Harlequin American Romance November 2014 Box Set: The SEAL's Holiday Babies\The Texan's Christmas\Cowboy for Hire\The Cowboy's Christmas Gift (54 page)

Dance. With Duke. She blinked. The conversation had been serious, but the underlying attraction, at least on her part, was still there. Especially when he looked directly in her eyes like that.

“Um, okay.” Her throat felt dry, so she grabbed her glass and finished what was left in the bottom, mentally promising herself to get a glass of water after this dance. Then she put her hand in his and stood up, her heart beating a little bit faster as they weaved their way to the floor with the other two-steppers.

Quinn and Kailey shuffled by, their boots stirring up sawdust as Duke put his hand on her waist and his other clasped her palm. Before she had a chance to take a deep breath, he started them moving around the floor with the other dancers. Carrie made herself relax and settle into the steps; she didn't want to trip over her own boots and look like an ass. Duke was a good dancer, smooth and even and confident, and with a change in pressure of his hand she knew to slide under and execute a smooth turn. When she was facing him again, he was smiling and the brilliant force of it nearly sucked the air from her lungs.

She was tipsy and dancing with her boss and thinking prurient thoughts about him. This was probably not the smartest thing to be doing on a Friday night.

They'd been late to the floor and the song ended not long after they'd begun dancing. They waited for the next, and Carrie was expecting something fast and fun. Instead the latest hot ballad boomed over the speakers and there was an awkward moment where they wondered whether to end the dance and go back to the table or carry through the next song.

“Care to?” His voice rumbled close to her ear again and she shivered.

“I guess,” she answered, giving a little nod.

The dance hold was different this time, more intimate. His wide palm rode along the small of her back and his fingers curled around hers as he held her close. His belt buckle grazed the button of her jeans as they moved their feet, and her breasts pressed lightly against his shirtfront. Duke's shoulder was warm and hard beneath her fingertips—maybe he hadn't been ranching, but there was no denying that what was beneath the material was rock-solid.

The song went on and they moved along the floor like every other couple, but Carrie felt different. The air between them was taut with possibility; each place where their bodies touched was hypersensitive. Duke pulled her closer and his fingers kneaded against the small of her back, barely an inch above her tailbone. It would only take the slightest movement for her to have her head curled against his shoulder, to taste the skin of his neck. Instead she closed her eyes and took in the scent of him—warm skin and whatever aftershave he wore and something that was distinctly Duke without her being able to label it.

“What are we doing?” she whispered, but he didn't answer her. Instead his lips touched her temple, not quite a kiss but a deliberate contact—a caress—just the same.

Want spiraled through her. She wanted Duke Duggan. Wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to know what it felt like to have his hands on her. Wanted the rest of the people in the bar to disappear so they could have some privacy. This was crazy. She couldn't ever remember having this sort of instant reaction to a man. Maybe Kailey was right. Maybe it had been too long a dry spell.

The song went on and her body vibrated with anticipation and need. It was pointless, since in about one minute the song would end, they would part ways and she'd go back to the table and attempt to cool off. With water. Not with more rum. Maybe that was part of the problem....

The final chorus was waning when Duke leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “A few minutes after the song ends, I'm going to make my excuses and leave. I'll wait in my truck for ten minutes. If you want a drive home, I'll take you.”

She snapped her head back and looked into his eyes. The fire that burned there made her weak in the knees. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Could it be possible that he was feeling the same connection she was—and asking her to do something about it? “Are you sure? This is complicated....”

His gaze dropped to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “It doesn't have to be. Just two people cutting loose on a Friday night. Unless I misread the signals...”

She swallowed and shook her head quickly. “No...you didn't. But...”

“I'm not in the market for a girlfriend,” he assured her, his hand squeezing at her hip. “Knowing that, if you want a drive home, meet me in the parking lot.”

The song ended. Duke stepped back and raised a finger to his hat. “Thanks for the dance, Carrie.”

She had to be out of her mind to even consider taking him up on his offer. Duke walked away, heading straight to the bar where he clapped Quinn on the back and ordered up another drink, looking entirely calm while her whole body was on high alert.

Carrie weaved her way back to the table where Kailey was waiting, virtually bouncing in her chair.

“Oh, my God. You and Duke were smokin' out there! What the heck?”

“We just danced,” Carrie insisted, though she was still so keyed up she felt as if she might bust out of her skin.

“Just danced my eye. It was like electricity between you. Wow.”

“Shut up, Kailey.” Carrie didn't know what to do. She was tempted, oh, so tempted by Duke's unexpected offer. She was a thirty-year-old woman and her sex life was nonexistent. Here was a man, a gorgeous man, propositioning her for...for what? A night of mind-blowing sex? He'd made it clear he didn't want a relationship. She wished she could be more blasé. She knew these things happened all the time. But they didn't happen to
her.
Could she really do it?

It all sounded absolutely perfect except for two nagging thoughts. One, he was her boss. And two, she'd learned a long, long time ago that even the best-sounding ideas came with consequences. It was the consequences she tried to avoid.

A waitress stopped by the table and put down fresh drinks. “From the gentleman at the bar,” she said with a smile.

Carrie looked up. Duke met her gaze evenly and saluted her with his glass, then proceeded to drain his drink and, true to his word, headed for the door.

“What was all that about?” Kailey asked, sipping her soda through a pink straw.

Carrie looked down so Kailey couldn't see the heat in her cheeks. “Nothing. He just bought us drinks.”

She couldn't do this, she decided. She'd be crazy. Never in her life had she hooked up for anything casual. It just wasn't her style. And yet there was something exciting about it, too, something risky and dangerous. Maybe she should stop being so uptight. Maybe a night with Duke was just what she needed to unwind a little bit and chill out?

“And he just walked out the door. Without Quinn.”

Carrie looked up and wasn't surprised to see Kailey's eyebrow quirked knowingly. She wasn't fooling her friend a bit. “So I, uh, might have another drive home,” she said, the nerves twisting around in her stomach again.

“Oh. My. God.” Kailey repeated and leaned forward. “He's waiting for you, isn't he?”

“Shh. Not so loud!” Carrie hissed urgently. “I don't need it broadcast through the bar, you know!”

“Shut up! You're going to do it? You're going to go home with him?” Her eyes lit up. “You go, girl! It's about time!”

“I don't know,” Carrie said miserably. “I mean, he wasn't exactly the epitome of friendliness the other day. And then we started talking and dancing and...” She met Kailey's gaze. “There's definitely something. But he's my boss. It would probably be a huge mistake.”

“Sweetie, you could stand to make a mistake now and again.”

“I know. I'm dull.”

“You're careful, and I get why.” Kailey put a hand on Carrie's arm. “Look, I think he's a stand-up guy and so does Quinn. Go. If you change your mind, it's no big deal. One of us should find out if he's a good kisser, and he didn't look twice at me. If he's dynamite, I can be jealous later.”

“What if he...we...”

Kailey's blue eyes met Carrie's, serious now. “Then you take precautions.” Kailey picked up her purse, rooted around for a moment, and then she slipped her hand across the table and tucked something into Carrie's palm. Carrie knew from the rough edge of the square packet that it was a condom.

For the first time, Carrie wished she was as sexually confident as her friend. She didn't know how to do this.

“How long is he waiting?” Kailey asked.

Carrie checked her watch. “Another few minutes.” She looked at Kailey. “You'll be okay?”

“Of course. Don't worry about me. I'll probably give Quinn a lift home anyway. Go.”

Before she could change her mind, Carrie got to her feet and chugged back the last of her liquid courage. Then she grabbed her purse, took a big breath and smiled at Kailey. “Wish me luck,” she said, and she saw Kailey's lips form the words
good luck
but didn't hear her over the new song that started up.

Anxiety and excitement threaded through her veins as she wound her way through the bar to the door and stepped outside into the cold air. Maybe he'd gone already...

But there he was, leaning against the fender of his pickup truck, his arms crossed over his chest and his cowboy hat shadowing his eyes.

Then he saw her and he smiled, uncrossing his arms and pushing away from the truck. Carrie's feet took her one step forward, then another, and another...until she was at the truck and he was holding the door open for her.

Chapter Three

She'd actually come.

Duke hadn't expected her to. Carrie struck him as the buttoned-down type that maybe got out now and again with her girlfriends to cut loose but wasn't out on the prowl. She was too sweet. Too reserved. Her friend Kailey was more on the vivacious side and good for a laugh. But it wasn't Kailey he'd danced with. It wasn't Kailey who'd captured his attention.

It was Carrie, and her sun-streaked hair, big eyes and sad smile. His response to her had been instant and exciting, and before he could think better of it he'd made his proposition. Once outside, though, the cold air had brought him to his senses. He was ten kinds of fool. She wasn't some girl hanging around a bar on base, looking for a good time. She was Carrie Coulter. Freckle Face. His employee, for God's sake. What a dumb idea.

He looked over at her as he turned on the heater and put the truck in Reverse. The way her jaw was tensed, she was as nervous as he was. He'd waited for her because he'd said he would, but he hadn't truly thought she'd take him up on his offer. He'd never actually made that sort of proposition before, and he'd figured he'd blown it. Watching her come out the doors and into the parking lot had set his heart racing. His confidence had taken quite a beating lately, but maybe he had more going for him than he realized.

Either that or Carrie Coulter was desperate.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. More desperate than he was? Not likely. What a pair they made. Secretly, he was glad to be out of the bar. The noise had been overwhelming and instead of relaxing, he'd found himself tensing up. Just trying to hear the conversations going on around him took all his focus. Now he was sitting here, away from the crowd, and neither of them was saying anything.

“What's so funny?” she asked, turning her head to look at him, chafing her hands together.

“Nothing,” he answered, but judging by the look on her face, she didn't believe him. “I really didn't think you'd come.”

“I had second thoughts. And third and fourth.”

Intrigued, he checked the road and then glanced back at her again. “But you came anyway.”

“Let's not analyze it to death,” she suggested, and he chuckled again. Dammit, he enjoyed her. He liked how she shot straight from the hip without trying to impress, liked the way she smiled and really liked the way she smelled when she was snuggled close in his arms—like shampoo and fresh air and some sort of light perfume, all of it magnified by the heat of her body against his.

It was one thing to proposition a woman on the dance floor and another to wait and then spend fifteen minutes in a vehicle, prolonging things to close to half an hour. It gave a person way too much time to think, and so it was that as Duke turned down the side road leading to Carrie's house, he felt compelled to let her off the hook.

“We don't have to do this, you know.”

Her head snapped to the left and he felt her gaze burn into the side of his head. “You don't want to?”

Damn. “It's not that. It's just...I don't want you to feel pressured if you've changed your mind.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. Why the heck was he so nervous all of a sudden?
Nervous
wasn't generally part of his vocabulary. He normally made a decision and got on with it, no second thoughts, no reservations.

Until two months ago. Until the IED had changed everything. He'd gone from being 100 percent sure of himself to questioning every single decision. He didn't even know why he felt like such a failure. The explosion hadn't been his fault. He'd merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She didn't say anything, so he let out a breath and said, “You'll have to tell me which mailbox is yours.”

A few hundred yards more and Carrie pointed with her finger. “The next one,” she said quietly, and he slowed, his headlights sweeping a swath of light across her front lawn as he pulled into her driveway. Her truck sat beneath the protection of a carport next to the bungalow, a model only slightly newer than his with rust spots around the license plate.

He pulled to a stop, killed the engine, and silence settled around them in the twilight.

He wasn't sure how to start. Wasn't that the darndest thing?

“So, uh...thanks for the drive,” Carrie said, and without looking at him, she put her hand on the door handle and pulled.

Panic shot through his veins and he reached out, grabbing the wrist of her left hand before she could get out of the vehicle. “Don't go,” he said roughly, wondering how he could have messed things up so completely between the bar and her home and so little that was said. But he had. He'd tried to give her a way out and instead he'd made her feel like he'd reconsidered his offer.

Such as it was.

He didn't have a lot to offer a woman at the moment, but he could damn well make sure that Carrie ended tonight feeling desirable and wanted. Because she was both.

“Look, I'm a little out of practice,” he confessed quietly. “And probably going about this all wrong.”

“You? Out of practice?” She'd stayed in her seat but she still had her hand on the door. Her face, in the glare of the interior light, looked amused. “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Duke? I bet you have to fight the girls off with a stick.”

“Hardly.” Maybe when he'd been a lot younger. Full of himself and testosterone and with the general hubris that came from being a soldier in his prime. But then he'd met Roxanne, and for the better part of three years they'd maintained a relationship—through two deployments and a base move. He'd been a month into his third deployment when she'd called it quits. Not that he could blame her. It wasn't an easy life.

There'd been no fighting women off for quite some time.

“Carrie,” he said, his voice quietly commanding. “Shut the door.”

She did. The overhead light turned off, plunging them into darkness once more. Her features were illuminated only by the moonlight that shivered through the windows, and the intimacy he'd been craving came rushing back.

“Come here,” he ordered, and to his surprise she complied, sliding over on the bench seat so she was next to him.

He turned on the seat so he was facing her better, raised his hands to cradle her face. She had her hair up in some fancy kind of braid and the smoothness of it grazed his fingers. Her eyes looked larger now as his mouth hovered only inches from hers and he could hear the quick sound of her breath as she waited. Waited. He closed his eyes, shutting out the voice that listed the reasons why this was a mistake. Then he touched his mouth to hers.

Her lips were soft and pliant, and to his surprise she didn't take any coaxing. Her tongue tangled with his as the kiss exploded, and Duke's body felt as if it was expanding within his skin. He heard a sound echo in the cab of the truck—Good Lord, had he made that moaning sound?—as she nibbled on his bottom lip. Her mouth tasted of sweet soda and sharp rum and sultry woman and he decided on the spot that he'd made a good call on the dance floor after all. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected anything this instant, this gratifying.

His hand slid from her neck down to her jacket and he pulled the zipper all the way down until the two sides parted. Inside the material she was warm, and he cupped her breast, finding the nipple hard either from his touch or the frigid air in the cab of the truck. He found the hem of her shirt and slid his hand underneath, encountering a lace-edged bra.

“Mmm,” she murmured, arching into his palm. Before he could reach around to the clasp, she pulled away.

“Slide over to the middle of the seat,” she commanded. He shifted a foot to the right and she straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, her mouth on his again. God, she was sweet. Sweet and hot and amazing...

And she was sucking on his earlobe.

“I thought the steering wheel would get in the way,” she murmured, her hot breath and soft words sending shivers down his spine. She unzipped his coat, too, and spread it wide, so that their bodies were only separated by a few layers of denim and Duke was rapidly losing coherent thought. He slid his hands beneath her shirt, unfastened her bra and, in one quick movement, lifted the fabric and fastened his mouth on her breast.

She cried out at the contact and it was all he could do to not flip her down on the seat and make love to her right then and there. The windows had steamed up and without the heater, the interior of his truck was cooling fast despite the heat they were giving off.

He wanted to do this right, wanted to make love on a soft bed with lots of room and no worries about anyone wandering by and discovering them. “Inside,” he grated out roughly. “For the love of God, Carrie, let's go inside.”

She ground her pelvis against him and he swore his eyes rolled back in his head.

“What if someone goes by and sees us?” He put his hands on her shoulders and held her away a little. “It's cold. If we're only going to do this once, I want to do it right.”

Her gaze burned into his and she slid off his lap. In the time it took her to get right-way around and grab her purse, he was out and at her door, reaching for her hand. Halfway to her back door he swept her up in his arms and she let out a musical, sexy laugh that made him smile. After a quick search for keys, he carried her through the door and into her small foyer, then let her down. Her legs slid against his until her toes touched the floor. Once they were stable he moved forward until her body was pressed between his and the wall.

Articles of clothing began to come off; coats dropped to the floor, a few buttons popped as she struggled to release him from his shirt, and her braid was tattered from both his hands and the tangle from pulling her shirt and bra over her head.

It wasn't until Duke's hands got busy beneath the waistband of her jeans that things suddenly seemed to be too much for her. Soon they'd cross a line they couldn't turn back from, and he sensed the moment Carrie's doubts started to creep in. She pulled back a little. Didn't resist his touch but didn't lean into it either, and he slowly got back his control and decided that perhaps a little finesse was required.

“Duke,” she breathed, and he was pretty certain his name had never sounded quite that sexy before.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled at her neck, taking his time. It wasn't a race after all.

“I don't think I can do this.”

Damn.

He swallowed. Took a deep breath.

“Is it because I'm your boss?” He dropped light kisses on her cheeks, across the soft curve of her ear, resting his hands on the warm skin just above the waist of her jeans. “Because that doesn't matter. Trust me. I can always fire you and then it won't be an issue.”

She let out a breathless laugh but it faded quickly. “No, it's not that. Not entirely. I'm...I'm not ready. That probably sounds stupid.”

They hadn't even bothered to turn on a light when they'd come inside. In the shadows Carrie's eyes appeared dark and apprehensive.

Several seconds spun out while Duke tried to regain his equilibrium and common sense. “Whew,” he finally said, down low. “Okay. Okay.”

“You're not mad?”

“Of course not.” He frowned. “You always have the right to say no, you know.”

“I thought you'd be disappointed.”

And, oh, he was. His body was still jacked up from all the stimulation, and he was going to have to find some sort of displacement activity to burn off the energy. “Hell yeah,” he murmured, running his finger over her bare shoulder. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. But not disappointed in you. Right now I'm just cursing your sensible side. You've got me wound pretty tight, Miss Coulter.”

“It would appear we have some chemistry going on.”

He chuckled. “And that's the understatement of the century.”

He bent and picked up her top and helped her get it over her head, but she wore it without her bra, and the idea of her bare breasts beneath the fabric didn't help deflate his libido one bit. As he shrugged on his own shirt, she hiccuped softly and he knew without a doubt that she'd been right to put on the brakes. She wasn't drunk but she wasn't quite sober either, and he didn't want that on his conscience. If they ever did go through with it, he wanted her clearheaded and present for every single second....

And that line of thinking wasn't helping cool his jets, either.

“I should go,” he said quietly. “Are you going to be okay?”

She made a dismissive sound. “I'm not that drunk.”

He laughed. “No, ma'am.” He went forward and put a finger beneath her chin, lifted it and dropped a light kiss on her lips. “You are, however, a very difficult woman to walk away from.”

He'd surprised her with that. He could tell in the way her lips dropped open the slightest bit and her eyes widened.

“It's probably better this way anyway,” she said, stepping back. “If we...you know...it would be awkward at the ranch.”

Only if they let it be, but he understood her concern. “I had a nice time tonight,” he admitted. “And that was unexpected, so thank you, Carrie.”

She nodded quickly. “Me, too.”

“I'll be going, then. Unless...”

There was a short pause. “No, it's better this way. I'll see you later.”

It was another awkward moment where neither of them seemed sure what the right next move was, so Duke stepped forward and placed a kiss on her forehead before sliding out the door and heading for his truck.

He was backing out of her driveway when a light came on inside, and when he went to put the truck in Drive he noticed his hands were shaking.

It bothered him to realize how much he'd truly wanted to stay. And bothered him even more to know that he'd temporarily lost his mind simply because he'd danced with her. Who knew a woman could have such a rapid and visceral effect on him?