Leslie Kelly – Bare Essentials: Naughty, But Nice (страница 14)

Handing it to her, he grinned and said, “You’re welcome.” He watched as she turned away and buried her face into the bear’s neck, her arms hugging the thing tight. Because suddenly his throat was tight as well, he cleared it. “So…Are we going steady now?”

“In your dreams.” She huffed off, a vision in her little sundress, her blond hair flying everywhere, arms wrapped around the huge bear.

The kid running the booth watched her go. “That was amazing, dude.”

“Yeah.” But all Tag could think about was his prize. And it was walking away.

So he did what any red-blooded, aroused man would do. He followed her.

* * *

CASSIE STALKED through the carnival, glaring at any man who so much as looked at her. And there were plenty. Women looked, too, if her itchy shoulder blades were any indication. Good. Let them look at bad-ass, no-good, trouble-seeking Cassie Tremaine.

The high-heeled sandals had been a mistake, she thought now, because she couldn’t really motor in the them. Should have worn tennis shoes.

Had she even packed tennis shoes?

“Cassie.”

Oh, that voice.

“Cassie, wait up.”

Nope. She kept walking, smiling as though she was the queen of the ball, as if the sexiest, most obnoxious man she’d ever met wasn’t striding behind her.

He’d won her the teddy bear. Not only that, her heart had gone all pitter-pattery watching him do it. Unacceptable, really. She had no need for a man doing something she was capable of doing for herself. She wasn’t like her mother, damn it.

She had no need for a man, period. Never had. Not knowing who her father was, having never had a positive male role model, having never had men do anything but drool when they looked at her, she supposed she had a rather low view of men in general, but not one had ever proven her wrong. Not yet anyway.

At least Tag wasn’t wearing his uniform. Maybe that was the trouble, she thought now. Because without the uniform she obviously couldn’t be trusted to remember she didn’t like him.

The carnival wasn’t that big, and before she knew it she was in the parking lot. Good thing she’d gone and dunked Stacie before going for the teddy bear, because she was good and ready to leave now.

But not to go home. Home was dark and lonely, with only a grumpy cat waiting for her. And nightmares of Pete finding her.

The night was still and hot. She’d give just about anything for a cool breeze. And that’s when she decided.

The lake.

It wasn’t a very far walk, and her feet were tougher than they looked. She wanted to see the lake by moonlight, and what she wanted, she got. She started off, hugging the teddy bear, not listening in the least for Tag’s footsteps. But even if she had been, they weren’t there to hear.

Good. He’d gone away. Just as she wanted.

Bastard.

The moment she stepped off the road and onto the little sandy beach, she set down the teddy bear—careful that it didn’t get covered in sand—and kicked off her sandals. Her toes dug into the wet sand and she nearly moaned at the cool pleasure of it. This. This is what she’d needed. She walked to the water, letting it lap at her ankles.

Alone. “His loss,” she told the moon.

“Not yet, it’s not.”

She was not going to scream, jump, or give any sign that he’d nearly scared her right out of her skin. Again. Calmly, with a little smile on her lips, she turned. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my prize.” He stepped close, so very close that she could see the moonlight dancing in his eyes. Could feel the heat of his big, tough body.

Tensing, Cassie waited, because she wouldn’t welsh on her promise. She’d pay the price. She held very still, waiting to be grabbed. Groped. Conquered.

But he did none of the above, just stepped even closer, careful not to smash her toes.

“What—”

“Shh,” he said before sliding his arms around her and putting his mouth to hers. She should have known from their earlier encounter he was different. There was no grabbing, no groping, no conquering. Nothing even close. Yes, his arms were strong and firm, but also loose enough she could wriggle free if she wanted to.

She thought about it for all of one second. He was tall, powerfully built, and smelled like heaven. It wasn’t often she stood in a man’s embrace with every thought draining out of her head, but it happened now as his hands cupped her face, almost reverently, tipping her head for better access.

Oh, yes, better access was good. So good she arched against him. The sound he made low in his throat caused a mirroring one in hers.

At that, the kiss went instantly explosive. His tongue slid home. He hauled her body up against his. And still, she didn’t want to be free. The opposite, she realized dimly, snaking her arms around his neck to hold on tight.

With the touch of her fingers on the back of his neck, he groaned, a very erotic sound, and nibbled at her lower lip.

Ohmigod, was all Cassie could think, and then she couldn’t have repeated even that. Her knees wobbled; her heart rammed against her ribs as they practically ate each other alive. This…this—whatever it was they were doing to each other—was far more than she had bargained for, and still it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She, a woman who never wanted more from a man. Never.

It took her a moment to realize he’d released her, and that she stood there weaving like a drunk.

“Thank you,” he said very politely, in direct contrast to the way he was breathing as if he’d run five miles. Uphill. “That was…”

“Yeah.” She licked her lips, tasting him on her. “That was…” Craving his mouth back on hers, she licked her lips again.

He made another rough sound, almost a growl. “Unless you want to extend that price you negotiated, don’t.”

“Don’t…?”

“Don’t look at me as if I’m the first one who’s ever kissed you stupid. Don’t stand there weaving weakly with lust…Ah, hell. Don’t even breathe. Yeah, that should do it.” He turned from her, shoved his hands through his hair and stared out at the lake.

Shocked, she looked at him. Really looked at him—at his stiff shoulders, his rough breathing—and knew he was as out of control as she was.

And how annoying was it that she no longer wanted him just so that she could cross another item off her revenge list. She wanted him because…well, just because. “It got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

He shot her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

Before she knew what he was about, he turned, lifted a hand and caressed her cheek. “So it wouldn’t, couldn’t, happen again, right?”

She barely caught herself from closing her eyes and sighing at the surprising tenderness of his big, warm hand. “Of course not.”

“Liar,” he whispered softly. Before she could snarl at him for that, he walked away.

5

TWO DAYS LATER Tag still couldn’t get that kiss out of his head. It went with him to work, to play, to bed…and that’s where it was the worst. Bed.

He wanted Cassie there with him, he couldn’t deny that. He wanted her badly.

But why? She was bad attitude personified. She hated everything about him, his life, his job.

So what did that say about him, being so undeniably attracted to her?

That he was sick, very sick.

But knowing it didn’t stop the desire, so that when he walked into his office after a day from hell, desperately in need of coffee and some time off, and saw her standing there in front of his receptionist, his gut took a hungry leap.

He told himself it was simply because she exuded sex appeal and it had been…well, longer than it should have since his last sexual experience.

It was the outfit, he decided. She wore a microskirt the color of a field of daffodils, and a matching zippered crop-top, out of which came two spaghetti straps from what he assumed was a bathing suit worn beneath. Her hair had been piled on top of her head, with strands tumbling free to her shoulders. And then there were her legs—long and toned and bare except for a pair of strappy sandals.

“I was just wondering if the restraining order I took out in New York protects me here,” she was saying, and all Tag’s lusty thoughts flew right out the window. “Because I’ve received some more threatening mail and—”

“What restraining order?” Tag asked, moving close. “What threatening mail?” She smelled like coconut oil. He loved coconut oil. Ordering himself not to notice her scent, or to picture what she was obviously dressed for—sunbathing—he looked into her green, green eyes.

“If you don’t mind, I’m having a conversation with your receptionist,” she said. “A private conversation.”

Roxy, who’d been working at the station since his father had been sheriff, shot him a sympathetic look, then turned back to Cassie. “You do have a restraining order already in place? In New York, you said, right? Can you give us the details?”

Cassie glance sideways at Tag. “Us?”

“Well, the sheriff here is really good at what he does,” Roxy assured her. “He can help protect you—we just need to know what’s going on. We’ll need to know who the restraining order is for, what specifically, and any other pertinent details for our records.”