“You’re not naked,” she said

Josh turned to find Holly standing in the doorway, wearing a short black satin robe. Thigh-high black stockings hugged her shapely legs. He started to whistle his appreciation, but once she stepped forward and touched him, everything faded in the soft press of her fingertips against his bare stomach.

“Here, let me help you with those.” She gripped the zipper of his jeans and his breath caught. Metal hissed, the zipper eased and desire knotted in his gut.

Josh had always been the one to take the lead and do the undressing. The looking was the best part, or so he’d always thought. Until that moment.

Holly slipped her satiny fingers inside his BVDs and tugged them down. Then she stopped, her attention fixed on his crotch, and a strange mixture of emotion swirled through him. Half of him wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her tenderly, while the other half wanted to bend her over and drive into her like a man possessed.

Josh did neither. It was Holly’s recipe and she was doing the cooking.

For now.

Dear Reader,

My heroes have always been bad boys….

The McGraw brothers are the hunkiest bachelors in Romeo, Texas. They’re rough and tough, wild and wicked, and they mean to stay that way.

Especially Josh McGraw.

After witnessing his parents’ loveless marriage, Josh isn’t in any hurry to commit to any woman. But when he meets gourmet dessert chef Holly Farraday and gets a taste of her prizewinning Ultimate Chocolate Orgasm, he finds himself craving more. Not that he’s falling in love, mind you. It’s all about sex.

As the newbie in town, Holly is eager to make friends and anxious to live up to her grandmother’s legendary reputation as the town’s resident sex expert. The problem? While Holly’s got it going in the kitchen, she’s not the least bit experienced when it comes to the bedroom. She needs Josh. Just for sex, mind you, nothing more.

Wrong!

I hope you enjoy reading about Holly and Josh’s romantic adventures. Visit me online at www.kimberlyraye.com and let me know what you think!

Much love from deep in the heart,

Kimberly Raye

P.S. The heat wave continues next month in Texas Fire when wild, wicked Mason McGraw decides to give the town’s most uptight woman a few lessons in how to really loosen up.

Texas Fever
Kimberly Raye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to my editor, Brenda Chin, for having faith in me and my ideas. What would I do without you?

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

1

HOLLY FARRADAY made it a rule never to pick up men in bars. But when she saw the cowboy standing near the pool table that occupied the far corner of the only saloon in Romeo, Texas, she couldn’t help making an exception.

Cowboy, as in the real deal. There was no loud, blinding Western-cut snap shirt. No dark, stiff jeans. No polished ostrich cowboy boots or barely worn silver belly hat typical of the drugstore variety back in Houston.

Faded Wrangler jeans molded to his hips and thighs and accented long, sturdy legs that led to worn brown cowboy boots. An equally faded denim button-up shirt outlined his broad shoulders, the cuffs rolled up to reveal tanned forearms sprinkled with golden brown hair. A weathered straw Resistol, the front cocked down just a notch and the sides turned up, sat atop his head. Thick, dark hair curled down around his neck and brushed his collar. A rawhide leather choker clung to the tanned column of his throat. He had a strong jaw shadowed with stubble, a firm mouth and a strong nose.

But even more than his appearance, it was the way he carried himself that said he didn’t just talk the talk when it came to the big C. He leaned against the far wall, so cocky and self-assured as he sipped an icy bottle of Coors Light and surveyed the game of eight ball being played in front of him. He oozed strength and an air of raw sensuality that attracted her on a deep, primitive level.

He was a cowboy, all right. A man’s man. A make-your-hormones-jump-up-and-say-yee-hah! kind of man.

Just like the ones in all of the stories Holly’s mother had told her when she’d been a little girl.

Minus the hormone-jumping, of course. Holly was the one who’d added the last part after she’d watched Brad Pitt saddle a horse in Legends of the Fall. That’s when she’d started to cultivate a few stories of her own that were much more naughty than her mother’s G-rated versions about the rancher who defended his land against poachers or the sheriff out to save the town’s bank from robbers.

Holly’s fantasy cowboys were more sexy than noble. Wild as opposed to tame. Wicked instead of virtuous. Hot and unsettling rather than warm and comforting.

She couldn’t help but wonder if the man across the room would measure up to all of her erotic dreams.

As if he sensed her attention, he lifted his head. He tilted the brim of his hat back just a hair and his gaze locked with hers. An undercurrent of heat rushed between them. Awareness rippled along her spine and her senses came alive.

The scent of smoke and leather and beer teased her nostrils. The slow, seductive twang of a Kenny Chesney song filtered from the overhead speakers and slid into her ears. The sweet taste of Dr. Pepper lingered in her mouth and she flicked her tongue along the plump fullness of her bottom lip. Her breaths came quicker and she became acutely aware of the tight lace of her bra against her suddenly ripe nipples.

He grinned, just a slow, lazy tilt to his lips, but it was enough to make her mouth go dry. A burst of heat washed from her head to her toes, and left every inch in between panting for more. Her skin grew itchy and tight.

Forget measuring up. He’d already surpassed her expectations, and with nothing more than a glance. Understandable. He wasn’t just a face on a movie screen or a red-hot image spicing up her thoughts. He was flesh and blood, and he wanted her back.

Interest gleamed in his gaze, as vivid as the blue neon Bud Lite sign that hung just to his right. He was intrigued, all right. And turned on. And he definitely seemed as if he wanted her.

As much as she wanted him.

She took a long drink of her Dr. Pepper and tried to get a grip on the fierce lust raging inside of her. An emotion the likes of which she’d never felt before.

Then again, it only seemed fitting that what she felt right now would be different from anything in her past.

She’d expected different.

She’d anticipated it.

Because today was a new beginning for Holly Farraday.

It was her first official day in Romeo, Texas.

Up until last week, she’d been running her home-based gourmet dessert business, Sweet & Sinful, out of a sizable apartment in Houston’s Galleria area. She’d been right in the middle of lamenting her lack of oven space—she desperately needed a third commercial oven to accommodate her growing customer base—when she’d received the phone call informing her that her grandmother had passed away.

Her grandmother. As in a flesh and blood relative. A family that went beyond her own mother who’d died in a car accident when Holly had been eight years old.

Holly’s heart paused and disbelief rushed through her yet again. Her mother, while loving and caring, had been very closemouthed when it came to family. Jeanine Farraday had been a runaway, determined to break away from her own mother and her small-town past. She’d never spoken of either, despite her daughter’s endless questions.

And so Holly had always wondered. Why had her mother run away? Why had she kept running?

Holly had longed for answers. Even more, she’d yearned for even the smallest connection to anyone beyond her mother. Now she had one. Her ancestors had lived right here in Romeo for the past three generations after immigrating from Ireland.

A tradition that Holly intended to continue thanks to Red Rose Farraday who’d left her a small spread on the outskirts of town.

Excitement rushed through her and her heart pounded faster. A real home. A first for Holly who’d been on the run with her mother for the first eight years of her life, and in and out of the foster care system thereafter until she’d turned eighteen. She’d been on her own ever since. She’d worked her way through college and struggled to make something of herself.

It had taken her eight years and a lot of hard work, but she’d finally graduated from the University of Houston with a business degree. She’d spent the next two years working as a pastry chef and trying to save enough money to start her own business. She’d come up short, but with the help of a grant—she’d applied for so many loans and grants that she still couldn’t remember the source—she’d been able to buy her equipment and bank six months of living expenses. She’d quit her job and launched Sweet & Sinful. She’d started with five basic aphrodisiac desserts—Ultimate Milk Chocolate Orgasm, Warm Fudge Foreplay, Strawberry Sinsation, Cherry Body Bon Bons and Ooey Gooey Ecstasy—a simple, but tasteful Web site, and a desperate prayer for success. One that had been answered. In three years, she’d managed to add to her dessert list, expand her Web site and actually net a very substantial profit.

While Holly had made something of herself and come a long way from the days when she’d been cold and hungry and penniless, one thing hadn’t changed. The isolation she’d felt since her mother—her last living relative, or so she’d thought—had died. The loneliness. The strange feeling that something was still missing from her life.

Until now.

She’d spent the past five years building her business and now it was time to build herself a real home. She wanted to settle down, plant her roots and make some real friends for once in her life.

And so she hadn’t even considered the offer made by a nearby neighbor to purchase her grandmother’s place. Instead, she’d signed all of the appropriate papers just that afternoon and was now the official owner of the Farraday Inn, an ancient farmhouse that stood just outside of town on fifty acres of rich, green pastureland.

She’d learned from the lawyer that the house had sat empty for the past ten years—since her grandmother had checked herself into a nursing home because of the heart condition that had eventually claimed her life. But no amount of dust or cobwebs could dissuade Holly from taking up residence. She might be a big-city girl with an addiction to shopping, but she could forego easy access to Neiman Marcus and Saks in the name of home and hearth. She’d watched The Simple Life. Country living had its own charm and so she’d mapped out a viable plan for relocating her business and her life.

She intended to use the second story as her personal living quarters. She would operate her business from the first level, using the downstairs bedrooms for storage, packaging and shipping rooms. The cooking itself would be done in the monstrous kitchen that would be more than big enough to accommodate the extra commercial oven Holly intended to purchase just as soon as she set up shop.

A real home.

Definitely cause for celebration.

She’d meant to have herself a big piece of chocolate cake or maybe an extremely fattening hot-fudge sundae to celebrate. But the local diner had already closed and the only thing open in Romeo on a Friday night was The Buckin’Bronco Dance Hall, a crowded honky-tonk just this side of the railroad tracks, and the Dusty Saddle Saloon—a tin barn with a hay-strewn floor, a dozen mismatched tables and chairs, a big-screen television, a pool table, a juke box and an ancient-looking bar. She’d opted for the smaller, more intimate setting of the saloon and a soda.

She hadn’t counted on the cowboy or the need that blindsided her and turned her upside down and inside out.

She wanted him.

Twenty-four hours ago she would have acted on the feeling. Before Holly had washed her hands of temporary relationships. She’d had too many people come and go in her lifetime and she wasn’t about to add one more to the list.

But man-o-man… He was hot.

“Now there’s a hottie if I ever saw one,” a voice echoed as if reading Holly’s thoughts.

Holly’s hand stalled an inch shy of her Dr. Pepper as a six-foot-plus woman with mousy brown hair pulled back in a much too-tight ponytail bumped shoulders with her before settling on the next stool.

The woman wore a red T-shirt and blue jean overalls. Her face was devoid of makeup except for the faint smudge of mascara beneath her eyes, as if she’d cried off the little bit she’d worn. She shimmied on the bar stool and tried to find a comfortable position. Not an easy mission for someone who’d obviously had a little too much to drink.

“Second-best-looking man in Romeo,” the woman went on, her voice slightly slurred. She took a swig from a half-empty bottle of Lonestar beer before motioning across the room to the hot, hunky cowboy near the pool table.

The player controlling the table aimed for a difficult shot. Balls clicked and the eight ball hit the corner pocket with a loud thunk. A round of cheers went up. The cowboy grinned, took the pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table and stuffed it into his pocket. He clapped the winning player on the back and exchanged a few words before turning to the loser and shaking the man’s hand, as well.

“Second-best?” Holly took another sip of Dr. Pepper and prayed for the ice-cold liquid to cool her hot body. “Who’s the first?”

“That would be the most wonderful man in the world. My husband, Bert Wayne.” The name ended on a sob. Tears brightened her eyes and spilled over.

“Are you okay?” Holly set her soda on the bar and touched the woman’s arm.

“I’m f-fine.” The woman tried for a smile that failed miserably. “Better than fine. I’m free—or I will be once Bert Wayne goes through with the divorce proceedings. That’s why I’m out living it up on a Saturday night.” She motioned around her. “Bert Wayne ain’t the only one who knows how to have himself a good time. It’s my turn.”

“You’re entitled.”

“That’s right. I deserve some fun. I am fun.” She sniffled again. “Even if Bert Wayne doesn’t think so.” She caught another sob before shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it.” Her watery gaze met Holly’s. “He said I was boring. That’s why he left me for Trana Lee Jenkins—she’s the new French manicure technician down at Miss Kim’s Nail Salon. He said I just didn’t excite him anymore and that he had to move on to greener pastures because mine had dried up and withered away.” More tears spilled over and she slapped at them with the back of one hand. “I’m so sorry. You probably don’t want to hear any of this.”

“It’s okay.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“I know what it’s like to be alone.” She’d spent most of her life alone. Lonely.

Holly shook away the last thought and smiled. It was a new day. A new life. She’d finally come home. “My name is Holly Farraday.”

“I’m Sue Jack—did you say Farraday?” At Holly’s nod, she added, “As in Red Rose Farraday?”

Holly nodded. “She’s my grandmother. Well, she was my grandmother before she passed away. She left me her place. First thing tomorrow, I’m packing up my business and moving everything here.”

“You’re setting up shop out at Rose’s place?”

Holly nodded. “I’ve been operating from Houston, but the city is so crowded and my place is too small to accommodate all of my customers.” When the woman’s eyes widened, Holly realized what she must be thinking. After all, Red Rose Farraday hadn’t just been Holly’s grandmother. She’d also been one of the most notorious madams in Texas history who’d plied her trade at none other than the Farraday Inn.

Oddly enough, her grandmother’s notoriety hadn’t come as near a shock as the news that she’d had a grandmother in the first place.

“I make desserts for a living,” Holly explained. “I sell through a mail-order catalog and on the Internet. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back.”

Sue teared up again. “I always thought I knew how to satisfy Bert Wayne, but then he up and left. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Not really.” She sniffled. “I mean, it is terrible, but I don’t blame him. He’s right. I am dried up. I’ve been sitting here for three hours and not one man has tried to pick me up. I’m a total loser. I’m a jawbreaker in a candy store full of mouthwatering chocolate. No one in their right mind picks a jawbreaker when they’ve got wall-to-wall Hershey’s Kisses.”

“You’re not a jawbreaker.”

“Yes, I am. I’m a big, fat, round blue jawbreaker.” She hiccupped. “On top of that, I’m drunk and I can’t drive home.”

“You don’t have to,” Holly said as she climbed from her bar stool. “Let’s go.”

Sue shook her head. “Thanks, but you shouldn’t have to leave and ruin your Saturday night just ’cause of me. I’ll just walk. It’s not far. Just a few miles up the—whoa,” she said as she tried to slide off the bar stool. She teetered and would have fallen flat on her face if Holly hadn’t caught her by the arm.

“I think walking is out of the question.”

“That’s funny,” Sue said as she leaned against Holly. “My legs were working just a few minutes ago. It’s probably arthritis.” She sniffled and sobbed. “That happens when you get old and dried up.”

“It’s not old age. It’s the tequila,” a deep voice said.

Holly glanced up just in time to see Mr. Hot and Hunky Cowboy walk up next to her. He gave Holly a smile and a wink that stalled her heart before turning to Sue.

“Hey there, Josh,” Sue said, a smile warming her face as she glanced up.

“Hey there, Sue. You look mighty nice tonight.”

“You’re just saying that.” But she smiled anyway. “Josh McGraw, have you met Heidi. Or is it Hominy? Or Hailey?”

“My name is Holly,” she told Josh.

“Nice to meet you, Holly.” The name rolled off his tongue, so deep and husky, and heat rushed through her body. Her nipples pebbled and pressed against the lace of her bra. “You need a lift home, Sue?”

“Hannah’s takin’ me.” Sue beamed at Holly. “She’s my new friend.”

“That’s right,” Holly said. “Let me just pay for my soda and—oomph!” she groaned as Sue teetered, threatening to pull them both to the ground if the cowboy hadn’t reached out and steadied the woman again.

“I’ll help you get her to the car,” Josh told Holly. He motioned to the bartender. “Put everything on my tab.”

Sue’s eyes teared up again as Josh slid an arm around her and hefted her to her feet. “You’re so nice,” she told the cowboy. “Bert Wayne was nice, too. But then he got bored and I got fat and…” She rambled on as Josh steered her after Holly who headed for the exit.

A few minutes later, Josh settled Sue into the passenger seat of Holly’s champagne-colored Lincoln Navigator. He clicked her seat belt into place, closed the door and rounded the front.

“Nice wheels,” he said, trailing his hand over the hood as he rounded the front of her SUV.

“Thanks. I got it in Houston.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

She nodded. “Thanks for the help,” she told him as he came around to the driver’s side where she stood. “I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”

“No problem.” He stopped just inches shy of her. So close she could feel the heat coming off his body and smell the faint scent of beer and leather that clung to him. “Sue’s not usually like this,” he went on. “She’s just having a hard time. She’s been pretty torn up since Bert Wayne moved out and filed for divorce.”

“I know the feeling.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You know what it’s like to have a cheating husband?”

“I know what it’s like to be alone. I’ve been that way most of my life.” Until now.

She had a home now. And she intended to plant roots and make friends.

Starting now.

“So you don’t have a husband, cheating or otherwise?” he asked her.

“No.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not at the present time.”

“Girlfriend?”

She grinned. “No. How about you?”

“No girlfriend or boyfriend.”

“A wife?”

“I don’t have one of those, either.”

“That’s good.” The lust she’d felt inside the bar returned in full force and she forgot all about her vow to hold back and take things slow and… Permanent. Her nipples throbbed and heat flooded between her legs and she had the sudden urge to lean up on her tiptoes and touch her lips to his to see if he tasted half as delicious as he looked.

She leaned up and he leaned down and—

“The car is spinning,” Sue said from inside.

Holly froze, her mouth just inches shy of touching his, and licked her lips. “I, um, think I’d better be going.”

“Let’s go.”

“I thought I was driving her home.”

“Do you know where she lives?” When she shook her head, he ducked his head to glance in at Sue who’d tilted her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. She murmured something incoherent and whimpered. “I don’t think she’s going to be much help. I’ll drive.”

Holly handed him her keys and climbed into the backseat. She settled into the soft leather as Josh McGraw climbed behind the wheel of her Lincoln Navigator, started the engine and pulled out of the gravel parking lot.

The drive took less than five minutes, but it was the longest of Holly’s life. He was too close, too tempting, his gaze too disturbing every time he glanced in the rearview mirror and eyed her.

Awareness rippled along her spine and heat fluttered over her nerve endings. Her stomach hollowed out and a hunger, fierce and demanding, settled inside. It was one thing to watch him from afar, and quite another to have him just an arm’s reach away.

So close all she had to do was reach out and…

She wouldn’t. Not really. But in her mind’s eye, she leaned over the edge of the seat and touched the soft strands of dark hair that brushed his collar. Her fingers dipped beneath and grazed the hot flesh of his neck. Her palm trailed over the leather strap of his choker, tracing it toward the front. She undid the first button of his shirt. The hard muscle of his chest met her palm as she leaned over him and moved lower, down his rippled abdomen, around the indentation of his belly button to the waistband of his jeans. With a flick of her wrist, she eased the button open and urged his zipper over his erection. She tugged at the elastic of his briefs and slid her fingers beneath and—

“We’re here.” His deep voice drew her from her thoughts. Her head snapped up and her gaze collided with his. A fierce light gleamed in his blue gaze, as if he knew where her thoughts had almost taken her. As if he were already there, waiting and burning and wanting.

She cleared her throat and slid from the backseat as Josh climbed out of the car and went to help Sue from the passenger’s side.

It took fifteen minutes to get Sue settled inside her house before they finally climbed back into the Navigator, Josh back in the driver’s seat. He keyed the ignition, gunned the engine and pulled out of the gravel driveway. A few seconds later, they reached the stop sign at the end of Sue’s street.

“What are you doing?” she asked him when he just sat there, engine idling, as if he didn’t know which way to turn.

He stared straight ahead at the quiet expanse of road. “Wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“If I should head back to the bar, or if I should head for the interstate and the nearest motel.”

The bar, her conscience whispered. The last thing she needed was to start the permanent phase of her life with a one-night stand.

Then again, a one-night stand was someone that you slept with and never saw again. This guy was obviously local. In a town this small, she would be seeing him again. And again.

A problem in and of itself.

Her head knew that and it started to send a warning south to all of the relevant body parts.

But then his gaze caught hers and there was no mistaking the heat that burned in the dark depths. Her breath caught and her body throbbed and the words were out before she could stop them. “I could use a good minibar right about now.”

2

JOSH MCGRAW’S hands actually trembled as he shoved the key into the lock after registering them at the Lone Ranger Motel, a clean but ancient establishment just outside the city limits. It had been a long, long time since he’d been this worked up. This hot. This hard. This…desperate.

The knowledge would have been enough to send him running for the next county if the circumstances had been different—if Holly had been any of the dozen or so “Juliets,” Romeo’s official organization of single women—who’d been in hot pursuit since he’d returned to town six months ago for his grandfather’s funeral.

Hell, they’d been after him even before then. Since he’d turned thirteen and played his first game of hide-and-seek with Dana Louise Shipley. Not the traditional version, mind you. The game he’d played with Dana had involved hiding a certain body part, and had caused quite a stir when the captain of the cheerleader squad had found them out behind the bleachers during a pep rally and let loose a scream. He’d been just one of the rough and tumble McGraw triplets—an unruly trio notorious for making noise and breaking rules—until damn near every female at Romeo High had gotten a glimpse of him naked. He’d gone from a troublemaker to a lovemaker in the blink of an eye, and he’d had a ready supply of females ever since.

The trouble was, where they’d once wanted a good time back in high school, they now wanted a walk down the aisle. Marriage. Forever.

Hell, no.

Josh wasn’t the marrying type any more than all of the McGraw men who’d come before him. From his great-grandfather who’d had not one, but two mistresses, to his grandfather who’d kept company with Red Rose Farraday herself—the notorious madam and owner of Romeo’s very own house of ill repute—to his own father who’d had affair after affair.

Unlike them, however, Josh wasn’t going to ignore his shortcomings and make false promises by saying “I do.” Instead, he made it a point to stay single, which meant steering clear of the Juliets who wanted commitment in addition to sex.

So for the past six months, he’d traveled the few hours to Austin whenever the urge overwhelmed him and visited any one of the handful of women he’d developed a physical relationship with over the past years. The knowledgeable sort who took their own pleasure and didn’t rely on him to tease and tantalize and coax them into an orgasm.

Making the trip every so often wasn’t exactly convenient, but it was a damned sight more safe than getting lassoed by a disillusioned Juliet who thought he was the answer to all of her romantic prayers.

He wasn’t. He was just a man. Selfish on occasion. Egotistical most of the time. Hardheaded all of the time. And too friggin’ lusty—thanks to the McGraw blood-line—to commit himself to one female for the rest of his born days.

Josh liked his freedom and he liked playing the field.

Even more, he wasn’t of a mind to hurt anyone.

He’d done that once before and he’d lived with the guilt ever since.

His gaze slid to the woman who stood beside him. She wasn’t tall, but she wasn’t small, either, with a pair of two-inch black stiletto heels that made her legs seem endless before they reached the short black skirt that molded to her round ass. A white silk tank hugged her luscious breasts. Her soft red hair hung down around her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face. Her lips were full and pink, her green eyes hot and bright, and his cock twitched in anticipation.

Holly with her high heels and expensive clothes and fancy SUV wasn’t one of the women in town. She was a stranger. She was single. And judging by the way she licked her lips, she wanted the same thing from him that he wanted from her—sex.

He pushed open the door, stepped back and let her precede him inside. He expected more of an exotic fragrance from her given her big-city appearance. Instead, the warm scent of sugar and vanilla filled his nostrils as she eased past him. She smelled like sweet, fresh-from-the-oven cupcakes and his nostrils flared. A warning sounded somewhere in the back of his brain, but it wasn’t loud enough to push past the sudden hammering of his heart. A bolt of need shot through his body and his muscles bunched. He barely resisted the urge to haul her into his arms, back her up against the wall and take her hard and fast right there under the bare porch light, the june bugs bumping overhead.

As appealing as the notion, the thought of laying her down on a soft mattress and peeling away her clothes one piece at a time suddenly made him even hotter. Harder.

He followed her inside, closing the door behind them. A click sounded as she turned on a nearby lamp. A pale yellow glow pushed back the shadows and illuminated the interior. The room was far from fancy, but it was neat and clean. An unfinished pine dresser sat in the far corner, an ancient-looking television rested on top. A king-size bed took up the rest of the space. Beige curtains patterned with silver spurs covered the one window near a window air-conditioning unit. A matching comforter covered the bed. The slightly scarred hardwood floor gleamed from a recent polishing.

“I don’t see a minibar,” he said as his gaze swept the interior. “But if you’re hungry there’s a vending machine around the corner near the ice machine. I could get you something.”

She eyed him. “It was just a figure of speech. I wasn’t really in the mood to raid the minibar.”

“Then what are you in the mood for?”

“I…” She licked her lips and he had the gut feeling that she’d never done this sort of thing before. And then his gaze caught hers and he knew deep down that this was, indeed, a first for her.

His blood rushed even faster at the notion. A crazy reaction because Josh wasn’t in the habit of being the first anything when it came to women. Be it a first lover or a first one-night stand or the first man to actually cause an orgasm. Rather, he steered clear of any situation that might set him apart in a woman’s mind and make him more than just a really good lay.

He stiffened, his fingers tightening on the room key. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“You’re right about that.” The hesitant light in her gaze faded into a wave of bright green heat as she stepped closer. “It’s not good at all.” Another step and her nipples kissed his chest.

The one touch shifted him into high speed. He pulled her close and thrust his tongue into the heated depths of her mouth, kissing her, devouring her.

His hands massaged her soft, round ass and he rubbed his throbbing erection against the cradle of her pelvis. His fingers bunched material until he reached the hem of the skirt and felt her bare flesh beneath. Her thighs were hot to the touch. Soft. Quivering.

Holy hell.

Urging her backward, he eased her down onto the bed. He captured her mouth in a deep, intense kiss that lasted several heartbeats before he pulled away and stepped back. He worked the buttons free on his shirt and let the material slide from his shoulders. He unfastened the button on his jeans and pushed the zipper down. The pressure eased and the edges gaped and he could actually breathe for a few seconds.

Until she pushed to a sitting position and leaned forward.

Her fingers touched the dark purple head of his erection where it pushed up above the waistband of his briefs. The air lodged in his throat and he ground his teeth against a burst of white-hot pleasure. Her touch was so damned soft and he was so hard and…

He needed to touch her. To see her.

He reached for the hem of her tank top and pulled it up and over her head. One dark red nipple pushed through the lace-patterned cup of her white bra. He leaned over and flicked his tongue over the rock-hard tip. She gasped and he drew the nub deeper into his mouth, sucking her hard through the flimsy covering.

Her fingers threaded through his hair and held him close. He relished the taste of her flesh for several heart-pounding moments before he pulled away. He gripped the cups of her bra and pulled them down and under the fullness of her breasts. The bra plumped her and her ripe nipples raised in invitation. When he didn’t lower his head and suckle her again, she reached for him.

“Please.”

“Easy, darlin’. We’ll get to it.” But not yet. He wasn’t a man to take his good fortune for granted. It was a rare occasion when a man found a woman like her at a hole-in-the-wall in such a desperately small town.

He meant to take his time and enjoy the looking and the touching and the anticipation.

He unzipped her skirt and peeled it from her body in a slow, tantalizing motion that stirred goose bumps on her soft flesh. Trailing his fingers back up the way they’d come, he hooked his fingers at the thin straps of her panties and followed the same path down her long legs.

When he had her naked with the exception of the bra pulled beneath her luscious breasts, he leaned up and let his gaze sweep the length of her.

She was definitely not from around here, he realized when his attention settled on the barely there strip of pubic hair that told him she’d been pampered and waxed at some fine salon rather than Miss Millie’s Hair Barn. As advertised on the marquee outside of her shop, Miss Millie’s waxing services didn’t extend any farther south than unruly chin hairs for which she ran a weekly special.

“Did you get this in Houston, too?” He trailed a finger down the barely there strip of hair and watched her tremble.

“Yes.”

“It’s nice.” He traced the slit that separated her lush pink lips and she caught her bottom lip as a groan trembled from her mouth. Her legs fell open and the soft pink flesh parted for him.

He dipped his fingertip into her steamy heat and watched her pupils dilate. Her mouth opened and she gasped. And then he went deeper, until her eyes fluttered closed again and her head fell back. He worked her, sliding his finger in and out until her essence coated his flesh and a drop trickled down his palm.

Hunger raged inside him and he dipped his head, flicked his tongue over the swollen tissue and lapped up her sweet juice.

At the first contact of his mouth, she arched up off the bed and her hands grasped his head. He tasted her, savoring the bitter sweetness and relishing the sound of a gasp here and a moan there. He swirled his tongue around her clitoris and felt the tip ripen for him. She whimpered as he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth and nibbled until she tensed beneath him. Her fingers clutched at his hair in a grip that was just short of painful. The sensation fed his ravenous desire and made his breath quicken. He laved her once, twice and her breath caught on a ragged gasp. He knew she was close.

So close, but not quite there.

He gathered his control and pulled away, determined to make it last for the both of them. But then his gaze collided with hers and he saw the fierce glitter in her eyes—a mix of desire and relief and a desperate longing—and he had the strange feeling that this moment meant more than just sating her lust.

As if she weren’t just living in the moment, but looking forward to the morning after.

If he had been a different man, he might have liked the notion. But Josh McGraw wasn’t interested in a future when it came to women. The only thing on his mind was fulfilling his grandfather’s dying wish, and getting the hell out of Romeo and back to his life.

His gaze shifted to her naked body. Okay, so it wasn’t the only thing on his mind at the moment, but it was still a priority.

Right beneath getting inside the hot, sexy woman stretched out on the bed.

He snatched up his jeans and retrieved a condom from his pocket. After sliding on the latex, he settled between her legs. Bracing himself, he shoved his penis deep into her wet heat in one swift thrust that stalled the air in his lungs.

He gripped her lush hips, his tanned fingers digging into her pale flesh as he plunged into her again. She closed her eyes, lifted her hips and met each thrust until he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock throbbed and filled and he was right there. Just a few more movements and he was going to explode….

And she wasn’t.

She wasn’t nearly as tense, her body wasn’t strung as tight as it should have been if she were teetering on the edge.

All the better. If she didn’t have an explosive orgasm, it would surely sour the evening and push him right back down to the nothing-special category when it came to men.

He thrust again and again. The pressure built and pleasure fogged his brain and before he could stop himself, he reached down between them and parted her flesh just above the point where he filled her. He caught her swollen clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed lightly.

She moaned and her body convulsed around him and he knew she’d tumbled over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time and followed. He held her tight and relished the way her inner muscles milked him.

Finally, his hold loosened and he collapsed onto his back. He reached for her, tucking her against his body.

He needed to get up and get dressed. He had an early day waiting for him. He was riding fence first thing in the morning before he moved two hundred new head of cattle into the west pasture. But damned if he could breathe, much less move, and so he closed his eyes. Just for a few minutes. Then he would haul himself up, pull on his clothes and say goodbye.

AN HOUR LATER Josh forced his eyes open just in time to see Holly stand and slide on her panties. He folded his arms behind his head and watched as she bent over to search through the covers they’d kicked off for the rest of her clothes.

She was just pulling on her top when she noticed that he was watching her.

She smiled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He winked. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s just that I really need to get going. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.”

“You’re going all the way back to Houston tonight?”

She nodded and finished with the last button before perching on the edge of the bed to pull on her skirt. “I run my own business and I’ve got a ton of things to do first thing in the morning.” She stood and reached for her purse. “Maybe we could have dinner some time. Whenever you’re available. I know you’re probably busy with horses or cattle or whatever you do.”

“Actually, I do both. For now. My grandfather passed away about six months ago and I’ve been running my family’s ranch since then. But that’s just temporary until my brother comes home in a few weeks. Then I’m headed back to Arizona. I run a small charter business.”

“I thought you were a cowboy.”

“Professionally, I’m a pilot.”

“But you look like a cowboy.”

“Cowboying isn’t something you do, cupcake. It’s the way you think.” He winked. “I’ll always be a cowboy. I just like climbing into the cockpit of a Cessna more than I like climbing into a saddle.”

Disappointment filled her gaze and Josh barely ignored the urge to pull her into his arms.

“But you look like a cowboy,” she stated again, as if she had to say it twice for the words to really sink in. “I’m sorry. I thought…” She shook her head. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime then.”

“I doubt that. I don’t get down to Houston too often. Austin’s closer, so I do most of the ranch business there.”

“I’m talking about here. In town. I live here now.”

He sat up. “What did you say?”

“As of three o’clock this afternoon, I own the Farraday Inn—my grandmother left it to me.”

What? “You’re Holly Farraday?” It was more of a statement than a question, because the truth was right there in front of him. In the deep red hue of her hair. The bright green of her eyes. He’d recognized her, all right, because she looked like her grandmother. A young, vibrant version of the old woman who’d stolen his grandfather’s heart all those years ago, and his land.

“So maybe we’ll see each other again,” she said as she hauled open the door. “Before you leave, that is.”

But there was no maybe about it.

Josh would have to see her again, all right, because sweet-smelling Holly Farraday had something he wanted really, really bad.

His groin throbbed and he conceded. Okay, so she had two things he wanted, but he’d already had one of them and he wasn’t going back for seconds.

More importantly, she had his family’s land and he meant to get it back. He’d promised his grandfather as much, and Josh always kept his word.

Especially with his own peace of mind hanging in the balance.

3

“IT’S ABOUT TIME you showed up.” Holly dusted the flour from her blouse as she pulled open the front door of the massive farmhouse. “I’m on my tenth Ultimate Orgasm and I need at least a dozen more.”

“I could guarantee one.” The voice, deep and husky, slid into her ears as she came face-to-face with the cowboy standing on her doorstep. “Maybe even two or three,” he went on, “if I’m not too worked up and there’s no vanilla icing involved. But a dozen is pushing it. Even for a McGraw.”

“I was talking about an Ultimate Milk Chocolate Orgasm.”

“I didn’t know they came in flavors.”

“Mine do. Milk chocolate.” She tried to gather her wits. “I thought you were the UPS guy.”

“Cupcake,” he said as he leaned one palm against the door frame and stared down at her, “do I look like the UPS guy?”

“No. Yes.” She shook her head. “If we were back in Houston, I would say no. But we’re here in Timbuktu, where my mailman rides a four-wheeler with a horn that plays ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas.’ So a UPS guy who looks like the Marlboro Man and drives a…” she glanced past him to the black Dodge Dualie pickup that sat in the front drive “…monster truck wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

He grinned and her heart stalled for a dangerous second. Heat skittered along her nerve endings and she had half a mind to reach out and trace the shape of his lips. The other half of her mind voted to bypass the tracing entirely and go straight to a kiss. A hot, wet, deep kiss that would satisfy the sudden craving deep in her belly.

A full-fledged craving that had haunted her the entire weekend, when she hadn’t had more than a hankering in the past few years since she’d started Sweet & Sinful. Launching a new business left little time for socializing and so she’d been having a major dry spell when it came to sex.

Until Josh McGraw.

He’d quenched her thirst on Friday night, or so she’d thought until she’d spent the past two days wanting another drink.

She’d tried her usual remedy for a bad case of lust—a few spoonfuls of her Ultimate Milk Chocolate Orgasm batter never failed to kill the urge and keep her on the straight and narrow to the land of the financially secure. That and a few private fantasies featuring one of her favorite actors.

Neither had satisfied her this time.

Josh eyed her and awareness skittered along her nerve endings. “Do you usually proposition the UPS guy?”

“Proposition?” Her mind rushed back and she remembered her words. “Oh, you mean the Ultimate Orgasm.”

“A dozen of them.” He shook his head and grinned. “If your UPS guy can deliver that, he’s definitely in the wrong line of work.”

“I can see your point.” She couldn’t help but smile. “But I wasn’t referring to that kind of orgasm. The Ultimate Orgasm is a mousse cake,” she told him. “Made with three different textures of chocolate, fudge and a sweet cream. It’s my top seller—particularly the milk chocolate flavor. I make specialty desserts for a living.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “And here I thought you might be continuing the family tradition.”

“I might not agree with my grandmother’s choice of profession, but it was her choice.” A choice that had obviously forced her only child to run away.

Holly now realized why her mother had been so tight-lipped all those years ago. She’d moved them from city to city, state to state, because she’d been desperate to escape her past and protect her own child from such an influence. Maybe she’d feared her own mother finding her and forcing her back. Or maybe she’d simply been embarrassed. Maybe both. Either way, she’d run and she’d kept running, and now Holly understood.

Not that Holly felt any shame. Sex wasn’t held in the same taboo as it had been years ago. Besides, Holly had grown up in the city. Several to be exact. She was more open-minded. But growing up the daughter of a small-town madam… That must have been hard.

“It was her choice,” she said again, “and obviously a pretty smart choice, from what I hear.” And she’d heard an earful in the few days she’d been in town. There wasn’t a person in town who didn’t have something to say about the Farraday Inn. Holly had expected negative comments. Instead, she’d been bombarded with questions about Rose and her infamous recipe book—the sexual dishes she’d served up at the Farraday Inn.

Did it exist?

What were the recipes?

Could they really drive a man to the brink of insanity?

Maybe. Holly didn’t know. She’d barely set up her kitchen, much less picked her way through her grandmother’s belongings. She did know that there were five “dining” rooms upstairs, each decorated with a particular theme that no doubt catered to a particular recipe. As for the recipes themselves… She’d been too busy setting up shop and thinking about Josh McGraw to wonder if such a book still existed.

“My grandmother was very successful at what she did, but I’m not continuing the family tradition. I do my best work in the kitchen.”

He reached out, his finger scooping a speck of fudge from her chin. He touched it to his lips. “I’ll have to remember that.” His gaze went past her to the boxes that filled the living room. “So you’re really settling in here?”

“I needed more space for my business. My apartment in Houston barely had room to accommodate a commercial oven. Here I’ve got room for three.”

“Which is why you turned down my offer to buy the place.”

She remembered the lawyer’s mention of a prospective buyer. “That was you?”

He shrugged. “The floor you’re standing on used to belong to the McGraws until your grandmother sweet-talked my grandpa into giving her a piece.” His gaze locked with hers. “A piece in return for a piece.”

She fought down a wave of anger and smiled instead. “It’s a shame your grandfather was such a weak man.”

He stared at her as if he wanted to argue, but then his expression softened. “He had his moments. We all do.” Regret flashed in his gaze and she might have thought he referred to Friday night, but something in her gut told her the emotion went way beyond one night of lust.

“I’m sorry your grandfather couldn’t keep his head, but that has nothing to do with me.”

“I’m more than willing to pay what it’s worth. The going rate for this area is twenty-thousand an acre. That’s what I offered Humphries. But I’m willing to go twenty-five. Plus a nice chunk for this house. I can have the papers drawn up and the money in your hand by the close of business today.”

“But I just moved in.”

His gaze pushed past her and settled on the stack of boxes sitting in the living room. “You haven’t even unpacked.”

“I’m unpacking as soon as I get this order out. Not that it matters. I moved here because I want to live here. This is my place now and it’s not for sale.”

He frowned. “Not for twenty-five thousand an acre. That’s what you’re saying, right? You want more.”

“This place isn’t for sale.”

“Cupcake, everything’s for sale if the price is right. If I’ve learned anything over the past five years since I started buying back the land that your grandmother gave away, it’s that. I actually paid for a five-acre tract on the other side of the river with a custom-made pool and big-screen projection TV. Old Mrs. Witherspoon, whose husband was one of your grandma Rose’s favorite customers, said she didn’t feel right taking money for something that she didn’t rightly pay for—Rose gave it to her husband in appreciation for forty years of loyal patronage.”

“If she’s got that much of a conscience, I would think she would have just given it back to you.”

“She’s a good woman, not a stupid one. Besides, she loves Wheel of Fortune and her eyesight is fading. That’s why she’s living in town with her daughter’s family. She has trouble getting around by herself and so she spends most of her time sitting around. She needed a big screen she could actually see and she sure-as-shootin’ can’t afford one on Social Security.”

“What about the swimming pool?”

“She’s got grandkids and it gets awful hot here in the high heat of summer.” For emphasis, he pulled off his hat and wiped a hand over his brow. “It’s only May right now and we’re already up into the nineties. And this is nothing compared to how hot it’s going to get in the next few months.”

“I’ve lived in Houston for five years. I know how hot it gets in Texas. That’s why I’ve ordered two extra window units for the downstairs alone. As for a big screen, I don’t have time to watch TV.” She had not only her business to keep her busy, but her new life, as well. She needed to really settle in and turn the Farraday Inn into a real home. “I’ve got curtains to buy and a garden to plant.”

“You garden?”

“Not yet, actually, but I’m going to start.”

“There are a lot of nice places closer to town.”

“I’m sure there are, but I’m not interested.”

“Because I haven’t hit on the right price. Just tell me what it would take.”

She thought for a moment and a smile tugged at her lips. “If you’ve got one hundred pounds of flour on you, I might be willing to make a deal.”

“A hundred pounds?”

“I’ve got orders to fill and I’m crunched for time.” She glanced at her watch. “I really have to go. So unless you’re packing several bags of the white stuff, this conversation is over.”

She could tell that he wanted to smile. But something held him back. “That’s your final answer?”

“Yes.” She watched him shrug as if giving in. Yeah, right. If she’d learned anything over the past two days, it was that Josh McGraw was a man who went after what he wanted. She’d heard almost as many rumors about him as she had her grandmother. About how he and his two brothers—he was the oldest of triplets—had practically ruled the town back in the day before they’d all gone off their separate ways. She’d heard about his parents’ untimely deaths within twenty-four hours of each other and his grandfather’s diagnosis with prostate cancer five years ago and the old man’s death just six months ago. All three boys had come back for their grandfather’s funeral, but Josh had been the only one to come sooner. He’d spent time with his grandfather during his last days, and he’d stayed on to run the ranch and buy back the fragmented pieces.

Yes, she’d heard about him, all right.

After she’d asked.

“I realize you’re set on living here, but it’s not going to be the same as the city,” he went on. His gaze fell to the pink strappy sandals she’d pulled on that morning, along with a pink miniskirt and a white T-shirt that read Princess in pink glitter. A perfect ensemble for the mall. Not so perfect for a house out in the middle of nowhere. “You might not like it.”

“If you’re trying to discourage me, it won’t work.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’ve already given myself the same speech. I know why I shouldn’t be here. The thing is, I want to be here.” Which was why she’d bought herself a pair of cowboy boots with a tastefully low heel and several pairs of jeans. She just hadn’t been able to find them amid all of the other boxes cluttering up the house.

He stared her up and down, a sweeping gaze that seemed to pause at all of her hot spots, before he finally shrugged. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Why do I have a feeling this isn’t your final offer?” she asked him.

He smiled and tipped his hat. “Because it’s not, cupcake. I’ll definitely be seeing you around.”

“Not if I see you first,” she breathed as she closed the door behind her and leaned back for a long, heart-pounding moment.

Josh McGraw was not conducive to her peace of mind. He distracted her. Worse, he attracted her. Enough to make her think twice about what he’d said.

You might not like it.

Ridiculous. She would like it. She would love it because this was her dream—a real home where she could plant a garden and make friends and finally fit in for the first time in her life. It was the lust that made her blow out a deep breath and notice the dampness of her T-shirt and the sweat that trickled down her temple.

She’d lived in Texas for several years. She was used to the heat. Of course, it was quite a bit hotter here than it had been in Houston. And her apartment building had been fairly new, with central-air units in each apartment. Unlike the old farmhouse and its one ancient window unit.

That’s just temporary. Like Josh.

Holly was through with fast and furious when it came to relationships. She wanted lasting relationships from here on out. From friendships to that special someone.

For the first time in her life, she wanted a special someone. A man to laugh with, grow old with, love.

She licked her lips and tried to ignore the tingling of her own bottom lip as she headed back to her kitchen.

JOSH CLIMBED into his truck and headed down the long stretch of driveway toward the small farm road that connected the Farraday Inn with the Iron Horse Ranch, and tried to catch his breath.

She’d turned him down. At the same time, just seeing her had turned him on. And hearing her say the word orgasm… That hadn’t helped the situation even if she had been talking about a dessert.

When he pictured a woman who baked for a living, the first image that came to mind was his great-aunt Lurline. She’d made the best peanut butter cookies this side of the Rio Grande. She was also eighty-two with a soft, plump body and a steel-gray perm.

Holly Farraday, on the other hand, had a body made for hot, sweaty bumping and grinding. Long legs that wrapped around his waist and refused to let go. A soft, round ass that fit his hands just perfect. A smooth belly that felt whisper soft against his lips. Perky breasts that plumped in his hands and red nipples that ripened at the flick of his tongue.

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Restlessness clawed at his insides as he turned the truck onto the main road and pressed down on the accelerator. The engine roared to life, eating up gravel and dust at a frantic pace that matched his heartbeat.

He’d had a hunch she wouldn’t sell the moment she’d suggested dinner on Friday night after they’d had sex. Dinner meant tomorrow and tomorrow meant next week, and next week meant that he was shit out of luck. But he’d promised his grandfather, and himself, and so he’d swallowed his skepticism and driven out to the Farraday Inn today and made his offer.

And then another. And another.

And the whole friggin’ time, the only thing he’d been thinking of was, not how much he wanted the land, but how much he wanted her.

Under him, surrounding him, squeezing his cock with her sweet heat until he couldn’t think anymore.

Not about the past and his own mistake that still ate away inside of him. Not about the present and fixing his grandfather’s mistake. And not about the future and the guilt that would stay with him for the rest of his life if he didn’t make amends right now and put the Iron Horse back together.

He might not be able to do it.

Before he had a chance to dwell on the realization, his cell phone rang.

Josh checked the caller ID and pressed the talk button.

“How’s it hangin’, bro?”

“It isn’t.” Mason McGraw’s voice floated over the line. “It’s gone into permanent hiding.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a pissed-off father on your tail.”

“Worse.”

Josh started to ask about a pissed-off husband, but he knew better. While he and his brothers had varied tastes when it came to women—Josh went for the temporary beauties who steered free of commitment, Mason had a thing for party-hearty, blue-eyed blondes with big breasts, while Rance liked them tall and classy—they all lived by one rule. No married women. “Two pissed-off fathers?” he asked instead.

“I wish. Try a kindergarten teacher with a really loud biological clock.”

“Since when do you do schoolteachers?”

“I didn’t do her. We’re just friends. At least, I thought we were up until last night when she asked me if I liked the name Jason. I said yes and she said good because it’s the name she’s picked out for baby number one. I haven’t even kissed her and she’s talking babies, for chrissake. I can’t have a kid right now. I mean, someday, sure. But now? And when I do, I’m sure as hell not going to name him Jason. It’s an all right name, but my boy is going to be a junior—”

“Whoa, back up a second. You and this teacher are just friends? As in order a pizza, watch the game and share a few beers?”

“This is the Black Hills, bro. I’m smack-dab in the middle of a five-thousand-acre ranch centered around a small town, population eight hundred. The closest pizza place is a good three hours away. She offered to cook.” When Josh let loose a loud whistle, Mason added, “Look, it’s not like that. At least I didn’t think it was like that. I see her every now and then when I go into town. She knows I’m from Texas and she likes the Houston Texans. We talk football. At least we did talk football until last night.”

“What did she cook?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Well, if she served you a Hungry Man, I’d say you’re probably overreacting. TV dinners don’t require the same commitment as real food.”

“She made stew.”

“Uh-oh.”

“And home-baked rolls.”

“You’re totally screwed,” Josh told him. “Unless you clean the slate right now. Turn down the next dinner date.”

“That’s not an option.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already said yes. I started to say no, but then she looked like she was going to cry and I buckled. Christ, I need to hurry the hell up and get out of here.”

“How much longer?”

“We’re inseminating the last batch of cattle next week. After that, it’s just paperwork and planning. I should wrap everything up in about three to four weeks. Five at the most. What am I going to do?”

“Get used to the name Jason.”

“Kiss my ass.”

Josh laughed. “It’s good to see the stress hasn’t affected your charm.” An idea struck just as he said the words. “That’s it, bro.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re stuck in this situation because you’re not looking at this woman as a woman. I’m assuming she’s nowhere near Triple B status.”

“She’s a brunette. Brown eyes. Good sense of humor. Smart. I’m not sure about her figure because she wears these loose, overall type dresses like Ms. Crenshaw.” Ms. Crenshaw had been their third-grade teacher. She’d worn thick, chunky black shoes and said, “Sit up straight!” in a voice that had made even the McGraw brothers snap to attention. “She might have a decent chest. I don’t know. I don’t think of her like that.”

“So start. She obviously thinks you’re this nice, professional, mild-mannered sort of guy who likes animals. While you do like animals, you’re also capable of acting like one.”

“I never really thought about it like that. It’ll take some effort—she actually told me to sit up straight at dinner last night—but I can do it.”

“And do it fast.”

“You anxious to leave already?”

“I’m anxious for a good night’s sleep. I’ve got Uncle Eustace and Aunt Lurline arguing down the hall every night.” And one sweet, sexy-as-hell woman now haunting his thoughts.

“Just keep your pants on and I’ll be there soon.”

Too late, Josh thought as he punched the end button and slid the phone onto the dashboard. Too friggin’ late.

A HALF HOUR after closing the door on Josh, Holly eyed the rich fudge dessert she’d just removed from the oven. She’d run out of flour halfway through the recipe and so the cake had turned out more ho-hum than extreme. The edges sagged and the middle had caved in enough to give it a lopsided look. She pinched the edge and popped it into her mouth.

Rich chocolate exploded on her tongue and tantalized her taste buds for a long, heart-pounding moment. Not bad for ho-hum. Then again, she wasn’t an adequate judge at the moment, not with her senses still buzzing from a certain tall, dark and delicious cowboy.

His image pushed into her mind and heat swept through her body. Her hands trembled and her insides went all tight and itchy.

She turned toward the mixing bowl where she’d whipped up the concoction a half hour ago. Rich batter still coated the sides and her stomach growled. She grabbed a spoon and scraped one side before taking a bite. Where one was usually enough to kill any frustration eating away inside her, she had to scrape the entire bowl and lick both beaters before she felt even marginally satisfied.

She ate another spoonful for good measure before setting the empty bowl and beaters in the sink. The doorbell rang just as she turned to her computer to track her supply order.

“Finally,” she breathed as she hauled open the door to find a handful of women standing on her front porch.

“Welcome to Romeo,” they announced in unison.

“I’m Lolly Mae Langtree,” said the thirtysomething blonde standing in the middle. “President of the Juliets. We’re the organization for the single women in town. We coordinate with the Elks and the other men’s groups to plan mixers and give our members a chance to get out and meet Mr. Right.” She handed Holly a large, white, wrapped box decorated with a big, pink bow. “On behalf of everyone, I’d like to welcome you to Romeo.” She gave Holly a fierce hug. “We are so excited to have Rose’s very own granddaughter with us. It’s such a shame how the townsfolk used to treat her—the women, I mean—but you don’t have to worry a thing about that. This isn’t the Dark Ages anymore and we don’t sit around doing needlepoint and blaming Rose for the lack of commitment-minded men in town like the Juliets before us.”

“That’s right. We’re really into quilting now, and we aren’t the least bit threatened by your know-how.”

“What Marcia Renee is trying to say,” Lolly offered, “is that we respect you on a professional level.”

“That’s right,” one of the other women chimed in. “We know you’re not here to drain the pool of available men.”

“What Cookie Michelle is trying to say,” Lolly added, “is that we know you’re here in a purely professional capacity.”

“I make aphrodisiac desserts,” Holly said. “That’s my profession.”

“Of course, it is,” Lolly told her as she moved past her into the living room, a look of awe on her face. “So this is it.” She turned. “It doesn’t look a thing like I expected.”

“There isn’t an ounce of crushed red velvet anywhere,” another of the women said, her gaze open and excited. “Jennifer Susan Fitch,” she told Holly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her attention traveled the room. “I always thought there’d be crushed velvet. There’s always crushed velvet in all of the old Mae West movies.”

“True, but how can you tell it’s red crushed velvet?” another woman asked. “It could be orange or purple or even blue. The films are all in black and white, so there’s no way to really know.” She perched on the edge of the plastic-wrapped sofa just delivered yesterday.

“Red is risqué,” Jennifer said as she followed the woman’s lead and seated herself. “It has to be red.”

“You only say that because you just redecorated your bedroom in red and you’re hoping it’ll work on Charlie.”

“I am not. First off, Charlie and I have only had two dates. He certainly hasn’t seen my bedroom at this point. But when he does, he’ll be swept away with passion because red is a sensual color. Red says sex. Hot, vibrant, exciting sex. The apple in the garden of Eden was red.” Her look said so there.

“How do you know it was red? Maybe it was a Granny Smith?”

“What woman would forfeit eternity for a Granny Smith?”

“Maybe it was a Gala,” another woman offered.

“I’d believe a Gala before I’d believe a Granny Smith. At least they’re sweet, and they’re red.”

“They’re a pale, washed-out red.”

“Girls, girls,” Lolly chimed in as she perched on the arm of an overstuffed, plastic-wrapped chair. “I’m sure Holly doesn’t want to hear us debate the merits of apples.”

“Actually, it’s sort of fascinating.” Holly had never had real friends of her own—she and her mother had moved too much and later, when she’d been stuck in the same city in foster care, she’d still gone from family to family. She’d always wanted to join in on the conversations in the girls’ locker room or at lunch, but she’d learned early on to hold back.

Getting too friendly only made leaving that much harder.

Not anymore.

“You’re sweet. Isn’t she sweet, girls?” A dozen heads bobbed in agreement. “I know you’ve got bigger things to worry over. Moving from a new town has got to be exhausting.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Good, because the girls and I were hoping you could make time to attend our monthly luncheon. It’s always the third Tuesday and we have some really great speakers. We’re primarily focused on topics that appeal to single women.”

“Namely men,” one of the other women chimed in.

“Definitely men.”

“How to find them. How to keep them. How to please them. That’s where you come in.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you—” Holly started, her words lost as Lolly linked arms with her.

“Why, where are my manners? You don’t just hand over a gift and then talk a woman’s ear off. You have to open it!” She ushered Holly over to the sofa.

The two women on the sofa scooted apart and patted the spot between them. Holly adjusted her grip on the heavy box as she found herself steered into the spot between them.

“Go on,” one woman said.

“Open it,” came another encouragement.

With a dozen interested gazes hooked on her, she pulled off the bow and tore off the wrapping paper. She eyed the colorful patchwork quilt nestled in white tissue paper and a memory pulled at her.

She’d been in the second grade, sitting in the back of Mrs. Klatt’s room, watching the entire class sing happy birthday to one of the other students. A girl with long blond hair and pink Barbie boots. The most popular girl at Chicago’s Wallaby Elementary. Mrs. Klatt had presented the girl with a cupcake sporting a blazing pink candle while the kids had piled dozens of handmade gifts onto her desk. It was a tradition repeated for every student in Mrs. Klatt’s class.

Everyone except Holly.

Her birthday came and went the following week, but there was no cupcake or candle or presents, or even a birthday song. Because Holly came and went herself, too fast for anyone to learn her birthday, much less remember it.

She blinked back the hot tears that sprang to her eyes. “It’s really beautiful.”

“Jennifer made it,” Lolly said. “She sells them at her shop in town—Quilts and Stuff. She also sells the most divine candles…” The woman’s voice faded as Holly’s attention shifted back to the gift. Her fingers stroked the soft embroidery as she read the sentiment in bright pink stitch…

Home Sweet Home.

Something soft and warm unfolded inside of her, and she smiled.

“So you’ll come then?” Lolly was saying. “To the luncheon?”

“I don’t usually take time off during the week,” she started. Usually. But Holly was doing away with her usual routine. She was starting fresh. Planting roots. Making friends. “I’d love to be there.”

“Wonderful,” Lolly said as she pushed to her feet.

“We can really use your help,” Jennifer told her. “Your grandmother was the guru when it came to pleasing men and heaven knows we need all the help we can get.”

“That’s right,” another woman chimed in. “Charlene Singer—she’s the resident sexpert—is always preaching the same old, same old about inner beauty and emotional attraction and clicking on a psychological wavelength, but she doesn’t give us anything really solid to work with.”

“Like positions,” one of the women chimed in.

“And techniques,” another offered as they all moved toward the doorway.

“We think it’s so cool that you’re continuing the family tradition,” Lolly told her as she pulled open the front door. “Why, when we heard you specialized in ultimate orgasms, I activated the phone tree right away. Every Juliet in the county knows you’re here and they’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re going to speak.”

“Speak? But I thought it was a luncheon?”

“You’re the luncheon speaker.” Lolly beamed. “It’ll be our most informative meeting yet. It’s about time the women in this town learned how to really please a man.”

“But I cook for a living.”

“That’s what we’re counting on.”

“But—” Holly started, only to bite back the rest of her protest when Lolly turned expectant eyes on her. Holly’s hands tightened on the soft quilt. “But I’ll need some time to prepare.” Okay, that wasn’t the no cotton-picking way she’d intended, but she couldn’t very well be rude. They’d come all this way outside of town and brought her a really great present and they were so nice.

“The luncheon isn’t for three weeks. We meet at the community center off of Main Street. Cookie does the decorations, Jennifer provides the linens and we have the food catered in. This month is barbecued venison, so don’t wear anything light-colored. Last time, Jill Marie Smith wore shell-pink. She’s still trying to get the stains out of her lap. We’ll see you then,” Lolly rushed on. “And before then, I’m sure. It’s such a small town.”

“But—” Holly started again. The protest fell on deaf ears as she found herself passed from one woman to the next in a series of loose, informal hugs before the door slammed quickly shut.

As she stood in the center of her living room, the quilt in her hands, and tried to catch her breath, the truth of what she’d just done came barreling at her like a semi with bad brakes.

A luncheon speech. About pleasing a man.

A luncheon speech. About pleasing a man.

First off, the closest she’d ever come to a speech had been a ninth grade book report at school number eight. But that had been different. It didn’t matter that she’d had to read verbatim from her paper or that some of the kids had snickered when she’d mispronounced tyrannosaurus because she’d known there would be another science class down the road, and she’d been right. Five months later, she’d changed schools again, and families.

But this… This was different.

This was home.

Home Sweet Home.

As for the man-pleasing part… The only person she usually pleased was herself—with a scrumptious dessert or an intense session with her favorite vibrator.

Up until Friday night, that is. She’d pleased Josh and he’d certainly pleased her, but there’d been no formula to it. It had just happened. She was a baker, for heaven’s sake.

But the Juliets didn’t seem to realize that. She was Rose Farraday’s granddaughter and, therefore, a chip off the old block when it came to men and pleasure. Adding to the misconception was the fact that she did profit from sex, what with the sensual nature of her desserts.

She had to set them straight.

That’s what she told herself when the doorbell rang a few minutes later. Just open your mouth and set the record straight.

She reached for the doorknob.