Runaway Colton. Karen Whiddon
him. “Are you flirting?”
Though she colored, she didn’t look away. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m trying to find out where we stand with each other. I also noticed you didn’t answer the question.”
He laughed; he couldn’t help it. “I’d have to be dead not to find you attractive,” he told her. “But don’t worry, I won’t let it get in the way of the job I have to do. Or finding Renee. Both are too important to me.”
Color still high, she finally smiled back. “Fair enough. Now how about we call it a night and regroup in the morning.”
Though it was still early, he nodded. “Okay. Good night.”
She sighed. “I’m probably going to regret this, but...”
Before he could ask what she meant, she crossed the space between them, grabbed him and pulled him down for a kiss. Her mouth moved across his, nothing tentative about it. A wave of lust swamped him. Damn if it wasn’t the most erotic kiss he’d ever shared.
Standing stock-still, he let her nibble and explore, until he couldn’t take it any longer. Finally, he seized control, needing to claim her. He tasted her, skimmed his fingers over her soft, soft skin, outlining her lush curves. He couldn’t get enough, craving more, breathing her in until the force of his arousal told him he needed to break it off right now or they’d be in trouble.
He’d be in trouble, he amended silently. Despite the fact that he physically shook with desire, he stepped back, trying to slow his heartbeat and the way he inhaled short gasps of air. Drowning, that’s what this had been like. Drowning in her.
“Good night,” he rasped, and turned to go. The way he left felt more like a retreat than anything else, but so be it. “Truman, come.”
His loyal dog, man’s best friend, didn’t budge. So Cord left him there with Piper.
Once he made it all the way across the house, he headed toward his room, desperately trying to think of something—anything—other than how badly he wanted to be inside of her.
A cold shower later—which helped, at least for a few minutes—and he finally slipped beneath his sheets. He’d lived long enough to understand what had just occurred between him and Piper was a huge mistake. He needed to do his best to forget it had ever happened. If she brought it up again, he’d say the same thing to her.
And if she initiated another kiss?
Just the thought had him burning again. Even though he’d made a conscious decision to try and forget, he couldn’t help but relive the moment.
He’d held her. Close. Felt every curve and hollow of her body pressed tightly against his. He’d tasted her—or rather—she’d tasted him. Her self-confidence and boldness intrigued and aroused him, which only made her even more dangerous.
* * *
The next morning Piper woke and stretched, taking a moment to contemplate before jumping out of bed. She must have been exhausted, since she’d apparently fallen deeply asleep the instant her head hit the pillow. She remembered nothing after that, not even a single dream.
All her life, she’d been a morning person, to most of the family’s dismay. When she woke, she liked to face the day head-on, full of energy and optimism.
Today would be no exception, even if she’d gotten a little carried away last night.
But who could blame her? Being around gorgeous, sexy-as-hell Cord would tempt a saint. And Piper definitely wasn’t a saint. She, like any other red-blooded female, could appreciate a perfect specimen of a man. Cord, with his thick mane of dark hair, chiseled features and muscular body, definitely qualified. Every time she looked at him her mouth went dry and her body tingled.
Just thinking about him made her want to kiss him again. And more, if she was honest with herself, which she always tried to be.
The way she saw it, with the two of them in such enforced, close proximity, sex would be inevitable. Maybe she’d simply tell him that, so they could get past the tiptoeing around each other and get right to it. Honestly, she’d been celibate long enough. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait.
If he asked her, she’d tell him the truth. She wanted him. She felt certain enough of that fact to be honest and upfront about it. Though she couldn’t say she never lied. She didn’t truly believe Cord when he said he didn’t.
A soft whine came from beside her. From a large lump under the blanket. A second later, Truman poked his big head out. “What are you doing there?” she asked, scratching him in his favorite place just below the ears. He sighed and closed his eyes.
“You can sleep in, boy,” she told the dog. “I’ve got to get up. Things to do and all that.”
She pushed back the covers and headed toward the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, showered, makeup done and hair dry, she tugged on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, chose sneakers over boots, and headed toward the kitchen.
Coffee. She smelled coffee, thank heavens. Some people claimed not to drink it, but she’d rather do without breakfast than her coffee.
Turning the corner, following the delicious scent, she ran smack-dab into Cord.
“Whoa,” he said, steadying her with hands on her arms. Large, capable-looking hands, she thought, remembering the feel of them on her body with a delicious shiver.
Cord released her, stepping back, almost as if she’d voiced the thought out loud.
Unsure if she should be hurt or amused or both, she decided to ignore it, at least for now. “Coffee,” she intoned, stepping around him as she made a beeline for the coffeepot.
“Mugs are in the cabinet right above it,” Cord said. “Powdered creamer, sugar and artificial sweetener, too.”
After snagging a mug, a heavy white one with a local breakfast restaurant logo on it, she filled it. Then, raising it to her nose, she inhaled deeply before taking a sip. “Mmm. I like mine black.”
When she raised her gaze from contemplation of the delicious morning nectar, she saw him studying her, his expression unreadable. “What?” she asked. “Don’t tell me none of your previous guests drank black coffee.”
“None of the female ones, that’s for sure,” he said. “Are you always this...bouncy so early in the morning?”
“Yes.” Unrepentant, she grinned and then took another sip of coffee. “It’s my blessing, or curse, depending how you look at it. As to early...” She glanced around the kitchen for a clock, finally seeing a digital display on the microwave. “Since when is six thirty early? Getting up at four a.m. in the summer to work cattle is early.”
“I forgot you live on a ranch.”
Still grinning, she nodded. “I do. And Eldridge always made all of us help when we were young.” Though her smile wavered as she remembered the man she thought of as her father, she forced herself to continue on. “Most of us still help out around the ranch, along with pursuing our other interests.” Which, in her case, meant repurposing old furniture and curb-side treasures.
She took a deep breath. “Do you want me to make breakfast? I cook a mean omelet.”
“You cook?”
Realizing he still stood in the spot where they’d collided, near the doorway as if he wanted to be able to bolt from the room, she smiled. “I do. And I’m pretty darn good at it, too. Our ranch cook taught me.”
“Hmm.”
“An enigmatic response if I ever heard one.” She gestured toward one of the empty kitchen chairs. “Why don’t you sit down? I promise I don’t bite.”
Of course, the statement sounded a lot more provocative than she’d intended, definitely because the instant she’d uttered it, she pictured where and how she’d love to bite him.
Closing