Best of Three (Counting on Love) (38 page)

Shane lifted a hand and traced the neckline of her top, his finger sliding along the top swells of her breasts. “When you pushed me up against the side of my car in the parking lot and laid that first sexy kiss on me I was willing to beg for more on hands and knees. But I wasn’t about to suggest sex on the first date with a classy woman like Isabelle Dixon,” he said.

Classy. She’d quickly shown him her opposite side to that persona. “You didn’t have to suggest it, did you?” she asked, memories shifting through her mind like a kaleidoscope.

He chuckled. “No, I certainly didn’t. And trust me, I was very pleasantly surprised by the dirty mind and mouth behind the polished, sophisticated front you put on.”

Yep, she’d already shown him a little of her talent for switching personalities. And he’d been pleasantly surprised because it had gotten him laid. Well. Three times that night.

He lifted his hand to cup the back of her head and pulled her closer until their lips were a mere millimeter apart. She was a good six inches shorter than him, but she usually wore heels that put her at exactly the right height for things like dancing and kissing and for him to put her up against the wall, hike up her skirt and drive deep.

She wore skirts and thongs a lot when she was with Shane. For those very reasons.

“You want me to just kiss you, Iz? I can be happy with that.”

“You sure?” Her hand slid up the back of his neck and into his hair. He wore it longer than most of the cops, but he didn’t get any crap about it. She loved the way she could thread her fingers through it and grip it when he kissed her—wherever he was kissing her.

“Very sure,” he said softly. Then his mouth met hers.

They’d kissed in every way there was to kiss. Soft and sweet, hot and heavy, long and delicious, all over each other’s body. This was a combination of all of those and then some.

His mouth moved against hers, lip to lip, for a long time. He’d press, then retreat, change angles, open slightly, lick along her bottom lip, then back off and softly kiss the corners of her mouth.

Shane lifted his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face, holding her still. Then he kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, the side of her neck, then returned to her lips.

Isabelle sighed against his mouth.

“I could do this all night,” he muttered against her lips. “So many places to put my mouth.”

“Thought we were
kissing
only,” she managed breathlessly.

“Well, French kissing is kissing. And trust me, honey, I can French kiss you in lots and lots of places.”

She started to respond, but then he turned up the heat. He moved one hand to the back of her head, the other to her thigh, lifting it, pulling her close and holding her there, then he opened his mouth on hers, stroking his tongue in possessively.

This time she moaned.

The deep, hot kiss went on and on. Isabelle felt her whole body respond. Wet and hot and tingly. All over. Her scalp prickled, her nipples tightened, her stomach felt warm and everything below that was…all of the above.

She gripped the front of his shirt and arched harder against him, wishing they were naked, wishing she had worn her four-inch heels instead of the two-inch tonight.

God, she needed him.

She slipped a hand between them, running her hand over the hard bulge behind his zipper.

He released her so suddenly she stepped back.

“Whoa girl. I’m tryin’ to be good here. Show you I can do some vanilla kissing.”

That
was vanilla kissing? Yeah, right. “I changed my mind,” she said, reaching for him.

He held his hands up and shook his head. “No way, babe. You wanted just kissing. I’m just kissing.”

“I want more than just kissing. Come on, Shane.” She stepped close and grabbed him by the shirt again. “You never say no to me.”

“Until now.” He gripped her wrist gently, but she knew she wouldn’t get her hand free until he let her go. “I’m gonna pass this test, Iz. I’m gonna pass
all
your tests.” He leaned closer until they were nose to nose. “I want you to move in with me. I want to be with you. I’ll have vanilla sex and play checkers. I’ll keep my hands completely to myself and make dinner for you every night. Or—” he leaned in close again, “—I’ll rock your frickin’ world as often, as hard and as loudly as you’ll let me.” He settled back on his heels. “It’s up to you.”

Isabelle stared at him, her heart pounding, heat swirling through her body. “Yes,” she finally said. “Yes. That last one. Right now.”

He touched his finger to her nose. “I’m gonna do this, Iz. Pretty soon you’ll be moving your panties into the top drawer of my dresser and wondering why you ever even thought to resist.”

What the mind forgets, the heart remembers.

Baby, Be Mine

© 2014 Vivian Arend

A
Thompson & Sons
Story

Since the moment Katy Thompson transformed from annoying tagalong to desirable woman, Gage Jenick has awaited his chance. When she kicks her boyfriend to the curb, he doesn’t hold back—in spite of the next-day work assignment that will take him completely off the grid for two long months.

After a head injury sustained on a storm-swept road, Katy can’t remember her own email password, much less how the little pink “positive” on the pregnancy stick got there. Barring an influx of midi-chlorians, she’s at a loss to explain what happened, or when…or with whom.

Suddenly Gage is back in her life as if he has a right to be there. While she vividly remembers the crush she had on him, she’s no one’s charity case. But another thing she’d forgotten was just how stubborn Gage can be—especially when her domineering ex tries to stake a claim…

Warning. An unforgettable night that gets forgotten. A crazy redneck ex, and a hero who’s ready to take on the world, and his past, for his heroine.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Baby, Be Mine:

If any place was the epitome of a laid-back, good ol’ boys, redneck tavern, Traders Pub fit the bill. Country music blared over the speakers encouraging those out for the start of the weekend to kick up their heels and let loose.

Familiar sights, all too familiar sounds.

Even more familiar was the ache in Gage Jenick’s gut as Katy Thompson shimmied past, her trim body clad in nothing fancier than a pair of jeans and a western shirt, but he was still damn near drooling.

He deliberately turned his chair away and picked up his beer, the Alberta equivalent of an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

If he didn’t look, she wasn’t really there.

Wasn’t really there, in spite of the sweet apple-blossom scent clinging to her skin that wafted over, like it did during the day while they worked together at her family’s garage. How many times in the past six months had he been in the middle of welding repairs or lugging tires from one rack to another, and found his mouth watering? His head turning involuntarily as she sashayed across the wide concrete space with a question regarding billing or a parts order for one of her brothers working the floor.

He hadn’t always had a hard-on for his best friend’s little sis. For years she’d been Katybug—the tagalong annoyance he’d tolerated for Clay’s sake, and later for the sake of the baking they’d snitch from the kitchen she’d taken possession of when her mom had passed away.

It was like a switch flipped. One day she was this invisible creature, and the next?

He could still vividly picture it—months earlier when he’d stopped work for the day. He’d rounded a corner at the garage in time to see a hose burst on her.

Water sprayed everywhere as she’d struggled to catch the flailing end.

“What the hell?” Gage rushed toward Katy who stood laughing, the broken hose writhing as if it were alive. It only took a minute for him to shut off the water at the source, but that was long enough to end with them both drenched to the skin.

“Sorry, Gage.” Katy hiccupped, she was laughing so hard. “Oh, Lord that was fun. Good thing it’s a warm day, right?”

He turned to deliver some timely big-brother-like, smart-ass comment, and got slammed with an eye-opening lightning bolt.

Her shirt was plastered to her, revealing more than any trip to the lake or swimming hole ever had, and to his utter shock, Katybug had hips and breasts.

And nipples.

Nipples he could clearly see pressed to the front of her soaking wet T-shirt because she didn’t appear to be wearing a bra.

“I told Clay that hose needed replacing,” she complained. “But, no. He insisted it could last one more summer.
Ha
.”

She leaned over and dragged her hair into a bunch, squeezing out the extra moisture. God help him. His gaze dropped to her ass, the rounded curves beckoning him forward to grab hold and take a long, thorough, exploratory detour over this brand-new Katy.

His wet clothes weren’t cold enough to deter his dick from waking up. And the rest of him as well.

He hadn’t been looking for romance—he’d long ago sworn off connecting with anyone full-time in a forever kind of way. The last thing he needed was someone like Katy in his life.

He had to stay in control. Had promised himself to never hold too tight to anything, or anyone. Yet in that moment he wanted little Katy Thompson with something near to obsession, and that truth rocked him to his core.

She finally clued in that he hadn’t said a word. She straightened, and, oh my
God
, those
breasts
— “You okay, Gage?”

No, but that wasn’t an acceptable answer. He dragged his gaze from her off-limits body and mumbled something.

His brain had been mumbling ever since.

Somehow he’d kept his growing hunger hidden from her, and her brothers, which was a miracle. And his best friend?

Gage glanced across the table at Clay Thompson. At his best friend’s hands that would curl into fists the size of hams at the thought of anyone hurting his baby sister. They might go back a long ways, but Gage knew the truth.

When it came to Katy, none of the Thompson boys would hesitate for a second to knock the head off anyone who so much as breathed wrong in her direction. Then they would calmly bury the remains in their backyard. Not even he would get a reprieve.

Good thing he planned on never hurting her.

Enough time had passed that he’d come to admit he’d like to get involved with Katy. The idea still scared him to death, but maybe with the constant threat of Clay and the rest of the hulking crew keeping him in check, he could avoid becoming what he feared. If the opportunity presented itself.

You’re not your past…

Laughter from the dance floor roused him, and he blinked in surprise. In spite of his good intentions, he was staring at her, soaking in every second he could of her spark of sweet, dark happiness. She was dancing with a group of her girlfriends, the four of them ignoring the guys hovering nearby in the hopes of a dance, or a grope, or maybe something more.

At least she wasn’t with
him
. The shithead boyfriend, Simon.

A hard nudge into his shoulder made his entire body shake, and he braced his beer to keep it from spilling.

Clay grinned. “You’re daydreaming. So eager to get out of town you can’t stay awake at your own going-away party?”

Gage laughed. “Is that what this is? I thought this was a typical Friday night at Traders.”

“Didn’t you get the announcement?” Clay lifted the pitcher of beer in the air and offered to refill Gage’s mug. “I’d get you drunk, but you probably wouldn’t appreciate the long drive ahead of you with a hangover.”

They fell back into a comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Clay passed the pitcher to the other Thompson boys and their friends who’d joined them.

Gage took the opportunity to examine the room. So many people he’d spent time with over the past years. He was going to miss them while he did his stint in the north working in the oilfields, but the money was too good to turn down.

And the chance to be away from temptation. Because, damn if he hadn’t automatically searched her out yet again.

Clay spoke, dragging Gage’s attention off the dance floor and back to safer topics. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?” he asked.

“Around ten. I don’t start until Monday, so I figured I’ll drive Saturday and get set up Sunday.” Gage chuckled at the expression on his friend’s face. “Stop looking as if I’m running away to join the circus. I’ll be back in six months.”

His friend grumbled. “I know, but we’ll miss you around the garage. Good slave labour is hard to find. Heck, I’d even hired someone to replace you, and not even a month later Cassidy’s gone and quit. I hate working harder.”

“Can’t blame the man. He’s got a sweet deal with his new family.” Gage took in the Coleman family gathered in another corner of the pub, some of the members partnered up, some not. The man in question, Cassidy, was slow dancing with Ashley, one of his lovers. Cassidy’s other partner, Travis, looked on from the side as he chatted with his brothers.

The trio’s relationship wasn’t typical, but it had happened, and in a way, Gage was a little jealous. Cassidy had gotten what he’d wanted and then some. In the meantime, Gage wasn’t willing to rock the boat to grasp the one woman he’d been lusting after.