All Shook Up Read online

  Damn. He’d better get the hell out of here before J.D. spotted him and screwed up his entire strategy.

  He supposed he ought to go out to the parking lot and jockey his car around so he wouldn’t be stuck when he needed a quick getaway. He’d seen the way people blocked each other in out there, and the smart money said he’d better find a spot from which to follow J.D. when the other man left. He needed to know exactly where his ole bud was staying.

  Because once he had that information, he’d be in a much better position to come up with a plan to get rid of him.

  Why me, God? Dru silently demanded as she watched Char and J.D. wend their way from the bar to the table. Isn’t it enough that my matchmaking turned out to be such a bust? I’ve already done a bang-up job of making myself and my two best friends miserable tonight—is it truly necessary to saddle me with J.D., too?

  Talk about overkill.

  Her body, damn its hide, didn’t seem to agree. But it obviously just wanted to get laid, so what did it know?

  She shifted edgily in her chair and found herself sitting taller and pulling her shoulders back to display her breasts a bit more prominently. Her skin grew warm, her pulse quickened, and every nerve ending she possessed came alive with anticipation. To occupy her hands, which suddenly itched something fierce to touch that long, hard body drawing ever closer, she reached for her nearly full glass and drained it in one long swallow. An additional warmth she probably didn’t need exploded in her stomach. That episode with J.D. outside the lodge’s kitchen had clearly done a number on her. It was as if she’d been conditioned to his touch—because just one look, and she wanted him again. She wanted him bad.

  Well, tough patooties, because she was stronger than a few renegade hormones. Struggling to keep from looking like an infatuated fool, she directed a cool smile at the couple as they walked up to the table.

  “Look who I found at the bar,” Char said, stroking her hand down J.D.’s arm.

  “J.D.,” Dru said, praying her impersonal smile wouldn’t suddenly degenerate into a snarl. She was shocked at the unprecedented urge she had to break her best friend’s fingers.

  “Drucilla,” J.D. replied, and his eyes were anything but impersonal as they touched upon her loose hair, her bare shoulders and chest, and lingered for the briefest moment on her cleavage. Then he forced his gaze away and gave Kev an abbreviated, cool nod. “Bronsen.”

  Kev’s response was every bit as chilly. “Carver.”

  Without waiting to ask who was sitting where, J.D. circled the postage-stamp-sized table and set his beer down on it. He pulled out the chair that Char had been using all evening and dropped down next to Dru. Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he sprawled back in his seat, big shoulders encroaching on Dru’s space, hard thighs spread wide, one leg pressing hers from knee to hip. Dru’s temperature immediately skyrocketed into the spontaneous-combustion zone.

  Char shrugged at having her place usurped and sat next to Kev. “Well, say, now,” she said brightly. “Isn’t this cozy.”

  Kev made an impatient move, as if prepared to push back from the table, but Char ignored him as she’d been ignoring him all evening and leaned toward J.D. “Wanna dance?”

  “Sure, why not?” He stood and waited for her to circle the table. Then, placing a hand lightly on the bare skin at the small of her back, he guided her to the dance floor.

  Swallowing hard to rid herself of the bitter taste of a jealousy she’d love to deny, Dru looked at Kev across the table. “I feel like I should apologize. This isn’t at all how I envisioned the evening going.”

  He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.” But his gaze barely left the dance floor. A couple of minutes later he stiffened, his eyes going bleak. “Christ, not the octopus again.”

  Dru turned to see what he was staring at. A man had cut in on J.D. and was dancing off with Char. Dru swiveled around as J.D. sauntered back to the table.

  Presenting him with her back obviously didn’t deter him in the least. Warm hands suddenly slid beneath the fall of her hair and he gathered it all together in a loose ponytail, which he used to tilt her head back. She looked up into his face, looming upside down over hers.

  “Want to dance?” His voice was low, gravelly, and it sent hot shivers chasing down her spine.

  She opened her mouth to refuse. “Okay.”

  Damn. Where had that come from? She shot an apologetic look at Kev, but he hadn’t even noticed. All his attention was focused on the dance floor, so, with a shrug, she tugged her hair out of J.D.’s fist and rose to her feet.

  They danced for about thirty-five seconds to the fast number before the band concluded with a climactic flourish. The combo immediately segued into a slow, torchy ballad, and J.D. didn’t bother to ask if she’d care to sit it out—he simply pulled her in, wrapped her in his arms, and commenced a slow, sexy sway in place.

  All her bones immediately turned to butter, and with a soft sigh she slipped her arms around his neck and snuggled her cheek into soft white cotton where his chest curved into collarbone. Inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and man, she felt rather than heard the rumble of satisfaction that resonated in his chest. Then he bent his head and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, and she closed her eyes in total surrender.

  His arms pulled her closer yet, his hands tightening possessively, and he inserted a knee between her legs to execute a step that involved them in a full-body undulation. Interior muscles deep between her legs instigated a chain reaction of tight, achy little clenchings. She reminded herself of her stronger-than-a-few-renegade-hormones speech. It was a good, strong vow, noble even, and the type of oath a take-charge kind of woman would pledge.

  So why did she suddenly doubt it?

  Oh, man, she was in trouble. Big, big trouble. And she didn’t even have the good sense to care. She was about five heartbeats too late to fight the feelings that swamped her every time she found herself in his arms.

  16

  Kev watched Char remove the octopus’ hand from her ass twice before she suddenly pushed back, said something that made the man’s mouth go hard, and stormed away. Instead of returning to the table, though, she headed for the door.

  He half rose out of his seat, but the hand he’d planted on the table to lever himself up brushed a little tapestry drawstring bag that had been resting next to his elbow, and he lowered his butt back into his chair. She’d be back; there wasn’t a woman alive who’d leave her cache of girly goods behind. When he looked up again, however, he saw the octopus exiting the bar in Char’s wake, and he surged to his feet. He snatched up her purse, shoved it into his waistband, and headed for the door.

  At first glance, the parking lot appeared deserted. Then he heard voices around the side of the building, and pivoting on his heel, he headed for the corner. The rain that had been threatening the past couple of days had finally arrived while they were inside, and it drummed against the Red Bull’s shake roof and formed reflective pools on the black tarmac of the parking lot. Kev kept close to the saloon’s lapboard siding beneath the overhanging eaves.

  “…nothing but a goddamn little tease,” he heard an angry male voice say just before he reached the corner.

  “How do you figure that?” Char’s voice demanded. “Because I haven’t jumped to avail myself of the services you’re so hot to supply?”

  “Hey, I could show you a real good time. I’m hung like a horse.”

  Kev turned the corner to see her backed against the wall, glowering up at the man towering over her. She made a rude noise. “You want to know what my definition of well hung is, buster?” she asked. “When there’s no room between the noose and your neck. Now, back off!”

  Instead, the man moved closer, dropping his hands from the side of the tavern, where they’d been caging her in, to grip her shoulders and yank her up on her toes. “Listen, you little bitch—”

  Seeing those fingers gouge into her delicate flesh cranked Kev’s temper into the red zone. “
You heard her,” he snapped. “Back off!”

  Both heads jerked around to stare at him, and he had just enough time to note that Char didn’t look all that thrilled to see who had come to her rescue.

  “Who the hell are you?” the octopus demanded.

  “The guy who’s gonna ream you a new asshole if you don’t get your hands off her.”

  The man spent a moment longer than Kev liked sizing him up, and Kev barked, “Now!”

  “Yeah, big deal,” the tourist said, dropping his hands and stepping back. “She’s a frigid bitch anyhow.” Turning on his heel, he stormed off into the rain.

  Char lunged away from the wall as if she planned to go after him. “Frigid bitch? I’ll show you frigid, you sonofabi—”

  Kev reached out and snagged her chin in his hand, tipping her face up to his and studying every inch of it for signs of injury or trauma. “Are you all right?”

  She sagged back against the wall. “Aside from the fact that this has been a crappy night altogether?” she asked and wearily raked her fingers through her hair. “Sure. I’m just peachy.”

  “Glad to hear one of us is. I think I aged ten years when I saw that guy with his hands all over you.”

  “Oh, right, like you give a great big rip about anything that happens to me.” She slugged him in the shoulder. “Who do you think you’re fool—ummph.”

  He’d caught her hand in his and lowered his mouth to hers to cut off her tirade. His intention was merely to offer a gentle, healing kiss to show her that not all men were animals.

  But maybe that’s exactly what he was, because his mouth had barely settled on the softness of her lips before heat exploded deep in his gut and he found himself pressing her back against the same wall he’d just rescued her from, offering her hot kisses that were wet, deep, and on the edge of control.

  And for a few runaway heartbeats she kissed him back, too, her arms clinging, her right knee climbing up the outside of his thigh. But then her foot dropped down to the pavement and she shoved him away to stare up at him through narrowed eyes.

  “No,” she said flatly, a hand splayed against his chest to hold him off. “Huh-uh, no way. You’re not leading me down that rabbit hole—I’m through with men.”

  He tried to catch his breath. “You don’t kiss like you’re through with men.”

  “Yeah, well, you caught me in a weak moment. From now on, though, the whole lot of you can just leave me to my own mechanical devices.”

  He laughed. “Don’t you think that might get a tad lonely? And what happens when you run out of batteries? We men do have our uses, you know. I admit I can’t offer you anything as impressive as Harry the Horse claimed—”

  She garbled a laugh and, encouraged, he added, “But I bet I can make you laugh, and I know I can keep you warm when the nights get cold.” His voice lowered. “And I can make you feel things that no mechanical device will ever come close to making you feel.”

  For all of ten seconds she stared up at him in interested speculation. Then her eyes went flat and suspicious again. “Please. Am I supposed to believe you’re madly attracted to me all of a sudden?”

  “There’s nothing sudden about it, toots. I’ve been hot to get into your pants since junior high school.”

  “You are such a liar! You’ve always treated me as if I had all the sex appeal of Olive Oyl.”

  “Hell, yeah! I wanted out of this town! You never did, though, and I knew damn well you were the one person who could keep me here. I wasn’t taking any chances.”

  “Uh-huh.” She made a rude noise. “Do I look like I was born yesterday, Bronsen?”

  “Nope. You look like a fully grown woman to me.” He bent his head and burrowed his nose into her hair where it brushed away from her temple, inhaling deeply. “God, you smell good.”

  “Yeah? You wanna know what I smell, Kev? Pure, unadulterated bullshit.” She picked up one of his hands and sniffed its fingers. “Yep. These are the hands slinging it, all right.”

  He laughed and scraped his teeth over her earlobe.

  She shivered, but raised her hands to push him away.

  “This is no bull, Charlotte,” he whispered in her ear. “I wanted you then and I want you now. I’m just not tiptoeing around it the way I used to, and I’m not playing any more games to hide my feelings.” He touched the tip of his tongue to the whorl of her ear and breathed, “You can believe me or not. But one way or the other, I’m going to wear you down.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, buster.” But she quit resisting. And when his head lowered further still to ply kisses down the side of her neck, she sucked in a breath and tilted her head back to afford him freer access.

  Before he could feel too smug, however, she fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his head back. “How do I know this isn’t just a case of if-you-can’t-have-the-one-you-love-then-love-the-one-you’re-with? Is that what this is all about, Kev? Did Dru turn you down or something?”

  “I’ve never been interested in Dru that way and you know it.” He felt a little ticked that she’d actually believe he’d play her off against her best friend. “I only asked her out tonight as a friend who wanted to have a decent time with another friend, and—” It suddenly struck him like a sledgehammer that he’d walked off and left that friend high and dry. “Oh, shit—Dru!”

  He grabbed Char’s hand and headed around the corner of the tavern. “Some true-blue bud I am,” he berated himself as they reached the front door. “I was so intent on you that I can’t even remember what she was doing when I took off. But I know Carver was right there to take advantage. And I have a bad feeling that I might have just thrown her to the wolf.”

  J.D. pulled out his pocket watch for the third time in the past eight minutes and consulted the time.

  “You got a train to catch, Carver?” Dru demanded dryly.

  He repocketed the watch and looked at her. Reaching out, he carefully brushed a strand of her silky hair behind her ear. “No. I’m just wondering how soon I can call Bronsen a deserter and drag you out of here.”

  Even in the hazy dimness, he could see her face turn pink, and not for the first time wished the band played more of those slow, belly-rubbing numbers. He wanted her back in his arms, wanted to smell again the scent of oranges from her shampoo, feel the softness of her skin beneath his hands.

  “Kev will be back,” she informed him firmly.

  That’s what he was afraid of, and he shrugged. “I want to take you home anyhow.” He was tired of starting fires with her that had to be put out, of having to back away before this thing between them was given a chance to run its natural course. He’d never known such a hunger, and he wanted to feed it.

  Hell, he wanted to gorge on it. Looking at her squarely, he didn’t make the least attempt to hide his feelings.

  She reached for her beer and drained it in one long swallow.

  He watched her set her empty glass back on the table, then eyed the foam mustache that gulping down her beer had left on her upper lip. He started to lean forward, but caught himself.

  Licking up that foam ought to be one of those things you could tease a woman about, one of those man/woman maneuvers that drove the mating dance. It was just another way to prime the pump.

  Except his pump was already in jeopardy of blowing sky-high. One kiss, and he feared he’d clear the table with a swipe of his arm and lay her out on top of it. He reached over and gathered the foam off her lip with the tip of his forefinger, which he then brought to his mouth and sucked clean.

  She shifted in her chair, leaning a little closer.

  J.D. shoved to his feet. “Okay, I think you’ve been abandoned. I’d better take you ho—”

  “Hey, sorry about disappearing like that,” said Kev’s voice.

  Every red cell J.D. possessed howled in denial, and he slowly turned to face the man.

  Kev held Char by the hand and was saying to Dru, “Char had a little trouble with a tourist. I’m going to see that she gets home
safely. You ready to go?”

  All J.D.’s territorial instincts reared up on their back legs, and he stepped in front of Kev, going chest to chest with him. “I’ll take Dru home,” he said flatly.

  Kev responded with equal aggression. “Forget it, Carver. I brought her; I’ll take her home.”

  “For heaven’s sake, you two.” Dru sat forward to see around J.D. “If the testosterone in here gets any deeper, Char and I are going to need life preservers.”

  Char voiced her agreement, and J.D. and Kev stepped back from each other.

  Dru smiled up at Kev, and J.D. felt his gut clench. But then she said, “It’s really not necessary to take me home.” She reached out and gave Kev’s hand a squeeze. “Both J.D. and I are headed up the mountain, so there’s no sense in going out of your way. J.D. will see that I get home safe and sound. You do the same with Char.”

  Kev studied her. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then.” He slid his arm around Char’s shoulders, tucking her under his arm. “We’re gonna take off.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Dru,” Char said. She turned to J.D. and smiled. “It was good seeing you again. Thanks for the dance.”

  Then they were gone.

  J.D. turned to Dru. “You ready to go, too?” If she said no, he was going to self-destruct.

  She picked up her purse and stood. “Yes.”

  They were quiet on the walk out to his car, and an edgy, sexually aware tension seemed to consume every available bit of air in the Mustang from the moment they climbed into it. J.D. had driven halfway up the mountain when he couldn’t take it any longer and suddenly pulled over onto an overlook. He set the emergency brake and turned to Dru.

  “Damned if I’m going to try to nail you in the backseat of my car like some randy sixteen-year-old,” he said, and hooking his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her to meet him over the console between the bucket seats. “But I have to at least have this.” He clamped his mouth down on hers.