Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

Hell, who was he kidding? There was a battle brewing between the ultra-conservatives and the more liberal folks in town. The two groups he’d dubbed the saints and the sinners. This was one of the biggest complications in his life and not just because of the effect an early curfew had on his finances.

But as precarious as the situation was, Jack wasn’t in the mood to dwell on the conflict developing in Wilder. He wanted to know more about the sexy stranger beside him, who’d unwittingly grabbed him by the balls and had yet to let go.

“Don’t you have to close the bar?” she asked.

He grinned down at her, swallowing the stale taste Wilder politics left in his mouth. “That’s the beauty of owning the joint, darlin’. Selective chores.”

She laughed softly, then stumbled in the gravel. His hand shot out and he caught her elbow, holding her steady and upright.

So much for keeping his hands off her.

“Thanks,” she said before drawing in a d

eep breath. Letting it out slowly, she added, “Could be I had one too many.”

She was making small talk in an almost anxious way. Another telltale sign this woman wasn’t a tequila drinker or the one-night stand type. Jack knew plenty about both. But he suspected Manhattan was just trying to make a point—mostly to herself—so he’d kept the shots to a minimum. And was doing his damndest to resist the temptation she presented now. Lord knew he wanted to score with her tonight, but he had a feeling she’d be the kind to hate herself in the morning for it. Along with him. A prospect he didn’t find the least bit appealing, even though he was damn sure they’d singe the sheets together. Jack may be a sinner, but he never took advantage.

Wanting to keep her out of trouble was the main reason he’d offered the ride home. He could only imagine how many vultures would’ve swooped in for the kill as she’d sat on that tree stump, waiting for her cab to arrive. Then again, considering he’d all but marked his territory the moment she’d swayed those shapely hips through the door of his saloon, he had to admit it was unlikely anyone would poach. The only “trouble” Manhattan would be getting into tonight was if Jack’s willpower kowtowed to his libido. She was definitely a woman who made it difficult for him to keep his fly buttoned.

Pushing more thoughts of getting naked with Manhattan from his mind, he said, “You did just fine holding your liquor, darlin’. I would’ve cut you off if I thought it was necessary.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “You did cut me off!”

He chuckled. “Nah. I just didn’t take you for the drinking type. At least, not that kind of drinking.”

With a noncommittal shrug of her bare shoulder, she said, “Sometimes a girl needs to let her hair down.”

He conceded the point, but had a feeling she was doing more than that. She was running from something, plain and simple. And for all her bravado, he sensed she was in unchartered territory, particularly with him. Meaning he’d have to dial his desire for her down a notch…or ten. Not an easy thing to do, considering how badly he wanted her. His hands itched to touch her, to roam her body as his tongue delved deep inside her mouth. He wanted to push the hem of her short skirt up to her waist and touch and taste her pussy. He wanted to hear her moan in pleasure. Scream in ecstasy.

But he didn’t hook up with women in town. Nor did he need another complication. Why did he have to keep reminding himself of these things?

Frustrated, he extracted a set of keys from his front pocket with his free hand. Continuing the conversation about the bar—more so to distract himself from her tempting body and full, red lips—he said, “I was just lending a hand when you came in. I hired a bar manager a few months back to free up some of my time for…” He gave a sharp shake of his head and let the remainder of his explanation die on the warm breeze.

She was looking for a hookup, not his life story. Besides, the expansion project on the saloon was dead in the water now that the saints had passed the law to ban alcohol sales on Sundays—all day on Sundays. So what was the point of mentioning that was his reason for hiring Josh?

“I guess this is what you’d call ser-en-dipitous,” she said, the last word a bit clipped, as though she’d put extra effort into not slurring.

Her poor attempt to appear sober seemed to make her laugh and he chuckled along with her. It felt right, natural. Everything about being in her presence felt right and natural. Except that she wasn’t the one-night-stand kind of girl.

Beyond that sentiment, Jack had a multitude of reasons why he shouldn’t pursue her. Yet another one was that he’d promised to deliver her safely home. Unfortunately—and unbeknownst to Manhattan—her virtue, in whatever form it currently stood, would not be intact come morning, be it by way of his lack of control if she made a move or a result of the Wilder grapevine. She’d become a victim of guilt by association, even if he did find the willpower to resist the temptation she offered.

Shooting her a quick look, he wondered how difficult it would be to just leave her at the door. She really was a pretty little thing. No, more than that. She was beautiful in a surprisingly alluring way. Jack had never been one for lots of makeup and designer duds, but she was striking in a vulnerable way that contradicted the risqué image she was obviously trying to project.

As he continued to eye her, her loose, silky-looking hair swirled around her bare shoulders, the strands blowing in the breeze. He wanted to weave his fingers through the chestnut-colored, fluffy mass as he stared into those bewitching eyes of hers. He wondered if she had any idea how much they said about her. The excitement that radiated from the depths of the shimmering green pools. The fear that mingled with that excitement—likely at her current predicament, and that didn’t just include being in his company.

Throwing a dart at a map and moving halfway across the country on a whim had to be a huge shock to the system. No matter who you were.

As he considered this, she stumbled again and groaned. “Clearly the wrong shoe choice this evening.”

She was having trouble navigating the small rocks beneath her feet. With his hand on her elbow, he kept her relatively steady. He’d scoop her up and carry her to the truck to keep her from toppling over, but that felt a little too Me Tarzan, You Jane. Even for Jack Wade.

Instead, his fingers tightened around her elbow and held it firmly as he directed her to his vehicle. Her warm, bare skin against his made him think once more of stretching out on his big bed with their legs entwined as his hands explored her naked body. The solar radiance emitting from every inch of her made him wonder how much of that heat was related to the weather and how much of it was an innate response to him.

When they reached the black Dodge Ram truck, Jack opened the passenger door for her. She frowned up at him, making his gut pull tight.

“What’s wrong?”

She appraised the side of the truck, her full, luscious lips twisting in contemplation. Jack’s gaze shifted to the vehicle. Oh yes. Though the Ram was only slightly lifted, it was still a long way up to the seat.