Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“He’d just broken your heart. Like I was gonna let that slide.” Harm tossed a dish towel over her left shoulder. “It’s not my fault Ex-Lax makes chocolate chews.”

Dalton couldn’t help but wonder what they were having for dessert.

“Have fun, you two.” Heath put his arm around Lyric as they walked toward the front door. “If you do get freaky in my kitchen, please use bleach and lots of it.”

Harmony took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she watched them go. “Don’t think we’ll need the bleach.”

“Why do you say that?” Dalton wasn’t playing hard to get so much as I’m-not-easy.

“I know you’re into me, but I don’t know why you’re … oh.” Her voice fell away as her eyes fastened onto the front of his slacks. “I get it.”

“Get what?” He was baffled.

“I don’t know how to bring this up.” She never took her eyes from his zipper.

“Bring what up?” He didn’t know how to react. He’d never had a woman stare at him like that when he was fully clothed before. It was disconcerting.

“You know … your little problem.” She nodded at the front of his pants. “Want me to run across the street and borrow some of Elroy McTavish’s Viagra?”

He felt himself blanche as things finally sunk in. “Oh, God no. No, no, no. I don’t have …” He couldn’t even get the word to come out of his mouth. “All of my parts are in perfect working order.”

“Whew, thank God.” Harm fanned herself. “I was getting worried.” Her eyes scrunched up. “So what’s the problem then?”

* * *

Chapter 14

* * *

He was still trying to answer that question half an hour later, as they worked their way through meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a really delicious spinach salad. Because now that he’d gotten to know her better, now that he knew what made her tick, there really wasn’t a problem. In fact, if things went according to plan, he’d have her handcuffed to her bed in under an hour. Especially if they skipped the dessert she’d taken to calling Brownie Surprise.

He didn’t mind the brownie part, but the surprise part made him wary as hell.

Not wary enough to leave, though. Not now that she was finally letting him in a little. Normally, that was the last thing he wanted in a woman he was dating. He liked to keep things neat and compartmentalized—it helped him keep his eye on the ball, so to speak, when it came to the Wranglers.

For his entire adult life, work had come first. Sure, he liked to play hard, and he definitely liked the rush of adrenaline that came with extreme sports. But when he was working, he was working. He gave it the same single-minded attention that he gave BASE jumping, where his life depended on his focus.

But ever since Harmony had come along, that focus had eroded some. He thought about her when he was at work—even when she wasn’t handcuffed in his office. He wondered what she was up to, what she was thinking. What she would look like spread eagled on his bed. Oh, and of course, what diabolically evil thing she was going to do next to keep him on his toes.

“I’d think all of this silence was you lost in yo

ur thoughts, but based on the way you inhaled your food, I’d say you were too busy chewing to make polite dinner conversation.” Her smile of satisfaction was a thing of beauty. She was a feeder, and it was obvious, despite whatever bad attitude she projected, that she liked watching other people enjoy her labor of love.

“First time I’ve had homemade food in a very long time.” The last time must have been when his mother was around. She’d always made Thanksgiving dinner, even though drive-thrus provided his meals the rest of the year. Now he could afford to eat at the finest restaurants instead of off the value menu, but he still loved the taste of homemade mashed potatoes.

Harmony brought over dessert—the pan of brownies, along with some fresh-cut strawberries and homemade whipped cream. “Can I get you some dessert? I didn’t think about the fact that you’re twice my size and eat like a football player when I dished up your meal.”

“I eat like a football player when you’re cooking.” He grinned. “Everything you make is amazing. But I’m finished, thanks.” At least with food.

“Are you sure?” She stood up and started toward the coffeepot on the counter, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap.

“I’m positive. A brownie isn’t what I want.” He wanted her. All of her this time, and he aimed to have her.

“Oh, really?” She shifted until she was straddling him, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “What exactly do you want then?”

That was a loaded question if ever he’d heard one.

He wanted so many things he didn’t even know where to start. Had wanted them from the minute he’d seen her raising hell in that biker bar. But right now what he wanted was a taste of her. To cover her mouth with his own, to slide his tongue deep, and to kiss her until her lips were swollen and her sex was wet.