Copyright © 2010 Moira Keith, Lorelei James, Niki Green
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
Buckling Down by Moira Keith
A sweet southern voice laced with Texas twang came through the speakers.
“Watch out, Levi’s a real sucker for a true southern girl,” Justin said. A few of the guys at the table whistled and Levi followed their stares over his shoulder towards the bar. He could not believe his eyes. The singer stood on the corner of the bar in a black tank top and low hip-hugging jeans that revealed a glimpse of her stomach. Long legs were accentuated by the fit of her jeans and red cowboy boots. Levi stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. She hopped off the bar and worked the crowd better than any entertainer he had ever seen.
“Sydney,” he whispered when those familiar light gray eyes locked on him. A smile crossed her face. The auburn haired beauty from his childhood made her way through the tables towards him. “Eye on the prize,” he reminded himself.
Damn if she wasn’t getting a reaction out of him. Desperately, he tried to remember the pact he’d made ages ago. Sydney sat on his lap, plucked the cowboy hat from his head, placed it on her own and wrapped an arm around his neck as she sang. Her body pressed against his. Focusing on anything other than the feel of her ass against his lap, the curve of her breast pressing into his chest and the sweet magnolia scent wafting off her skin was impossibility. After the longest minute of his life had passed, she winked, slowly slid off of his lap and headed towards the stage. Wolf whistles filled the air as she finished the song.
“Well, that’s definitely the best entertainment we’ve seen all evening. Seeing a woman have that kind of effect on Levi is worth a round of beers. I’m buying. Earth to Levi…” Justin nudged him. “Might want to wipe the drool from your chin and put your eyes back in your head.”
“I don’t believe it,” Levi murmured, staring after her.
“Believe what?” Justin asked, looking puzzled. “Game face on, Levi. Fans approaching.”
A few bar patrons asked for autographs. Levi never turned away fans, though he hoped to finish before Sydney disappeared from view. The band began to play again, but a male voice came through the speakers. Levi flicked his gaze up to the stage, located his hat and watched as it moved towards the bar.
“Excuse me guys, time to go fetch my Stetson.” Levi rose from the chair but lost sight of her as he made his way through the crowd. As he leaned against the bar, he spotted Dusty Hart, another face from his childhood, at the opposite end.
“Syd, get your ass back here already. Did you fail to notice the people three deep around the bar?” Dusty yelled out.
“Jesus, Dusty, no need to go birthin’ any cows.” A familiar, feminine voice answered back. Levi chuckled. She was still full of piss and vinegar. Glancing down the length of the bar, he caught a glimpse of Sydney’s long legs as she swung them over the bar, before dropping down into the trenches. Captivated by her movements, he watched as she took drink orders, tossed empty bottles over her shoulder to the trash, and made her way down the antiqued pinewood separating them. After all these years, it was harder to deny the attraction he had for her. Sydney continued towards him, exchanging drinks and money faster than he had ever seen.
“Hey angel, can I have my hat back?”
Those beautiful eyes met his and a sultry smile that promised nothing but trouble crossed her lips. “Are you kidding? I’ve got Levi McKenna’s hat. You know I could make a pretty obscene profit off this hat.”
“But you won’t,” he said, turning on the smile his assistant referred to as a real lady killer.
“That smile might work on them Hollywood girls you’ve been hanging out with, but I am immune to your charms, Mr. McKenna.”
A voice called out, “Hey Sydney, how about a kiss?” Though the tone in the man’s voice was playful, Levi’s jaw tightened. A slow intake of air eased his tension.
“You’re in the wrong place, mister. A few clubs downtown might be able to give you the action you’re looking for.” Sydney looked at Levi and rolled her eyes. “Some people. So, back to the hat, what makes you think I won’t sell it?”
Trying to hide her discomfort, Sydney pushed past the remark but not before Levi saw it. “Call it a hunch.”
“I guess we’ll just have to see about that, cowboy.” She handed a few beers across to a waitress, then turned and blew him a kiss. “I might just hang on to it as a memento.”
“Fine by me,” Levi thought, looking around. Dusty was no longer in sight. “So where’d the big man run off to?”
She jerked her head towards the opposite end of the bar. “Busy, but I’ll get him. Dusty, you got a guy down here wants to talk to the owner.”
“So deal with him,” Dusty yelled back.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” She winked at Levi.
Dusty’s voice grew louder, laced with irritation. “Well, why the hell not? You’re nicer than I am and much better to look at. Just take care of it, Syd.”
Levi watched the ease with which Sydney switched discussing fashion or sports, depending on who she served. The woman’s love and ability to talk about both made for a combination Levi found intoxicating and damn sexy. Of course, he had always found her an enticing little package. Nothing compared to southern charm in his books, and she had it in spades. Even the curses dripped with it as they fell from her tongue.
“Dusty, get your ass down here already!”
“God damn Sydney, you’re an owner. Tell the guy to get over it or take his macho bullshit out of here.”
Levi could hear the frustration in his friend’s voice, but knew he wouldn’t leave Sydney to deal on her own. An exasperated sigh escaped her and Levi had to forcibly bite his tongue. Dusty slowly moved in their direction, stopping occasionally to refill drinks.
“So what’s the deal, guy? Too macho to deal with Sydney…” Dusty’s voice trailed off as recognition slid across his face and his good-humored personality took over. He chuckled, “When the hell did you get to town?”
Levi studied his watch. “About four hours ago.”
“Here for the rodeo or slumming?”
“Rodeo. A few of the guys are at the corner table.” Levi looked towards the stage when the band began to play again.
“So, I need a rodeo in town before I can get your ass out here for a visit?”
“Hardly. Just been busy.”
“So I gathered. I follow the news. Movies, women and bulls leave little time for much else.”
“Can’t believe everything you hear or read, man. You know that.”
“True,” Dusty looked past him with a hunger in his eyes. Only one thing in the world, so far as Levi knew, elicited such a reaction from his friend. Dusty’s wife, Becca, stepped up next to him with a tray full of empty glasses. She still looked at Dusty as though he were the only man in the room. When she leaned over the bar to give Dusty a kiss, a pang of longing for what his friends shared crept up before Levi could stop it. “Becca, you’re as beautiful as ever. When you planning on leaving this lug and running away with me?”
“Why? You plan on growing up and settling down in the near future?” she asked, hugging him. “It’s good to see you, Levi. Where is she, Dusty?”
“Follow the trail of drooling men.” His tone held irritation, but Levi didn’t blame the guy. His sister had always been eye catching. Dusty turned back to him. “We make more money the nights she hops behind the bar. Damn guys ogle her like she’s serving them naked, though. It’s disgusting and yet, it’s hardly the worst part.”
Before Levi could ask what could be worse, Justin strolled up and slapped him on the back.
“Hey, Levi.”
“Justin, this is Dusty Hart, the owner of the bar.”
Justin shook Dusty’s hand. “Hey man, the singer is hot. I bet she makes you a lot of money in this joint.” Ignorant to the expression on Dusty’s face, he turned back to Levi. “We’re thinking about checking out some of the casinos, you game?”
“Nah, I think I’ll hang here and catch up with y’all later.”
“Mind if we take the limo?”
“Go ahead. I can catch a ride or call a cab.”
Justin’s exaggerated wink before he left could only mean one thing—he suspected Levi’s reason for staying. Levi shook his head as Justin walked away. “Sorry, Justin’s mouth rarely checks with his brain first.”
Dusty shrugged. “No problem. So you’re gonna hang around?”
“Until you get sick of me or kick me out.” He settled onto the nearest cowhide barstool. “So what’s worse?”
A female voice came over the microphone and Dusty looked to the stage where Becca now stood.
“You’ll see.”
Strong, Silent Type by Lorelei James
Libby raised her chin. Her heart whomped when her gaze caught familiar blue eyes.
Quinn.
Even after fourteen years together, just seeing him set her pulse racing. Quinn was the stereotypical Wyoming rancher, more rugged looking than classically handsome. He’d maintained the same stocky build as in his younger years, although it appeared he’d dropped weight since being forced to cook his own meals. But it looked good on him. Everything looked good on him.
His face was smoothly shaven. The fresh scent of his aftershave, mixed with the aroma of his sun-warmed skin, drifted toward her, swamping her with longing.
Damn him.
To top it off, Quinn had worn her favorite shirt, the one she’d bought him for Christmas, navy blue with pearl-snap buttons and white stitching around the pocket flaps. The cut of the material showcased his wide shoulders and broad chest. The sleeves hugged his muscled biceps, every bulge earned the hard way from manual labor required to run a ranch. The dark fabric emphasized his coloring, his blackish-brown hair, the long, thick, sooty lashes surrounding his mesmerizing blue eyes.
Those intense eyes locked onto hers. Quinn gave her the unsure smile she hadn’t seen in ages. Her heart thumped harder.
“Hey, Libby. You, ah, look good. Real good.”
“Thanks. What’re you doing here?” A panicked thought crossed her mind. “Did someone die?”
“No.” He paused. Frowned. Seemed highly flustered. “It’s sorta sad you’d think that’s what it’d take to get me to come around.”
Libby shrugged. “You haven’t come around.”
“True enough. But last time I checked, the roads run both ways, darlin’ wife.”
She notched her chin higher. “What do you want?”
“You.”
Her stomach did a swoopy roll. “Excuse me?”
He kept leaning against the driver’s side door, hands jammed into the pockets of a new pair of dark blue Wrangler jeans, his going-to-town boots crossed at the ankles. “I’m here ’cause I’m waitin’ for you.”
“Why?”
For a second, his shoulders tensed. Then he pushed away from the car and ambled toward her. “Because I don’t like you dancin’ with other men.”
Taunting him usually had no effect. No matter how pissed off he might be, Quinn McKay never caused a scene. Never acted improper or impulsive in public, which was why his outburst in the bar last night had thoroughly confused her. Hell, he rarely acted improper or impulsive in private. So, she couldn’t help the flip, “Oh. Is that all?” to see if she could goad him into another heated reaction.
“No, that ain’t all. I’m also here to remind you that you’re my wife and I don’t share what’s mine.”
A chill skittered through her at his possessive tone. “I didn’t think you cared.”
“You thought wrong. Now dump your stuff in the back of the truck and get in. We’re goin’ home.”
Libby’s jaw dropped. The book bag hit the dirt. Her temper skyrocketed and her voice escalated. “Just like that? You think after three months of ignoring me and our problems that you can just show up and…command me? I’ve got news for you buddy, not happening. Too little, too late.”
A heavy pause lingered. She expected him to remind her to lower her voice. She didn’t expect him to lower his head until her face was shadowed beneath the brim of his ever-present cowboy hat.
“Wrong answer. Better late than never is my new creed.” Quinn peered into her eyes so closely she felt his breath fanning her lips. “I agreed to give you the space you demanded, Libby. Now I can see that was a fool-headed mistake on my part. So you’re gonna rectify it.”
“Me? How?”
“By givin’ me the second chance I deserve.” Quinn lifted his hand to her face. It shocked her to see that strong, capable hand trembling. He dragged the back of his rough-skinned knuckles down her cheek. “Please.”
Oh God. When was the last time Quinn said that simple word to her? And meant it?
Libby stared at him, puzzled, yet unable to squash that last bit of hope. Was she seeing new determination in the eyes of the man she’d loved most of her life? A man she swore she knew straight to the bone?
“Libby?”
The soft, gruff way he’d spoken her name as a question, not a demand, tore at her resistance. “What?”
“Spend the weekend with me. Just you and me.”
“And what happens come Monday morning?”
“We’ll take it one day at a time and see how it goes from there.”
The Real Deal by Niki Green
The music began roaring its way through the speakers filling the club. Nick recognized the song. It was popular and played on nearly every radio station numerous times a day. He couldn’t remember most of the words but he knew the overall theme, someone had kissed a girl and she had seemed to like it, or so he thought. He couldn’t remember. All he could think about was the pressure his zipper was putting on his increasing erection. Never in his life was he so grateful for a table cloth.
Hayden on the other hand didn’t seem to care if his arousal was evident to the rest of the patrons or not. There he sat an elbow’s length away laid back in the opposite chair, beer bottle lifted halfway to his mouth, eyes roving over the eye candy moving before the crowd. Nick shook his head at his captivated brother and returned his undivided attention to the stage and to the ones who occupied it.
After the first few beats introduced the song a throaty, ultra feminine voice rang out the lyrics that propelled the dancers along. Each movement from the two was synchronized. What one did, the other mimicked.
They moved with the beat of the music, at first only watching each other through the faux mirror in front of them. Black fishnet gloves traced an eyebrow and moved seductively to the sets of cherry-red lips. Material ran gracefully and without pause over the glistening pair. Their fingertips stroked the top first, then bottom and then back to the top before blowing a kiss to one another via the mirror.
Without faltering, breaking their timing or rhythm, the pair removed the gloves slowly and let them fly into the crowd. With bare hands placed on the vanity top, the dancers rose and inched closer to each other, inspecting the reflection that should have been there. Closer and closer the pair drew to each other until only a breath separated them from each other.
When the crescendo proclaimed that the chorus had arrived the two stepped away from the prop and twirled and stomped their way around the stage. Each and every step they took was determined and full of intent—the intent being to arouse and seduce every man at their feet.
Little black pleated skirts barely reached the top of the thigh. Nick swallowed numerous times as he watched them both move closer and closer. Black garters ran the length of each leg, connecting the striped, sheer stockings under the skirt. Connected them to what, Nick wondered and then realized he didn’t care.
His knowledge of lingerie ran as far as the occasional Victoria Secret catalog placed in their mailbox by mistake. Those were good months.
Stiletto boots sheathed the long, trim legs that descended the stairs in time with the music. Those black patent encasements laced all the way to the knee looked both sexy and dangerous at the same time. An image of the dancer in nothing but the boots flashed before Nick’s eyes and he felt his cock jump beneath his zipper. If this was any clue as to how the rest of the night was going to continue, he was in for a few hours of heaven and hell, either one welcome.
As the two made their way to their respective side of the stage, Nick was grateful they’d found an open seat near the stage. The long-legged, raven-haired goddess, with the f***-me mouth, f***-me eyes, f***-me everything was right on top of them. Nick found that the garters connected underneath a pair of ruffled, red boy shorts that barely covered the firm little bottom peeking out from beneath the skirt.
Nick watched her transfixed. She swayed, dipped and thrust to the beat as did the dancer behind her. He noticed that even though their backs were to each other the synchronization never ended.
He held his breath as she ran her hands down the front of the tight bustier top, releasing each clasp one by one on her way back to the top. Holding the top together with both hands she teased to the right of Nick’s seat and then to the left only revealing a flash of caramel torso here and a hint of round breast there.
In the next instant, both dancers crouched down balancing on the stiletto heels of their boots and exposed what the red camisole has concealed. Covering most of the breast and the entire nipple was a red pasty shaped like a pair of lips. And they were right in Nick Kiel’s face. He thought at that moment he could die a happy man. And in the next second wished he was a dead man. Then the realization came that he may in fact be a dead man come morning.
“Holy s***!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Even with the music blaring, the crowd’s screams and Hayden whistling, she heard him. Her midnight bob swiveled toward him and those eyes her bangs tried to hide met his. Her mouth gaped open, her hands pulled the sides of the bustier together and she repeated his sentiment, “Holy s***.”
Her voice was low and strangled and jumped a little. She kept staring at him. Nick wished he could disappear, and from the look on her face she wished the same thing. He felt Hayden’s hands grasp his shoulders and shake him a bit. He couldn’t pay attention to his brother. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
His brother must have realized, finally, that he was the only one at the table for two who was still enjoying themselves. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Hayden’s face sober a bit and then turn toward where his brother gazed.
Never having much tact and lacking the filter that most people had between their brains and their mouths, Hayden’s exclamation was louder and higher pitched than either brother would have liked, “Holy f***ing s***!”
Nick saw the girl jerk her eyes from brother to brother. She paled more, if it was possible. She risked a quick peek back at Nick and then inch by inch rose from her crouched, exposed position on the stage to her full height. Nick would pay for his next thought soon enough, but all he could think about was her encased legs, that seemed miles and miles long, wrapped tightly around his waist, clenching her to him. Those dewy, painted lips, even though set firm and unsmiling now, held promises of deep kisses that would run the length of a man’s body over and over again. Yep, he was going to hell.
Quickly and with style, she turned on the stiletto heel and made her way, with her partner, back to where the whole thing had started. The lights dimmed once more, a cheer resounded and yells for more filled the area.
The only thing Nick heard was the sound of his own heartbeat and the rush of his blood from his jeans back to his head where it belonged. It took a minute. Hayden’s words finally busted their way through Nick’s frantic thoughts and he turned in his seat.
“Tell me that was not who I think it was. Tell me this is all some f***ed up nightmare and we both are going to wake up any minute. Tell me. Lie to me if you have to. I can take it.” Watching Hayden down the contents of the three beer bottles on the table made Nick’s throat drier than it already was. He swallowed a few times and then made the decision to tell his brother, “You’re right about one thing.”
“What’s that?” Hayden asked as he wiped his arm across his mouth.
“We’re in a f***ing nightmare.”
“No s***.” Hayden chuckled a bit but there was nothing funny about the situation. Nick knew that the wry laugh was Hayden’s way of showing that he was nervous, and he had good reason to be. “What are we gonna do now?”
Nick shook his head. He didn’t know what to do. She’d seen them. They’d seen her. There was no changing that.
“It was her, right? I mean,” Hayden pulled his seat closer to his brother’s and rested his arms on his thighs, whispering, as if anyone could hear him, “my brain didn’t just make that up, did it?”
“No, that was her all right. Every last inch of her.” S***, he thought.
“Well s***!” Hayden said, throwing his hands over his head in frustration and what looked like defeat.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Willa?” Hayden inquired.
“Willa.” Nodding his head and studying the table top, Nick Kiel gave his brother the one conformation in the world he did not want.
“Willa.” As her name passed his lips, Hayden let his head drop to the table with a resounding thud. Nick glanced at him and felt the need to do the same. Who knew? Who knew that a simple, harmless night of beer, half-naked women and good-natured fun could turn into hell on Earth? It was just their luck.
Nick rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, rolled them back to his brother, who still had not lifted his head and then rolled them back into his head and closed his eyes.
I should have stayed at home, Nick chanted silently to himself over and over again. But he hadn’t, and now he was screwed like nobody’s business.
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