Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

“Not exactly conducive to a micro-mini-wearing woman sporting come-fuck-me pumps,” she mumbled.

Jack laughed at her choice of words.

“Thoughts on how to get me up there?” she inquired.

“Happy to give you a boost.” He flashed her what was surely his wickedest grin while resisting the urge to move his hand from her elbow to her ass. Her very nice, tight ass, he might add.

She smirked playfully at him, though again, he doubted she knew that her vibrant eyes turned a simple smirk into something sexy and arousing. “Did you miss the lack of material at the end of this skirt or have you yet to make it past my breasts?”

“They are nice breasts,” he said.

She shook her head, fighting a grin. Unsuccessfully. The corners of her mouth lifted and it was all Jack could do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her ‘til she begged him to fuck her.

Ah hell.

He sighed. He wanted her in the worst way. The feeling was strong, unrelenting. More powerful than anything he’d ever experienced. There was something about Manhattan that made his cock stiffen to an unbearable degree. With just a smile. In fact, he ought to untuck his shirt and cover his erection. Thank God the parking lot was dimly lit.

“Well, you won’t win any awards for couth,” she told him, “but I’ll give you points for charisma.”

“Right back at ya, darlin’,” he said with a wink, once again expending more effort than normal to keep his hormones in check and his cock from busting through the buttons of his jeans.

Her smile widened. “You’re a bit of a smart ass.”

“And they say only opposites attract.”

Crouching down—and fighting a wince that move created—he reached toward the undercarriage of the truck and gave a swift pull along the bottom edge. A flash of metal caught the moonlight and a second later, a silver rung hung below the passenger’s seat.

Jack stepped away from the vehicle, crossing his arms

over his chest in a smug way while she moved forward.

“Still happy to lend a hand.” How could he resist?

“Tempting,” she muttered, but didn’t take the bait.

She reached for the bar above the seat with the hand not holding her purse and carefully placed one pointy-tipped shoe on the silver loop. How the hell she could wear shoes that looked as if they cut the circulation off at the toes was beyond him. Though he had to admit, she looked damn fine in the sexy green snakeskin pumps.

A lift and a push and she managed to slide gracefully into the tan leather seat while keeping her legs closed and what Jack hoped to be black-lace thong panties under wraps.

Lord did he hope like hell she’d show them off at some point!

He closed the door and stepped away from the truck. Away from temptation. Granted, he hadn’t gotten laid in a long while—his own doing—but still… He was reacting to her like a horny teenager.

Really, it wasn’t like Jack to chase after a woman the way he was doing with her. Hell yes, he could be back in the saloon helping to close up and prepare for tonight’s invitation-only after-hours’ poker game. Yet as soon as she’d turned on those ultra-high heels and sauntered off, her softly rounded hips swaying provocatively, he’d known he wasn’t letting her walk out of his life so easily.

Not until he got to know her better. Found out what she was running from. And if he was damn lucky, get his fill of her in the process.

He rounded the front end of the truck to the driver’s side. A glance over the shoulder confirmed her gaze followed his every move, making him feel cocky and stealthy. He climbed into the cab beside her, thinking at some point he’d get around to asking her name. Telling her his. But he kept to the anonymity she seemed to enjoy, which was one more sign she was just looking for a good time.

So why was he fighting it? Why was he expending so much energy trying to figure her out? Considering the obvious attraction between them, wasn’t it inevitable they’d hook up eventually?

Why put off ‘til tomorrow the woman he could be doing tonight?

Jack groaned as he fired up the truck. It revved like his internal engine. Being saintly didn’t come easy to him. Women took one look at him and either did or didn’t. It wasn’t difficult to spot which ones were first-string starters and which ones were benchwarmers.

But Manhattan had him all spun up. Contradicting and confusing himself. Making him think yes, and then minutes later, no.

He’d never invested this much mental contemplation into his course of action. There was something about this woman that made him want to make the right choice from the get-go. Because he sensed she wasn’t one to grant a second chance if he blew it.