No Romance Required(42)

Actually, he didn’t. High school in general wasn’t a place he liked to mentally revisit. And school dances? Worst of the worst. Instead of getting laid at prom, he’d acted as a bookie for some of the other students. They’d heard about his golden touch with the horses, and his chances for post-dance sex had gone downhill after that.

She leaned up to circle his neck with her arms. “But I bet you’re not thinking of how perfect Melinda is for you now, are you?”

He wasn’t thinking about anything but getting her naked. And that wasn’t so much a thought as a primal command in his blood. “Melinda who?”

Her laughter burst across his cheek, as frothy as ripples in the surf. “You know what I’d really like to see?”

“The twin bed I used to plot world domination in?” He tugged on a corkscrew curl. “Because I sure wouldn’t mind putting some of your yoga skills to work so we could make use of it.”

More laughter, softer now as she drew back. “No. The barn.”

“The barn? It’s dark and foggy out. There’s a threat of rain.”

Eyes dancing with mirth, she tapped her fingers against her mouth and swiveled back to the china cabinet. “Never mind. I’d hate to get all…wet.”

“Hold it.” He snagged her arm and pressed close to her back. He’d never think to use a building that housed livestock for such a purpose, but he could see the possibilities. “Barn, you say?”

She rubbed against him, sidling up and down as sinuously as a cat. “Uh-huh. Race you there.”

“I don’t race. Women chase after me.”

At her sniff, he grinned. Until she reached under dress and shimmied down the string-bikini panties he’d amused himself with a few minutes before. She drew them off her long legs, allowing him a glimpse of black, lace-topped stockings, and then pressed them into his hand. They were tiny and as red as her dress. And very damp.

He stared at them while she walked to the door.

“Not this woman. You know where to find me, CEO.”

…

Vicky clomped across the pasture, wincing at the mud squishing around her boots. She lowered her head, forging her way in the evening light toward the hulking dark structure. In the daylight, the maroon building looked as pastoral as the sprawling farms she’d driven past as a child. She’d always wanted to live on one, to have chickens to feed, maybe even a cow or two.

And there would be kids laughing. She could hear them in her mind as she closed her eyes and reached for the barn door. Her kids wouldn’t have to worry about anything. They’d never wonder if one day their mommy wouldn’t come home.

They’d never be right.

The simplicity of such a life called to her, even though no one she knew would’ve ever believed it. She was the party girl, the one who danced on tables and lured hot businessmen away from family dinners for quick hand jobs in bathrooms and more—hopefully much more—in dusty barns.

She pulled on the door and grunted in frustration. Dammit, it was locked. Now what?

Sensing someone behind her, she whirled, unprepared for the sensation of Cory’s hot mouth coming down on hers. Her flirtatious response died at the first brush of his tongue, seeking and urgent on hers. He reached up to cup her breast, palming it while they devoured each other.

“You forgot this.” He laid something cold against her throat and she jerked, her head involuntarily coming up. He latched his mouth on her jaw and lowered the cold thing, whatever it was, to one of the eager nipples budding through her dress.

She jerked again, hard enough to almost knock them both over. And he laughed. Just laughed until she shut him up with a kiss that ended with him groaning and hoisting her into his arms.

“Here.” He slapped the key in her hand and bent his knees, lowering her to reach the lock. “Get us inside.”

It wasn’t easy. Her fingers felt thick and fumbly, and the early-fall chill had already seeped into her bones. By the time she fit it into the lock and Cory shouldered the door open, they were both shivering. Only mid-September and it already looked like they would have their first frost soon.

The smell of hay and horses hit her first, bringing a sharp sting to her eyes. She’d spent time in this barn years ago, back when Cory’s mother had invited the Girl Scouts over for a field trip. They’d had two horses then, Midas and Misty, and she’d spent an hour brushing Misty’s silky coat while Cory sulked in the corner. Corinne had insisted her eldest son chip in his knowledge of raising horses, and he had, begrudgingly.

He’d also stared Vicky down as if he couldn’t wait to rid her from his sight. Is that what Dillon had been referring to?