Dangerous Tease (The Layton Family 3)

Damn, he looked so forlorn framed by the window and the snowy scene beyond it. She couldn't leave him like this. Just as she knew on a gut level that Rebecca's Bounty was out there, she knew Sam needed her. That made what she had to do even worse. But until they recovered the treasure, maybe she could be that woman he needed right now. She could pretend it was just the two of them with no ulterior motives.

Responding to his unspoken call, she inserted herself between the cold glass and his warm body. The beginning of his five o'clock shadow scratched against her palms as she put her hands on his cheeks and turned his head to face her.

“We're more alike than we're different. I saw the real you in Vegas. You might hide him here, but I know better. You were born for adventure.”

Her lips brushed against his, soft and hesitant in spite of her bold declaration. She sucked on his bottom lip and pressed against his lean body, daring him not to respond. Her nipples hardened even with layers of sweaters and leather between them. Fire spread through her and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer.

Sam groaned into her mouth in surrender, his hands sliding down her back to cup her ass and bring her into contact with the hard bulge in his slacks. His lips traced a path along her jawline, ending at her ear, where he kissed the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

Josie couldn't stop the shiver of pleasure that danced up her spine and she arched her neck to give him better access to the sensitive spots above her collar. When he nipped at the skin, she nearly melted into a puddle of want. Her tits grew heavy and full, testing the strength of her bra's underwire. God, if she didn't pull back now she'd be on her hands and knees before she knew it, and she couldn't do that. One and done, that was her M.O. More than that entailed ties she couldn't have to Sam.

So why had she kissed him in the first place?

She ignored the question and instead pushed away from Sam and all the allure pulling them together.

She rested her forehead against his cheek as his chest rose and fell at the same rapid pace as hers. “Just to be clear, that had nothing to do with anything else. It won't happen again.”

She felt more than heard him laugh, the shake of his shoulders underneath her fingertips.

Knowing she had to go now, she stepped back from him and walked away, pausing at the doorway. “Call me when you're ready to go find the treasure.”

Chapter Eight

Sam squeezed through the crowd on the edge of the Robidoux’s Roadhouse dance floor, aiming for the bar and the cold bottle of beer in front of the empty stool next to his younger brother, Chris.

A middle-aged cowboy who hadn't seen his belt buckle in at least a decade thumped his boot on the stage as he sang an upbeat ditty about his ex-wife who had done him wrong. Couples two-stepped in a circle in front of the stage, their boots shuffling against the wooden dance floor, moving in time to the beat.

He passed through a trio of men mesmerized by the action on the dance floor, turned left at the door marked Cowgirls Only and slid onto the barstool Chris had saved for him.

The first swig of cold beer went down smooth and he hoped it would temper the heat eating away at his stomach lining ever since Josie had strutted her sweet little ass out of his office this morning. “Tell me again why you always want to come here, Chris?”

“This is where all the cool multimillionaire lottery winners hang out when they're hiding from pain-in-the-ass accountants.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

Chris thunked his bottle down on the polished bar, sending foam spurting out of the opening. “My God, the woman wants to micromanage everything.”

“So why don't you fire her?”

His little brother shrugged. “Why let her win?”

“That sounds completely logical.”

Chris flipped him the bird and turned his attention back to the packed dance floor. “Ho-lee shit, will you look at that. What is she doing in Dry Creek?” He jammed an elbow in Sam's ribs so hard his beer almost went flying. “It's the waitress from Vegas. What was her name? Jenny? Jessie?”

Immediately, the blood in his veins changed direction and headed south. “Josie.”

“Yeah, Josie.”

Sam followed Chris' gaze and spotted her on the dance floor wrapped in the arms of an older cowboy. A lightning bolt of want slammed through Sam with so much force he dropped his beer. The glass bottle shattered into a million pieces and people jumped to avoid the mess. Everyone in the vicinity turned to stare and, for once, he couldn't have cared less that he was the center of attention. The dance floor had emptied out somewhat, giving him a clear view of Josie and her partner.

Willie Carson had his right arm snug up against Josie, his palm resting on her hip. He held her left hand in his as they two-stepped. His suspiciously black handlebar mustache kept moving up and down to the beat; no doubt he was telling her when to step. Despite Willie's direction, Josie faltered, thrown off by her partner's double fancy spin. She tossed her head back and laughed, the live band covered the sound, but Sam heard it anyway.

His hands curled into fists. He didn't care if Willie Carson was old enough to be his father. He was going to knock him on his ass if he didn't stop touching her.

“You'd better clean up your mess or they'll kick us out.” Chris swiped a rag from the bar and tossed it to Sam.

Brought back to reality, he gathered up the bigger chunks of glass right as one of the bartenders rounded the bar with a plastic bucket and a broom. “Sorry about that.”