Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

And there was little doubt the Devil got that message loud and clear.

Chapter Two

Feeling’s mutual, darlin’, he thought.

So what’s with the “drop you off at the door” bullshit?

Because that’s exactly what you should do, Jack Wade told himself as he and the pretty New Yorker started off across the gravel parking lot, her a bit wobbly on those sexy high heels she wore. And him engaged in an internal debate he already knew he wouldn’t win.

Not a big surprise. Everything about Miss Manhattan made it damn near impossible to get his raging hormones under control. How long had it been since a woman like this one had crossed his path? One who made his pulse race and his cock stiffen with nothing more than a sultry laugh that lit her vibrant green eyes and teased him senseless?

Well, okay. Truth be told, her long legs and curvy-in-all-the-right-places body did the trick too.

But even as he gave credence to how quickly and effortlessly she’d captured his attention and sparked his libido, he knew it’d behoove him to curb his desire for the woman who’d walked through the door of his saloon looking ready to sin in a dress that did everything to evoke a man’s carnal lust.

In fact, it was probably a bad idea to drive her home. He had a feeling he was inviting more trouble into his life than was necessary. Jack had enough complications to contend with these days. He needed another one like he needed a hole in the head.

Yet he was pursuing her anyway, wasn’t he?

Who could blame him, really? She was a looker, no doubt about it. Her big green eyes had lit his fire all the way across the crowded saloon and he’d been utterly captivated from that first head-to-toe gander he’d gotten of her. She had mile-long legs that would feel like heaven wrapped around his hips. A slender, but womanly figure that he’d instantly fantasized about. He wanted to cover it with his own body as they lay naked on his large bed, pressing her into the mattress as his cock thrust deep into what he imagined to be a tight, wet pussy. Her breasts were full and firm looking. Her lips were glossy and a deep crimson color—bewitching and damn kissable.

Yes, one look and he’d been hooked. Despite his steadfast rule not to date Wilder women.

Technically, she’s not a Wilder woman.

His attempt to reason with himself warred with the issue at hand. His plate runneth over these days and he didn’t need to tip the scales with a woman who, though she’d instantly mesmerized him, screamed complex and high-maintenance without saying a word.

There were pros and cons to letting this obviously mutual attraction follow its natural course. Sure, she was new to town, so theoretically, he could cross “Wilder Women are No-Nos” off his short list of taboos. Hell, she hadn’t even committed to staying in town for more than a few weeks. He’d known that long before she’d explained her rental situation. It was, after all, his fully furnished lakeside cottage she was now residing in, according to the property manager who’d called him earlier in the day to say he had a line on a new tenant.

Another complication. Jack hadn’t wanted to rent the cottage because it sat on his property. He was a man who valued his privacy, but with the economy such as it was and the recent morality crusade that seemed to be mowing the town flat—and impacting his bottom line at the saloon—he hadn’t had much choice. Knew, in fact, that he should be grateful Manhattan had shown up when she had. Not as if there was a line of people waiting to fill the rental market in a small town like this.

He’d have to work through the nuances of this unexpected twist of fate before he divulged the fact that he was her landlord. Jack read women like books and this one was shooting for mysterious and anonymous. She was on a mission he recognized, though he sensed it wasn’t a familiar one for her. Nor did he pick up signs that she was in the right frame of mind to follow-through on what she thought she wanted. The tequila had been a dead giveaway. She’d needed it to loosen up, to feel sexy and desirable.

Ridiculous, really. Any woman who looked like Manhattan did should need nothing more than a mirror to confirm her sex appeal. But she’d likely taken a blow to her ego and needed reassurance.

Jack Wade was a betting man and he’d lay odds that she’d come looking for trouble tonight as payback for being dumped. Or perhaps for being ignored or overlooked by some moronic fool who had no idea what he was missing out on.

Damn shame. No woman whose eyes lit up like the Fourth of July night sky when she smiled or laughed should ever feel the need to prove her worth. But Jack had been around enough blocks to see the writing on the wall.

No worries. He could stick with anonymity if that’s what she wanted. He’d ease her into the reality of the situation tomorrow.

So long as he could keep his hands off her luscious body tonight. Keep his dick in his pants, not in her.

“Last call’s at eleven o’clock on a Friday night?” Her soft, provocative voice broke into his thoughts, which seemed to take an erotic detour at every turn with this woman.

She reeled him in quickly, though, with the not-so-pleasant subject matter.

“Not one of my favorite laws,” he commented, forcing his suddenly tight jaw to loosen a bit.

The town’s reverend and his followers were aiming to put Jack out of business like they had the other bar owners in Wilder. But Jack was holding his ground. Like his father, when he dug in his heels, he was damn near an immoveable force.

“Seems pretty extreme,” Manhattan said. “Not that I needed another cocktail, mind you. But it looked like everyone was having a good time.”

Jack appreciated his devout patrons. His own personal congregation. He commended them for not letting the morality sanction drive them away from the last-standing public watering hole.

At least…not yet.

“Let’s just say we’ve got a few…kinks…in the system here in Wilder.”