His Southern Temptation Read online

  This one knew how to use a gun.

  “Hey, don’t get all twitchy. You just surprised me.” He held his hands up higher, lacing them behind his head to let her know he didn’t mean any harm. For now. He didn’t relish the idea of having his ass shot just when he was getting his act together and his family needed his help out of a financial bind. Keeping her talking was a good way to divert her from blowing his head off. “Just so you know, Sheriff Cantrell retired a few years back. Walter Burke is the sheriff now.”

  “Really? That’s fascinating.”

  “Just thought you’d want to know who you called.”

  “I don’t care if the Easter Bunny is sheriff as long as he brings a car to take your ass to jail where you belong.”

  “Ouch.” In spite of the situation, he grinned at her spirit. Maybe they could get together after this was all cleared up? He could take her to the firing range and see her actually use the weapon she was holding, and then they could take a little drive to one of his favorite places to park by the river. Nothing got the libido going like a little gunpowder and flying bullets. “Listen, this is nuts. I’m going to reach in my pocket and get my cell phone and we can call Teague and—”

  “Who?” The word erupted in a gasp and she took a step closer and lowered the gun slightly.

  Bingo.

  Lucky leaned forward, pivoting quickly on the balls of his feet as he whirled to face his captor. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins gave him speed, while years of practice erupted in a precise choreography of movement that ended with the gun across the room and the woman on her back, pinned to the plush carpet with his body.

  She bucked and fought, with a stream of words so dirty they’d earn her the instant respect of his Recon brothers. He was surprised he heard them at all, the familiar buzz of danger and adrenaline filling his ears and making it difficult to focus on anything but survival. His body was screaming for him to pummel, restrain, and beat his opponent into submission—a natural response cultivated by years of combat in ugly, violent places. Lucky’s muscles strained with the effort not to hurt the woman, his skin tight and slicking with a sheen of sweat.

  “Get off me!” She was slight but strong, and the muscles flexing under her soft skin were a testament to an athletic lifestyle. She tried one more time to dislodge him, almost succeeding in racking his balls. While he and his mama were eternally grateful she didn’t ruin his chances for fatherhood, he admired her ability to get that close. He was a trained Marine, and usually his opponents were unconscious piles of goo at this point.

  Yeah, he definitely wanted to see her after all this was over.

  Due to either exhaustion or the patience to wait for him to make a mistake, the woman under him stilled and relaxed with an exhale of air that pushed her breasts against him. In spite of the adrenaline kicking through his system, he took a few moments to collect his thoughts, his mind taking inventory of her physical attributes, strengths, and weaknesses.

  She was tall, her length stretched out under most of his six-foot-three-inch frame even with their legs tangled together. And he could feel every inch of her long, silky-skinned limbs as they extended out of the sexiest, tiniest pair of boy shorts ever sold without a warning label. Those shorts, coupled with the tiny tank top, left absolutely everything to fuel his imagination.

  Damn, she smelled good too. From where his face rested in the crook between her face and her shoulder, he was enveloped in the combination of coconut and a sharp, exotic floral scent. Their exertion had caused the unique combination to intensify, and he couldn’t resist taking one last deep breath and dragging it in. It reminded him of the beach, long summer days, and suntan oil.

  “Are we going to lie here all night?” Her voice was breathy, but she maintained a healthy edge of “kiss my ass” in the delivery.

  “Nope. Only until the sheriff arrives and he confiscates the gun you tried to kill me with.”

  “I didn’t try to kill you.”

  “Sugar, if you point a gun at me you better be prepared to—” Lucky lifted his head to get a good look at his would-be assassin, and the shock of her identity hit him between the eyes, swirled around for a bit, and melted his brain. The hair was different, shorter and colored in broad stripes of blond and darkest brown, but he’d know those eyes anywhere—hazel with all the colors of autumn on the mountain—just like her brother, Teague. Just like all the Elliotts.

  “Holy shit. Taylor?”

  “Lucky?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Shock, instant remorse at the way he’d tackled her, and the crazy need to touch her threaded together in his mind in a confusing jumble of conflicting desires. The only clear thought was that Taylor was here—in the flesh— after two long years. He didn’t even mind his hands shaking as he released her arms from over her head, trailing his fingers down one smooth cheek, and finally stopping to cup her jaw in a light grip that forced her to maintain eye contact. Not that he needed to—her gaze never wavered from his. The warmth of welcome and the edge of heat in her expression made his fingertips tingle where they stroked her skin. “The last time I saw you in Elliott, you were stealing my car.”

  “I only borrowed it. I called to tell you where I left it.” Her sexy lower lip pushed out in an amused pout, and instantly he was back in the moment outside the church when he’d gotten the first full-throttle view of the woman who’d been hiding inside her all along. Damn, she was still the most exciting woman he’d ever known.

  “You took the keys out of my pocket when you kissed me.”

  Lucky still remembered that kiss. There had been nights in the desert and shittier places where that kiss had pulled him through to the dawn. The kiss had been way too short, with lots of tongue, a truckload of regret, and the bitter edge of good-bye. As always, the memory of her caused his body to react, and the arousal coursing through him battled the adrenaline to heighten the buzz in his brain.

  It never mattered to him that she was wearing a wedding dress meant for another man when he’d held her close and tasted her passion. And it didn’t even factor into the equation that she was his best friend’s little sister and should have been off-limits.

  Taylor shifted underneath him, one leg wrapping around his hip as her muscles softened and invited him closer. Her movement brought his hard-on into contact with the heat between her legs, and he fought the urge to rock against her and finish what had begun over a decade earlier. He should get up. He should let her go. This was crazy. This was still wrong.

  They always did this to each other—pushed the limits of their sanity with this impossible lust. The only thing that ever came of it was stolen moments, sad good-byes, and regret. Time and distance were the only things that kept them from driving each other insane.

  The times they’d hooked up after her flight from Elliott had been amazing, sexy, decadent, and addictive. They’d also been clandestine, in Hawaii or whatever place their paths crossed, which added a dirty little thrill to the whole affair.

  The stroke of her fingers through his hair had him leaning into it, begging for more. Lucky closed his eyes and let her tug his head down until their foreheads rested against each other, her warm breath skimming across his skin and making him shiver. Her chest shook in silent laughter at his reaction, but he won the battle when he grazed the smooth skin at the edge of her boy shorts and slipped underneath, raising goose bumps on the sensitive skin along the crease between her hip and stomach. Taylor gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair until he saw sparks behind his eyes from the twinge of pain.

  Opening his eyes, Taylor filled his vision. She was beautiful, her perfection marred only by the confusion lingering in the depths of her gaze. Lucky knew his expression mirrored hers. They were two sides of a twisted coin. She was the first to break the silence, her voice hushed and a little hoarse. “I heard you’re back in town for good.”

  “Yes. My folks are in trouble with the farm and I’m going to buy them out.” He swallowed the
lump of dread in this throat. He knew the answer to his question already, but had to hear it out loud to make it real. “Are you staying?”

  The fierce truth of her words sparked in her eyes and tightened her lips into a thin line, even though her tone was just a little bit above a whisper. “No. Never.”

  And there was the final rub.

  They were always one step out of sync. In the same orbit, circling each other, but on separate paths. The problem was that somewhere along the way he’d started wanting more, wanting her for more than a few stolen days. She didn’t. And that was why he hadn’t gone back to her in the last two years. They were wrong for each other.

  But it didn’t matter.

  It was the pull of her gravity, the irresistible force of Taylor that caused him to lower his head and crush his lips against hers. Taylor never hesitated, opening her mouth to him, her tongue enticing him further as they ate at each other with eleven years of unquenched lust. She was warm and wet, and tasted as good as he remembered—sweet, rich, and complicated. That was his girl—one big complication.

  His hands explored her skin, coasting along the length of her thigh, across the strip of silken flesh exposed by her tank top inching further up her body. A glancing brush against the lower swell of her breast had Taylor arching into him, her body a perfect fit with his erection and hinting of what could be if they lost the clothes. As if she read his mind, her nimble fingers inched under the hem of his T-shirt, rucking it up as she caressed his back in a spine-melting massage.

  “Lucky Landon, what the hell are you doing?”

  Lucky broke off the kiss, his body automatically shielding Taylor from the unexpected intruder and poising for attack. Shaking off the haze of desire, he blinked as Sheriff Burke and a young, red-faced deputy peeked over his shoulder. He groaned at the absurdity of the situation. They must be a sight. Sprawled on the floor, in a lip-lock, and groping each other like teenagers. The only thing dampening the humor of the situation was the gun pointed at them and the grumpy law enforcement officer attached to the end of it.

  “Lucky, we got a distress call from this house, and then I walk in and find you mauling some half-dressed woman on the floor.” The sheriff hitched his gun a little higher so that it didn’t point right at him, but he didn’t put it away. “It’s almost time for me to go home, and I don’t have time for your usual bullshit. So why don’t you explain why you’re here, or I can call and tell Teague to get his ass over here to explain it to me.”

  Lucky froze. The thought of what Teague would do to him if he found out he’d been all over Taylor made whatever was left of his arousal disappear. Good. At least he wasn’t in danger of doing anything really stupid. Like sleeping with his best friend’s little sister. Again.

  That was the old Lucky. The Lucky who was reckless, always getting into a tough scrape and having to fast-talk his way out of it. The new Lucky was going to help his parents get out of debt, walk away from the trail of death he left behind him, and settle down with a great woman who wanted the same kind of future.

  He glanced down at Taylor, her expression now wary with a touch of “what the hell did I almost do?” written all over it. Good. They just needed to give each other a wide berth and they’d both emerge from this encounter no worse for the wear.

  Taylor shifted under him, turning her head to give the sheriff the smile that had won her at least two Junior Miss Virginia pageants. Sheriff Burke smiled back and lowered the gun completely as if she’d cast a spell on him. God help the poor man—he had no idea what he was up against.

  “Sheriff, I’m so sorry to call you for a false alarm. You might remember me, I’m Mary-Taylor Elliott.” Her grin spread even wider and she added a little batting of the eyelashes to ensure neither of them would go to jail and have to face Teague this late at night. “I’m staying here for a little while and had no idea Lucky was here as well. We scared each other half to death.”

  The meaning of her words sunk in and he ground his teeth with the effort to bite back a groan.

  She was staying here? In the same house? Alone. With him.

  He should have let her shoot him.

  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—”