Hidden Treasure(14)

This man was clearly making her appearance change. If the glow in her eyes had anything to do with something other than Colt Westbrook, she didn’t know what it could be. It certainly wasn’t the crisp Montana air.

When the curtain parted and Colt was suddenly standing behind her again, Brielle didn’t even try to act as if she didn’t want him there. Since that first kiss on the shop floor, she’d been waiting for the next.

To hell with what she should be doing. She wanted to taste him again, wanted to feel the lightning flash across her skin. No, she wasn’t a virgin, but she couldn’t ever recall wanting a man so badly. It wasn’t as if she’d been with a dozen men — only two, in fact. But she had a rising suspicion that Colt was going to be the third.

That thought should have caused her some anxiety, but as she turned and his arms wrapped around her, all she could feel were burning embers traveling to her core.

“You are a devil in disguise,” Colt murmured, and took her mouth in a kiss that was far from gentle.





Chapter Eight

When she emerged from the changing room, Brielle knew she looked as if she’d just had sex. They hadn’t — of course not! — but she wasn’t a fool. Her hair was mussed, her lips red and swollen, and that certainly wasn’t cosmetic blusher on her cheeks.

No. Sadly enough, a man hadn’t been able to put this sort of glow in her face in too long to remember. Maybe ever, actually. She was used to being with controlled men, men who asked permission before they kissed her.

She’d thought that was what she wanted. But apparently she’d been a bit wrong, because right now all she could think about was darting back into that changing room, ripping Colt’s clothes off, and finishing what the two of them had started.

Closing her eyes, she ran through the past ten minutes again and again in her head. The feel of his strong hands moving slowly up and down her back, the way his lips had parted hers, and how his tongue had slipped inside her mouth.

When he’d gripped her backside and lifted her up against him, she’d nearly come right then and there just from feeling his hardness. This man was lethal, but she couldn’t seem to tell herself to back away.

She wanted to be with him, wanted to have his hands all over her, and wanted to keep tasting his kisses. She wanted a lot more from Colt Westbrook. Why even try to run?

This would stop, she assured herself. She just needed some air. When she looked up, grateful he was giving her five feet of space, she found her eyes fastening on a set of three elderly ladies who were slack-jawed and sparkly-eyed.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, darling,” one of the women said as they all stepped forward. “I’m Bethel, and these two women here are my friends, Eileen and Maggie.” She pointed first to one and then the other.

Brielle was at a loss for words for a few seconds as she struggled to switch off her lustful thoughts and focus on the women in front of her. She had best get used to strangers introducing themselves in this town, because it seemed that no one was looked at as a stranger here.

She accepted the hand that Bethel was holding out and said, “I’m Brielle Storm.”

“Ah. You’re the new owner at the Ponderosa Pines Ranch,” Bethel said, and the other two women nodded knowingly.

“So, we see you’re here with Colt,” one of the other women said — was it Eileen or Maggie? Damn! — and the smile she sent Brielle’s way started to make her really nervous. She didn’t know why, but it seemed as if these women were analyzing her, maybe planning something, something she was sure she wanted no part of. Shifting on her feet, she tried to figure out the best escape route possible, but there seemed to be nowhere to run.

“Yes, he brought me here to get some work clothes. I…um…wasn’t quite prepared for the ranch,” Brielle admitted, amazed when she felt her cheeks redden even more.

She was a Storm, and at one time even the mention of her name had brought a reverent silence. Money talked. But she didn’t have any now, and there was no sign of either reverence or silence from the three women standing before her.

“Ladies, are you giving Brielle a hard time?”

Suddenly, Colt was standing next to her, his arm slung across her back. Of course, the three women’s eyes zeroed in on the protective gesture. Brielle tried to squirm away, but he was strong and determined, and without doing some all-too-obvious twisting, she wasn’t going to escape his hold.

“Not at all, Colt. We were just introducing ourselves. Martin’s over at the café and he said the two of you came in here about an hour ago,” Eileen said with a sly smile. “We were just wondering why picking out a few items of clothing was taking so long.”