Some Like It Hot (37 page)

Read on for a preview of
Brenda Jackson’s upcoming novel

TASTE OF PASSION

To be published by St. Martin’s Press

Copyright ©2009 by Brenda Streater Jackson

Luke leaned against the bedpost and gritted his teeth against the sharp pain that tore up his leg. Taking a deep breath he eased down on the bed, appreciating the feel of the soft mattress beneath him.

He hated lying but when Mac had asked if he needed her help, he’d said he didn’t, when actually he had. But his pride had kept him from telling the truth. Damn. And as a result, it had taken him a full hour to unpack the few things he’d brought with him. And moving around on his leg had irritated his knee somewhat. He needed to chill a bit, he thought, rubbing his thigh. Or else he’d run the risk of causing his body more harm than good and he’d have to kiss the Reno rodeo good-bye. And that was one thing that he refused to do.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Sitting on the bed,” he answered without bothering to look up. He knew who it was. Besides, at the moment there was an intense throb through most of his body and the last thing he needed was to increase that throb somewhere else.

She had taken a shower. He could tell. She had that fresh scent of soap, powder, and woman. The latter was what his mind latched on to and not for the first time. The nickname “Mac” didn’t sound at all feminine and certainly didn’t do justice to the woman it was applied to.

“And why aren’t you in the bed?” she asked, coming into the room and making a point of standing in front of him, right in his line of vision.

He couldn’t pretend not to notice her so he looked up and instantly felt sweat bead his forehead and an increased throbbing in his body as his gaze met hers. He took a deep breath and stared back at her while thinking he’d probably made a grave mistake by asking to stay here while recuperating. She had changed out of her jeans and tank top and was wearing a printed top and matching skirt. Evidently she was staying inside for the rest of the day since he couldn’t see her doing anything significant outside the way she was dressed.

Her body was what male dreams were made of, and her looks were as drop-dead gorgeous as any looks could get. She had a stunning face, a set of beautiful dark eyes, lips he knew were of the kissable kind—although at the moment they looked pouty and irritated—and silky black hair that hung past her shoulders. Her high cheekbones were evidence of her Native American ancestry and her creamy chocolate skin an attribute of her African-American side. He’d heard her mother’s people had joined the Cherokee tribe as free men back in the eighteen hundreds. He also knew her mother had family living in the North and that when her parents and grandfather had died she had been sent to live with an aunt in Boston for a while.

“Luke?”

It was then that he realized he hadn’t responded to her question. “The reason I’m sitting on the bed, Mac, is because I just finished putting my things away.”

“It took you that long?”

He cocked his head. “Yeah, it took me that long.”

She placed her hands on her hips and stared back at him, her expression one of annoyance. “Why didn’t you call for me? I could have helped. I did offer my services.”

“I know,” he said. “And I appreciated it,” he added. “But I preferred doing things myself,” he pointed out.

“Fine. So look what you have to show for your stubbornness. You’re in pain and don’t try denying it because I can tell. Now I’m going to have to help you after all.”

He frowned. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t try giving me a hard time, especially not now.”

He lifted a curious brow. “Why especially not now?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Trust me. I do.”

A frustrated sigh escaped from Mackenzie’s throat before she said, “Someone wrecked my mailbox.”

He lifted a brow. “What do you mean someone wrecked it?” He remembered seeing her mailbox earlier when they’d arrived. It was a huge brick roadside structure that had been erected at the gate leading onto her property.

“Just what I said. From the time I got home until a few minutes ago when one of the ranch hands noticed the damage, someone must have hit it with their car and kept on going.”

He shook his head. “That certainly wasn’t a very nice thing to do.”

“No, it wasn’t. That mailbox had fond memories for me since my dad built it for my mom. I remember the day he did it. I was eleven at the time. They had visited some friends in Denver and had seen one and Dad knew how much she liked it and decided to build her one himself.”

Luke reached out and cupped her cheek. He could hear the sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry about that, Mac.”

He could tell from her expression that his touch surprised her. Without being obvious about it, she eased her face away from his hand and plastered a smile on her face. “No big deal.”

He knew that it
had
been a big deal, although she was pretending otherwise, and it bothered him. “Before I leave I’ll make it my business to replace it,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s not your fault that someone was thoughtless and reckless.”

“Doesn’t matter. Besides, I’m pretty good when it comes to bricks and mortar. Whenever I came home and they were shorthanded, Blade and Slade were notorious for putting me to work at one of their construction sites.” He then stood and wished he hadn’t. A sharp pain shot up his leg and he gritted his teeth to keep from cursing.

“When was the last time you took your pain pills, Luke?”

The sharpness in her voice was as deep as the pain he’d just felt in his leg. He glanced over at her. “Not sure.”

“Not sure?”

From the look on her face evidently that hadn’t been a good answer. “Before I left the hospital,” he decided to come clean and say.

Her eyes narrowed. “The doctor told you to take a couple more of them when you got here.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been busy.”

“Only because you were too stubborn to accept my help,” she said, moving toward the bed to turn the covers back. “All men are bull-headed to a certain degree but cowboys are the worst.”

He felt the need to lean against the bedpost again. “Why cowboys?”

“I don’t know. You tell me since you’re one of them.”

Yes, he was one of them and proud of it. He got distracted for a moment when she leaned over and fluffed the pillow, presenting him with her profile, which looked as good as the rest of her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Too late. I just did,” she said, before walking away from the bed and back to him. “Now I need you to sit back down so I can help you.”

He lifted a brow. “Help me to do what?”

“Take off your clothes.”

I don’t think so.
He had never liked having a woman undress him, refusing to give a female even that much control. On the other hand, he’d never had a problem undressing a woman and hadn’t yet met a woman who’d complained about him doing so. “I can undress myself, Mac.”

“I don’t doubt that, but the quicker it’s done the sooner you can get some rest.”

Getting rest sounded good, he thought.

“And once you take a couple of pain pills you won’t hurt for a while,” she added.

And as far as he was concerned that sounded even better. But still. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked.

She blew out a frustrated breath as she looked up at him. “Yes, several things, but I won’t be able to concentrate on them until I know you’re okay.”

Luke pressed his lips into a tight line and said, “I didn’t mean to come here and cause you trouble.”

“You’re not. But I have to admit that I wish you had dropped the stubbornness at the door before you entered.”

He frowned. “I’m not stubborn,” he said defensively.

“Yes you are. You keep it up and I’m going to nickname you ‘mule.’”

He lowered himself on the edge of the bed, amused by her words. “I’m not that bad.”

“So you say.”

When she reached for the front of his shirt he automatically grabbed her hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Taking off your shirt. I need to check the bandage.”

“Oh.”

He tried remaining calm as her fingers went to work at his buttons and found it difficult to do so. He tried looking at the paintings on the walls, the various live plants in the room, and the toy box that sat in the corner. But none of those things could hold his attention like the woman standing in front of him. So he thought,
What the hell,
and he looked at her.

Thankfully, she wasn’t looking back. Instead her full concentration was on working his buttons free, and it took everything he had not to groan out loud when her tongue darted out of her mouth to moisten her lips.

“There. All done.” He watched as a slow, satisfied smile slid over those same lips when she eased the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. His guts immediately clenched. He felt a shiver touch his body.

“You okay?” she asked with concern.

“Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.” That was another lie. He wasn’t fine. His body seemed to be on automatic throb around her. Ashton would probably do him in if he had any idea what thoughts were running through Luke’s mind about everything he’d like to do to his cousin. And they weren’t thoughts that had popped up suddenly. Hell, if he were completely honest then he would admit he’d been attracted to Mac from the first. But he’d been smart enough not to start anything he knew he couldn’t finish. And his only goal in life, his main focus, was staying in good standing with the PRCA and doing everything possible to regain his title this year. One thing he knew for certain was that serious relationships and rodeos didn’t mix. Women had this thing about men being gone away from home most of the time while competing. In the end they tended to see the rodeo as competing for their time and ultimately they became jealous. He didn’t have time for such foolishness. He was not a forever kind of guy and was definitely not looking for a forever kind of woman. Rodeo was the only mistress he wanted. Granted, his injuries were a setback but he would not let them get the best of him.

“Your bandage looks fine but you’re going to have to make sure it stays dry when you shower,” Mac said, reeling his attention back in. “It won’t get changed until tomorrow. Now for your pants.”

My pants? Is she kidding? Does she really think I’m going to let her take them off me?
He forced himself to lean forward to stare into her eyes and said in a tone that could not be misunderstood, “Trust me, Mac, taking off my pants is the last thing you’d want to do right now.”

It wasn’t difficult to hear the catch in her throat when she glanced down at his lap and took note of what he was kindly trying to say. Hell, what did she expect? He was a man. She was a woman. Some things a person couldn’t hide. He had kissed her a couple of days ago so he was well aware of how she tasted. She was standing pretty close so he knew just how she smelled. In his book all those things equaled desire with a capital
D.
It then occurred to him that other than the day she had been with him in his hospital room while Camden had stepped out, this was the first time the two of them had ever truly been alone. At other times people had been around.

“All right, you can finish things up on your own,” she said, easing back. And he could hear the forced steadiness of her voice. “But at least let me help you with your boots.”

That seemed like a reasonable request, and considering the pain in his leg, it was one he could appreciate. “Okay. Thanks.” He inhaled deeply, thinking the next six weeks here with her should be pretty interesting.