B.J. purred when his caress found the center of her heat. Sliding her panties down her thighs, he nibbled his way up her throat.
“Do you want to know what I think of Ralphie Smardo?” he asked just before catching her earlobe with his teeth.
Sighing out her pleasure as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access, B.J. asked, “No, I’m not sure I do.”
He chuckled and told her anyway. “I think he was scared because you’re too much of a woman, and he knew he’d never be able to handle you.”
B.J. lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, but you think you can handle me, huh?” Her voice held a certain challenge even though her eyes sparked with
pleasure at his true meaning.
He grinned and tossed her underwear over his shoulder. “No, not really. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”
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The Trouble with Tomboys
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Grady woke hard and
hungry. And even though his stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling, he decided to ignore his appetite in favor of the other pressing need. An hour later, showered and dressed, he whistled as he strode to his truck.
Before Houston, he’d always been eager to go to work, to escape his lonely, memory-filled house. But this morning, he felt reluctant to leave. B.J. was inside. It didn’t matter if she’d be heading out soon herself to go to the hangar. She was in there now.
And since she was, that was where he wanted to be.
He cringed, thinking he sounded pathetic for wanting to be with her nonstop. But then he
realized, hey, he was a newlywed. Of course he wanted to spend every waking hour with his wife.
Realizing, yes, he was indeed a newlywed, it suddenly struck him they’d totally bypassed a honeymoon. He should ask her tonight if she wanted to go away for a few days...or weeks. He grinned.
The woman would probably want to see a NASCAR
race, which was perfectly fine by him. He liked her tastes and was happy about the fact he’d never have to attend another craft fair in his life.
Craving coffee, he decided to stop by the diner on his way to Rawlings Oil. Someone at the office usually made a pot, but whoever did couldn’t brew to save their life...and since the smell made B.J. sick to her stomach, he couldn’t make his own at home. As he stepped into the café, however, the smell of frying bacon, scrambled eggs and hot apple pie made his stomach growl.
223
He ordered a full meal with his coffee even
though he’d already eaten once this morning.
Grinning, he realized it was entirely B.J.’s fault. He wouldn’t have worked up such an appetite if she’d kept her hands off him in the shower and hadn’t demanded she wash his back because he’d missed a spot. After that, he’d felt obligated to offer the same courtesy. And pretty soon, they were cleaning each other against the shower wall. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d been inside her only minutes earlier. He was always ready for more with B.J.
The extra-long shower and double breakfast
made him late for work, but he wasn’t too concerned.
If he was needed so badly, he’d just stay later this evening. Being late was worth having such a
wonderful morning.
He dropped by the office first thing. After
checking his e-mails and answering machine to find no one had left him any pressing matters to attend to, he decided to head out and spend the day in the field. For some reason, he wanted to be active today.
He felt energized enough he could probably go for hours without a break.
Whistling again, he stopped by his dad’s office to let the old man know where he’d be.
“Hey, Dad.” Knocking on Tucker Rawlings half-opened door, he poked his head inside to find the room empty, the screensaver on the computer
flashing family photos across the monitor. Glancing out into the hallway, Grady didn’t spot his dad nearby, so he stepped inside and snagged a Post-it note to leave a quick message. He’d just reached for a pen when he spotted B.J.’s name on an official-looking piece of paper sitting among his father’s things.
Frowning, he changed direction and snagged the document. “What the hell?”
It didn’t take him long to realize he was holding 224
The Trouble with Tomboys
a prenuptial agreement. Mouth falling open, he smoothed out the tri-fold, causing another set of papers to fall out the bottom, landing on the desk.
He slowly picked up the deed to B.J.’s plane. A sickening feeling crept through his stomach.
Returning his attention to the prenup, he
scanned every numbered line, feeling more nauseous with each addendum he read. “Oh, God.”
“Grady?”
Grady lifted his head and found his father
paused in the doorway. With a half-eaten doughnut in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, Tucker Rawlings had a guilty expression smeared across his features.