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Because she didn’t really want cotton candy. Or funnel cakes. Or caramel apples. Or any of the other treats being dished up at the various booths that lined the aisle.
She wanted something richer—and much more potent.
She stiffened and two tiny lines pinched between her eyebrows. A subtle change that no one else seemed to notice. Hell, other than the occasional hello from a friendly face, no one really noticed her at all.
Except for Jake.
He saw the disappointment that clouded her gaze and the stiff way she held her shoulders and he felt the rest—the hot rush of blood through her veins, the frantic beat of her heart, the buzz of her nerves and the tingle of her nipples.
She was a bubbling cauldron of repressed sexual energy just waiting to boil over.
Jake smiled and stepped forward.
It was time to turn up the heat.
2
NIKKI BRAXTON WAS through with men and relationships.
Done.
Finished.
That’s all, folks!
She eyed the mountain of whispery pink sugar and smiled. From here on out, she was eating her way to happiness.
She lapped at the sweetness and focused on the rush of happy that surged from her brain to the tips of her toes and back up again. Sugar was definitely the way to go.
That’s what she told herself as she snagged a piece of cotton candy with her finger and popped it into her mouth. Her taste buds tingled and her frustration eased. Temporarily, of course.
But then, that was the story of her life.
Another bite, another surge of satisfaction, and she started to think that maybe, just maybe, the phone call from Bill two weeks ago, complete with a very graphic, albeit accidental, image from his picture phone, had been a good thing.
Okay, it hadn’t been so great that he’d purposely sent the pic to his bowling buddies, who, in turn, had shown everyone and their dog. Which meant the entire town had shared in her humiliation.
Even so, it wasn’t the end of the world.
So what if Bill—the two-timing jerk—had cheated on her? So what if he was still in Vegas, holed up with two pairs of fake boobies, having a bona fide orgy, just as Molly had said? Good riddance. He’d been a mama’s boy who still lived at home, and she’d wasted seven months on him already. Seven months of Friday-night dinners with him and his mother and Saturday-night movie dates with him and his mother and Sunday picnics with him and—you guessed it—his mother.
While seven didn’t sound like a lot, add it to the sixteen months she’d wasted with Roger Beeville (he’d had a thing for women’s shoes that had driven him to swipe every pair during tournament week down at the bowling alley), the thirteen months before that with Stan Caufield (he’d had a thing for his secretary…and his cleaning lady, and the clerk down at the video store and the acrylic-nail girl at Nancy’s Nails) and the eighteen months before that with Jerry Whatshisname (he’d had a thing for his old football buddy named Buck), and it amounted to a lot of wasted time. Factor in at least six months between each for a decent mourning period (and enough Hershey’s Kisses to dull the pain), and we were talking years.
Forget the optimistic twenty-two-year-old she’d been with a brand-spanking-new degree in cosmetology and dreams of her own happily ever after—a nice, reliable man, two kids, a couple of dogs and a house with a huge backyard. She was now thirty years old and the stressed-out owner of her own hair salon, To Dye For. She had a monstrous bank loan and an endless string of bad relationships with dysfunctional men.
She also had a giant mortgage.
While she’d given up on the guy for now, she saw no reason to hinge everything on Mr. Nice and Reliable. Sure, she wasn’t ready to go it alone when it came to kids, or even the dogs, but she was more than capable of buying a house and taking at least a small step toward her happily ever after.
She’d done so last week and had spent every night since making a list of needed repairs—they didn’t call it a fixerupper for nothing. She still had a lot to do, from painting to new flooring, but she felt good. Productive.
If only she felt satisfied.
Instead she was wound tighter than an extrakinky perm. She needed an orgasm in the worst way.
The knowledge stuck in her brain as she turned to walk toward the dunking booth just around the corner.
Not that she couldn’t head home right this second and treat herself if she felt like it. She shopped online, like every other woman in her small town, and she had her own personal arsenal of female sex toys. She was more than capable of handling the situation on her own. But she knew from past experience that the release would be all too brief. Even more, there was no satisfaction in snuggling with a multispeed vibrator.
She needed a flesh-and-blood man for that.
Hence Bill.
Seven months of snuggling and cuddling and making out—when they were able to elude his mother, that is—and she’d finally been ready to go all the way. She’d planned a big welcome home at his place, complete with a home-cooked dinner and herself as the dessert. A huge offering for a woman who’d grown up hearing her great-aunt Izzie preach, “A man won’t buy the cow if he gets the milk for free.”
Old-fashioned. Sexist. The saying was both. And it was also true. Nikki’s mother—Izzie’s niece—had spent her entire life “giving it away,” and not once had she ever had a meaningful, lasting relationship.
There’d been no joint checking account, no monogrammed towels, no picture perfect family gathered around the Thanksgiving table. There’d been only Aunt Izzie, Nikki, Nikki’s mother, and whatever man Nikki had been calling “Uncle” that week.
Nikki had wanted more for herself. A solid, lasting relationship. Permanent. And so she’d taken Izzie’s advice and held back.
Not that she was a virgin, mind you. She’d done the deed a handful of times in the past. With Jerry (before he’d started wearing her underwear). And with Stan (before he’d started wearing her shoes). But with each man she’d waited a decent amount of time. Long enough to preserve her nice-girl status and really get to know him.
Or so she’d thought.
She tugged at another fluff of pink and popped it into her mouth. There. Talk about ecstasy. No batteries needed. No waiting period required. No weird hidden fetish ready to jump up and bite her when she least expected it.
It didn’t get much better.
“Wanna bet?” The deep, masculine voice slid into her ears and snagged her out of the sugar high dulling her senses.
Every nerve in Nikki’s body snapped to attention as she stopped and turned. Her gaze collided with a pair of eyes so gray and translucent they looked silver.
Excitement pumped through her, followed by a bolt of desire that gripped every inch of her body and stalled the air in her lungs. She forgot to breathe for the next several seconds as she drank in the cowboy who’d come up behind her.
He had a great face. Not the perfect GQ kind but a face that said he was every bit as rough and rugged as his voice implied.
Beneath the brim of his black Stetson, his gaze gleamed hot and bright and knowing. Stubble darkened his strong jaw, circled his sensuous mouth and crept down the column of his throat. Dark hair curled from beneath his hat and brushed his collar.
He stood well over six feet, his shoulders broad and massive beneath a black T-shirt. Just below the edge of his sleeves, ornate slave-band tattoos circled each muscular bicep. Faded jeans cupped his crotch, clung to his thighs and traced the outline of his long, sinewy legs. He wore scuffed black cowboy boots and an air of raw sexuality that made her nipples tingle.
Oh, boy.
That was her first cohesive thought when she actually started to breathe again.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t her first thought.
Number one? Oh, no.
She became keenly aware of the raggedy old tee and baggy jeans she’d pulled on prior to leaving the house. Shapeless. Unattractive. The perfect attire for stripping and painting the walls of her dream house.
For meeting hot guys? It definitely lacked.
Then again, she hadn’t come here to meet guys. She’d come to satisfy her sweet tooth.
The reminder was enough to spark some sense, and she forced her lips to move. “Excuse me?” she finally managed.
His grin was slow and easy, wiping away the mesmerizing intensity and replacing it with an irresistible charm that eased the thunder of her heart.
Instead of answering her question, he simply stared at her, into her, for a long moment before he nodded toward the mountain of spun sugar she held in her hand. “Mind if I have a taste?”
It wasn’t even close to a decent pickup line, and she couldn’t stifle the disappointment that rushed through her.
Obviously this tall, dark and delicious cowboy had fallen head over heels for her cotton candy rather than her.
Just the way Bill had fallen for the strippers and Jerry had fallen for that pair of silver Michael Kors sandals he’d bought for her birthday.
Another guy with a fetish. Great. Just great.
Not that it mattered. She’d sworn off men, and this guy was just more fuel to add to the proverbial fire.
She shrugged. “Sure.” She held up the pink treat. “Knock yourself out.”
His grin widened and he leaned forward.
And then he kissed her.
3
HIS STRONG, PURPOSEFUL mouth claimed hers. His tongue swept her bottom lip, licking and nibbling and—
Wait a second.
Nikki’s heart thundered as she struggled to grasp the current scenario. This was not happening. No way was a hot, sexy stranger kissing her for no apparent reason, in front of God and everyone, including the senior ladies’ bingo squad. From the corner of her eye Nikki glimpsed a dozen pairs of bifocals trained on her.
On him.
On them.
No friggin’ way.
Just as the denial registered in her shocked brain, he deepened the kiss. His tongue pushed inside and tangled with her own. All rational thought faded in a tsunami of hunger that washed over her, drenched every inch of her body and made her tremble from the sheer force.
He tasted like sweet honey and hot, potent male—and something she couldn’t quite name. Something dark and dangerous and mesmerizing.
Before she could stop herself, she melted against him. Her hands slid up his chest and her fingers caught the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck.
His arms closed around her. Strong hands pressed against the base of her spine, drawing her closer. She met him chest for chest, hip for hip, until she felt every incredible inch of him flush against her body—the hard planes of his chest, the solid muscles of his thighs, the growing erection beneath his zipper.
Heat spread from her cheeks, creeping south. The slow burn traveled inch by tantalizing inch, until her nipples throbbed and wetness flooded between her thighs, and all because he’d kissed her.
Because she’d kissed him.
Because they were still kissing.
Beyond the buzz of desire and the chaos of the carnival, she heard the shocked “Why, I never.”
Mumbled agreement echoed among the old women gathered nearby, followed by a “Disgraceful,” and a “Hmph, looks like the apple don’t fall too far from the tree.”
The words registered and she stiffened. Tearing her lips away, she stumbled backward.
Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. “I…We…” She shook her head and tried to make some sense out of everything. “What just happened?”
He eyed her, his gaze hot and bright as he stared down at her. “I kissed you.”
“I know that. But why? I mean, I thought you wanted a taste of my candy.”
“I never said that.”
“You implied it.”
His gaze darkened as it touched her mouth, and again she felt the overwhelming chemistry that pulsed between them. So hot and powerful that it was almost palpable. “I wanted a taste of you.” He licked his own lips. “I still do.”
So do I.
She fought down the shameless thought and focused on her outrage rather than the desire fogging her senses. Her spine went ramrod straight. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re trying to pull, but what you just did was way out of line, buddy.”
“Is that so?” His eyebrow arched as if he knew she didn’t buy the outburst any more than he did.
“You’re lucky I don’t call security and have them haul your butt away for accosting me.”
“Accosting, huh? Sounds interesting.” He grinned and her heart kicked up a notch.
“You can’t just walk around kissing strange women.”
“I didn’t kiss a strange woman. I kissed a woman who kissed me back.”
“I didn’t mean to…That is, you caught me off guard. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, you were following your instincts.” He winked. “It’s the basic law of attraction.”
“I’m not attracted to you.”
“Why not?”
Good question. “Because…I’m just not. I don’t even know your name. And you don’t know mine. We—” she waved her hand back and forth between the two of them “—don’t even know each other.”
“We could get to know each other.”
