Texas Fever. Kimberly Raye
with the last button before perching on the edge of the bed to pull on her skirt. “I run my own business and I’ve got a ton of things to do first thing in the morning.” She stood and reached for her purse. “Maybe we could have dinner some time. Whenever you’re available. I know you’re probably busy with horses or cattle or whatever you do.”
“Actually, I do both. For now. My grandfather passed away about six months ago and I’ve been running my family’s ranch since then. But that’s just temporary until my brother comes home in a few weeks. Then I’m headed back to Arizona. I run a small charter business.”
“I thought you were a cowboy.”
“Professionally, I’m a pilot.”
“But you look like a cowboy.”
“Cowboying isn’t something you do, cupcake. It’s the way you think.” He winked. “I’ll always be a cowboy. I just like climbing into the cockpit of a Cessna more than I like climbing into a saddle.”
Disappointment filled her gaze and Josh barely ignored the urge to pull her into his arms.
“But you look like a cowboy,” she stated again, as if she had to say it twice for the words to really sink in. “I’m sorry. I thought…” She shook her head. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime then.”
“I doubt that. I don’t get down to Houston too often. Austin’s closer, so I do most of the ranch business there.”
“I’m talking about here. In town. I live here now.”
He sat up. “What did you say?”
“As of three o’clock this afternoon, I own the Farraday Inn—my grandmother left it to me.”
What? “You’re Holly Farraday?” It was more of a statement than a question, because the truth was right there in front of him. In the deep red hue of her hair. The bright green of her eyes. He’d recognized her, all right, because she looked like her grandmother. A young, vibrant version of the old woman who’d stolen his grandfather’s heart all those years ago, and his land.
“So maybe we’ll see each other again,” she said as she hauled open the door. “Before you leave, that is.”
But there was no maybe about it.
Josh would have to see her again, all right, because sweet-smelling Holly Farraday had something he wanted really, really bad.
His groin throbbed and he conceded. Okay, so she had two things he wanted, but he’d already had one of them and he wasn’t going back for seconds.
More importantly, she had his family’s land and he meant to get it back. He’d promised his grandfather as much, and Josh always kept his word.
Especially with his own peace of mind hanging in the balance.
3
“IT’S ABOUT TIME you showed up.” Holly dusted the flour from her blouse as she pulled open the front door of the massive farmhouse. “I’m on my tenth Ultimate Orgasm and I need at least a dozen more.”
“I could guarantee one.” The voice, deep and husky, slid into her ears as she came face-to-face with the cowboy standing on her doorstep. “Maybe even two or three,” he went on, “if I’m not too worked up and there’s no vanilla icing involved. But a dozen is pushing it. Even for a McGraw.”
“I was talking about an Ultimate Milk Chocolate Orgasm.”
“I didn’t know they came in flavors.”
“Mine do. Milk chocolate.” She tried to gather her wits. “I thought you were the UPS guy.”
“Cupcake,” he said as he leaned one palm against the door frame and stared down at her, “do I look like the UPS guy?”
“No. Yes.” She shook her head. “If we were back in Houston, I would say no. But we’re here in Timbuktu, where my mailman rides a four-wheeler with a horn that plays ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas.’ So a UPS guy who looks like the Marlboro Man and drives a…” she glanced past him to the black Dodge Dualie pickup that sat in the front drive “…monster truck wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”
He grinned and her heart stalled for a dangerous second. Heat skittered along her nerve endings and she had half a mind to reach out and trace the shape of his lips. The other half of her mind voted to bypass the tracing entirely and go straight to a kiss. A hot, wet, deep kiss that would satisfy the sudden craving deep in her belly.
A full-fledged craving that had haunted her the entire weekend, when she hadn’t had more than a hankering in the past few years since she’d started Sweet & Sinful. Launching a new business left little time for socializing and so she’d been having a major dry spell when it came to sex.
Until Josh McGraw.
He’d quenched her thirst on Friday night, or so she’d thought until she’d spent the past two days wanting another drink.
She’d tried her usual remedy for a bad case of lust—a few spoonfuls of her Ultimate Milk Chocolate Orgasm batter never failed to kill the urge and keep her on the straight and narrow to the land of the financially secure. That and a few private fantasies featuring one of her favorite actors.
Neither had satisfied her this time.
Josh eyed her and awareness skittered along her nerve endings. “Do you usually proposition the UPS guy?”
“Proposition?” Her mind rushed back and she remembered her words. “Oh, you mean the Ultimate Orgasm.”
“A dozen of them.” He shook his head and grinned. “If your UPS guy can deliver that, he’s definitely in the wrong line of work.”
“I can see your point.” She couldn’t help but smile. “But I wasn’t referring to that kind of orgasm. The Ultimate Orgasm is a mousse cake,” she told him. “Made with three different textures of chocolate, fudge and a sweet cream. It’s my top seller—particularly the milk chocolate flavor. I make specialty desserts for a living.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “And here I thought you might be continuing the family tradition.”
“I might not agree with my grandmother’s choice of profession, but it was her choice.” A choice that had obviously forced her only child to run away.
Holly now realized why her mother had been so tight-lipped all those years ago. She’d moved them from city to city, state to state, because she’d been desperate to escape her past and protect her own child from such an influence. Maybe she’d feared her own mother finding her and forcing her back. Or maybe she’d simply been embarrassed. Maybe both. Either way, she’d run and she’d kept running, and now Holly understood.
Not that Holly felt any shame. Sex wasn’t held in the same taboo as it had been years ago. Besides, Holly had grown up in the city. Several to be exact. She was more open-minded. But growing up the daughter of a small-town madam… That must have been hard.
“It was her choice,” she said again, “and obviously a pretty smart choice, from what I hear.” And she’d heard an earful in the few days she’d been in town. There wasn’t a person in town who didn’t have something to say about the Farraday Inn. Holly had expected negative comments. Instead, she’d been bombarded with questions about Rose and her infamous recipe book—the sexual dishes she’d served up at the Farraday Inn.
Did it exist?
What were the recipes?
Could they really drive a man to the brink of insanity?
Maybe. Holly didn’t know. She’d barely set up her kitchen, much less picked her way through her grandmother’s belongings. She did know that there were five “dining” rooms upstairs, each decorated with a particular theme that no doubt catered to a particular recipe. As for the recipes themselves… She’d been too busy