Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

He looked his fill even as his hands went to her waist. Then he leaned down, close to her ear, and whispered, “Nice. Very nice.”

Gently he gathered up the straps and slid his hands up her back. “Thanks for the invitation,” he said as he nipped at her ear, “but I’ve really got to get to work.

“We’ll see about that.” He’d tried to be gentle, but he could see the insult and the challenge in her eyes, even before her hands slid up the front of his blue silk shirt and then back down to his waist. And fuck, did it feel good. He loved the way her hands felt on him and couldn’t wait until there was nothing between her skin and his own.

For a second he gave himself over to the fantasy, and she took full advantage of his distraction. The next thing he knew, she had popped the buckle of his belt and was working on the button of his trousers. And that’s when he knew he’d hit his breaking point, when he knew he had to put a stop to this or he was going to end up fucking Harmony on every surface in this kitchen.

Gently, he took her hands in his, kissed each palm, and set them at her sides. “I’m not a fuck-you to Heath, sweetheart. I’m not going to let you use me to piss him off. When we make love—”

“Make love?” she sneered. “ What are you, a teenaged girl? I don’t want to be made love to, I want to be fucked.”

“Too bad. Because by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to make love to you again.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” She stood back.

His attempt to retie her top hadn’t done much to cover her up. The bikini top drooped around her waist. “No, just a promise.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Hmm.” Her look said she wasn’t so sure. “Well then. Let the games begin.”

Her thumbs snaked under her bikini bottoms, and the next thing he knew, that tiny piece of cloth was slipping right down her legs. Next, the top fell to the floor and she stood before him wearing nothing but red high-heeled shoes and a smile. “I need a shower. Are you going to join me or just watch?”

When he didn’t respond—too busy trying to get a little blood flow back to his brain—she grabbed his tie and pulled him after her. “I guess you’re going to watch.”

Fuck that. He was no watcher.

His hands went to her waist and he spun her around. Then his lips were on hers and at that moment, he didn’t give a shit about the consequences. Didn’t give a shit about who topped or who bottomed or who was in control of what. All he cared about was the way she tasted. The way she felt. The way her breath hitched in her chest as he kissed her.

Picking her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist, and backed her up against the refrigerator. Her hands fisted in his hair and he let them, concentrating instead on cupping her round, heart-shaped ass. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted all of her, right here and right now. Had never wanted anyone or anything as badly as he wanted her right then.

Which was why he pulled away.

Why he gave her one last, tender kiss before tucking his hands in his pockets.

Why he whispered a hoarse, “I’ve got to go,” before turning and walking out of the house.

Because he might keep himself under rigid control, but every man had his breaking point. And he was pretty sure Harmony was going to be his

.

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

The next morning, Harmony parked her vintage 1950s bakery delivery van in a parking spot close to the front gate of Wranglers Stadium. She was still fuming—and a little bamboozled—over the way Dalton had left her in the kitchen yesterday morning, and the man was going to pay for it. And she was going to enjoy every second of it.

After all, she was an instant-gratification kind of girl. When she was five and couldn’t wait any longer for Santa Claus to show up, she’d gone to the garage, found some spare wood, and started building the table and chairs she’d wanted for her tea parties. True, the table was lopsided and the chairs only had three legs, but she’d gotten her instant gratification. Her parents still had the table and chairs in their house in San Angelo.

Which was why this whole business of waiting around for him to decide they’d known each other long enough to “make love” so wasn’t cutting it for her.

She was a go-getter and not a wait-arounder, which was why it was bugging her so much that trying to get Dalton naked and between her thighs was proving so difficult. And she was done with that. She was here to take Dalton to lunch and then take him to bed.

Clearly he was as attracted to her as she was to him, and she was going to do what her daddy had always told her to do in difficult situations—take the bull by the horns. The fact that she was really looking forward to getting her hands on Dalton’s horn was neither here nor there. She was a woman on a mission, and she didn’t mean Mission Impossible.