Dead Sexy
Kimberly Raye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIMBERLY RAYE has always been an incurable romantic. While she enjoys reading all types of fiction, her favourites, the books that touch her soul, are romance novels. From sexy to thrilling, sweet to humorous, she likes them all. But what she really loves is writing romance—the hotter the better! She started her first novel back in high school and has been writing ever since. Kim lives deep in the heart of the Texas Hill Country with her very own cowboy, Curt, and their young children. She’s an avid reader (she reads all the Blaze® books) who loves Diet Dr Pepper, chocolate, Toby Keith, chocolate, alpha males—especially vampires—and chocolate. Kim also loves to hear from readers. you can visit her online at www.kimberlyraye.com or at www.myspace.com/ kimberlyrayebooks.

This book is dedicated to cowboys the world over

and the women who love them!

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Copyright

1

HE NEEDED A WOMAN.

If Jake McCann had been anywhere else in the free world, he would have headed for the nearest singles bar. But he was stuck in the middle of nowhere—aka Skull Creek, Texas—and so he’d headed for its one and only pickup spot: the forty-second annual Founder’s Day festival, a weeklong celebration that kicked off with tonight’s carnival.

He tipped back the brim of his Stetson and studied his surroundings. The rides had been set up on the ten-acre stretch of gravel parking lot behind the local high school. Pastureland surrounded the area, stretching endlessly in all directions, reminding Jake exactly how far out of his element he really was.

No blinding lights or slabs of concrete. No sirens wailing in the distance or horns honking. Instead he heard the whir of rides, barks of laughter and the cry of a violin from the country two-step that drifted from the large tent at the rear of the carnival, where a battle of the local bands had commenced.

There was a giant Ferris wheel and a brightly lit merry-go-round, along with a few more daring rides. Mad Teacups. The Whirligig. The Octopus. Booths lined the main strip, offering everything from the chance to knock down a dozen milk cans and win a giant stuffed SpongeBob, to hoop shots for a dollar.

He shifted his attention to the two brunettes who stood munching hot dogs near the ringtoss. His gaze locked with one of them and hunger brightened her eyes. She licked her lips suggestively and lust echoed through him. His gaze caught and held number two, who eyed him with the same blatant interest. Her wedding ring winked as she lifted the hot dog to her lips, and he turned away.

His gaze slid to a pretty blonde who clasped the hand of a young boy and dragged him after her. Her brother. Jake knew it even though he didn’t know her.

He could see into her thoughts, taste the frustration in her mouth, feel the displeasure that prickled her skin. She’d been stuck babysitting and she wasn’t at all happy about it. She’d wanted to hang with her boyfriend tonight. She’d wanted to…

Jake shook away the thought and hopped off that horse before it could run away with him. He was wired enough on his own without letting someone else’s fantasies feed the desire already gripping him tight.

He spotted another woman. A knockout in her late thirties. Married. Mentally counting the seconds until she could slip away from her husband and rendezvous with his brother over by the Haunted House. They’d been seeing each other off and on for the past three years. He’d become an addiction she couldn’t do without.

Jake knew the feeling.

He had his own addiction.

His own curse.

Not for long.

He’d searched and watched and waited for the past ten years since discovering the means to free himself, and the time had finally come. In nine days he would escape the hunger that held him captive. He would face his past, his sire, and he would defeat him—and then he would be normal again.

A man rather than a vampire.

If he intended to be victorious, he had to be at the top of his game.

Fully alert.

Physically strong.

Emotionally ready.

Powerful.

And there was only one surefire way to beef up his strength—he needed to feed.

Not in the traditional sense. There were some perks to being over one hundred years old—namely he could go days without sinking his fangs into a sweet, succulent female. Contrary to popular myth, the need for blood didn’t define him. It was just a part of who he was.

He was also a giant mass of energy.

Tonight’s hunt was all about charging that energy. About finding another life force, preferably while it was at its most vibrant, and soaking up the extra voltage.

Tonight’s hunt was all about S-E-X.

That’s why Jake had left Houston and his motorcycle design business to head for the hill country. He wanted plenty of time to prepare for the coming confrontation. He’d ridden into town just a few hours ago, over a week before his sire was due to return to Skull Creek to relive the turning.

It was what all vampires did on the anniversary of their change. On the exact date, at the exact moment, each was instinctively called back to the site where he or she had left their humanity behind. While reliving the moment of death, a vampire was at his most vulnerable.

Jake had managed to pinpoint the location and he intended to launch his attack while his sire was at his weakest. But he wasn’t going to rely on timing alone to guarantee victory.

He’d checked himself into the nearest motel and wasted zero time in heading straight for the one event that offered the biggest selection of females—the carnival that kicked off a weeklong celebration honoring the town’s founders. In particular, Sam Black who’d single-handedly fought off a group of Santa Anna’s men during the Texas Revolution and preserved the small settlement of Skull Creek.

The man was a legend. A hero.

To everyone but Jake.

He walked toward the ticket booth, looking, sensing, feeling. It was another perk of being what he was and the only one he was truly going to miss. Trust had never been a high commodity with the people in his life. Not during the thirty years he’d been human nor in the hundred-plus years since.

Luckily he didn’t walk into any situation blindly. He could look into any human’s eyes and see their darkest fear, their fondest dream, their deepest desire, their true character. It had saved his ass more than once since he’d been turned and it also kept him from hooking up with the wrong type of woman.

Namely the nice kind. The ones interested in more than a night of hot, wild, steamy sex. The sort who wanted love and marriage and commitment.

All three were impossible for him.

Love? Hell, he’d never been in love with anyone, not when he’d been just a man, and certainly not since he’d turned. He wasn’t even sure such a thing existed.

And marriage? Immortality sort of put a crimp in the whole till-death-do-us-part deal.

As for commitment…He had that one down pat, but it didn’t involve a female. His dedication centered solely on finding and destroying the vampire who’d turned him back in 1883 and freeing himself once and for all.

Jake’s only real potential when it came to the opposite sex involved lots of bone-melting orgasms. That much he could and would guarantee every woman. Rather than deceive anyone, he preferred to be as up-front as possible. Obviously he wasn’t anxious to get himself staked, so he kept the vampire part to himself. But his intentions—sex and nothing but sex—he made crystal clear.

Satisfaction.

That was the only promise Jake ever made.

The only one he could keep.

He kept walking, his boots crunching gravel with each step. The cool evening breeze slid over his bare arms and whispered over his skin, feeding the anxiety already gripping him tight. His gaze slid this way and that.

Just beyond the roar of the rides and the squeals of laughter, he heard the sharp intake of breath. A soft gasp that popped in his head and stoked the fire in his blood.

The sound drew him around the corner, away from the games, toward the food section which had been separated into three aisles: Sweets Boulevard, Vegetable Drive and Hearty Meat Street.

He turned down the first aisle and stopped a few feet shy of one booth draped in vibrant pink tulle. His gaze zeroed in on the woman who waited for a mountain of cotton candy to be draped around a white paper cone.

Her long strawberry-blond hair had been pulled back into a simple ponytail. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, the name Dog the Bounty Hunter emblazoned across the back.

She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But there was just something about her…a warmth that sizzled through the air between them and drew his undivided attention.

“Thanks, Molly,” she told the forty-something woman who handed her the treat. She fished in her pocket for a dollar bill.

“On the house,” Molly told her, waving the money away. “Just make sure you squeeze me in for a color tomorrow afternoon. I want to look my best for the rib cook-off tomorrow night.” She grinned. “I think Arliss Dupree is going to ask me out. I heard from Mabel who heard from Louise who heard from Denise Duttmeyer that he was seen stocking up on antacids.” A dreamy look crept into the older woman’s eyes. “I just love a man who plans ahead.”

“Call the salon first thing in the morning and I’ll work you in.” She stuffed the money back into her pocket and started to turn.

“And, by the way, just you never mind about Bill.” The cotton candy lady waved her hand. “He’s a slimy turd and you’re better off without him.”

The blonde stiffened, and even though Jake couldn’t see her face, he felt the disappointment that rolled through her. And the embarrassment.

“And here I always thought he was such a nice boy,” Molly went on. “Just goes to show that you can’t trust anybody, even a savings-and-loan officer. If he’ll lie about going to Vegas on the pretense of attending a seminar only to have an orgy with a couple of strippers, he’ll fudge on interest rates, that’s for damn sure.”

“I…It’s okay, really. It’s not like we were engaged or anything.” Not yet.

The silent thought crossed the distance to Jake and echoed in his head. Anger rolled through him and his fingers tightened. He had the sudden urge to hunt down the slimy turd and beat him to a bloody pulp.

“If you need anything,” Molly told her, “you know where to find me. Or if you want my nephew Zeke to break his ankles, I can arrange that, too. Zeke always liked you, you know.”

“Really? I never would have guessed, what with the way he ran over my lunch with his bike back in the sixth grade.”

“Aw, honey, my poor, departed Reggie—God rest his soul—did the same thing to me back when we were in grade school.” Molly beamed. “Men just have their own way of expressing themselves. Haven’t you read that Mars and Venus book? You really ought to read that. You might have better luck with the fellas.”

“Thanks.” Not. The thought slid across the distance to him as clear and distinct as if she’d whispered directly in his ear. “I’ll keep my eye out for it.” She turned then, giving him his first real look at her face.

His heart paused and he stopped breathing for a long, drawn-out moment. Not that he needed oxygen, mind you, but old habits really were hard to break. And this particular one made it easier to blend in and preserve his anonymity.

His pulse quickened as his gaze roved over her.

She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful. She wore very little makeup and her mouth wasn’t as full as he usually liked. But there was an excitement that burned in her whiskey-colored eyes as she stared at the candy confection in her hand. A vibrancy that zipped down his spine and fireballed smack-dab in his gut. All thoughts of revenge faded into a rush of need that drew his body painfully tight.

He watched as she touched the fluffy sweet to her lips and felt the satisfaction that pulsed hot and consuming at the first luscious bite. She closed her eyes, letting the candy melt on her tongue, but the taste lasted only a few blissful seconds and did little to relieve the anxiety knotting her muscles.

Because she didn’t really want cotton candy. Or funnel cakes. Or caramel apples. Or any of the other treats being dished up at the various booths that lined the aisle.

She wanted something richer—and much more potent.

She stiffened and two tiny lines pinched between her eyebrows. A subtle change that no one else seemed to notice. Hell, other than the occasional hello from a friendly face, no one really noticed her at all.

Except for Jake.

He saw the disappointment that clouded her gaze and the stiff way she held her shoulders and he felt the rest—the hot rush of blood through her veins, the frantic beat of her heart, the buzz of her nerves and the tingle of her nipples.

She was a bubbling cauldron of repressed sexual energy just waiting to boil over.

Jake smiled and stepped forward.

It was time to turn up the heat.

2

NIKKI BRAXTON WAS through with men and relationships.

Done.

Finished.

That’s all, folks!

She eyed the mountain of whispery pink sugar and smiled. From here on out, she was eating her way to happiness.

She lapped at the sweetness and focused on the rush of happy that surged from her brain to the tips of her toes and back up again. Sugar was definitely the way to go.

That’s what she told herself as she snagged a piece of cotton candy with her finger and popped it into her mouth. Her taste buds tingled and her frustration eased. Temporarily, of course.

But then, that was the story of her life.

Another bite, another surge of satisfaction, and she started to think that maybe, just maybe, the phone call from Bill two weeks ago, complete with a very graphic, albeit accidental, image from his picture phone, had been a good thing.

Okay, it hadn’t been so great that he’d purposely sent the pic to his bowling buddies, who, in turn, had shown everyone and their dog. Which meant the entire town had shared in her humiliation.

Even so, it wasn’t the end of the world.

So what if Bill—the two-timing jerk—had cheated on her? So what if he was still in Vegas, holed up with two pairs of fake boobies, having a bona fide orgy, just as Molly had said? Good riddance. He’d been a mama’s boy who still lived at home, and she’d wasted seven months on him already. Seven months of Friday-night dinners with him and his mother and Saturday-night movie dates with him and his mother and Sunday picnics with him and—you guessed it—his mother.

While seven didn’t sound like a lot, add it to the sixteen months she’d wasted with Roger Beeville (he’d had a thing for women’s shoes that had driven him to swipe every pair during tournament week down at the bowling alley), the thirteen months before that with Stan Caufield (he’d had a thing for his secretary…and his cleaning lady, and the clerk down at the video store and the acrylic-nail girl at Nancy’s Nails) and the eighteen months before that with Jerry Whatshisname (he’d had a thing for his old football buddy named Buck), and it amounted to a lot of wasted time. Factor in at least six months between each for a decent mourning period (and enough Hershey’s Kisses to dull the pain), and we were talking years.

Forget the optimistic twenty-two-year-old she’d been with a brand-spanking-new degree in cosmetology and dreams of her own happily ever after—a nice, reliable man, two kids, a couple of dogs and a house with a huge backyard. She was now thirty years old and the stressed-out owner of her own hair salon, To Dye For. She had a monstrous bank loan and an endless string of bad relationships with dysfunctional men.

She also had a giant mortgage.

While she’d given up on the guy for now, she saw no reason to hinge everything on Mr. Nice and Reliable. Sure, she wasn’t ready to go it alone when it came to kids, or even the dogs, but she was more than capable of buying a house and taking at least a small step toward her happily ever after.

She’d done so last week and had spent every night since making a list of needed repairs—they didn’t call it a fixerupper for nothing. She still had a lot to do, from painting to new flooring, but she felt good. Productive.

If only she felt satisfied.

Instead she was wound tighter than an extrakinky perm. She needed an orgasm in the worst way.

The knowledge stuck in her brain as she turned to walk toward the dunking booth just around the corner.

Not that she couldn’t head home right this second and treat herself if she felt like it. She shopped online, like every other woman in her small town, and she had her own personal arsenal of female sex toys. She was more than capable of handling the situation on her own. But she knew from past experience that the release would be all too brief. Even more, there was no satisfaction in snuggling with a multispeed vibrator.

She needed a flesh-and-blood man for that.

Hence Bill.

Seven months of snuggling and cuddling and making out—when they were able to elude his mother, that is—and she’d finally been ready to go all the way. She’d planned a big welcome home at his place, complete with a home-cooked dinner and herself as the dessert. A huge offering for a woman who’d grown up hearing her great-aunt Izzie preach, “A man won’t buy the cow if he gets the milk for free.”

Old-fashioned. Sexist. The saying was both. And it was also true. Nikki’s mother—Izzie’s niece—had spent her entire life “giving it away,” and not once had she ever had a meaningful, lasting relationship.

There’d been no joint checking account, no monogrammed towels, no picture perfect family gathered around the Thanksgiving table. There’d been only Aunt Izzie, Nikki, Nikki’s mother, and whatever man Nikki had been calling “Uncle” that week.

Nikki had wanted more for herself. A solid, lasting relationship. Permanent. And so she’d taken Izzie’s advice and held back.

Not that she was a virgin, mind you. She’d done the deed a handful of times in the past. With Jerry (before he’d started wearing her underwear). And with Stan (before he’d started wearing her shoes). But with each man she’d waited a decent amount of time. Long enough to preserve her nice-girl status and really get to know him.

Or so she’d thought.

She tugged at another fluff of pink and popped it into her mouth. There. Talk about ecstasy. No batteries needed. No waiting period required. No weird hidden fetish ready to jump up and bite her when she least expected it.

It didn’t get much better.

“Wanna bet?” The deep, masculine voice slid into her ears and snagged her out of the sugar high dulling her senses.

Every nerve in Nikki’s body snapped to attention as she stopped and turned. Her gaze collided with a pair of eyes so gray and translucent they looked silver.

Excitement pumped through her, followed by a bolt of desire that gripped every inch of her body and stalled the air in her lungs. She forgot to breathe for the next several seconds as she drank in the cowboy who’d come up behind her.

He had a great face. Not the perfect GQ kind but a face that said he was every bit as rough and rugged as his voice implied.

Beneath the brim of his black Stetson, his gaze gleamed hot and bright and knowing. Stubble darkened his strong jaw, circled his sensuous mouth and crept down the column of his throat. Dark hair curled from beneath his hat and brushed his collar.

He stood well over six feet, his shoulders broad and massive beneath a black T-shirt. Just below the edge of his sleeves, ornate slave-band tattoos circled each muscular bicep. Faded jeans cupped his crotch, clung to his thighs and traced the outline of his long, sinewy legs. He wore scuffed black cowboy boots and an air of raw sexuality that made her nipples tingle.

Oh, boy.

That was her first cohesive thought when she actually started to breathe again.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t her first thought.

Number one? Oh, no.

She became keenly aware of the raggedy old tee and baggy jeans she’d pulled on prior to leaving the house. Shapeless. Unattractive. The perfect attire for stripping and painting the walls of her dream house.

For meeting hot guys? It definitely lacked.

Then again, she hadn’t come here to meet guys. She’d come to satisfy her sweet tooth.

The reminder was enough to spark some sense, and she forced her lips to move. “Excuse me?” she finally managed.

His grin was slow and easy, wiping away the mesmerizing intensity and replacing it with an irresistible charm that eased the thunder of her heart.

Instead of answering her question, he simply stared at her, into her, for a long moment before he nodded toward the mountain of spun sugar she held in her hand. “Mind if I have a taste?”

It wasn’t even close to a decent pickup line, and she couldn’t stifle the disappointment that rushed through her.

Obviously this tall, dark and delicious cowboy had fallen head over heels for her cotton candy rather than her.

Just the way Bill had fallen for the strippers and Jerry had fallen for that pair of silver Michael Kors sandals he’d bought for her birthday.

Another guy with a fetish. Great. Just great.

Not that it mattered. She’d sworn off men, and this guy was just more fuel to add to the proverbial fire.

She shrugged. “Sure.” She held up the pink treat. “Knock yourself out.”

His grin widened and he leaned forward.

And then he kissed her.

3

HIS STRONG, PURPOSEFUL mouth claimed hers. His tongue swept her bottom lip, licking and nibbling and—

Wait a second.

Nikki’s heart thundered as she struggled to grasp the current scenario. This was not happening. No way was a hot, sexy stranger kissing her for no apparent reason, in front of God and everyone, including the senior ladies’ bingo squad. From the corner of her eye Nikki glimpsed a dozen pairs of bifocals trained on her.

On him.

On them.

No friggin’ way.

Just as the denial registered in her shocked brain, he deepened the kiss. His tongue pushed inside and tangled with her own. All rational thought faded in a tsunami of hunger that washed over her, drenched every inch of her body and made her tremble from the sheer force.

He tasted like sweet honey and hot, potent male—and something she couldn’t quite name. Something dark and dangerous and mesmerizing.

Before she could stop herself, she melted against him. Her hands slid up his chest and her fingers caught the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck.

His arms closed around her. Strong hands pressed against the base of her spine, drawing her closer. She met him chest for chest, hip for hip, until she felt every incredible inch of him flush against her body—the hard planes of his chest, the solid muscles of his thighs, the growing erection beneath his zipper.

Heat spread from her cheeks, creeping south. The slow burn traveled inch by tantalizing inch, until her nipples throbbed and wetness flooded between her thighs, and all because he’d kissed her.

Because she’d kissed him.

Because they were still kissing.

Beyond the buzz of desire and the chaos of the carnival, she heard the shocked “Why, I never.”

Mumbled agreement echoed among the old women gathered nearby, followed by a “Disgraceful,” and a “Hmph, looks like the apple don’t fall too far from the tree.”

The words registered and she stiffened. Tearing her lips away, she stumbled backward.

Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. “I…We…” She shook her head and tried to make some sense out of everything. “What just happened?”

He eyed her, his gaze hot and bright as he stared down at her. “I kissed you.”

“I know that. But why? I mean, I thought you wanted a taste of my candy.”

“I never said that.”

“You implied it.”

His gaze darkened as it touched her mouth, and again she felt the overwhelming chemistry that pulsed between them. So hot and powerful that it was almost palpable. “I wanted a taste of you.” He licked his own lips. “I still do.”

So do I.

She fought down the shameless thought and focused on her outrage rather than the desire fogging her senses. Her spine went ramrod straight. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re trying to pull, but what you just did was way out of line, buddy.”

“Is that so?” His eyebrow arched as if he knew she didn’t buy the outburst any more than he did.

“You’re lucky I don’t call security and have them haul your butt away for accosting me.”

“Accosting, huh? Sounds interesting.” He grinned and her heart kicked up a notch.

“You can’t just walk around kissing strange women.”

“I didn’t kiss a strange woman. I kissed a woman who kissed me back.”

“I didn’t mean to…That is, you caught me off guard. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you were following your instincts.” He winked. “It’s the basic law of attraction.”

“I’m not attracted to you.”

“Why not?”

Good question. “Because…I’m just not. I don’t even know your name. And you don’t know mine. We—” she waved her hand back and forth between the two of them “—don’t even know each other.”

“We could get to know each other.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m asking you in, sugar. To my hotel room. I’m just passing through and I don’t have much time.” His grin faded. “I want you and you want me. We should do something about that.”

“Well, I…I…” I never was right there on the tip of her tongue. But the last thing she wanted was to admit the sad truth out loud. She’d never had anyone make such a proposition.

She’d never wanted one.

Until now.

She shook away the thought. “You’re arrogant. And presumptuous.”

“And right.” He leaned in close, his lips grazing her ear. “You do want me.”

“Says you.”

“Says this.” He moved so quickly that she didn’t have time to blink, much less anticipate his touch. His fingertips grazed the side of her breast, and her nipple instantly pebbled. Her lips trembled and she swayed ever so slightly. “So let’s do something about it.”

“Sex,” she blurted. “I…This is crazy.” She wasn’t doing it. She couldn’t. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but I don’t…I can’t…I mean, I won’t. I don’t do one-night stands.”

He didn’t say a word. He just leaned back and stared down at her. Her nipples tingled in response. The pressure started deep, spreading, consuming, until it was all she could do not to lean forward and press herself shamelessly against him.

Talk about a mixed message.

He looked at her for several long seconds, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was turning him down. Oddly enough, there was nothing arrogant about his expression. Rather, he seemed genuinely surprised.

Finally he shook his head and reached into his pocket. His warm fingers played at hers as he reached for her hand.

“I’m at the Skull Creek Inn.” He pressed a cold piece of plastic into her palm. “If you change your mind.”

But she wouldn’t, because Nikki Braxton didn’t jump into bed with a stranger, no matter how good-looking. She’d spent her entire life playing the good girl, holding back, convinced that by doing so she could guarantee a solid, lasting relationship.

And how’s that working for you?

The question haunted her for the next few hours as she gorged herself on funnel cakes, homemade fudge and a huge hunk of Miss Emma’s award-winning chocolate cake, and tried to forget the most incredible kiss of her life.

But she couldn’t forget, she finally admitted as she climbed behind the wheel of her Ford Explorer. Any more than she could avoid the truth: despite her best efforts, she was no closer to her own happily ever after than her mother had been. Even more, she was sexually frustrated to the point that she’d melted at the booted feet of a virtual stranger. And she’d totally embarrassed herself in front of the ladies’ bingo squad.

Her flawless reputation had died in a matter of seconds, and just like that she’d gone from good girl to a chip off the old block.

Forget frustrated. She was desperate.

And there was only one way to ease the anxiety eating up her common sense.

She stared at the key card he’d pressed into her hand, and the implication rushed through her brain.

Pleasure, pure and simple. Nothing less but nothing more.

Her fingers closed around the plastic, and she had the sudden urge to chuck it into the nearest trash can.

No man’s going to buy the cow if he can get the milk for free.

But this wasn’t about making a purchase.

This was strictly a barter. Sex for sex. Temporary.

For the first time in Nikki’s life that didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

She keyed the ignition, gunned the engine and pulled out of the high school parking lot. Five minutes later, she pulled up next to a shiny black-and-chrome chopper parked behind Skull Creek’s one and only motel.

Fighting down a wave of nerves, she walked to the door and knocked.

He answered wearing nothing but a pair of blue jeans and a knowing expression that said he’d had no doubt that she would show up.

He’d been waiting for her.

She had half a mind to turn and walk the other way. He looked too certain with his molten silver eyes and sensuous mouth. Too handsome. His chest was hard and muscular. Dark wisps of silky hair swirled from nipple to nipple. He had broad shoulders and sinewy arms. The ornate tattoos around his biceps made him seem darker and more dangerous. Primitive. Forbidden.

And she could no more resist him than Eve had been able to resist that ripe, juicy apple.

“Nikki Braxton,” she blurted. “Thirty years old. I own the local beauty salon. Born and raised right here in town. I like the Pussycat Dolls, chocolate pudding and playing solitaire on my computer. And I’m forever in search of new highlight colors.”

And then she kissed him.

4

THE MOMENT NIKKI touched her lips to his, Jake felt a wave of heat unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Her lips were so warm, so hungry, so damned different from any female he’d ever been with.

He was always the aggressor.

The predator.

Not this time. She backed him up into the hotel room and kicked the door shut with her foot. Her tongue tangled with his and she slid her arms around his neck. Her small fingers splayed in his hair, and heat shimmered down his spine from the point of contact.

His gut clenched and his body throbbed and suddenly he was back in the driver’s seat. He slid his arms around her waist, shoved his hands beneath her T-shirt and felt her bare skin. She was soft and warm and his body trembled. He steered her around toward the bed and urged her down. He pulled back, his hands going to the button on his jeans. He made quick work of them, shoving the denim down his legs so fast that it was a wonder he didn’t fall flat on his ass.

Her gaze fell to his massive erection and she hesitated. She was having second thoughts, damning herself for being so impulsive.

Jake fought for his control and steeled himself against the delicious heat coming off her body. Because he didn’t just want to take from her. He wanted her to give.

The notion stuck. A crazy, insane notion, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d spent a century taking, drinking, feeding, and for once he wanted to know what it felt like for a woman to give herself. Not because he demanded but because she wanted to.

He closed his hands over her shoulders, guiding her down onto the mattress. His fingers skittered over the soft material of her T-shirt, molding the cotton to her full breasts.

Easy…

The warning sounded in his head, and he managed to move his hands away before he could stroke her perfectly outlined nipples.

He scooted down to pull off her sneakers and toss them to the floor. Then his fingers went to the button on her jeans. His heart pounded and his pulse raced and an ache gripped him from the inside out. He stiffened, fighting the urge that roared inside of him.

Slow…

He smoothed the denim down her legs. His fingertips brushed her bare skin, grazing and stirring. The friction ripped through him, testing his control with each delicious inch. Finally, finally, he stood near the foot of the bed and pulled the jeans free of her long legs.

Clad only in the thin cotton shirt and lace panties, she looked so damned sweet and innocent. So opposite of any of the women he usually kept company with. He grew harder, hotter, and anticipation zipped up and down his spine.

His gaze traveled from her calves, up her lush thighs, to the wispy lace barely covering the soft strip of blond silk between her legs.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. With a sweep of his tongue he licked his lips. The urge to feel her pressed against his mouth nearly sent him over the edge. He wanted to part her with his tongue and taste all of her secrets. Need pounded, steady, demanding, and sent the blood jolting through his veins at an alarming rate.

The hunger roared inside of him and made him think crazy-ass thoughts. Like how she was just about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and how he wanted her more than any other woman in his past.

Because she was different from every woman.

He stared deep into her eyes. Gone was the glimmer of loneliness he’d glimpsed earlier. He saw only uncertainty now. And anticipation.

His hands started to tremble and he felt a driving force wrap around him, propel him toward her. He dropped to the bed beside her and reached out. His fingers brushed the velvet of one hip.

It wasn’t enough.

His hands seemed to move of their own accord, traveling the length of her body, exploring every curve, every dip, lingering at the lace covering her moist heat.

He traced the pattern with his fingertip, moving lower until he could feel the slit between her legs. She gasped and her legs opened. She wanted more and he wanted to give it to her. He followed the edge of her panties and barely resisted the need to dip his fingers beneath and plunge one deep into her lush body.

Not yet. She was still too stiff. Too wary. Despite the growing desire that flushed her skin a bright, delicious pink.

Jake tamped down on his hunger and forced his hand up over her flat belly. Her soft flesh quivered beneath his palm as he moved higher, pushing her T-shirt up until he uncovered one creamy breast.

His fingertips circled the rose-colored nipple, and he inhaled sharply when the already turgid peak ripened even more.

Leaning over, he touched his lips to her navel, dipped his tongue inside and swirled. She whimpered, the sound urging him on. He licked a path up her fragrant skin, teasing and nibbling, until he reached one full breast. Closing his lips over her swollen nipple, he pulled and tugged.

He swept his hands downward, cupping her heat through the scanty lace of her panties. Wisps of silky hair brushed his palm like licks of fire, stoking the hunger that already raged inside of him.

She gasped and arched toward him. But despite her reaction, there was something inside of her that still held back.

“Jake McCann,” he murmured, his lips grazing her nipple. “I was born and raised in a hole-in-the-wall town called Junction. My favorite color is blue and I like horses.”

THE DEEP, HUSKY VOICE echoed in Nikki’s ears, and she opened her eyes to stare up at the man leaning over. His hand stilled between her legs, his palm pressed tightly to her sex.

“C-can you ride?” She wasn’t sure how she managed the question. The heat from his touch seeped into her, making her head spin. But she managed anyway, her curiosity getting the best of her.

His gaze glittered hot and bright, like liquid silver. “Darlin’, I can ride better than I can walk.”

He hooked one finger under the edge of her panties and pushed the lace to the side. He trailed his fingertips over her moist flesh, his gaze never leaving hers. As if he knew how wound up she was. As if he knew his effect on her.

He knew her.

Inside and out.

She stiffened at the unsettling thought. But then he pushed a finger deep inside and she stopped thinking altogether.

She gasped, her lips parting, her eyes drifting closed at the intimate caress.

“Open your eyes,” Jake demanded, his voice raw with savage lust. “I want to look at you. I want to see what’s in your eyes when you come apart for me.”

Nikki obeyed and he caught her gaze. He slipped another finger inside her.

Her legs turned to butter. Her knees fell open, giving him better access.

But he didn’t go deeper and give her more of what she wanted. Instead he stared down at her, his gaze so compelling that she couldn’t help herself. She arched her hips, rising up to meet him, drawing him in.

The more she moved, the deeper he went. The pressure built.

“That’s it, sugar. You’re getting closer.”

She continued to move from side to side, creating the most delicious friction, her insides slick, sweltering from his invasion. She tried to breathe, to pull oxygen into her lungs, but she couldn’t seem to get enough. Pleasure rippled from her head to her toes, and the room seemed to spin around her. Her hips rotated. Her nerves buzzed.

She hadn’t felt so good in a long, long time.

If ever.

She ignored the outrageous thought and concentrated on the feelings roiling inside of her. Her head fell back. Her lips parted. A low moan rumbled up her throat and spilled past her lips.

He leaned down and caught the sound with his mouth. His hand fell away from her as he thrust his tongue deep, mimicking the careful attention his purposeful fingers had given her only seconds before.

Straddling her, his knees trapped her thighs. He leaned back to gaze down at her. He was a black silhouette, a man made of shadows, a stranger.

She knew his name, she reminded herself. And his favorite color. And there was just something about him, an understanding that said he knew her all too well. Her likes. Her dislikes. Her fears.

Hello? We’re talking a one night stand here. Stop thinking and just feel.

She touched his bare chest, felt the wisps of hair beneath her palm, the ripple of muscle as he sucked in a deep breath. Her attention shifted lower and she grasped him, trailing her hand up and down his shaft. His flesh pulsed in her palm and a shiver danced up her spine. She wanted to feel him. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything.

He thrust into her grip as she worked him for several long moments before he caught her wrist and forced her hand away. He leaned down and snatched his jeans off the floor. Pulling a condom from his pocket, he ripped open the package and rolled the latex down his penis.

And then he touched her.

His hands started on her rib cage and slid her T-shirt up and over her head. He touched her anywhere, everywhere, as if he knew what she craved better than he knew himself.

He did.

The truth hit her as she stared into his silver gaze and saw her own ferocious hunger mirrored in the bright depths. He knew her, all right. He knew her frustration. Her need.

He felt them both.

She wondered if he had his own string of fetish-ridden ex-girlfriends. He lowered his head then and drew her nipple into the moist heat of his mouth, and suddenly the only thing on her mind was touching him. She slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling his warm skin and hard muscle.

He suckled her breast, his teeth grazing the soft globes, nipping and biting with just enough pressure to make her gasp. Her breast swelled and throbbed.

Jake licked a path across her skin to coax the other breast in the same torturous manner. A decadent heat spiraled through her and she moved her pelvis. She wanted him, surrounding her, inside of her.

“Not yet,” he murmured as if he’d read her thoughts. He slid down her slick body and left a blazing path with the velvet tip of his tongue. Strong, purposeful hands parted her thighs. Almost reverently, he stroked her quivering sex.

The breath rushed from her lungs when she felt his damp mouth against the inside of one thigh. Then his lips danced across her skin to the part of her that burned the fiercest.

She gasped as his tongue parted her. He eased his hands under her buttocks, tilting her to fit more firmly against his mouth. His shoulders urged her legs apart until she lay completely open.

He nuzzled her, drinking in her scent before he devoured her with his mouth. Every thrust of his tongue, every caress of his lips, felt like a raw act of possession that branded her mine, mine, all mine.

If only.

As soon as the thought pushed its way into her head, she pushed it right back out. There was no hidden meaning behind his actions. It was all about the pursuit of pleasure.

A temporary pleasure.

Regret washed through her, but then his fingers parted her slick folds and his tongue swept her. Up and down. Back and forth.

Heat drenched her. She bucked and her body convulsed. A rush of moisture flooded between her thighs, and he lapped at her as if he’d never tasted anything so sweet.

When she calmed to a slight shudder, he slid up the damp length of her body, gathered her in his arms and kissed her. She tasted her essence—wild and ripe, bitter and sweet—on his lips and desire spurted through her.

She slid her hands over his shoulders and traced the sinewy contours of his body. His length pulsed between her legs, pressing against her tender flesh.

But he didn’t enter her.

Not yet.

Instead he devoured her with his mouth, his hands roaming her body, stroking pleasure points she never knew existed.

“Now,” she begged when she could take no more. She arched against him, opening herself up, desperate to pull him deep.

He growled and grasped her hips. Thrusting, he joined them in one swift, complete motion.

The air rushed from her lungs, only to rush back in as she gasped.

He pulsed deep inside of her for a long, decadent moment before he started to move. He withdrew, only to push back inside, burying himself deep.

Once. Twice.

She skimmed her hands over his back, urging him harder, faster, as she felt the bubbling heat of another climax.

Again?

She couldn’t believe how quickly she was ready for round two. Then again, it had been so long since she’d had a round one that it only made sense. It certainly wasn’t Jake himself who stirred her until she was desperate and out of control.

She was horny, that’s all.

She came quickly. She clutched at his shoulders. She cried out his name.

He buried himself one last time deep in her body and went rigid.

Through the fuzzy haze of pleasure, Nikki glimpsed him poised above her, his arms braced on either side. His muscles bulged. His skin glistened with perspiration. His eyes were wide-open. His gaze shimmered, pulsing into a hot, vibrant purple that glowed in the darkness. His lips parted, and she caught a flash of white as he bared his teeth—

Wait a second.

She blinked, and there he was still poised above her. But his eyes were closed, the vibrant color just a memory. His brow furrowed. His lips parted, revealing a row of straight, white, normal teeth. A groan rumbled from his throat as he gave in to his own orgasm. He stiffened, bucking once, twice, before collapsing atop her.

She felt a rush of panic, but then he gathered her in his arms. His strength surrounded her and eased the sudden tension in her body. He nuzzled her neck, his lips warm against her pulse beat.

She closed her eyes and saw him in her mind’s eye. His eyes blazing and his teeth—

Her eyes snapped open. She’d been on the wagon so long that she was hallucinating. She cupped his cheek and felt the warmth of his skin. The faint hint of stubble tickled her palm. Real.

And she wanted more.

The realization hit her, along with a rush of panic. Because she’d never wanted a man so badly.

The wrong man, she reminded herself. Then again, she didn’t know him well enough to know one way or the other at this point. Not that she would ever find out. He was temporary. A fantasy come to life.

And suddenly there seemed nothing wrong with pretending that Jake was the right man. The guy who would sweep her off her feet and carry her over the threshold and love her from this day forward, till death do us part.

It’s not as if he would ever know.

She slid her arms around his neck and gave in to the incredible urge to kiss him.

To love him.

Until the night ended and they said goodbye.

FORGET SUNLIGHT AND wooden stakes.

Neither posed half as much danger as the woman curled up next to him.

Lush. Blatantly sexual. Insatiable.

She was all three. A dream come true to a vampire who fed off sexual energy. Or she would have been except for the fact that, despite all of the above, she was an innocent.

Not a virgin, mind you.

Jake could spot those the way he sensed any other threat. She’d had her share of sexual encounters, but they’d been few and far between. Deep inside, she was naive when it came to men. Still nursing those pie-in-the-sky dreams of a knight in shining armor and forever.

Shit.

Jake eased his arm out from under her. The best thing to do was cut his losses and get the hell out of here right now.

Sure, he’d planned to rejuvenate all night, but the last thing—the very last thing—he needed to do was spend an entire night with Nikki Braxton.

Not because she wanted more from him than he could give but because for a few crazy seconds he’d actually wanted to give her more.

When she’d slid her arms around his neck and stared deep into his eyes as if he were the love of her life, he’d actually let himself get caught up in the fantasy, as well.

He’d liked having a woman look at him with something other than lust in her eyes. He’d liked it too damned much. So much that he’d forgotten himself for those few seconds and the hunger had reared its ugly head and he’d come this close—this friggin’ close—to tasting more than just her sex.

Holy shit.

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. She slept soundly next to him. But he had no illusions that she would stay that way. She would wake just as soon as she regained her strength. Hot and eager for another round.

Her brow furrowed as if she sensed his sudden movement. He touched her forehead and stroked away the worry lines.

Relax. He sent the silent thought and her expression eased.

He reached for the sheet that bunched at the bottom of the bed. He meant to pull it up over her. He really did. But then his gaze snagged on her pink toes and he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to look at her.

One last look.

His gaze traveled over delicate ankles, up her calves, her knees, to her hips. The single strip of pubic hair leading to the slit that separated her lush pink lips.

Jealousy burned through him as he thought of someone—male or female—waxing and pampering and touching her so intimately. Truthfully he’d never cared much for all the primping that most women did these days. He’d come from an era where natural was in. Staring at Nikki, however, he had to admit that he sort of liked the look.

He liked everything about her.

Before he could think too much on the subject, he forced his attention up and on, over her soft, smooth stomach to her rose-tipped breasts. He traced the indentation of her clavicle, the smooth column of her throat.

Her strawberry-blond hair fanned out across the pillow. Her nostrils flared, and a soft snore rumbled past her slightly parted lips.

Pull the sheet up, he told himself. Now.

Before he could get the cover past her waist, his attention snagged on one dark nipple. His mouth watered as he remembered the tight bud against his tongue. As if he’d actually reached out, the tip grew hard, swelling beneath his eyes. He felt the energy whirling inside of her, the wildness as it stirred and grew.

“Where are you going?” Her soft voice pushed past the thunder of his heart, and his gaze collided with hers.

Rich, golden eyes fringed in long eyelashes stared back at him. He had the fleeting thought that he’d climbed from the bed on purpose.

Get while the getting is good, a voice reminded him.

But then she smiled and touched his throbbing erection, and suddenly the only thing he could think of was how he wanted inside of her again.

5

THE FIRST FIERY FINGERS of dawn threatened the horizon as Jake straddled the black-and-chrome motorcycle parked in front of the Skull Creek Inn and keyed the ignition.

He kicked the bike into gear, and a roar split open the early-morning silence. He gunned the engine and shifted into first. Gravel spewed as he left the parking lot behind and swerved out onto Main Street.

A few seconds later, he hit the county road leading out of town and picked up his speed. The wind whipped at him, but it did little to cool the fire heating him from the inside out. He was wired. Fully charged. His senses more alive than they’d been in a very long time.

Over the buzz of the wind he heard the rustle of a rabbit in the nearby brush, the buzz of the crickets, the frantic rrringgg of an alarm clock at the farmhouse barely visible on the horizon. From the corner of his eye he saw a grass snake slither into a nearby bush, the glitter of eyes as a squirrel skittered up a tree. Despite the fading darkness, the stars seemed brighter and the moon a more vibrant silver.

The sharp scent of hay tickled his nostrils, along with the spicy aroma of apples and pumpkins from one of the nearby farms. He smelled the dusty scent of the gravel road before him and the clean tingle of fresh water being pumped from a well a few miles away.

But more than anything he smelled her.

The sweet scent of cotton candy and warm, ripe woman clung to him and filled his head and made him want to haul the bike around and head back to the inn.

To her.

Eight hours, and he still hadn’t had enough. When he’d left her, she’d felt as hot and vibrant as the moment he’d met her, and so he’d had a hell of a time tearing himself away. Shit, he’d stayed an extra ten minutes. Touching her with his eyes. Tracing her features. Watching her sleep. Wanting to touch her again with a desperation he’d never felt before.

He gunned the engine faster, eating up gravel at a frenzied pace.

Ten friggin’ minutes.

He still couldn’t believe it. One had turned to two, and before he’d known it, the alarm on his watch had gone off, sending a jolt of reality through him. He had to get to shelter before he burned to a crisp.

He saw his turn just up ahead. It was little more than a break in the trees, but the path up into the hills was smooth and wide enough for his bike. He slowed and swerved and then he hauled ass again, ducking every so often to avoid a low-hanging branch. Time ticked away and soon pinpoints of light broke through the trees. A few deadly rays needled him here and there as he rushed for cover.

Faster.

Faster.

There.

The trees thinned, and he saw the mouth of the large cave he’d scoped out the night before. A burst of heat washed over him as he broke into a clearing and zoomed the last few feet into the welcoming blackness. The pain blinded him and he skidded to a stop, barely missing the rock wall to his right. The engine ground to a halt and died.

Jake sat there for several seconds, letting the darkness swallow him up and cool his burning flesh. The smell of smoke faded and his vision soon returned. He blinked, and his eyes quickly adjusted to the pitch-black interior.

He shifted into neutral and walked the bike several feet. Rounding a corner, he headed deeper into the cave. The faint sound of running water lured him until the small tunnel he traveled finally opened up into a large black cavern. Water bubbled from an underground spring nearby, dribbling over the rocks and splattering into a small, crystal clear pool.

He killed the engine and parked the bike. Grabbing the leather saddlebags draped over the gas tank, he retrieved his sleeping bag and stretched it out on the dirt floor. He tossed his hat to the ground and pulled off his T-shirt before turning his attention to the rest of his body. He’d suffered only minor burns—his hands, his neck, the bottom of his face—thanks to his unplanned delay back at the inn, but the pain was still excruciating.

Enough to make him wince as he lowered himself onto the soft down.

Enough to distract him from the delicious scent of her that had rubbed off on his skin and the sugary taste that lingered on his lips and the vision—her lusty body flushed and ripe, her eyes closed, her full lips parted on a moan—that filled his head.

He was injured. Even more, he was fully charged and satisfied, and so the need for her—for any woman—had been completely and totally satisfied.

But as he stretched out on his back, tucked the edge of his saddlebag beneath his head and closed his eyes, he couldn’t seem to relax. The minutes ticked by and instead of focusing on tomorrow—he planned to scope out Town Square and see if he could get a sense for the exact spot where the turning would take place—he found himself thinking about the past few hours.

He heard her soft voice in his head, saw her stretched out beneath him and felt the velvety softness of her skin against his lips. He tasted the ripe essence of her sex as she came against his mouth, and for the first time in his entire existence Jake McCann had the incredible urge to go back for seconds.

Not that he would, of course.

One night was all that he could and would give to any woman.

Even one as sweet and lush as Nikki Braxton.

Particularly one as sweet and lush as Nikki.

The way she’d stared up at him, as if he were a man rather than a monster—as if he were the man—made him forget his past and the torment that ate at his soul.

But he wasn’t a man.

It was a truth he’d managed to escape for a few blissful moments, but it was back. In the pitch-black blanket of darkness that engulfed him. And the burned flesh that made his head throb. And the bloodlust that gnawed away inside of him. While he’d satisfied his carnal appetite, he’d denied the need to drink.

Barely.

Jake forced aside the unsettling thought and focused on the exhaustion tugging at his body. He needed to sleep. Now more than ever. It was Saturday morning. He had exactly eight days—the following Sunday—until his sire returned to Skull Creek.

As he’d done every morning since he’d started his journey to hunt down the vampire who’d cursed him, he replayed the various outcomes of their final meeting. Death. Destruction. Freedom.

While Jake had never seen the curse broken with his own two eyes, he knew it could be done. He’d met a man just ten years ago who’d claimed he’d once been a vampire. He’d killed his own sire and, in doing so, had freed himself and all the others who’d been turned by that one vampire. It was like a computer virus. Destroy the mainframe and kill the virus at its source.

Jake had never put much faith in people, until he’d become a vampire. He could look into someone’s eyes and tell if they were lying.

The man had been telling the truth.

His outrageous story had been the fuel to jump-start Jake. He’d stopped feeling so doomed and started to think that maybe, just maybe, he could set things right.

Garret, Jake’s business partner in his motorcycle design business, hadn’t been half as hopeful. Garret had been a vampire even longer than Jake and he was much more jaded. He hadn’t believed a word of the story—but then, he hadn’t been the one to stare into the old man’s eyes and see the truth.

Despite Garret’s discouragement, Jake had started searching right away. He’d known little about his sire except a name. The name carved into the ornate Spanish dagger that had been used to slice open a vein and force the curse upon Jake.

Sam Black.

Jake had traced every Sam Black recorded in history, marking off names along the way until he’d reached his last prospect.

This was it. The Sam Black.

The skilled soldier who’d fought hand-to-hand in several battles for Texas independence. Sam had been notorious for taking souvenirs from his enemies—namely the ornate Spanish daggers supplied by Santa Anna himself.

A bronze plaque sat in Town Square honoring the man who’d been killed by a band of renegade Mexican soldiers just as he’d arrived home from the battle of San Jacinto. The words To defend is the greatest honor had been carved into the plaque beneath the outline of a knife.

A Spanish dagger.

Jake fought the anger that whirled inside of him. His hands trembled and he willed his body to relax. He had to calm down. Even more, he had to sleep. To heal.

He breathed, in and out, a steady motion that soon hypnotized. The blackness overwhelmed him.

No tossing. No turning. No dreaming.

He’d regretted the last many times since he’d turned into a vampire. But now, for the first time, he found himself thankful the sleep was so all-consuming.

Jake had a hard enough time pushing Nikki Braxton out of his thoughts when he was conscious and fully aware of every reason why he couldn’t—wouldn’t—touch her again.

Unconscious? He knew he didn’t stand a chance in hell.

THE CLICK OF A LOCK pushed past the fog of sleep that gripped Nikki. The knob creaked and hinges groaned and she smiled. She rolled onto her back, her hand going to the empty sheets next to her. She patted the mattress.

“It’s about time you came back to bed.”

“If Jimmy John Charles couldn’t talk me into the sack—and he had flowers and candy and my favorite denture cream—you can damn well bet I ain’t slippin’ off the support hose for the likes of you.”

The female voice crackled in Nikki’s ears and wiped the smile off her face.

It couldn’t be.

“Well don’t just lay there. I already said no, and that fella you had in here’s long gone for now. Get your butt up so’s I can change the sheets.”

Nikki forced one eye open.

Winona Adkins peered down at her over a thick pair of bifocals.

Winona was the great-grandmother of Eldin Adkins, owner of the Skull Creek Inn and the Elk Lodge’s current bingo champion. Eldin’s parents had retired to Port Aransas and left him in charge of the inn and Winona.

Winona, who was as headstrong as she was nosy, saw things a little differently. She kept her chubby hands in everything, from the front desk to the housekeeping. She also kept the entire senior ladies’ bingo squad informed of the latest gossip. Winona was the squad’s president and best friend to Nikki’s great-aunt Izzie.

Nikki blinked, hoping the old woman would disappear. Instead the sleepy fog lifted. Her vision cleared, and Winona’s features went from blurry and dreamlike to sharp and focused in a matter of seconds.

With a short, chubby body, a head full of snow-white hair and an aren’t-you-just-the-sweetest-lookin’-child smile, Winona looked like the classic grandmother. Her hair had been rolled into tight little sausages that covered her head like a football helmet. She wore the familiar flower-print smock, knee-high panty hose and white orthopedic shoes. Aqua Net mingled with Lysol hovered around her. She held a thick ring of keys in one hand and Nikki’s panties in the other.

“I—I can explain.” So much for a discreet one-night stand. She’d been caught. Not in the act but close enough. And by Winona, of all people.

Her gaze zeroed in on the white cotton undies. Her panties, for cripe’s sake.

Her heart pounded as a dozen possible excuses rushed through her head.

I sleepwalked in here and took off my undies.

A saucer full of little green men held me at gunpoint and demanded I take off my undies.

Those aren’t really my undies, they’re just an illusion.

Her stomach knotted and her throat went tight. Think, her brain screamed. She needed a semiplausible story that would salvage as much face as possible.

“I—I was just visiting the man in this room,” she blurted. “He’s an old friend and we haven’t seen each other in such a long time and we had so much to talk about. One minute we were reminiscing, and the next I was out like a light. I’ve put in so many long days at the salon. I guess they finally caught up with me.” She summoned a loud yawn.

“You really know the handsome young man who rented this room?”

“Not in the biblical sense,” she rushed on, crossing her fingers under the sheet. “We’re just friends. Buddies. Old, old acquaintances. I can’t believe I just conked right out on him. He slept on the floor and left the bed to me.” There. She’d done it. Semiplausible. Now all Winona had to do was bite.

“Of course he did.” She nodded. “The minute I opened the door I figured it was something like that.”

As lame as it had been, the old woman had bought it. Despite the undies in her hand and the rest of Nikki’s clothing that lay in full view of God and everyone.

Nikki waited for a rush of relief, but it didn’t come. Instead time pulled at her and suddenly she was back in high school. The only girl who didn’t get mentioned on the boy’s bathroom wall. The opposite of her mother, who’d gotten her name and number scribbled with frightening regularity.

Nikki had been proud of both at the time. But at the moment…

“I mean, really,” Winona went on. “You and that handsome young man? Talk about crazy.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far.”

“Are you kidding? I saw him when he checked in last night and, believe me, the two of you are totally wrong for each other.” Winona patted her shoulder. “Not that you’re chopped liver or anything like that. But you’re not anywhere close to centerfold material, and that boy’s straight off the pages of one of them GQ magazines.”

“But opposites attract,” Nicki heard herself say.

“Opposites, sugar, as in same species. That boy’s from the so-good-looking-it’s-a-downright-shame planet. You…well, you’re nice.”

“Men like nice.”

Winona gave her a get-out-of-here look. “Men, child, like nice if they’re looking for a housekeeper or a nanny or a personal assistant. If they’re looking to fornicate…well, nice just doesn’t cut it. See, there are two types of women in this world. You’ve got your drop-dead man teasers like Mae West and Marilyn Monroe. That’s the sort a man goes for if he wants a love interest. The pleasers—those poor, desperate souls so starved for love that they’ll do just about anything for a man except sleep with him—are the nice girls. The sort that’ll make you cookies for Valentine’s Day instead of doing a striptease and giving a lap dance. The pleasers operate with the misguided notion that the way to a man’s heart doesn’t involve a direct route through his pants. Not true, on account of a man’s heart is located directly in his pants.”

She was not hearing this.

Not now.

And certainly not from Winona.

The woman stood next to Nicki’s great-aunt Izzie in the church choir every Sunday morning. And she played Mrs. Claus during the tree-lighting festival at Christmas. And she spearheaded the Pies for Pennies charity bake sale every other Friday.

Like Nikki’s aunt Izzie, the old woman was wholesome and sweet and…nice.

At the same time, Nikki remembered her mother talking about Winona when she’d been much younger and not so nice. She’d had bright red hair and matching lipstick and, rumor had it, had spent her evenings down at the local saloon.

“Now it’s not that men don’t like the pleasers,” Winona went on. “They do. They just don’t see themselves spending eternity with a woman who’d rather cook for them than warm the sheets. Men see those kind of women more like sisters. Somebody to listen when a man feels like whining, to cook when he feels like eating and to boost his ego when he feels down and out. Sure, men get involved with pleasers every lovin’ day, but the first whiff they catch of a teaser, bam—” she slapped her hands together “—the pleaser is stuck home on a Friday night watching reruns of Dog the Bounty Hunter.” She eyed the T-shirt draped over the back of a nearby chair and shook her head. “Did Bill get you that?”

“I am not a pleaser.”

Winona smiled. “You should be proud, dear. You’re a good girl. Not a thing like your mama.” Winona frowned. “Now there’s a teaser for you. Jolene’s right up there with Pamela Anderson. Poor Izzie. She’s always had her hands full with that one. But you…you’re a good girl. Why, you’re the spittin’ image of Izzie herself at your age. That woman was, is and always will be a saint.”

“We had sex,” Nikki blurted.

“Always putting others first and going out of her way and—excuse me?”

Yeah. Excuse me? common sense demanded.

But Nikki’s pride had shifted into overdrive, not to mention the sudden urge to defend her mother, and the words starting pouring out before she could stop them. “Me and the good-looking man who checked into this room—Jake,” she heard herself say. “His name is Jake and we had sex. Lots of sex.” She snatched the white undies from Winona’s hand. “He couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

“The man who checked into this room?”

“Jake McCann.” Nikki hiked the sheet up under her arms and scooted toward the edge of the bed. “He’s totally enamored of me.” She pushed to her feet, careful to wrap the sheet around her. “All he thinks about is me.” She wiggled to the far corner of the room and retrieved her jeans and T-shirt. “And sex.” Winona looked shocked and Nikki gave herself a mental high-five. “It’s been really nice talking to you.” And then she turned, waddled toward the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

She leaned back against the cool wood and closed her eyes. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm as the past few seconds replayed in her mind.

A smile tugged at her lips.

But the satisfaction she’d felt at blabbing out the truth—the sex part anyhow—quickly fled as she realized that she’d blown her reputation in less than a full minute.

Her mother was going to be the happiest woman in the world.

As for Aunt Izzie…

Nikki didn’t want to think about that right now. She couldn’t. She was too busy trying to digest Winona’s words. A pleaser? Is that what the people in town really thought of her? That she was desperate? Starved for love?

If the T-shirt fits…

She’d been starved for sex, not love.

She had plenty of love in her life. She had friends who appreciated her. A mother who adored her. A great-aunt who treasured her.

Granted, the emotions didn’t come from a man. But she didn’t need a man in her life at this very second. Which was the reason she wasn’t at all bummed that Jake McCann had up and left without so much as a few words scribbled on a Post-it.

Sure, she would eventually start dating again and, hopefully, find the right man. But until then she was content being single. She liked her freedom.

She relished it.

Yeah, that explains why you feel disappointed.

Disappointed?

Hardly. She’d gone into last night knowing full well that it was a one-night stand only. A way to burn off the frustration that had been making her completely and totally crazy.

Mission accomplished.

Nikki listened to the footsteps on the other side of the door, followed by the jingle of keys and the heavy creak of hinges. Then everything went silent.

She splashed cold water onto her face and patted it dry. Dropping the sheet, she scrambled into her clothes. A few seconds later, she pulled open the bathroom door.

She spared a quick glance around the room. There was no suitcase. No personal items scattered across the dresser. No clothes hanging in the closet. And definitely no note.

And the problem is?

There was no problem. It had been one night and it was now morning. Which meant over. Done. Fini.

She swallowed against the regret creeping up her throat, snatched up her purse and headed for the door.

It was time to forget all about last night and get back to work.

The minute the thought struck, anxiety rushed through her. She glanced at her watch. She was three hours late.

The realization stirred a memory of a small girl sitting up on the couch all night, waiting for her mother to come home. She’d spent so much of her life waiting. And being disappointed.

Not that she resented Jolene. The woman wasn’t nearly as irresponsible as she’d once been. As wild as ever, maybe, but at least she no longer made promises she couldn’t keep. She loved Nikki, and Nikki loved her, and they’d made peace with the past.

Even so, Nikki liked being on time.

She left the hotel room behind, climbed into her SUV and gunned the engine. She had to get home, get changed and, most of all, get her act together.

That meant forgetting Jake.

A dark, sexy, erotic image rushed at her and brought a burst of heat to her cheeks. Her nipples tingled. Her thighs ached. Her foot faltered on the gas and she found herself stuck at a red light.

Three hours and counting…

6

IT WAS ALMOST noon by the time Nikki pulled open the swinging glass door and walked into To Dye For.

As was typical on any given Saturday, every seat was filled. From the cutting stations to the shampoo chairs, to the half dozen hair dryers that lined the far wall.

Nikki drew a deep breath and gave an apologetic smile as she bypassed the small reception area and one very unhappy client.

Jean MacGregor was an older woman with lots of wrinkles, dyed brown hair and sparkling silver eye shadow. A coral pantsuit hugged her overweight rump and sizable breasts. A pair of gold cat’s-eye glasses hung from a chain around her neck. She smelled of expensive perfume and way too many cigarettes.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. MacGregor. I lost my keys and then I had a flat tire and then a button fell off my blouse and…” The excuses tumbled out, one after the other, until Jean waved her silent.

“At least you’re here now. That man simply can’t get my hair to curl the way you do.”

That man referred to Charlie Kendall, Nikki’s top stylist and best friend, currently teasing up a storm at a nearby station. With great taste, pretty-boy good looks and a footwear wardrobe that would make Carrie from Sex and the City jealous, he smacked of gay.

In reality, he was simply the one and only metrosexual in Skull Creek. He had a wife named Darlene, a mortgage and a Chihuahua named Lulu.

“The last time he did me, he used a flatiron and sent me to a city council luncheon with my hair completely straight.”

“Sounds trendy.”

“I looked like my granddaughter’s Mrs. Potato Head.” She shook her head. “I’m a big woman, dear. I need big hair to balance out the package.”

“Just let me get set up and I’ll be right with you.” Nikki paused at the reception desk, where a familiar denim-clad butt bobbed behind the Formica counter. “Hey, Dill. What’s the problem now?”

The butt morphed into a tall man with sandy blond hair and black-framed glasses. Dillon Cash. Known the world over as Dill thanks to the green pickle suit he’d worn in the kindergarten health pageant. He was now owner and operator of the town’s only computer store, located directly across the street from Nikki’s salon. While she’d inherited the nice label, Dill had geek tattooed on his forehead.

“Oh, hey, Nikki.” He shoved his thick glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, his pale green eyes barely visible behind the quarter-inch-thick lenses. “I didn’t see you.”

“I just came in. What’s going on?”

“Charlie called this morning.Your hard drive is acting up. I can fix it, but I’ll have to take it back to the store with me.”

“How long?” The last time she’d had computer problems, Dill had confiscated her machine for two weeks and she’d been forced to manually schedule several weeks worth of appointments.

“This afternoon.”

“Really?” Hope blossomed. Maybe her day wasn’t going to hell in a handbasket after all.

He grinned. “Just consider it an early wedding present.”

Before the words could register, she heard Charlie’s shriek. “Oh, my God. She’s here, everyone. She’s here!”

“Who?” Nikki turned and glanced behind her as Charlie abandoned his station and rushed toward her, his arms open wide.

He caught her and gave her a delicate smack on the cheek. “To think the ladies’ bingo squad actually placed bets that you butter your bread on the wrong side.”

Charlie had his long blond hair pulled back into a chic ponytail. He wore a clingy black button-up polyester shirt, à la Tim McGraw, tight faded jeans and a polished pair of what the local cowboys referred to as roach killers. His boots were pointy and shiny with just enough heel to add two inches to his petite five-foot-four frame.

“Why, those old biddies wouldn’t know a lesbian if she up and smacked them on their polyester-covered asses.” He stepped back, his gaze dropping to the white blouse Nikki had pulled on when she’d stopped off at her house. His smile widened. “Try getting dressed with the lights on next time, honey. Your fiancé will love it.”

Nikki glanced down and saw the uneven shirttails and the lone button she’d missed. From the corner of her eye she saw Dillon’s ears fire a bright shade of crimson before he turned back to her hard drive and started unhooking wires at the speed of light.

“I was in a hurry,” she blurted. Frantically she plucked open the last three buttons and slid them into their designated holes. “I overslept and—” Her words died as her gaze collided with Charlie’s and reality hit. “Fiancé? Did you just say fiancé?”

Charlie nodded. “Mr. Tall, Dark and Do Me from the motel. I’d be majorly offended that you didn’t kiss and tell since I am your closest friend, but I’m too relieved. Not that I thought you were a lesbian. It’s just…let’s face it, sugar, you’ve had rotten luck with men.” He shrugged and turned.

Nikki headed for her station while Charlie picked up his comb and started teasing the brown hair in front of him. “Which leads me to believe,” he went on, “that you attract these losers on a more subconscious level because a) you just don’t want to be successful at love or b) you’re definitely climbing into bed from the opposite side.”

“Couldn’t it be a and b?” The question came from the twenty-something brunette buffing nails in the far corner. Familiar green eyes peered over the top of a pair of conservative wire frames.

Cheryl Anne was sweet, bubbly and extremely spoiled. She was also Dillon’s kid sister, and therefore, a bit on the geeky side, thanks to DNA. In an effort to shed the big G image, she’d chosen cosmetology rather than pre-law. A choice that hadn’t upset her parents in the least because it meant that she could continue to live at home; they’d been heartbroken when Dill had up and moved to his own place at the tender age of twenty-seven. Their father—a local justice of the peace—routinely brought Cheryl Anne lunch and gassed up the sixty-thousand-dollar BMW he’d given her when she’d received her nail license. Their mother stopped by daily to offer the use of her credit cards or bring a round of lattes.

“Maybe she’s subconsciously hooking up with losers because she really wants to hook up with a woman,” Cheryl Anne went on.

Charlie wagged a comb at her. “That’s what I said.”

“No, you didn’t.” Buff, buff. “You said a or b. Not a or b, or a and b.”

“That’s right.” The brown football helmet sitting in Charlie’s chair blew at a teased piece of bang that had fallen into her eyes. “You just said or.”

“I meant or or and.” Charlie picked up a section of hair and worked the comb through it. “It’s a figure of speech. It can go either way.” He shot Cheryl Anne a glare. “Stop making a fuss. You’re taking away from Nikki’s special moment.”

“Congratulations,” echoed down the row of women perched under the dryers.

“We’re so happy for you.” Cheryl Anne paused midbuff and beamed at Nikki. “I have this totally hot nail kit especially for brides. You have to let me try it out. It has rhinestone appliqués.”

“I’m definitely doing your hair,” Charlie chimed in. “I’m thinking an updo with pearls—”

“Wait,” Nikki cut in, her mind racing. Married? She wasn’t getting married. Of all the ridiculous notions—

“You’re right,” Charlie cut into the denial that raced through her head. “Pearls are so precocious. You’re definitely more a rhinestone girl.”

“I love rhinestones,” Cheryl Anne piped in.

“Me, too,” the brown football helmet added.

“I’m not getting married,” Nikki blurted. “That’s crazy.”

“Of course it is. You just got engaged. You probably haven’t even set a date. You haven’t, have you?” Before Nikki could tell him that she wasn’t getting married now—or ever, with the way her luck was running—he rushed on. “While I can understand that he might have just asked you and you haven’t really had time to tell everyone, I know with absolute, positive certainty that you wouldn’t set a date without telling your best friend. It was bad enough hearing about the engagement from Janice Simcox, who heard it from Rochelle Pryor, who heard it from her brother Mitchell Davis, who heard it from Eldin—”

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