Lovin' a Good Ol' Boy Read online

  "We left it as a decoy, so they'd think you were still there. I'm not sure why you didn't think of going to pick it up today, but when I thought about going after it, I decided I wanted to keep you completely dependent on me for as long as possible, so I didn't mention it," he told her point-blank. His expression was passive, his stance was relaxed to the point of being limp, but his eyes told her it was all a facade. He was wound up inside, tighter than a cheap clock. Was he afraid that she'd found out his secret?

  "Ha. That figures. You don't say much, but you're thinking all the time, aren't you?" It wasn't meant to sound like a compliment. His answer had been very honest, coming from such a snake in the grass, she thought. She also thought he'd picked a rather peculiar time to start being so blunt and forthright with her.

  "Is that why you're mad, then? Because we didn't go get your car?"

  It was becoming more and more apparent that he wasn't going to guess the real reason for her anger. He probably thought he'd been so clever in deceiving her that no one would ever guess what he was up to, she speculated. And she sure as hell wasn't going to leave while he was feeling smug.

  "No, that is not why I'm angry," she shouted at him. She dropped the heavy suitcases at her feet as she wasn't sure how long this was going to take. She didn't want to wear herself out in case she did have to walk back to Webster. "I’ll tell you why I'm angry. I'm angry because you used me. Oh, I let you, and that's part of why I'm so mad. But you tricked me. All that good ol' boy garbage and those stupid smiles and your granny's pansies. It was all a game, and I fell for it. Well, I couldn't have stopped you from bidding on the mill, so all that hooopla about your pride and self-respect was a waste of time. But I'm sure as hell not going to stand around and let you try to charm me into helping you with your damned proposal and negotiations. That was the plan you told me about this morning, wasn't it? It was your plan all along, right from that moment on the road, when you realized who I was. Well, I'd rather die than—"

  Suddenly, Buck lunged at her. She took a step back only to discover that he hadn't been reaching for her but for the suitcases that sat near her feet. He picked them up as if they were filled with feathers and threw them into the back of the truck. Then he reached over and flung the door of the cab open for her.

  "If you really believe all that, then get in. I’ll be more than happy to take you back to Jimmy's place," he said, his voice still soft, his green eyes blazing with fire.

  She simply stood there, staring at him. He was more outraged than she was, thoroughly insulted by her accusations. It was as if he'd cut off all the wind to her sails. She lost all momentum and went dead in a sea of calm logic. It was very bewildering, but she knew in her heart that he hadn't tricked her, no matter what she'd heard.

  All her rage churned inside her with no place to go, no way to vent itself. Her eyes began to sting and grow blurry with tears.

  "I don't want to believe it," she said, sniffing loudly. "But it sounded so logical when I heard it. I—I didn't know what else to think."

  "Who told you that I was using you like that?"

  "No one. I mean, I overheard two women talking about it in the ladies' room." She took the large white handkerchief he'd anticipated the need for and shook out the folds before wiping the corners of her eyes with it.

  "In the ladies' room?"

  Anne nodded and wiped her nose. "One of them was upset because—because I was there tonight, and the other one told her that you were only being nice to me so I'd help you get the mill."

  "And I suppose you believe everything you hear in a ladies' room." This wasn't a question.

  "Well, men believe everything they hear in locker rooms, don't they?" she accused in return, hating the tears that were weakening her ability to fight back.

  "Only stupid men who don't know any better."

  "Oh, yeah? Well one of them had been sitting in your lap, so I figured she knew what she was talking about."

  Everything was jumbled. Her heart trusted him, but her mind was full of conjectures and fear. She turned her back on him, hoping everything would clear up if she didn't have to look at him.

  A long silence followed. Anne was just about to turn around to see if Buck was still there, when he spoke in a soft voice full of speculation. "You know what this sounds like to me?"

  "No. What?" she asked, turning to face him.

  He cocked his head to one side and watched her with the same thoughtfulness that he had in his voice.

  "Sounds to me like you're not nearly as upset about being tricked, as you are about the woman being in my lap."

  "Don't be ridiculous," she said, not quite able to look him in the eye. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

  "Is it?"

  "Yes. Of course." A small nervous laugh escaped her. "I have no claim on you. It's your lap. You can let anyone you want sit on it, for Pete's sake."

  Again, he was thoughtful for a moment, and then he said, "Would you like to have a claim on me, Annie."

  "No. Absolutely not." She was vehement about this. "I'm just passing through."

  "Are you sure?" he asked, leaning away from the truck and taking several steps toward her. He held his hands out at his sides. "I'm free and easy. I've got no ties. I'm real claimable at the moment."

  He was teasing her with his voice.

  "Will you stop? I'm serious."

  "So am I. I want you to stake your claim on me. Right here." He swung his hand up and placed it on his chest, over his heart. “Right now.”

  "Oh." She gasped. "You're such a jerk."

  "Why?" he asked, undaunted. "Because I like the idea of you and me claimin' each other."

  "Each other?" "Sure," he said, humor creeping into his words like ants into a picnic basket. "This claiming business goes both ways, you know."

  His grin was Anne's undoing. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to claim Buck as her own. She wanted sole title to his long, sinewy body. She wanted dibs on those lips that drove her wild. She wanted tenure of his thoughts and a petition on his soul. She wanted the deed to his heart.

  "Is that right?" she asked, smiling. "How exactly does it work?"

  There was a gleam in his eye that Anne was becoming very familiar with. He wasn't a foot away from her, but he crooked his finger at her. Her heart went wild, flopping and twisting in her chest in a fit of excitement. On rubber legs, she stepped forward, leaving a hand's breadth between them.

  He just looked at her. She saw a desire that matched her own in his eyes. "It's easy. Just reach out and claim me, Annie, and I’ll do the same."

  "Easy." It didn't feel easy. Her arms felt like lead weights. Her whole body was trembling. But she'd never wanted anything more than she wanted Buck at that moment. Determinedly and with shaking fingers, she reached for the buttons on the front of his shirt. He watched her fingers loosen the first two buttons before he looked at her. His eyes glimmered with fire and passion. Her fingers faltered momentarily when she sensed the raw urges and ungovernable emotions he had freed within himself. She focused her attention on the third button, trying not to think how reckless she felt.

  Had she really thought it a chilly night? She felt feverish, flushed with a heat that made her skin damp and sticky under her clothes.

  Her concentration failed when Buck's hands moved to the hem of her sweater. He leaned forward as he pulled it up over her head, looping his arms around her and pulling her close in one continuous motion. Tiny wet kisses along her shoulder sent spasms of shivers rippling through her body. She felt his tongue make slow, swirling circles on her neck and hardly noticed that he was moving her backward toward the house.

  His callused hands snagged the silk of her slip but felt bold and powerful, soft and gentle as they moved across her skin. Suddenly, she felt him lowering her to the ground. Cool, dew-damp grass tickled her back and soothed her fiery flesh. His weight, as he eased down on top of her, squelched the flighty, impetuous impulses that hung onto the fringes of her emotions.
r />   There was no turning back now. Nothing else mattered at this moment. Not the past, the mill, the people of Webster, Kentucky ... not even the future held any influence over her. Only Buck mattered, as he drew thin silken straps down from her shoulder to clear a path for his lips. She gave of herself with all her heart and soul, wanting to pleasure him more than anyone else he'd ever known before. Deep inside she knew she didn't want any brassy bottom but hers to sit on his lap ever again. She had every intention of making such sweet love to Buck that any other woman, past or future, would pale in his memory.

  Cloying kisses and searching hands soon created an impatience in both of them for higher excitement and deeper satisfaction. They grew intolerant of such obstacles as clothing and madly began to remove them, flinging them off indiscriminately. Bare flesh met bare flesh and they both sighed, savoring their gratification.

  His mouth, wet and hot, covered the peak of her breast as he sucked gently and raked the hard, sensitive tip with his tongue. The moon and stars receded into the sky. Anne closed her eyes when there was nothing left to see. Her fingers tangled in his thick dark hair, and she drew him closer, held him to her breast, never wanting him to stop giving her such exquisite pleasure. She arched her back and released a soft moan of ecstasy that seemed to trigger something deep and savage in him. Instantly he was more aggressive, more possessive, and much more demanding.

  He used his teeth to drive her to the brink of madness. His hand slid slowly, tortuously over her abdomen to the apex of her legs, slipping between her thighs to spread them farther apart. Instinctively, her hips rose up to meet his probing fingers. She was aching with emptiness and needed to be filled.

  Her hands were frantic, reaching out to touch all of him. She experienced a rush of trepidation as she rediscovered the solid sinew and strength in his shoulders and chest. Her impelling emotions quickly overshadowed her caution. They pushed her to seek out what she needed. She felt the muscles in his back, tight and trembling under her finger tips. Her heart sang with joy in knowing, that she had driven him as far beyond control as he had taken her. She maneuvered a hand in between his thighs and thrilled to his moan of anguish as she wrapped her fingers around him.

  "Annie," he groaned, his voice hoarse and guttural. His fingers became more aggressive in a calculated act to drive her wildly insane. She cried out, but the sound was muffled by his mouth. He insinuated his knees between her legs and, placing her legs around his waist, pulled her hips toward him. He took her with a quick, eager thrust that made her feel as if she were exploding inside, over and over and over again.

  The stars and the moon were back. Bigger and brighter and closer than she'd ever known them to be. Their light was blinding, but she knew if she reached out, she could touch one. She did reach, and her body rose up off the ground toward the stars. She touched one, then another. She held them in her hand for a long precious moment, then she opened her fingers wide to set them free again.

  Slowly, Anne returned to the earth. For a while she seemed to float, unaware of her surroundings. Gradually she felt the wet, prickly grass beneath her. It was cold, and she shivered. Strong arms gathered her up off the ground and held her in a warm cradling embrace.

  "Buck." She didn't need to open her eyes to know she was in his arms. She had no fear of being dropped, because she knew no other arms that made her feel as safe. She wrapped her own around his neck and put her trust in him.

  She kept her eyes closed and let her head rest on his shoulder even when she was aware that they were entering the house. Not so long ago she'd hoped never to see the place again. Now she never wanted to leave it. She didn't make a sound as she realized that they were moving up the stairs. And when she felt crisp sheets and the warmth of a blanket being tucked in around her, she snuggled close to Buck to steal more heat from his body.

  "You're a greedy woman, Anne Hunnicut," he said, taking her loosely into his arms and letting her cuddle up as close as she wanted.

  "I thought you said you liked fast women and slow sex?" she mumbled against his chest, wiggling her nose as the hair there tickled it.

  "That wasn't an invitation to try and blow my brains out. You coulda killed me out there."

  "Ha. You southerners just can't take it. No wonder we won the war." She giggled.

  "Why, you little hussy, you," he said, taking her whole jaw into his hand and drawing her face up to meet his. "I was tryin' to be a gentleman our first time out. Everybody knows how prissy Yankee women are. I didn't want to scare you."

  "Prissy? Did I act prissy or scared?"

  He grinned with delight. "No, ma'am, you didn't." He pressed his lips to hers gently, nibbled on her bottom lip, and then kissed her again. Her body quickening and eager, Anne pressed closer, nestling her breasts in the thick, coarse hair of his chest.

  Rolling toward her, Buck laid her flat on her back and eased a leg up over hers, before he disentangled her arms from around his neck and pinned them to the pillow on either side of her face. Taking his time, he kissed the soft hollow at the base of her neck, making a necklace of sweet sensations across her throat to the other side. She wallowed, luxuriated in his tender, tingling touches.

  When he stopped, Anne opened her eyes, moaning her disappointment. She met his gaze in the moonlight.

  The soft, silver light cast his face in shadows outlining the high cheekbones, the full chiseled lips, and the angle of his jaw. In fascination she watched as only the very tips of his dark eyelashes picked up the light, as if each one were dipped in magic fairy dust.

  "Before we get all hot and bothered again, I think we should settle a coupla things," he said, his drawl thicker than usual in his effort to maintain his control. "I don't want there to be any more misunderstandin's between us."

  Anne's heart flinched instinctively. She had a feeling that she'd had this, conversation before. She had hoped that since they were both aware their relationship was to be temporary, this conversation wouldn't be necessary. Apparently Buck thought otherwise. "I'm not a stupid hillbilly," he said, surprising her with his choice of topics.

  "I—I know," she said, faltering.

  "And I don't want or need your help with the mill. Eight to four-thirty, you do your job, and I’ll do mine. When we leave the mill, we don't discuss it. Deal?"

  "Deal."

  "From four-thirty to eight a.m. you're mine," he said, seeming to want this clarified as well.

  "And you're mine."

  "All yours," he said, his soft lips and warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck.

  "And the woman in the tight jeans?" She was glad to hear her voice sounding playful, when she was so far from teasing in her heart.

  His head came up, and the moonlight reflected off his white teeth as he grinned down at her. Then, purposefully misconstruing her words, he said, "Annie, you don't need any help. You keep my lap plenty warm enough all by yourself, sugar."

  Eight

  Anne slept late into the lazy spring morning that followed. With everything she owned still packed in the back of Buck's truck, she slipped into the large flannel shirt he'd worn the night before. The soft material felt warm and fuzzy against her skin, as erotic as a bearskin rug. She was feeling sensual and aroused as she made her way downstairs.

  She found Buck at the kitchen table once again. Only this time he wasn't reading the Sunday funnies but was up to his chin in books, files, and papers.

  "A-hem," she cleared her throat loudly.

  "Mornin'," he said absently without turning. He finished whatever he was working on with an elaborate period. Then he turned and smiled at her, dissolving her insides into a churning wad of goo. "I gotta tell ya, Annie. I much prefer this to what you were wearing yesterday."

  "This ol' thing?" With a hand in the air and one on her hip, she pivoted for his approval.

  “That ol' thing never looked so good," he said in a deep throaty voice. He held out his arms invitingly and asked, "Can you spare me a Yankee dime this mornin'?"

&nb
sp; Anne grinned at him. For some strange reason, there still seemed to be a lot of Yankee jokes in the South, even though the war they'd spawned from had ended over a hundred years before. A Yankee dime, as she had been informed sometime during the wee hours of the morning, was a kiss.

  Before that, Buck had gone to great lengths to explain a Yankee shot as well. It seemed that when a child was too young to understand the concept of an umbilical cord, his mother would tell him that his belly button was where he'd been shot by a Yankee. It was his Yankee shot. Anne felt that Buck had developed a strong fondness for hers, even though it was from the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon.

  She had giggled at the story and squirmed with delight when he'd laved hers with his tongue. With her fingers in his soft, thick dark hair, she had pulled his face up to meet hers. They had kissed slowly, thoroughly, until they had to break for air. With Buck at her neck, her body aquiver at his every touch, her mind an eddy of sensations, she'd heard him say her name as if it were a prayer.

  Looking at him now, with his arms outstretched, his embrace so enticing, she knew he was remembering those breath-stopping moments they'd shared before the sun came up, before it cast a golden glow across their naked bodies and they'd slept.

  "Gee, mister, I'm not sure. If I give you a dime, what will I get in return?" she asked playfully as she walked slowly across the kitchen toward him.

  "Anything you want." His voice was like a physical caress, as real as a touch. His green eyes twinkled with desire and delight.

  She took the last step into his arms and let him draw her between his legs and down onto his lap. One of his hands slipped smoothly up under the tail of his shirt to cup her bottom, as if it had done so a thousand times before.

  “Tell me what you want," he urged in a husky voice, when she made no demands. How could she? she wondered. There wasn't anything in the world she wanted except.. .