A Dash of Spice

But cosmic intervention had her ripping her mouth from his and jumping back as she felt a mighty vibration against her hip.

“What the hell, Scout?” she demanded, wide-eyed. “What was that?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. Grunted like a stealthy, victorious animal suddenly denied his prey.

“My phone.”

“That’s one powerful vibrate setting.” Capable of replacing the battery-operated device she kept tucked away in her luggage, for God’s sake.

“Damn it,” he all but growled over the broken moment between them. Then extracted the iPhone from the front pocket of his jeans.

Ciara’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip and she willed her chest to stop heaving because he’d turned her on so damn much.

The heat factor did dim a little as she wondered who would be calling Scout this la

te at night.

He consulted the screen…and scowled. Glancing up at her, his scowled deepened. “Hey, what’s with the Fatal Attraction death look?”

She gasped. “What?”

The scowl turned into his cocky grin. “The I’m going to reach through his phone and strangle the woman on the other end of the line who interrupted us look. Not that I’m not flattered… Because believe me, sweetheart. I am.”

“I do not look like that!”

“Yeah, babe.” His grin widened. His gorgeous, chocolatey eyes sparkled under the light from the antique lampposts. “You do.”

She opened her mouth to make a rebuttal… No words came out.

Scout said, “Stop maniacally plotting—although I find it very sexy. There isn’t another woman calling me. It’s my agent.”

“Oh.” Relief suddenly flooded her veins. Okay, perhaps she had been a bit maniacal.

Psycho-jealous much?

She could kick herself. Jealousy would not make her life any easier.

Scout tucked the cell into his back pocket this time, letting the call go to voicemail. He said, “Nothing that can’t wait until morning. Now… Where were we?” He wagged a brow at her. Stepped in close and took her in his arms again. “Oh, yes. Right here.”

He kissed her.

Or, at least, tried to. Ciara wiggled out of his embrace. Resisting him. And good Lord that was one hell of a feat!

All worked up once more and having trouble forming coherent thoughts, let alone finding her real voice, not the provocative one that always came out to play when Scout was around, she reminded him, “I have tons to do tonight.”

“I have a to-do list as well.” Now, he grinned seductively. “You’re at the top of it.”

“William Woodrow Winchester.”

“Ah… Come on now, babe.” He groaned. Shook his head. “You had to go and do that?”

“Yes, I did.”

He and his brothers were named after U.S. presidents. Scout had received the esteemed honor of being named after more than one. Somehow, his mother had thought it sounded classy. Ciara knew Scout had thought from an early age that it made him sound like a dork. So, when his Granpa Win had begun taking him around to scout for elk pre-hunting season, he’d told his gramps he needed a pseudonym—and Scout it was.

Ciara gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and told him, “Pulling out the big guns is the only way to get you to focus on the business at hand—not kissing me. It’s either that, or I call your mother.”

“I’m sure she’s in the middle of canning something,” he quipped. “You wanna know where JT the New York Times bestselling author, Hamilton the investment mogul and Scout the former pro hockey player get their drive from? It’s all that woman.”