Liza didn’t even realize she was smiling until she heard the molasses-laced voice of
the Devil in Blue Jeans. “You’ll be waiting all night if you called a cab, darlin’. Only one in town,” he reminded her.
She all but fell off her tree stump at the sight of him. Staring up at his potentially six-foot-three-inch stature required her to tilt her head back. Way back.
Damn, he’s tall.
She blinked once.
And muscular.
She blinked twice.
And so very sexy.
She smiled brighter as her pulse kicked into high gear and her pussy started to
throb again. He grinned back, dimple and all. The moonlight caught his straight white teeth as he spoke, nearly blinding her.
“Since I’m the one responsible for all those drinks you had, I thought I’d give you a ride home,” he offered once more. “Drop you off at the door, that’s it,” he added as he raised his hands in the air in bad-boy surrender. Yet there was a suggestive hint in his tone that made her wonder whether he’d stick to his guns. How disappointed would
she be if he did?
Her insides fluttered at the thought of helping him break that promise.
It occurred to her that Fate wasn’t letting her fold this hand. Getting to her feet as carefully as possible, her gaze locked with his.
“A ride is exactly what I need,” she told him.
And there was little doubt the Devil got that message loud and clear.
17
Calista Fox
Chapter Two
Feeling’s mutual, darlin’, he thought.
So what’s with the “drop you off at the door” bullshit?
Because that’s exactly what you should do, Jack Wade told himself as he and the
pretty New Yorker started off across the gravel parking lot, her a bit wobbly on those sexy high heels she wore. And him engaged in an internal debate he already knew he
wouldn’t win.
Not a big surprise. Everything about Miss Manhattan made it damn near
impossible to get his raging hormones under control. How long had it been since a
woman like this one had crossed his path? One who made his pulse race and his cock
stiffen with nothing more than a sultry laugh that lit her vibrant green eyes and teased him senseless?
Well, okay. Truth be told, her long legs and curvy-in-all-the-right-places body did
the trick too.
But even as he gave credence to how quickly and effortlessly she’d captured his
attention and sparked his libido, he knew it’d behoove him to curb his desire for the woman who’d walked through the door of his saloon looking ready to sin in a dress
that did everything to evoke a man’s carnal lust.
In fact, it was probably a bad idea to drive her home. He had a feeling he was
inviting more trouble into his life than was necessary. Jack had enough complications to contend with these days. He needed another one like he needed a hole in the head.
Yet he was pursuing her anyway, wasn’t he?
Who could blame him, really? She was a looker, no doubt about it. Her big green
eyes had lit his fire all the way across the crowded saloon and he’d been utterly
captivated from that first head-to-toe gander he’d gotten of her. She had mile-long legs that would feel like heaven wrapped around his hips. A slender, but womanly figure
that he’d instantly fantasized about. He wanted to cover it with his own body as they lay naked on his large bed, pressing her into the mattress as his cock thrust deep into what he imagined to be a tight, wet pussy. Her breasts were full and firm looking. Her lips were glossy and a deep crimson color—bewitching and damn kissable.
Yes, one look and he’d been hooked. Despite his steadfast rule not to date Wilder
women.
Technically, she’s not a Wilder woman.
His attempt to reason with himself warred with the issue at hand. His plate runneth
over these days and he didn’t need to tip the scales with a woman who, though she’d
18
Devil in Texas
instantly mesmerized him, screamed complex and high-maintenance without saying a
word.
There were pros and cons to letting this obviously mutual attraction follow its
natural course. Sure, she was new to town, so theoretically, he could cross “Wilder
Women are No-Nos” off his short list of taboos. Hell, she hadn’t even committed to
staying in town for more than a few weeks. He’d known that long before she’d
explained her rental situation. It was, after all, his fully furnished lakeside cottage she was now residing in, according to the property manager who’d called him earlier in the day to say he had a line on a new tenant.
Another complication. Jack hadn’t wanted to rent the cottage because it sat on his
property. He was a man who valued his privacy, but with the economy such as it was
and the recent morality crusade that seemed to be mowing the town flat—and
impacting his bottom line at the saloon—he hadn’t had much choice. Knew, in fact, that he should be grateful Manhattan had shown up when she had. Not as if there was a line of people waiting to fill the rental market in a small town like this.
He’d have to work through the nuances of this unexpected twist of fate before he
divulged the fact that he was her landlord. Jack read women like books and this one
was shooting for mysterious and anonymous. She was on a mission he recognized,
though he sensed it wasn’t a familiar one for her. Nor did he pick up signs that she was in the right frame of mind to follow-through on what she thought she wanted. The
tequila had been a dead giveaway. She’d needed it to loosen up, to feel sexy and
desirable.
Ridiculous, really. Any woman who looked like Manhattan did should need
nothing more than a mirror to confirm her sex appeal. But she’d likely taken a blow to her ego and needed reassurance.
Jack Wade was a betting man and he’d lay odds that she’d come looking for trouble
tonight as payback for being dumped. Or perhaps for being ignored or overlooked by
some moronic fool who had no idea what he was missing out on.
Damn shame. No woman whose eyes lit up like the Fourth of July night sky when
she smiled or laughed should ever feel the need to prove her worth. But Jack had been around enough blocks to see the writing on the wall.
No worries. He could stick with anonymity if that’s what she wanted. He’d ease her
into the reality of the situation tomorrow.
So long as he could keep his hands off her luscious body tonight. Keep his dick in
his pants, not in her.
“Last call’s at eleven o’clock on a Friday night?” Her soft, provocative voice broke
into his thoughts, which seemed to take an erotic detour at every turn with this woman.