long story.” Lucky shifted slightly so his voice was clearer.

“An interesting story?”

“No. Just a long one.”

“Are all these from the Marines?”

He hesitated, the tension easing back into some of his muscles, and she regretted being so nosy. Truth be told, she probably didn’t want to know.

“From government service,” he said.

“So, not just the Marines.” He made no move, gave zero indication that he heard her at all. Obviously, he wasn’t going to answer. “Are you ever going back to them?”

Taylor slid her hands along his shoulders, using repetitive strokes to coax the muscles back into relaxation.

“No.” Lucky moved his head, making eye contact with her over his shoulder. She resisted the urge to move his head back into alignment. The serious expression on his face told her he needed to look at her while he answered the question. “I was serious about staying here. I’m going to buy Promised Land and farm. It’s overextended and I have the money to bail it out, so…”

Shock stilled her hands on his back. Lucky staying here to farm? It just didn’t compute with the image she had of the man—restless, craving travel, excitement, and danger. Growing up, he’d been hell-bent on getting out of Elliott as soon as he could, and now he wanted to tie himself to the land?

The thought that she didn’t know him at all in spite of their history made her uncomfortable. Nodding in a gesture of understanding she really didn’t possess, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

“I surprised you.” His voice was muffled again as he moved his head to the cradle of his arms.

“A little. I figured you’d go into business with Jack Cantrell or something like that.”

“I’ll help out. Like the current missing persons case. I’ll find Sarah, and Jack is free to help paying clients.” He shifted slightly, his body elongating as he relaxed. “I’m having a hard time finding a woman to work the case. No one has the time, and I think it’s the best way to get the information I need. The girls know where she went. I can just feel it.”

“I told you I’d go in and talk to the girls.”

“And I told you I didn’t have a death wish. Your brother would kill me. Besides, that place is full of scumbags, and I think there’s a lot more going on there than just girls dancing in their underwear.”

“But I can help.”

“Tay, I appreciate it and you’re sexy as hell, but I don’t think you have the skill set to blend in.”

“I’ve worked the pole a few times.”

His sudden rotation over onto his back caused her to stumble back slightly, her movement halted by his grabbing her, pulling her close. Lucky’s hands grasped her waist, the heat of his touch searing her through the flimsy cotton of her dress and matching the flare that transformed his eyes to an intense blue.

“What did you say?” Expecting him to be shocked, she was taken aback by the edge of sexual interest in his question. His pupils were now dilated, dominating his baby blues and doing nothing to hide his arousal at her words. He liked it—the idea of her stripping turned him on. Okay, if he wanted to hear it, she’d give him all the details. All the details except the one about the Jolly Gent costume sitting in a drawer upstairs ready for her first night on the stage.

“I told you the other night I’ve worked the pole. Stripped. Not all the way, but down to a G-string. It was good money when I needed it.” Taylor dropped her voice to a low tone, her hands stroking his chest, tracing his obliques. The trail of hair tickled her fingers as she followed the path to the edge of his sweatpants. “Maybe I can give you a private show?”

He groaned, his body sending a mixed message as it arched into her touch and also tried to scoot farther back onto the couch. She followed him, kissing along his chest, tasting the alluring combination of his skin and the oil. With his body suddenly accessible, she couldn’t help but skim under the waistband and stroke across the damp tip of his erection. The impact of her touch caused his entire body to tense, a tight bow of need and desire. Emboldened by his reaction, she reached in, stroking his full length as she moved up onto the couch, straddling him until they were face-to-face. His lips were parted, his breathing harsh and rough as he lifted his head and took her mouth.

“F*ck. I have no willpower when it comes to you,” he panted against her cheek before trailing down to kiss the column of her neck. She titled her head, encouraging him as he tasted her skin with moist kisses and a tingling scrape of teeth. The burn heightened the pleasure, tightening her nipples as she rubbed them across the hard planes of his chest. As if he sensed her growing need, he stroked work-roughened fingers across her collarbone, her shoulder and the cleft between her aching breasts.

“Let me give you a happy ending.” She laughed against his mouth. “Although, normally, I’m not that kind of massage therapist.”

“Taylor, baby, there’s never going to be a happy ending for us,” Lucky murmured into the curve of her shoulder, his hand easing aside the strap of her sundress and allowing him unfettered access to her sensitive skin.

“All the more reason to take what we can.”

“And walk away with no regrets?”

“Tell you what, in the morning I’ll still respect you…” Taylor wove her hands through his hair, tugging to lift his head and force him to look her in the eye. She leaned in to brush her lips against his, her tongue sneaking out to taste because she couldn’t help herself. “… and you can blame it on the alcohol.”