Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

Pulling in front of his three-car detached garage, she shut the car’s engine off. Beside her, the bag Ginger had packed earlier in the evening seemed to scream, “Go for it!”

Liza nearly laughed out loud. She wasn’t wholly sure what it was she was “going for”, except for more mind-blowing orgasms.

Retrieving the shopping bag from the passenger’s side, she locked her car and crossed the drive to the front porch. She ascended the steps and stood in front of the door to Jack’s house, which mirrored the one on her cottage. Jack had left the foyer chandelier on and it illuminated the stained glass inset on the door, as well as the immediate interior of the house.

Standing on the precipice of Jack’s private space, Liza hesitated. This was his home. His sanctuary. His personal haven.

She was about to invade it.

The momentous occasion caused her to think about Peter again. She’d never felt comfortable or at home in his monstrous Tribeca apartment. She’d been overwhelmed by the massive square footage and the fact that everything was strategically positioned and she had to be extra careful not to move anything out of place or set something down where it didn’t belong. Above all that, a speck of dust would die a lonely existence in the multi-million-dollar home. Liza hadn’t even been allowed to wear brand-new Jimmy Choos into the house. She’d had to leave them in the foyer.

She wondered now how Jack would feel if she wore her sandals inside. Would it bother him? Should she leave them outside the door?

Should she even pass through the door?

Ugh.

She stared down at the key in her hand, then glanced back up at the entrance and peered through the glass inset. She didn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable being in his house alone. But she’d promised him she’d be here when he came home, waiting for him. Liza didn’t relish the idea of disappointing him. Or missing out on another incredible lovemaking experience. She really didn’t know how many more she’d get with the Devil. He could be done with her any time now.

Best to not pass up the water when the well could run dry at any moment, right?

With this in mind, she inserted the key in the lock and flicked her wrist. She stepped into the lit foyer, set the bag in the corner and promptly removed her sandals, just to be on the safe side. She left them next to the door. Stepping into the living room, she found the switch on the wall and flipped it so she could see what the main part of Jack’s house looked like. Downstairs boasted a large living room with a stone-trimmed fireplace, a formal dining room that sat twelve, an enormous kitchen—in solid white with black-and-silver speckled granite countertops and a breakfast nook—and a den that Jack had turned into his home office.

She ascended the sweeping staircase trimmed with rich cherry wood, carrying her shopping bag with her. Along the way, Liza debated her nightgown color options, trying to peg which one the Devil would like best as she surveyed the upstairs rooms. One was a neat and tidy guest bedroom. The other was a room he’d converted into an impressive workout facility. Which he obviously used religiously.

The third one she came to was the master suite. The white walls and wainscoting were as crisp and immaculate as the rest of the house, all looking freshly painted. Pride of ownership shone through and Liza was glad she’d decided to leave her shoes downstairs. It seemed like a respectful thing to do.

The accent color in Jack’s bedroom was dark blue. The comforter on the cherry wood four-poster bed—and the drapes that framed the wall of windows, adorned with white Plantation shutters—were the richest blue she’d ever seen, aside from Jack’s eyes.

Setting her package on the matching plush bench that ran the length of the king-size bed, she debated her lingerie options again.

Midnight was out since it would clash with the royal blue of his room.

Red might be too obnoxious against the duvet.

Hot pink wasn’t really to her liking.

Black might work, but…

Champagne would stand out against the blue. A perfect complement to the décor.

Pulling the tissue-wrapped nighties from the bag, she selected the one she wanted and also grabbed the matching panties. Slipping into Jack’s bathroom, she felt an unexpected thrill over primping in his private space. It was so minimalistic by way of decoration and s

upplies she had to smile. A hammered-silver tray sitting on the counter contained the very basics a man needed—shaving cream, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, hair gel, deodorant, dental floss, mouthwash.

Bingo.

The latter was exactly what she was looking for. But a comb would also be helpful. Searching the top drawer of his vanity, she found a brush and ran it through her hair, fluffing the natural curls, ignoring the dull, grown-out highlights. Because that would lead to more dismal thoughts about Lydia Bain.

She changed into the lingerie she’d bought earlier and returned to Jack’s bedroom.

Other than the toiletries, she hadn’t noticed any personal effects in the entire twenty minutes she’d been inside his house. No photos on the fireplace mantle or the bedside tables. Nothing significant hanging on the walls to give any clues about Jack’s private life. Though the house was organized and inviting, it was decidedly devoid of anything warm and fuzzy that might give Liza additional insight into who Jack Wade really was.

Luckily, she had her own experiences to draw upon. And it occurred to her that she didn’t really need any outside influence because she’d already come to her own conclusions about the Devil in Blue Jeans. He was sexy as hell. An amazing lover. A responsible business owner. A good friend to those he deemed worthy.

He was also a mystery she couldn’t solve in such a short amount of time.

There was nothing in Jack’s house that would reveal his true identity. The only way she’d ever figure that out was by letting Jack be Jack, while she was…Liza. Simple and carefree Liza. No more pretention. No more trying to please people who only wanted to take advantage of her. No more clawing her way to a top she’d never reach.