One Unforgettable Kiss. A.C. Arthur
with freckles. It wasn’t a usual feature he saw on women, but damn, on her it was more than a little arousing.
“What happened?” a male voice asked.
“Are you all right, Harper?” came another.
It was then that Garrek realized a few things. One, they were not alone, and two, he was still on top of her. And he was enjoying being on top of her, much more than he ever would have anticipated.
“I’m okay,” she said and pushed at him hard enough this time that he moved.
As he came to stand, Garrek took her by both hands and helped her up. When she was standing, she immediately pulled her hands from his grip.
“What the hell was that?” A tall guy dressed in cargo pants and a T-shirt came over to move between Garrek and Harper. “Are you all right?”
“I’m good,” Harper told him, but he didn’t seem convinced. “Really, Marlon, I’m okay.”
Garrek looked at the guy differently now. At first he’d been wondering if it were her boyfriend or something like that. But he remembered hearing her say the name before, and Morgan saying that Marlon and Craig were her cousins who worked for her. So he relaxed a little when he replied, “A tractor-trailer going way too fast in this residential area.”
Marlon turned to stare at him. He was a young guy, maybe midtwenties, with a bush of curly dark hair and a beard.
“And you are?” Marlon asked.
Garrek extended his hand and answered, “I’m Garrek Taylor.”
It wasn’t until he said Taylor that Marlon’s stance eased and he shook Garrek’s hand. Garrek could totally understand protective cousins.
“We need to get back to work,” Harper said, and the others who had gathered around them began to scatter.
Garrek didn’t move, and neither did Marlon.
“Thanks, Garrek,” she said as she looked over to him. “I should have been paying more attention.”
After that Harper walked away with Marlon following her. Garrek figured the guy still wasn’t a hundred percent certain about him. Perhaps because of the way he’d been lying comfortably—or at least pleasurably—on top of Harper. But Garrek wasn’t concerned with Marlon or his perception of him at the moment. He was mesmerized, once again, by the way Harper’s jeans fit her and how her long legs carried her gracefully across the street. When she squatted to pick up one of the bags she’d been carrying, Garrek continued to watch her, noting the strength in her arms and the independence in her spirit as she refused Marlon’s help.
He stared at her for much longer than was probably proper, and when he finally decided to turn away and started walking down the street, he was still thinking of her. With everything else he had going on in his life, the very last thing he needed was to have another woman on his mind. But she was there, her face apparently permanently etched in his mind, the feel of her beneath him emblazoned on his body. Even the air he breathed seemed to smell just like her—an earthy, floral mixture that was driving him crazy.
When he finally arrived at the B&B Garrek went straight to his room and dropped down into a chair. He ran his hands over his face and shook his head in an attempt to erase the current thoughts. Harper Presley was not what Garrek needed to be thinking about right now. He already had one woman wreaking havoc in his life. He definitely did not need another one.
He was hard.
Strong...she meant.
And hard.
And the memory of him stuck in her mind like rocks in cement.
It had been about seven hours since Garrek Taylor had saved her life—from the idiot tractor-trailer driver who had been illegally speeding down a residential street. Almost twenty-four hours since he’d saved her from the Magnolia Guild and further humiliation in front of a small portion of the town’s population. And a little less than that since he’d invaded her dreams with his sexy voice and that knowing glare.
Truth be told, Harper wasn’t overly worried about what the townspeople thought about her. They’d been thinking the same thing all her life—that Harper Lane Presley was an incorrigible tomboy who’d rather swallow flies than wear a dress and makeup. They were partially right. Harper did not like makeup. She’d tried it once and her stubborn freckles had poked right through, like tenacious weeds growing in a garden year after year. And dresses did not work well with climbing trees or playing softball and sliding into home to score the winning run, which was the ultimate act to show off in front of her cousins.
But she was not incorrigible. In fact, when Harper had left Temptation to attend Virginia Varsity University, where she’d studied building construction, she’d actually made a concerted effort to try to act like the other girls. That hadn’t ended well, and Harper decided then that she simply was who she was, and whoever had a problem with that just didn’t matter.
Garrek Taylor didn’t seem to have a problem with her. He’d shown that with his twenty-five-hundred-dollar bid. Did that make him an ass? Bidding on a woman like she was a piece of property instead of doing the sociable thing and asking for a date like an ordinary man? Or did that mean he’d liked what he’d seen as she stood on that stage in one of the few skirts she owned, praying for a way to escape? She didn’t know, and she shouldn’t even be worrying about it. She couldn’t go on a date with Garrek Taylor.
She did, however, if she were totally truthful with herself, want to feel his hard body against hers once more. Sure, he had done it to save her life, but Harper had immediately realized that there were worse scenarios than having a man who looked—and oh, yes, smelled—like Garrek lying on top of her. His cologne was a bold musk fragrance that screamed strength and confidence even louder than his stance and actions. She’d picked up his scent last night as he’d walked beside her. Had dreamed about it last night and almost swooned over it when he’d been standing right behind her on the porch this morning. By the time he was on top of her, she’d been ready to rip his clothes off and press them to her nose. Damn, she was pitiful.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. We’ve got company.”
Harper startled at the sound of her father’s voice. She’d been standing at the railing on the back porch of her family farm, staring out at the miles of grass that led down to the barn.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m not in the mood for guests—” Her words were lost as Harper moved away from the railing and turned to see the company her father was referring to.
“Garrek here says you two met last night. Then Craig and Marlon told me about the incident at the Taylor house this afternoon. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Arnold Presley was a retired marine colonel. He was six feet three inches tall and almost as wide as a doorway. He kept his bulky frame in good physical condition by doing all the lifting and hauling around the farm. And according to him, he exercised his brain by watching an even mix of CNN and Sanford and Son reruns. His gray hair was cut close, while his keen sense for people ran rampant all day long.
“Last night was ridiculous and not worth talking about. Except that Mr., ah... Garrek Taylor...he um, made a great contribution to the Veterans Fund. So that was the highlight,” she said, managing to keep her gaze from falling on Garrek, who stood just behind her father.
He’d changed clothes. Earlier he’d worn jeans and a T-shirt. Tonight, he had on blue slacks and a gray button-down shirt. From laid-back to business casual, he looked like a model. Everything fit just the right way, and he appeared perfect in everything. It would have been sickening—if it wasn’t so alluring.
“Well, I would expect nothing less of a military man,” Arnold continued.
He was smiling—which her father rarely did—when he reached