Come and Get It (4 page)

“
Fair enough,” he said. “I
was born and raised in Beverly Hills. My father is an entertainment
attorney and my mother is a whore who cheats on him on a regular
basis. Mostly with muscular pool boys looking to break into the
acting scene. Seems like there’s a new one every few
months.”

Dixie looked down at her clasped
hands. “I’m so sorry. Does your father know?”

He snorted. “Of course he does. Why he
hasn’t divorced her is beyond me. If she was my wife I’d have
tossed her out on her ass long ago. Not that I’ll ever have to
worry about it because I’m not the love and marriage type of guy.
That much I learned growing up in that house.”

She couldn’t help it, she felt sorry
for him. “That’s so sad, Quin. Never opening yourself up to the
possibility of love.” She shook her head in dismay. “I’ve never met
a man so in need of someone to love him.” She sighed. “Maybe
someday you’ll meet a woman who changes your mind. I can’t imagine
going through life without love.”

He leaned back in his seat. “So, you’d
like to marry again?”

She lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. If I
found someone who made me feel like Garrett did. Being married to
him was more fun than I ever had in my life.” Her eyes welled.
“Sorry. Some days I miss him so much it’s like I’ve lost a limb and
I think I can still feel it.”

“
Phantom limb syndrome.
That’s an interesting metaphor.”

Dixie smiled. “It is what it is. It’s
better than it used to be but I sometimes curse God for not giving
us enough time.” She laughed. “Probably go to hell for
that.”

His smile was indulgent. “You believe
in God?”

“
Hell, yes. I get why some
folks don’t, but me? I ain’t takin’ a chance hell is
real.”

He laughed and shook his head. “If
there is a hell, I’ll probably know most of the people
there.”

“
Oh, my. I better watch my
step, hangin’ around with you.”

The waiter brought their wine and took
their food order. Quin lifted his glass. “Here’s to keeping our
feet out of the fire.”

“
Amen to that.”

Chapter Three

When he pulled up in front of Dixie’s
cottage, Quin doused the lights. Without a word, he got out of the
truck and walked around to the passenger’s side. In the dim
moonlight, he could see her struggling with the seat belt, then the
grimace of satisfaction when she got the thing undone. He opened
the door and assisted her down to the ground.

“
Thank you for dinner,” she
said dismissively, heading for the relative safety of her
home.

Quin stifled a laugh at her huffed
sigh when he followed her up to the porch. Before she could hurry
inside, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the porch swing. “At
least sit with me for a bit.” She looked at him uncertainly. “What
harm could it do?” She nodded and sat primly on the edge of the
swing. He snorted. “Relax, Rose, I’m not going to jump
you.”

Dixie laughed and settled back onto
the swing. “Never can tell with you city slickers.” She didn’t pull
away when he snuggled her against his side.

“
It sure is beautiful out
here,” Quin murmured, kissing the top of her head. “Peaceful and
quiet.” They sat silently for a time, listening to the sounds of
the night, then he turned her in his arms and pulled her onto his
lap. “I’m going to kiss you now, Rose. And not some little first
date peck. I’m going to kiss you like a man kisses a woman he
wants. Like I kissed you last night.”

He watched her eyes widen as he
lowered his mouth to hers. Her head tipped back in anticipation.
Oh, yeah. She wanted this as much as he did.

The first touch of his lips was a
gentle pressure, preparing to draw away if she resisted. She
didn’t, so he ran his tongue across her bottom lip, then dipped
inside to taste her. And that taste was heavenly. Like the coffee
and amaretto she’d had after dinner.

She possessed a generous mouth and
full, soft lips. Unlike most of the women Quin had been with, she
wore no lipstick. He liked that there was no gunk on her mouth to
contend with. Nothing he’d have to wipe off later, just the sweet
taste of his beautiful Rose.

Quin deepened the kiss, his tongue
sliding against hers, curling around it in a duel as old as time.
Her arm curved around his neck and he stroked her back, seeking the
opening to her dress, appreciating the fact that only one button
held it closed at the neck.

His lips left her sumptuous mouth to
trace the line of her jaw, the slim column of her neck. When she
sighed, his mouth moved from her neck to the top of her shoulder,
kissing and nipping her soft skin. He slid the dress off her
shoulder to taste more of her and let his hand wander to her
hip.

Some indefinable movement cued him to
her restlessness and his mouth found hers again. He pulled her
closer and her dress slid nearly up to her hip. He wasted no time
caressing the exposed flesh. God, she was soft, and she smelled so
sweet. He wanted to taste every inch of her body just as he was
tasting her mouth. His hand moved beneath her dress to the firm
flesh of her ass. For a moment, he thought she hadn’t worn panties,
then remembered the damn silk between her legs. Thong.

“
Rose,” he whispered
against her hungry lips. “Let me have you.” His hand moved between
her thighs, nudging them apart. His fingers hooked the triangle of
material covering her mound and pulled it aside. He slipped his
middle finger into her center to gather her slippery juices, then
settled it over her clit, massaging lightly. She arched against
him, moaning.

“
Rose.” He gave her clit a
flick and she gasped. “Let me take these panties off and eat your
pussy. If that’s all you want to do tonight, I’ll go gracefully.”
He increased the pressure on her clit until she was squirming
beneath his hand. “Let me make you come, Rose. Don’t you want to
come?”

“
God, yes.” It was almost a
sob. “Make me come, Quin.”

Quin eased Dixie onto the padded porch
swing and slid to his knees. He caressed her legs from thigh to
ankle and removed her shoes. The silky thong came off next, and he
placed her feet on the edge of swing, spreading her
wide.

“
You’re so beautiful,” he
whispered, his lips moving against the soft skin of her inner
thigh. “So soft and sweet.”

“
Oooh,” Dixie Rose sighed
when he wrapped his arms around her thighs. Yes, she would
definitely be a screamer, and Quin intended to make her
scream.

Her hips jerked as Quin settled his
mouth over her steaming pussy. His tongue sought out every fold,
every crevice, tasting, savoring, making her wriggle against him.
“Mmm, this is some sweet pussy.” He drew her clit between his lips,
sucking it against his tongue.

She was thrusting against his face
now, her head thrown back. “Oh, God. I’m gonna come . . . Oh,
Jesus, I need . . . I need . . .”

He knew what she wanted but he asked
anyway. “What do you need, honey?”

“
I need you inside me when
I come,” she half whispered.

Quin tore at the button and zipper on
his trousers, then reached for a padded footrest that was next to
the banister. He dragged it in front of the swing and climbed to
his knees. His cock throbbed with need as he knelt between her
legs. He told himself to be gentle. His lovely Rose hadn’t had a
man inside her in a long time. He tore open a condom and sheathed
himself.

The moisture pooling at her entrance
eased the way, and he gritted his teeth as his cock slid between
her folds. Jesus, she was tight. He eased back, thrust again,
gaining a few more inches. At this rate, he would come before he
could fuck her. “Lord, honey, you’re so tight, I’m afraid I’m going
to hurt you.”

“
No. Feels . . . good.
More, Quin. Give me more.”

He eased back again, thrust harder
this time, and seated himself deep into her snug channel. He
couldn’t move, didn’t dare, lest he lose complete control. He took
a couple of deep breaths and began to move.

Liquid fire flowed from her as he
thrust into her. She was hot and wet and so tight. He couldn’t
remember a single time when burying his cock in a woman had felt
this good. It felt so right, he didn’t want to come, because coming
meant he’d have to leave the comfort of her welcoming
body.

In a moment of inspiration, Quin
grabbed the edge of the porch swing and set it rocking gently,
setting an easy pace of long, slow thrusts.

Her response was immediate. “Oooh,
yes! That’s good.” She thrust her hips up on his downstroke,
sending him deeper into her honeyed warmth. “Oh, please. Harder,
Quin. Faster.”

He pounded into her, giving her all
she demanded and more. She was practically sobbing now, talking
gibberish, fingers white-knuckled as she held on to the arms of the
porch swing.

“
Ohmygod!” Her back arched
and she howled as her pussy contracted around him. Quin slammed
into her, burying himself deep as his own orgasm swept over him,
his voice joining hers in a bellow of sheer masculine
release.

In the calm that followed, Quin shoved
the ottoman out of the way and picked Dixie up, holding her in his
lap as the swing rocked her to sleep. Holding her made him feel
oddly possessive, as though he wanted nothing more than to protect
her from the myriad of woes life could throw at a
person.

Where the fuck had that come from? He
knew well enough he wasn’t the relationship type. Besides, he’d be
on the way to his next project as soon as all the changes to this
one were complete. Sure, he had tender feelings for Rose, but that
was just the thrill of sexual conquest. Once he had his fill of
her, life would return to normal. His mind settled once more, he
carried her into the house and crawled into bed with
her.

* * *

Damnit, she was daydreaming again,
remembering last night. Good Lord. She’d just spread her legs and
let Quin Halladay fuck her on her very own porch swing. Bonifay
women were not loose women, damnit. How had he managed to get under
her skin and into her panties before she could even whistle Dixie?
She rolled her eyes—cute, whistle Dixie.

She stared at the computer screen. She
was supposed to be coming up with a menu for the Annual Freedom
Celebration in July, as well as the Cowboy Show in August. The
whole town would show up for both events and Dixie was looking
forward to trying out some new recipes. This was only the second
year for the Freedom Celebration, but last year had been so
successful she couldn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t
participate.

But it was the Cowboy Show she was
really looking forward to. Not only did the proceeds go to the
Meals on Wheels program, it was just plain fun. There would be all
manner of vendors, a parade, a rodeo, and a street dance. She’d
have to come up with a really good menu to compete with the fare
the other food vendors would be offering, but she was confident she
could make a good showing.

Dixie sighed. She’d met her husband,
Garrett, at the Cowboy Show. Lord, he’d cut a fine figure in his
western gear. She’d been hanging around behind the chutes, watching
as he lowered himself onto one cantankerous horse after another.
But it had been the bulldogging that had really turned her head.
She’d been hanging over the fence, watching the contest,
practically drooling. He had the best time of any of the
participants, and when he’d popped up, he looked right at her,
grinned, and gave her a wicked wink. She’d durn near fallen off the
fence. He’d swaggered over to her perch and said, “Don’t you go
anywhere, little lady. I’ll see you when the rodeo’s over.” Six
months later, they’d been married.

She didn’t realize she’d been crying
until a couple of tears plopped on her keyboard. “Creepin’ Jesus,
Dixie, get a grip.”

“
Get a grip on what?” Quin
asked, coming to stand behind her.

Dixie swiped the tears from her eyes
and uttered a shaky laugh. “You startled me.” She looked up at him
and her heart skipped a beat. My, he was something to look at,
standing there with his tousled black hair and sleepy green
eyes.

He must have gone out to his truck to
grab a change of clothes, because he was standing there in a
half-buttoned pair of faded Levi’s, barefooted and bare-chested.
There was a light furring of dark hair on his tanned chest, which
tapered into a single line from just below his sternum.
Intriguingly, it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Dixie
was tempted to trace it with her index finger to see for herself
exactly where it went.

Quin obviously hadn’t missed the fact
that she’d been crying, because he spun her around in the chair and
squatted down in front of her. “Why the tears, Rose? You’re not
feeling guilty about last night are you?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not
it.”

“
Then what?”

She gestured over her shoulder at the
computer.

“
You’re crying over a menu
planner?”

Dixie rolled her eyes. “No. Happens
this time every year. I start plannin’ my menu for the Cowboy Show
and remember . . . the first time I met my husband was at the
rodeo.”