Baiting the Maid of Honor

Her face broke into a pretty smile. “Haven’t you heard of a statute of limitations?”

“Look at you, talking real fancy now,” Brock drawled. “Besides, I thought it was a Hustler.”

“Does it honestly make a difference?” Sophie asked.

“Yes,” the men replied emphatically.

Sophie said something else, but Reed became distracted by a picture pinned to the poster board. Front and center stood Kady, wearing a crown in front of a mechanical bull. In the background, looking fresh and innocent, Julie smiled brightly at the camera. Posing in jean shorts and cowboy boots. Long legs dangling on either side of the damn mechanical bull. Without a second thought, Reed reached up and snagged the picture off the board, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. If the sexy photo made him hard, he’d be damned before he left it around to have the same effect on someone else. He felt a prickle move over his neck and turned to find Julie watching him through narrowed eyes, obviously having witnessed his thievery.

He winked at her.

…

Julie steadied a tipsy Mr. Wilcox on his feet and waved him out the door. “Now you get back to your room safe, understand? No getting fresh with Mrs. Wilcox in any dark stairwells. There are cameras everywhere now, you know. Eyes in the sky. It’s not just the good Lord you have to worry about judging you anymore. These resort folks will call the police faster than you can spit. They don’t realize we grow our men friskier in the South, do they, Mrs. Wilcox? No ma’am, they don’t. There you go, one foot in front of the other. You’ve got the agility of a cougar. Not that kind of cougar, Mrs. Wilcox. Now who’s getting fresh?”

The jolly couple disappeared at the end of the hallway, marking the last guests to leave. As soon as they left her field of vision, Julie slumped back against the wall, already reaching down to slip off her high heels. She gave in to the urge to sit right down on the carpeted floor and she ran her thumb up the arch of her foot, moaning at the sheer pleasure.

“Careful, pixie. You keep making those sounds, I might have to join you on that floor.”

Julie jolted to her feet as Reed strode through the double doors of the kitchen holding a tray of covered dishes. She hadn’t seen him in half an hour and had assumed he left. Had been simultaneously glad and disappointed when she didn’t see him reclaim his seat in the darkest corner of the restaurant. Glad, because the heat of his constant regard made it difficult to concentrate. On anything. Disappointed, because the heat felt so darn good. It wrapped itself around her, sliding up and down her thighs, belly, and breasts like a living, breathing thing. Throughout the night, she’d found herself positioning herself where he could see her, lest she lose the heady buzz of his attention for one second. At one point, she’d found herself wishing the room was empty, save herself and Reed, so she could join him where he sat in the dark, straddle his lap and…dance for him. Put those secret lessons she’d been taking to good use in a way he’d probably never see coming. Let him look at her up close while she moved. Feel his penetrating stare trace a path up her writhing midsection. She wanted to open his shirt and look at his tattoos while she performed for him. Since starting the classes, she’d had fantasies about dancing for a man, but he’d never had an identity before. Now, in her mind’s eye, Reed looked up at her in awe, lust a living thing on his face.

When Julie realized she hadn’t spoken once since Reed’s entrance, she shook herself from her fevered thoughts, ignoring the look of amusement on Reed’s face. “What are you carrying?”

“Your dinner.”

“Pardon?” She slipped her heels back on. “I already ate dinner.” Hadn’t she?

“No. You didn’t. Believe me.” He kicked out a chair with his foot, indicating that she should sit. “How can you eat when you never stop talking?”

Julie shoved the chair back under the table. “As opposed to you, who wouldn’t say two words if somebody was on fire.”

“I’m talking to you right now.”

“It must be my lucky day.”

“All right, fine. You leave me no choice but to play hardball.” He kicked the chair out once more. “Back home, when someone goes to the trouble of making you a meal, what is the polite thing to do?”

She gasped.

Reed shook his head. “Where are your manners, pixie?”

Julie sat with a scowl. “Probably poisoned it,” she grumbled.

He set the tray down on the table in front of her and lifted lids off three dishes, aromatic steam curling from braised short ribs, honey-glazed salmon, and a side of julienned carrots. Julie’s head spun as hunger assailed her, her stomach growling as if it suddenly realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She watched as Reed grabbed the fork and took one bite from each plate, raising an eyebrow at her as he chewed. “If it’s poisoned, we’re both doomed.”

“You can’t kill the devil.”

He smirked. “Eat.”

When she took the first bite of perfectly cooked meat, her eyes closed and she stopped caring that Reed sat across from her, watching her every move. The food simply tasted too good on her tongue. Before she could get too full, she set the fork down and leaned back in her chair. “No more. If eat too much, I fall asleep, and I still have to clean this place up.

His face transformed with disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Sneaking one last carrot off the plate, she shook her head. “No, I really do fall asleep. Right where I stand. Ever since I was a kid.”

“I mean, you’ve got to be joking about cleaning this damn place.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s after midnight and you’re read

y to fall on your ass.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a way with words?”

He sighed loudly. Julie watched in curiosity as a battle took place on his face. As if he wanted to wash his hands of the whole situation, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. How odd. “No.”

She straightened. “No?”

“Someone else is going to clean this shit up. And it ain’t you.” Reed took her hand and pulled Julie to her feet. “Come on. We’re going for a walk. I’m tired of being cooped up indoors.”

“Why do you have to drag me along with you?”

“If I leave you here, you’ll clean,” he explained, then came to a stop, glancing down at her feet. “You bring some decent sneakers along, or just those medieval torture devices disguised as shoes?”

Chapter Eight

Julie followed Reed on the dark path leading up the side of the mountain. He’d brought a flashlight with him, but so far it had proved unnecessary¸ the full moon providing more than enough illumination to see where they walked through the trees. He’d run this path that very morning and had memorized it easily. He knew exactly where he wanted to take her. Did she know what his intentions were? He’d made no secret about wanting her. The possibility that she’d come with him in the middle of the night, hoping for the same outcome, heated his blood.

He cast a look over his shoulder, sighing inwardly when he glimpsed her expression. Too bad she looked scared half to death. She might want him, but the situation clearly made her more than a little nervous. Hell, he obviously made her a little nervous. Not a good thing. And entirely his fault. He’d never been one to hold back in the bedroom, physically or verbally, but he’d laid it on extra thick with Julie, playing a game of “shock the snooty rich girl.” To show her that he was nothing like the old-money, loafer-wearing pretty boys he suspected she usually dated.

Now it had backfired. After all the ways he’d provoked and taunted her, she’d placed her trust in him and gone out with him into the woods, the expectation being that they would finally slake this insane attraction between them. Only now it didn’t feel right. He didn’t want her nervous or questioning her judgment. He wanted her to feel…confident in him. Instead, she appeared seconds from turning tail and booking it back to the resort. It bothered him. A lot more than it should.