* * * * *
Jess hitched one hip against the bar while he nursed his beer and studied the crowded recreation room of his cousin’s bed-and-breakfast. Nicole had thrown one hell of a holiday party, and it looked like everyone in Bisbee had turned out for it.
Nicole was a distant cousin on his mom’s side of the family. He’d really just gotten acquainted with her since being on assignment for the DEA in this corner of Arizona. She knew he worked the area, and knew he was undercover, so she never asked questions about his work, which was just as well.
And if she’d get down here and join her own party, she might be able to point out a couple of the folks he’d heard would be here but didn’t know by sight. Like that rich rancher’s daughter, Kathy Newman, reportedly tight with Forrester at one time. Jess sighed and took another swig of beer. Damn. Guess he’d have to do a little of that mingling crap he hated.
With the practiced eye of a seasoned lawman, he studied the guests, automatically assessing and categorizing each individual as they danced or socialized. He’d bet his Stetson that couple making out in the corner would be trying to find someplace to fuck real soon. That or they’d be doing it right on the dance floor.
A good-looking gray-eyed brunette across the room had been making eyes at Jess, sticking her tits in his direction, her nipples hard and prominent through her thin black dress. No doubt she’d be a willing roll in the hay.
Jess sighed and tipped back his beer bottle for another swallow. He had no interest in women who were that obvious. A little chase was more interesting.
Hell, he didn’t know what he really wanted anymore, just that he hadn’t found it. Dee MacLeod had peaked his interest before Jake Reynolds had come back, but he’d never acted on it. Not to mention she’d originally been one of his chief suspects in the local trouble he’d been assigned to investigate.
And then there’d been Catie Wilds—a real spitfire—who would have sparked Jess’s libido if she hadn’t reminded him so much of his younger sister. He had to admit it was a surprise that anyone had been able to tame that wildcat, but Jarrod Savage had somehow managed to, and the more power to him. Hadn’t left the sheriff as much time to pursue his former deputy, Ryan Forrester, but Jess supposed he was doing a fair job for a newly-married man.
Jess downed the last of his beer while he watched Jarrod Savage who was by the buffet table, talking to Ann O’Malley, a sexy cowgirl with brown hair and blue eyes, who owned a ranch just east of Bisbee. He could just imagine Catie kicking Jarrod’s ass if she saw him talking to Ann, whether or not he was just being polite or investigating a lead.
The mellow malt flavor of the beer rolled down Jess’s throat as he contemplated making a sexual conquest. It had been a little too long for his liking since he’d gotten laid. He’d enjoyed the company of quite a few women, but in the past few years he’d yet to come across one who could keep his attention for more than a night or two of good, hard sex.
Not that it really mattered. Until he brought down that drug ring infiltrating Douglas from Mexico, and until he got his hands around that turncoat bastard Forrester’s worthless neck, he was too busy for any kind of involvement. Especially not the serious kind.
That whole cattle bullshit Forrester had arranged had just been a distraction, a sleight of hand, and a little more cash for the asshole. The real scheme involved smuggling drugs in from Mexico using illegal immigrants for mules. And that was where Rick McAllister of the Border Patrol had gotten involved in the investigation, and subsequently called on Jess.
Jess sure would like to know where that weasel Forrester was holed up. The men that Jarrod Savage, Jake Reynolds, and Jess had rounded up had been damn near worthless as far as information on the drug smuggling and Forrester’s current hideout.
Gritting his teeth, Jess thumped his empty beer mug on a tray as he glanced at the brunette again. Maybe a good fuck was what he needed to get his head back in order before he headed back to the MacLeod Ranch and his undercover role as foreman. Hell, maybe that brunette would have some information he could fuck out of her.
Just as he pushed himself away from the bar, his cousin walked down the stairs—but it was the woman beside Nicole who captured his attention. Nicole said something that caused the woman to laugh, and her lips curved into a radiant smile that met her beautiful green eyes.
Eyes that seemed vaguely familiar to him. Yet he knew he’d never seen this woman before, and he never forgot a face. Ever.
Jess’s sharpened senses took in every detail of the woman and came up with a puzzle. She appeared strong, sexy and confident, yet there was a contradicting air of vulnerability about her.
Intrigued, he watched her stroll into the room, her movements smooth and graceful. Her strawberry blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a sexy just-got-out-of-bed style, and her jade green eyes were big, giving her an innocent look.
Yet the tiny red dress she wore was made for sin. It hugged her figure, showing off her generous breasts, small waist and curvy hips. Definitely a dress designed to drive a man to his knees. And those high heels she was wearing—
damn
.
A vision came to him—having the woman beneath him, sliding between her thighs, filling her pussy with his cock while her desire-filled green eyes focused entirely on him.
Jess’s groin tightened and he shifted his position.
Looked like this night might get real interesting.
“I’m going to have to hire a bodyguard just to beat the guys off of you,” Nicole said as she and Trace headed down the stairs and into the enormous recreation room of the bed-and-breakfast. “You’re a man magnet. I swear every male in this place is watching you.” She pointed to the Doberman resting at the foot of the stairs. “Even Killer, my dog. Look at him staring at you—he’s in love.”
Trace laughed. “More than likely Killer just wants to sink his teeth into these stilts you call shoes,” she said, while at the same time trying not to tumble down the staircase. She could just picture herself landing in a heap, this ridiculously tiny red dress up around her waist—now that would certainly get some attention.
Why had she let Nicole talk her into wearing this outfit, anyway? This was more Nicole’s wild style than Trace’s. The silver backless dress Nicole was wearing hugged her generous figure perfectly, outlining every beautiful curve. And the daring slit on one side went straight up to her hip bone. Nicole carried it off with elegance and style. Unlike Trace, Nicole never tripped or spilled anything.
Nicole greeted guests with a wave and a brilliant smile as they descended. “Too bad you’re engaged,” she said to Trace.
“I’m not
exactly
engaged.” Trace gave a little shrug as they reached the landing. “Harold just hinted, rather strongly, that he plans to ask me when he comes to the States at Christmas.”
Guiding Trace to the lavishly spread snack table, Nicole said, “Close enough. And it’s a real shame.”
Trace looked from the vat of red Christmas punch to the bottles of wine and decided on a white Zinfandel. At least that way if she spilled it on the carpet, it wouldn’t stain. She selected a wineglass and cocked an eyebrow at Nicole as she said, “I just told you that a man is going to ask me to marry him. Now why wouldn’t you be happy for me?”
“My cousin.” Nicole leaned close, and Trace caught her powdery scent. “The man is to die for, and if you were free, I know he’d rock your world.”
Laughing, Trace rolled her eyes. “How do you know Harold doesn’t rock my world?”
“Uh-huh.” Nicole sniffed. “With a name like Harold, he no doubt wears a pocket-protector and horn-rimmed glasses.”
Trace had just taken a sip of her wine and just about snorted it out her nose at the image of her boyfriend dressed like a stereotypical nerd. Even though Harold was a devastatingly handsome man, with his reserved personality she could almost see him in that get-up. Her throat burned as she swallowed the wine and rolled her eyes at her friend.
“Let me at least introduce you to Jess.” Nicole put her hand on Trace’s arm. “He’s one gorgeous hunk of cowboy.”
“Cowboy?” Trace shook her head so hard it was a wonder her hair didn’t tumble out of its clip. “I left that life four years ago. Even if I was free, and even if something ever came of it, I’m not about to settle down in the boonies. That was another life, another girl.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “You can take the cowgirl out of the country—”
“Trace, is that you?” a man’s voice cut in, and Trace looked up to see Rick McAllister, one of the nicest as well as one of the most drop-dead gorgeous cowboys she’d ever known. At over six feet with that chestnut brown hair mussed all over his head, he looked like he’d just come in from a long trail ride. Sexy bastard.
“Rick!” Trace reached up and gave him a quick one-armed hug, being careful not to spill her wine. “Dang but it’s good to see you.”
“Well, hell. I hardly recognized you.” He tweaked a tendril of Trace’s hair and gave her his easy grin. “Probably wouldn’t have if Nicole here hadn’t told me you were coming. You’re all grown up now.”
Trace felt heat creep up her neck and she shook her head. “Thanks, big guy. You don’t look so bad yourself.” And he didn’t. The tall, well-built man was a good eight years older than her, but she’d sure had a crush on him back when she was a teenager, until he’d gotten married. He’d always been more like a teasing older brother, and she’d come to appreciate him as a good friend. It had been a real shame when his wife was killed in that car accident, leaving him a widower and a single parent.
The faint ringing sound met her ears over the Christmas music. Rick gave Nicole and Trace a sheepish grin as he dug the phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. “Sorry, ladies. I’m on call and I’ve got to take this.”
“No problem.” Trace smiled and waved him off. “We’ll do some more catching up later.”
Rick nodded and put the phone to his ear as he headed up the stairs, probably to someplace where it was a little more quiet.
“You know that Rick’s an intelligence agent with the Border Patrol, don’t you?” Nicole’s smile turned into a frown as she started to add, “He’s here with—” she stopped as the caterer rushed up and interrupted, telling Nicole she was urgently needed upstairs in the kitchen.
“All right, all right.” Nicole sighed and waved the caterer off. “Be right there.” She turned to Trace. “Think you can fight off all the men while I go handle this mini crisis?”
“Sure.” Trace laughed and raised her wine glass. “I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.” Her gaze cut to Killer. “And I’ve got my buddy right here.”
When Nicole left, Trace lifted the goblet to her lips and let her gaze drift over the party guests. It had been good to see Rick, as well as other old friends. Her thoughts turned to her first days back in the U.S., when she’d stayed a few days with another good friend, Lani Stanton. Two years ago, Lani had interviewed Trace about Wildgames, and they’d hit it right off. Lani was a journalist with a popular San Francisco magazine, but she was going through one hell of a messy divorce. Her ex-husband was a cheating bastard. Damn but Lani needed a good man.
Holiday music and laughter filled the room, and Trace smiled as she watched couples dancing to a country-western tune. The room glittered with all the women dressed in brilliant sequined dresses and from the hundreds of Christmas lights and decorations.
Scents of pine, cinnamon, and hot wine punch perfumed the air, along with the smell of burning mesquite wood in the fire blazing in the corner hearth. Sounds, sights, and smells of holidays that reminded Trace of growing up in Arizona, and made her feel like she was home.
Home…
No. Home was wherever Wildgames sent her. And home would be with Harold once he got around to asking her.
That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To marry Harold and continue rocketing to the top of the career ladder? They’d be good together, a match made in Wildgames Heaven.
Then why did the thought of living with Harold for the rest of her life make her feel trapped?
Jitters
. Fear of commitment. That was it.
Hair prickled at Trace’s nape, as though she was being watched, and a slight shiver skittered down her spine. Slowly she pivoted and came to an abrupt stop. She caught her breath at the sight of the most rugged, most handsome cowboy she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing.
He’d been standing directly behind her, inches away.
Instinctively she took a step back, but in a quick movement he caught her wrist, drawing her closer to him. Her flesh burned where he held her, and her mind went entirely blank.
The man’s smile was so carnal that Trace’s knees almost gave out. And those blue eyes—God, the way he was looking at her made her feel like he was making love to her right on the spot.
She clutched her wine glass between them as she tried to pull her wrist out of his iron grasp. “I—let go.”
The man shook his head, the look in his eyes possessive and untamed. “No, sugar,” he murmured, his sensual Texan drawl flowing over her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Chapter Two
Sensual heat scorched Trace in a rush. It shot up her thighs and waist, straight to her breasts, and on up to the roots of her hair. He had to be the one she’d seen getting out of the truck earlier. Even without the cowboy hat and duster, he seemed just as dark and dangerous.
Dang, the man was tall. And sexy. He had a strong, angular jaw line shadowed by dark stubble, and the most intense gaze that refused to let her go. And God but he smelled good. Like spicy aftershave, the clean scent of soap, and a hint of malt beer.
Moisture flooded Trace’s pussy and her nipples grew taut against the delicate fabric of her dress. The way the man was looking at her, she could just imagine his touch, his mouth—
Hold on
. Who the heck did he think he was, telling her she wasn’t going anywhere?
Yet she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.
Like a deer trapped by headlights…only what had captured her was a pair of wicked blue eyes and a steel vice grip on her wrist.
The man pried the wine glass from her hand and set it on a table beside them. “What’s your name, sugar?”
Trace swallowed and mustered a defiant look. “Well, it’s not sugar.” Her voice came out sounding small and hesitant, and she forced herself to put some muscle into her tone. “Let me go—”
“Name’s Jess Lawless.” His firm mouth curved into a sensual smile that met his eyes, and she thought for sure her knees were going to just up and give out on her. “It’s most definitely my pleasure to meet you…
sugar
,” he drawled, sounding every bit as lawless as his name.
Oh. My. God.
Trace MacLeod had
never
come across a man that she wanted to slap then jump the moment she’d met him.
Uh…uh…uh
…
Take me now, I’m yours.
Okay, she’d set a new record. She’d become a complete and total idiot in less than two minutes.
The man—
Jess
—placed a possessive palm on her waist and took her other hand in his. Before she’d gathered her thoughts, what few she had left, Jess drew her into the crowd of people dancing at the center of the room. “Do you two step?” he asked, even as he led her.
“Uh, yeah.”
Brilliant, Trace.
“It’s, ah, been awhile.” She glanced down at their feet as they moved, and promptly imbedded her three-inch spiked heel into the leather toe of his boot, bringing them to a halt. Her gaze shot to his and to his credit he didn’t even flinch. “A really
long
while.”
He grinned, a dimple appearing in one cheek, and she instantly became a dithering idiot. Again.
A-duh-duh-duh.
“Well, then,” he murmured, moving his mouth close to her ear, “we’ll just have to keep at it ‘til it all comes back to you. All right?”
“O—” Trace shivered and almost moaned at the feel of his warm breath along her cheek. “Okay.”
And can I have your babies, too?
What the heck was the matter with her, she wondered as Jess drew her smoothly into the throng of dancers. Sure, she’d gone ga-ga over guys before—when she was a
teenager
for goodness sake. And those had been the ones in
Teen People
and
The Rolling Stone.
The adorable and unobtainable.
But this was a
man
. And God what a man. Certainly just as unobtainable as her childhood crushes, only now because she was spoken for. More or less.
Er, good ol’ whatshisname…
Her pulse rate zoomed past the legal speed limit as they two-stepped to a country-western tune that had been popular back when she’d lived on the Flying M, the MacLeod Ranch. Funny how she could still remember all the words. Yet right now she had a hard time remembering what her
almost
fiancé looked like. All she could picture in her mind was this sexy hunk of cowboy whose mere presence had fried all the circuits to her brain.
Cowboy. Jeez!
She didn’t do cowboys. Well, not to mention she shouldn’t be doing
anyone
but the man she’d been with for the last couple of years.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” Jess’s baritone rumbled as the tune came to an end and a much slower song started. “Or am I gonna just have to keep calling you sugar?”
Uh…
Trace’s whole body went on high alert as he brought her into his embrace for the slow dance. She placed her hands lightly on his shoulders—like she was afraid to touch him. His jean clad hips moved so close to hers that she felt the brush of denim through her silky skirt. She gulped and her gaze shot up to his. That couldn’t be his…he couldn’t be…it had to be her imagination. He wasn’t
aroused,
was he?
Amusement glittered in Jess’s blue eyes as he guided her in a slow and easy turn to the music. “Did you drop your voice into that incredible cleavage?” he murmured.
Trace blinked and then smiled. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard before.”
“Well, what do you know?” He gave her that sexy grin again. “The beautiful woman speaks.”
Beautiful. She-yeah.
“I—I’m Tracilynn.” Trace gave the name she’d gone by since she’d graduated from college, her given name. The only people who called her Trace were those she knew B.E…before Europe.
“Nice.” Jess rested one hand on her hip, but she didn’t know if he was referring to her name or her body. His palm felt so hot that it was like he had it pressed to her bare skin, rather than against her dress. “Where have I seen you before, Tracilynn? You’re not from ‘round here, are you?”
She caught her breath as he twirled her to the song, and he somehow managed to bring her body even closer to his. “I used to live in this area, ages ago. I’m visiting.”
“Very sexy.” Jess brought one hand to her left ear and lightly ran his thumb down the row of earrings. His expression turned thoughtful. “Your eyes…I never forget a woman’s eyes. Hell, I’ve never forgotten a face. So why are you so familiar, yet I can’t place you?”
“We’ve definitely never met.” Trace managed a smile. “I’d remember you.”
“Yeah?” He moved away from her and took her hand, his palm hard and calloused against her softer skin. “And why’s that?”
With a start Trace realized Jess was drawing her through the open doors of the sunroom. “I really should get back to Nicole,” she said, her words rushed and her heart beating furiously as he led her toward the Christmas tree in the corner. “She’ll wonder where I am.”
Jess’s cock strained against his jeans as he brought Tracilynn to a stop beside the decorated tree. Lights twinkled, the soft glow playing upon her delicate features and reflecting in her eyes. He took both her hands in his, resisting the urge to grab her hips and press himself tight against her, letting her feel how badly he wanted to be inside her. He wanted to dispense with the time it would take to get to know this beautiful woman, and get her straight into his bed.
But everything about her told him he’d have to take things a lot slower than he’d like to.
Damn.
“Really, I should get back.” Tracilynn avoided his gaze, looking instead toward the rec room where they’d come from.
Jess released one of her hands and caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her soft peaches and cream scent eased through his senses. “What are you afraid of?”
She licked her lips, her eyes focused on his. “You,” she whispered.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Now why would I scare you?”
“I—I shouldn’t be here.” She pulled against his hold, but he held on and raised her hand to his chest.
He pressed her palm against his shirt and rubbed his thumb over her fingers. “No ring.” He frowned as he studied her jade green eyes. “You’re not married are you?”
“No.” She swallowed, her throat visibly working. “But I’m in a long term relationship. Two years now.”
The freight train of jealousy that slammed into Jess took him completely by surprise. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked in a tone that was too calm for the fury churning his gut at the thought of another man with a claim on this woman.
“England.” She brought her other hand up to his chest and pressed, as though trying to push him away. But the feel of her palms through his shirt only made him want her more. “He’ll be here shortly before Christmas.”
Nope. Wasn’t happening. No way in hell was Jess letting another man have this woman. If she’d been married, he would have walked away, no matter the bitter regret that would have chapped his ass. But as far as he was concerned, if the man hadn’t staked his claim with a ring and a wedding vow, then the bastard wasn’t man enough to keep her.
But he had to make sure.
Jess gritted his teeth. “Engaged?”
“Well, no.” A fine blush tinted her cheeks. “But he hinted that he’s planning to ask me at Christmas.”
He released his hold on her fingers and slid his palm onto her hip at the same time he cupped the back of her head with his other hand. “If the man hasn’t had the balls to make you his by now, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
Trace’s entire body vibrated, her skin alive in a way that she’d never felt before with—with, er…
Jess brought his face closer to hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips and she could almost imagine how he would taste. His spicy scent saturated her senses, his male presence hard and solid. Everything about him was virile and sexy, dark and dangerous. Definitely dangerous, and definitely not part of the carefully arranged hand Trace planned to play out, meticulously and cleanly, to win the stakes she’d set her sights on years ago. Good job, nice home, stable family a million miles away from desert sands and faithless cowboys—a man like this definitely wasn’t part of the draw she needed. No, he was…a wildcard. An unexpected, unpredictable wildcard who could win the game’s hand instantly—or wreck it forever.
He was waiting. Waiting for her to tell him no. But all she could think about was how badly she wanted him to kiss her.
No, Trace. You can’t do this.
Just one kiss. One little kiss.
Jess made a noise like the rumble of a bull, and a whimper slipped from Trace. A sound of longing and desire.
His mouth crushed hers, his lips firm and possessive. She opened up to him, but he didn’t slide his tongue into her mouth. Instead he nipped at her lower lip, small, untamed bites that made her burn in a way she’d never imagined.
Trace moaned and clenched her hands in his shirt as she reached up, begging for more. Part of her couldn’t believe what she was doing, couldn’t believe what he was doing to her. And a part of her didn’t give a darn. She just didn’t want it to end.
Jess separated his mouth from hers, but kept his lips close to hers. “I’ve got to taste you, sugar. All of you.”
Omigod.
By the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, he didn’t just mean a kiss. He meant every part of her body. Her pussy flamed at the thought of his face between her thighs, his tongue licking her clit.
Oh, God. What was she doing? She didn’t even know Jess—she’d just met him what, twenty minutes ago? And now here she was, making out with him like a teenager. A really horny teenager at that.
What about her plans, the man she thought she was going to marry?
She gripped his shirt so tightly her knuckles ached. “Jess, I—”
He cut her off with another hard kiss. Only this time he plunged his tongue into her mouth, demanding and insistent.
Everything melted away. All thoughts of anything outside the feel of his stubble chafing her skin, the taste of him…a heady male flavor combined with a hint of malt beer.
Small purring sounds echoed in Trace’s ears, and she realized it was her—a low “
Mmmmmm,
” rose up within her, like she was sampling the finest of chocolates and she couldn’t get enough.
And right then she knew the kiss would
never
be enough. If she didn’t put some distance between herself and this man right now, she’d never be able to walk away from him.
She tore her mouth from his, her breathing hard and uneven. Jess’s chest rose and fell beneath her hands, and she knew he was as deeply aroused as she was. Not to mention that log he had pressed up against her belly. Good lord but the man had a huge cock.
“I, ah.” Trace unclenched her hands, releasing his shirt, her knuckles aching with the sudden flow of blood. “I need to use the ladies room.”
Jess ran the back of his hand along her cheek and smiled, his blue eyes dark with sensuality. “I’ll get you something at the bar.”
“Rum and coke would be great.” The conversation seemed inane considering the kiss they’d just shared and the wild lust pulsing between them in tangible waves. Impulsively she reached up and lightly kissed him. “I’ll be right back.”
She slipped away, refusing to look over her shoulder at him one last time, her lips still tingling and her clit still throbbing. As she entered the rec room, she suddenly realized how she must look—her lipstick kissed off, her mouth red from the scrape of his stubble, her lips swollen from his kisses and bites.
He’d
bitten
her for cripes sake.
In her state of total-freak-out, she almost ran into another woman. Her gaze shot up to meet the brunette’s furious ice-gray eyes, and the apology died in Trace’s throat. “Kathy Newman?” Trace said almost reflexively.
“Yeah.” The woman’s frown deepened. “Who the hell are you?”
“Excuse me.” Trace dodged past the person that she’d once considered her worst enemy in high school. Kathy Newman, the vivacious beauty that had been one of the most popular girls in school.