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He stilled for a second. Then he hoisted her into his arms. “Good.”
He turned in the foyer, cutting across the oversize room, past the sofa, the armchair and television. He set her on her feet next to a king-size bed.
His hands went to his waistband, stripping off his pants and everything else.
She kicked off her sandals and dispensed with the panties.
She straightened, and they both stilled.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and she felt the edge of her mouth draw into a smile.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” She dared to reach out, tracing her index finger along his smooth, warm chest. He looked even better out of his clothes than he had in them, and that was saying something.
He took a half step forward. “Is this a dream?”
“I sure hope not.”
“Things like this. Things like you don’t happen in real life.”
“I’m real.”
“You’re amazing.”
Impatient, she took his hand, backing her way to the bed, where she sank down.
His gaze stayed molten on her naked body as he extracted a packet from his wallet and dropped the wallet to the floor.
“I can make this slow,” he offered again.
She shook her head. “You’re my torrid one-night stand.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered.
She smiled saucily in return. This was the only time she was ever going to do this, and she was going to get it right. “Show me what you’ve got.”
He cupped his hands beneath her arms, lifting her, pushing her farther onto the bed, laying her back. His voice was a deep baritone, rumbling through her. “Seriously. Where in the hell have you been all my life?”
She didn’t have time to answer because his mouth came down on hers. His body covered her own, pressing her against the soft mattress.
He toured her body with rapid but thorough kisses, while she explored the contours and angles of his. Within minutes, they were face-to-face, him on top, staring into each other’s eyes in the dimly lit room.
He flexed, and she moaned, welcoming him inside, arching her back, wrapping her legs, as he set an insistent rhythm that made her head tip back and her eyes close tight. Desire overwhelmed her, and she gripped the comforter, straining for his kisses, her toes curling as he inflamed the passion at her core.
Time lost all meaning. Her body felt somehow weightless. Reality contracted to the feel, the scent and the sound of this man. His ragged breath murmured in her ear. His damp body scorched her skin. And she dragged his essence into her lungs, holding it tight, imprinting it on her subconscious so she could relive it over and over again.
She held on as long as she could, not wanting it to end. But it was a losing battle. A pulse began deep inside her, building to a tidal wave of ecstasy. She clung tightly to him, her cries mingling with his groans, as she crested for an eternity, the intense rush leaving her limp and gasping.
Her chest rose and fell against Lucky’s comfortable weight. He braced himself on his elbows, rising slightly above her, sweat glistening his brow, breath fanning from between his parted lips.
They stared at each other in silence.
“That was …” His breathless voice trailed away.
She was similarly struggling for words. “It was,” she agreed.
His smile widened. “Somehow we both seem to know just the right thing to say.”
A small chuckle formed in her chest. “What do you usually say?”
He smoothed her hair behind one ear. “I have no comparables. You have no comparables. You are one of a kind, Doll-Face.”
“That was an awfully good line,” she acknowledged.
“It wasn’t a line.”
They both fell silent, their breathing synchronizing.
His tone when low and intimate. “Should I ask if it was good for you?”
It was the best sex she’d ever had. Hands down.
Without waiting for an answer, he shifted, taking more of his own weight. “You want that wine now, or are you ready for breakfast?”
Abigail glanced to the digital clock glowing on the night-stand. It was four-thirty in the morning. She blinked against grainy exhaustion. “It’s pretty much a toss-up between night and morning, isn’t it?”
He eased onto his side, propping himself on his elbow, one thigh staying angled across her legs. He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. “I’d like it to still be night.”
She drank in the sensation of that intimate touch. “I’d like it to still be dinner.”
He eased closer. “So we can start our evening all over again?”
She pretended he might have it wrong. “Yeah. Sure. Well, that and the mountain burger.”
Closer still, he brought his teeth gently down on her earlobe. “Liar.”
“Egomaniac.”
“Am I wrong?”
She played dumb. “About what?”
He glanced at the clock. “About us wanting to stop time.”
She sobered. Then she shook her head. He wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t change anything. “It’s a stolen night,” she reminded him. They both had places to go and things to do.
“When do you have to leave?”
“Early.” She was meeting her brother at the campaign office to close things up before she drove back to the ranch.
Lucky cradled her cheek, placing a long, tender kiss on her swollen lips. When it ended, his arm eased around the small of her back. “But not yet?”
“Not yet,” she agreed, desire rising inside her.
He kissed her again, and again, longer and sweeter each time.
“Tell me your name,” he demanded.
She shook her head.
“I need to know.” He drew back, obviously determined to withhold more kisses until she answered.
Instead, she reached up, slipping her arms around his neck.
He tensed against her pull, resisting, but then he gave in, allowing her to bring him in for a kiss. She twined her naked body around his.
“Oh, Doll-Face,” he groaned, capitulating to their passion. He wrapped his strong arms fully around her, holding her close and igniting a new burn deep inside.
“There you are, Abby.” Abigail’s oldest brother, Seth, mayor-elect of Lyndon City, zeroed in on her as she entered the campaign office on Main Street.
Cardboard boxes covered every available surface, stuffed with leftover posters, flyers, buttons and campaign literature. Half a dozen campaign volunteers were carting boxes and other materials out the back door to waiting pickup trucks, while the staffers who would form the core of Seth’s mayoral staff clicked away on their laptop computers or talked on telephones.
Seth tucked a pen into his shirt pocket as he moved across the storefront shop toward her. “I didn’t see you at the fireworks last night.”
“Weren’t they great?” she asked, avoiding any further explanation of where she’d been.
“The good folks of Lyndon know how to do it up right,” he agreed.
She gave him a quick hug. “The good folks of Lyndon are excited about their new mayor.”
Seth pulled back with a grin. “The display was planned weeks before the votes were cast.”
She winked at him. “But I’m sure they’d have canceled if you hadn’t won.”
He scoffed out a laugh. “Since we both know you’re not naive, I’m going to assume that’s blind loyalty talking.”
“That’s supreme confidence talking.” She patted him on the shoulder as she glanced around the messy office. “You need any help here?” She was more than a little anxious to get herself out of town. Last night Lucky had said he was just passing through Lyndon. He might very well have left town already. But she didn’t want to risk running into him.
She’d sneaked out of his hotel room and back to hers as soon as he fell asleep last night. Though the soft bed, the thick quilt and Lucky’s warm, strong body had been powerful draws, she hadn’t wanted to risk facing him in the morning. Better to leave things on a high note. A very high note. Wow, had that ever been a high note.
“Abby?” Seth prompted, waving his palm in front of her face.
“The financial records?”
“What about them?”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
Seth peered at her curiously. “I just asked if you could do a double check on the donation receipts. And Lisa needs a hand with the database.”
At the sound of her name, Lisa Thompson glanced up from a crowded desk in one corner of the room. “I want to make sure we have a clean backup copy before I delete all the information from the laptop. I’m planning to use it in the mayor’s office, so I have to get rid of all the campaign records.”
“Happy to help out,” Abigail agreed, telling herself the odds of seeing Lucky were low, particularly if she was hidden away in the back of the campaign office. She made her way across the room, weaving around the mess of chairs, desks, boxes and trash bins.
Seth’s cell phone rang, and he moved to a quiet corner near the back exit to answer the call.
Lisa, blonde, petite, freckled and perky, tracked Abigail’s progress from her office chair.
She waited until Abigail sat down and spun the chair, then she wheeled herself to face her. “So, what happened?” she demanded in a conspiratorial undertone.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s blatantly obvious you got laid last night.”
“What?” Abigail blurted, glancing swiftly around, making sure nobody could overhear them.
“Don’t play dumb with me.” Lisa smacked her palm down on the padded arm of Abigail’s chair.
“I did not—”
“And don’t you dare lie to me either.” Lisa rocked back and crossed her arms over her gray Colorado Lions T-shirt, green eyes narrowing. Her voice stayed low. “Your cheeks are flushed. Your eyes are glowing gold. And there’s a spring in your step that wasn’t there at the party. Plus, you disappeared before ten last night, and I never saw you again. Neither did anyone else. Now, give.”
Abigail hesitated. She wanted to lie, but she knew she was trapped. Lisa had her dead to rights.
Obviously taking Abigail’s silence as an admission, Lisa grinned and leaned closer still. “Details, please.”
Abigail sent a worried glance toward Seth. “Don’t you dare tell—”
“I’m not going to tell anybody. I’m not a gossip.”
Abigail knew it was true. Lisa would be Seth’s executive assistant in the mayor’s office, in part because of her brilliance and hard work, but also because they’d learned she was the soul of discretion. She and Abigail had become quite close over the course of the campaign.
“So, what happened?” Lisa hissed. “Who was he?”
“Nobody you know.”
“How can you say that? I know lots of people. I’ve met half the town in the last three months.”
“He’s not from here.”
“Ooh.” Lisa’s eyes sparkled. “Where’s he from? What’s he do? What’s his name? Is he hot?”
“I don’t know.”
Lisa drew back. “You don’t know if he’s hot?”
“I don’t know his name,” Abigail admitted sheepishly. “I don’t know what he does. And I don’t know where he’s from.”
