Chapter 6
Harper struggled against the urge to slide her book out of her purse or at least her phone. After all, part of being a new-and-improved Harper involved becoming comfortable with taking a meal alone, or even a drink. And Diana Woods, the woman who’d suggested they do so together, had merely excused herself to say hello to an acquaintance. Surely, she’d return soon.
So instead of burying her nose in her paperback or the e-reading app on her phone, Harper sat back in her chair and reflected on what she’d accomplished that day.
The Kids Reading to Dogs program had gone off without a hitch, despite, or maybe because of, Gambler’s unexpected appearance. The uneven ratio of pets to children had made her fret for a few minutes until he’d raced to the patio and found a literacy partner in adorable Bella.
Watching the child read to the dog—and watching Zane Tucker watching the child read to the dog—had set off a flurry of warm tingles throughout Harper’s body. The man expressed concern he might frighten the girl, but like the dog, he’d been perfectly well-behaved in her presence.
But Harper liked that he’d been worried. That said something. That said he was a good man.
Diana Woods had confirmed it for Harper. The stunning fortyish woman had introduced herself to the new librarian some weeks back, welcoming her to town and explaining she worked at the local high school. They’d had a couple of pleasant conversations since then. This evening, after locking the library, a car had pulled up to the curb as Harper began her walk home.
Diana Woods had smiled and suggested they go out for a beer or a glass of wine to further their acquaintance.
Being spontaneous and not letting her usually shy nature stop her from new experiences were both on her new-and-improved Harper to-do agenda. So she’d climbed into the passenger seat and after a brief stop at her condo to change some of her clothes, they’d taken a short journey.
Now here she was, at a bar called Baldie’s, that was as far as a place could get from the San Francisco drinking establishments she’d been known to visit with Geoffrey or her girlfriends. A jukebox belted out classic rock, the drinks menu boasted only three wines—red, white, and rosé—and people were being served huge platters of fusion cuisine…basically cheese fused to potatoes.
She loved it.
Nursing her bottle of Stella Artois, chosen because it seemed a beer with a feminine-sounding name might be more her style than the others with the words “hairy” “dirty” and “dick” in their titles, she slid a look at a table across the room from under her lashes.
Zane. He sat with a group of big men about his age.
Diana had caught her gazing that way earlier.
I know all of those men. As teens, they filled up the desks during detention for an entire semester. Have you met any of them?
Harper had admitted an acquaintance with Zane.
Diana had admitted she’d already heard she and the man were an item.
He has a good heart under that rough exterior, though I don’t think he’s even completely aware of what’s beneath all those rock-hard muscles.
All night, through the first beer and now this second, Harper had been completely aware of his every laugh, his every gesture.
Just as she was about to dare yet another peek, a man stepped to her table, blocking her view. Her chin tipped up.
“Hello,” he said, smiling. His blond hair was cropped short and stiffened by gel. Unlike Zane, no hint of whisker grit edged his jaw. She could smell his aftershave even over the prevalent odors of beer and cheese-and-potato fusion.
“Um, hello.” She glanced around to where she’d last seen Diana. The woman was still engrossed in conversation with a man with messy hair and egghead-style glasses.
The stranger’s hand reached across Harper’s table. “I’m Andy Smerkman.”
Politeness necessitated her own hand come up to meet his. But their palms had no chance to make contact because long fingers wrapped around her elbow and drew her instantly to her feet. “Hey, sweets.”
Sweets. Zane Tucker stood beside her, wearing a pair of dark jeans and an ivory-colored, waffle-weave Henley that she’d been sneaking glances at all evening. Her gaze shifted from his broad chest to his face, noting again the five o-clock shadow around his mouth and along his jawline. His mesmerizing blue-green eyes were trained on her, as if the other man by her table didn’t exist.
“Zane,” said that other man now, his tone annoyed. “I’m right here.”
“Me, too,” he said, still without looking away from Harper. “And Harper and I have places to go.”
Then he was hustling her out of the bar, forcing her to dig her heels into the sticky floor so she could scoop up her purse hanging over her chair. “I came with Diana.”
Zane paused long enough to let out a short, sharp whistle. More than one person looked up, including Harper’s drinks companion. He pointed to Harper, then at his chest, then jerked his thumb in the direction of the door.
With a smile, Diana nodded she understood the pantomime and sketched a small wave.
Zane began moving again, forcing Harper to tottle after him to keep up with his long strides. His hand remained curled around her arm and she tried breaking free, but he wasn’t having it. And because of the tottle, she gave up, thinking she’d be more embarrassed on her way out the door if she fell on her behind before getting there.
Once in the chilly evening air, he led her in the direction of his truck.
“What if I have my own car?” she said, trying once again to halt his forward momentum.
“Do you have your own car?” When she didn’t answer, he began tugging her again, pulling her around his back bumper to the passenger side of his vehicle.
There, he pushed her against the door and just stared down at her, exasperation written on every line of his handsome face. “What am I going to do with you, Harper Grace?”
He’d asked that once before. She opened her mouth.
But before words could escape it, his own mouth was there, his tongue sliding deep as one big, rough palm tunneled beneath her hair to curl around her nape. That raspy touch felt so good her knees melted, but it didn’t feel nearly as good as his tongue sliding over hers, exploring everywhere. Then his lips left hers, but only to wander across her cheek where they touched the outer shell of her ear.
His hot breath dispatched cold chills down her neck and across her chest. Her nipples tightened to instant, painful points and her hands clutched at his biceps.
Then his head came up and he gave her another exasperated look. “Damn it. Now we’re going to have to talk about that kiss,” he said, as if it was all her fault.
Her temper kindled, but it was such an unusual sensation that it distracted her long enough for the man to bundle her into the passenger seat. Then he was behind the wheel and they were heading out of the Baldie’s lot.
Despite the cold night, Harper felt hot under the collar, felt hot everywhere.
And the tension inside the cab of the truck was thick and heavy and made her skin prickle on top of the heat already there.
Due to all that, it took her a while to realize he wasn’t heading directly to her condo. She frowned, trying to get her bearings in the dark. “Where are we going?”
He slowed, pointing out the building she knew was to house his sister Bailey’s new restaurant. “That’s my sister’s place, the one she’s opening in a short while.”
“Okay.” Harper peered at the stone building and continued looking at it over her shoulder as they drove on, lights illuminating the sign that said “Coming Soon—Blue Moon” receding in the distance.
“This is the diner, of course,” he said a few minutes later, braking again. “No alcohol is served there, which keeps the atmosphere usually well south of raucous, but sometimes hunters come in after a morning of keeping warm with whiskey and begin to argue over the bullshit that hunters argue over. Occasionally the wait staff is forced to call in Dad or Brenda.”
Her bewilderment grew. “Um, why are you telling me this?”
“I’m telling you that Dad and Brenda can handle things if you run into trouble at the diner, but most everywhere else you need to keep your eye out for unruly tourists and ill-mannered local mountain men. You’re safe at the library and at your condo too. Then there’s the Broadleaf—that upscale hotel in the middle of town—it has a quiet atmosphere and a sweet little bar called Sunfish. Diana should have taken you there.”
“I like Baldie’s. I like potato cheese fusion food.”
He cast her an odd glance. “It’s cheese fries.”
“Same thing.” She lifted a shoulder. “And I would be happy to go back there again. You were there. Your friends look nice.”
“My friends are nice.” He paused. “But not nice for you. And definitely Smerkman—who is not a friend—is not nice for you.”
Harper crossed her arms over his chest as Zane hit the accelerator again. “I don’t need a keeper.”
“A woman like you needs to know the right places for a woman like you to go.”
Her temper bubbled. “Oh, I get it. The sweet places, the quiet places, the safe places.”
He pulled into her condo complex, and turned into a visitor’s space.
“The boring places.”
“Bailey’s restaurant won’t be boring,” he said, his voice mild. He exited out of his side and came around to meet her as she jumped off the high passenger seat. When she teetered on her heels, he reached out both hands to steady her at her waist.
“But it’s also the restaurant of a French-trained chef. So it’s likely to be very proper, and, again, quiet.” Harper turned away from him and began to march toward her unit. “Perfect for a boring person like me.”
Without speaking, he trailed her to her unit, waiting while she unlocked the door. Then he pushed it open and followed her inside, swinging it shut behind him.
The living room was dimly lit, the timer having taken care of flipping on the lamp in the big picture window once it turned dark. The space was small but she’d decorated with light-colored walls and furniture upholstered in bright paisleys. To her eye, it was homey but not homespun. But Zane didn’t seem to be admiring it, or even actually absorbing his surroundings, because he was staring at her.
“What is this about you being a boring person?” he finally demanded, as if he found that annoying.
When it was she who was annoyed.
“It’s what my ex said about me when he broke our engagement,” she informed Zane. “After two years of being my fiancé. After six months of him cheating on me with various one-night stands. On the very day I put down the deposit on the wedding venue.”
Zane swore beneath his breath.
Now Harper put one hand on her hip, a pose she never thought she’d struck in her life. “But you know what? I don’t think it’s me that’s boring. It’s those kid gloves people like you put on when they get a look at me. Then they’re telling me the places I should visit are only the safe and sweet places. That’s the problem. The truth is, it’s people like you who make me boring!”
He only continued to stare.
So she added, just to be honest, “Well, it’s only mostly people like you to blame. Because I am a little shy. I grew up with my head in books. I’m always making up stories.”
Now Zane looked like he was fighting a smile.
It caused her to glare at him. “But I might have been exciting if I was ever asked to do exciting things!”
“I’ll take you kayaking,” Zane said quickly. “Rafting too. Get you up on a paddle board and—”
“Not good enough.” She leaned toward him, her temper still running hot. “To be exciting, I have to do exciting things in bed, too. That’s also what Geoffrey told me.”
Zane’s eyes narrowed. “Geoffrey’s an ass.”
“Who has exciting times in bed.” Now it seemed completely unfair that the new-and-improved Harper hadn’t yet had new-and-improved sex. She half-wondered if this idea came from the two Stellas she’d downed in quick succession. It seemed a notion that a “Stella” might have. In any case, it deserved addressing.
“Why don’t I get exciting times in bed?” she demanded from the only other person in the room.
Zane’s chest started moving up and down, as if it was difficult for him to draw in air. “I don’t know exactly how to answer that,” he finally choked out. “And maybe this isn’t the time.”
“Oh, that’s right, you had something else you wanted to talk about.” Harper rolled her eyes, something her sister did often, but that she’d never much taken to before. It felt good, though. Expressive. “That last kiss.”
Somehow Zane had moved nearer without her noticing. His broad chest was only an inch or so from her and one of his boots was wedged between her high heels. She’d noticed his size before—who couldn’t notice his size, all that delicious, manly expanse of muscle?—but he seemed to expand before her eyes now.
Miles of hard planes and long bones and those blue, blue eyes with their searing touch of green.
Now Harper couldn’t breathe, and barely hear with the pounding of her heart sounding so loud in her ears. With widening eyes, she watched his hand come up, and then sift through her hair to once again cup her nape. To once again thrill her with the rough sensation of his callused palm against her softer skin.
“I don’t think now’s the time to talk about that last kiss,” Zane said, his voice low. The sensual look in his eyes was making her shiver. “I think we have to go directly to talking about the next one.”
Oh, God. Another quiver shook her body.
But she wasn’t backing down—because it wasn’t exactly fear, or all fear, that was causing these trembles. “Talk,” she scoffed on another eye-roll, trying to sound brave. “Don’t you get it? I want action.”
“Action.”
At that one, nearly growled word, she shifted her gaze to Zane’s amazing eyes again. They’d gone even more intense. Hot. Burning.
Oh, wow.
Her womb clenched, her thighs trembled, a flush of heat washed over her skin.
“Yes,” she said, tilting up her chin. “I want action.”
Zane felt Harper’s body vibrating in his hold and it only served to ratchet up the heated lust pulsing through his veins. Hell, who knew how, but the sweet woman could bring out the down-and-dirty in him.
He tried to rein in the burn, though, gentling his hold on the back of her neck and lifting his free hand to caress her cheek with his thumb instead of finding the nearest bed ASAP. Her skin flushed under his touch.
“I think I know some of the problem,” he said, staring into her upturned face. So. Damn. Pretty. “It’s your name. Your first is a last name. Your last name is a first name. It’s messed you up—makes you do things backward.”
He saw her swallow. “How so?”
“You coupled yourself to someone then expected exciting times in bed. You should have experienced exciting times in bed with someone before even considering coupling yourself up with him.”
Her small pink tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip, and his cock went from hard to hard. “People think you and I are a couple,” she said, her voice breathless.
“Yeah.” He read where this was leading and he didn’t think he had it in him to turn them back from this path. Not with that shy-but-needy librarian practically demanding “action” from him.
“Then I think I’m still doing it wrong,” Harper said.
Yeah, demanding action. What man could resist? Certainly Zane knew it was impossible for him to resist her.
“You want to right that, honey?” He couldn’t stop from asking the question as the edge of his thumb traced the apple of her cheek.
She took in a breath. “Yes, I want to right that, Zane.” Her tongue made a reappearance, moist and pink, and he bent to capture it before it touched her lower lip.
He sipped it into his mouth, felt her jerk of reaction, felt his cock jerk too, trying to get out of his tight jeans and into her wet heat. His hands clutched, one at her neck, the other on her shoulder, his intentions instantly honed to one—seeking a bed, caveman-style, with Harper over his shoulder.
Then conscience intruded. No, he told himself, loosening his fingers and sliding them to either side of her waist. He could not turn rutting beast with the librarian. He could not show himself as one of those ill-mannered local mountain men he’d warned her away from.
Lifting his head, he stared down into her dazed eyes. “You want to take me to your room?”
She nodded, then he dropped his hands so she could turn and lead the way.
Though his cock thrummed with the solid beat of his heart, he managed to stroll behind Harper as she guided him into a spacious bedroom that smelled faintly of citrus blossoms. She’d be lost alone on the big mattress set at an angle in the corner, but it would fit the two of them just fine. Lamps on flanking bedside tables glowed at the flip of a switch and he saw that one held a stack of books and the other a chunky, unlit candle the size of a grapefruit.
He arrowed for it. “Matches?”
“In the drawer below,” she said, and watched silently as he set flame to the three centered wicks.
The sweet, delicate scent wafted into the room as he crossed back to the switch and doused the lamps. He glanced at Harper, the candlelight flickering across her face.
“Nervous?” he whispered, again shutting down his urge to grab and plunder.
Her head shook slowly from side to side as he prowled nearer. “Ready.”
“Not in all those clothes you aren’t.” Her hands instantly lifted to her top pearl button, but he brushed them away. “That’s for me.”
Unable to help himself, he bent to her face. “This is all for me,” he said against her mouth.
As they kissed, he stripped her of the cardigan. The sweater shell went next, he whipped it over her head then returned to kissing, her smooth shoulders beneath his hands. She didn’t seem to know what to do with hers. They fluttered at his biceps, moved to his waist, went back to his upper arms.
So he took her wrists and drew her arms around his neck. Her hold tightened there and he slanted his head to deepen the kiss as he unfastened and unzipped her pants. The fabric pooled at her ankles, and that’s when he stopped kissing and started looking.
His head lifted and his breath stuttered in his lungs. She wore a matching bra and panties—of course Harper Grace wore a matching bra and panties—and they were of an ivory lace so close to the color of her skin it was nearly as if she wore nothing. But it was almost better than nothing, because he could see the jut of her rosy nipples through the bra cup and the panties molded her so closely that he could make out the contours of her sex.
Before the top of his head could blow off, Zane put pressure on her shoulders, pushing her to a sitting position on the end of the bed. Then he knelt on the rug at her feet, removing the snakeskin pumps to slide the pants away then popped the shoes back on her small feet.
Lust punched through his bloodstream as he sat back and allowed himself another look at Harper. Creamy skin, lacy underclothes, those high heels.
It felt as if one of them had pierced his heart.
“Lie back on your elbows, pretty thing,” he said, feeling saliva gather in his mouth. He yanked her ass to the very edge of the mattress. “I’ve got something I need to do and you’re going to want to watch.”
Then he kneed closer, spreading her thighs to make room for his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers dig into the coverlet as he buried his face in the heat of her, in the scent of female, in the heart of what he wanted more than his next breath.
She moaned, her hips lifting as he tongued her, wetting that lace until he could wiggle into the folds and find the bundle of nerves. She twitched, and fell back against the bed, one arm flung over her eyes. Zane lifted his head.
“Don’t hide from exciting, little darling. Feel it. Let me hear it. Let me know you know how much I’m enjoying myself.” He slid one finger under the elastic at her inner thigh, and let it skim her slippery wetness until he found her flowered opening and could ease his longest finger inside.
She clenched down on the intrusion, her moan sweet, low, and long.
His heart lurched. His cock protested the uncomfortable confines of denim. “That’s it, pretty thing,” he said, ignoring the sensations, as he slid in and out of her tight, hot channel. “Feel it. Feel everything.”
Need burned in his veins. “Up on your elbows, Harper,” he ordered now. “You don’t want to miss this.”
When she obeyed, he caught her gaze with his, then lowered his head to place a kiss on her belly just above the panty elastic crossing her hip. Then he caught it in his teeth, drawing it down without stopping the in-and-out movement of his finger.
The catch of her breath was loud in the room as he began to bare her. The panties stalled, and he tugged with his free hand so they cleared the curve of her ass. Then the scrap of material caught on his wrist, the lace brushing the inside of her thighs as he continued to slide in and out of her.
He stared down at her beautiful petals, her intimate flesh swollen and glistening with her arousal in the candlelight. A shudder worked its way down his back and around to his dick, which made its hunger known by releasing a hot spurt of pre-cum.
Then, on a groan, Zane lowered his head and fed the craving.
Harper cried out, more sweet and low, and he did work, man work, the best kind of work, tonguing and sipping and nipping and sucking. Her hips lifted to him, her wetness spreading on his lips and cheeks and chin and he felt the tension gather in her thighs that were clasped around his shoulders. He redoubled his efforts, the flat of his tongue on her hard clit then the slightest edge of his teeth.
She cried out again, louder this time. Sensing the crisis upon her, he sucked in that bundle of nerves and carefully inserted another finger inside her. Harper gasped, froze, clamped down on his possessive hand, and then—God, beautiful—came.
He pressed kisses to her belly as he waited for her tension to abate. When her inner muscles relaxed, he withdrew his fingers, let her panties fall to the floor, and climbed onto the bed, only to immediately crawl up her body in the direction of the neglected part of her he was about to pay attention to next.
“I’m a breast man,” he said, undoing the clasp of her bra. “Well, to be honest, I’m an every- erogenous zone man.” His head bent to kiss a suddenly freed nipple when a small hand pushed back on his forehead.
“You’ll be a dead man if you don’t get out of all your clothes,” Harper declared.
Quite forcefully, it must be said.
Bemused, he sat up, straddling her nakedness and sent her a quizzical glance.
“Take them off, I said.”
He felt his smile grow, even with his raging hard-on. It was impossible not to smile looking down at all her creamy nakedness and that set expression to her swollen mouth. “Your turn to play,” he said obligingly, and tossed off his clothes.
Then she was up and on him, shoving his back to the mattress. He laughed, low and dirty, as his hand trailed her spine to her ass. He froze, then lifted his head and craned his neck to peer around her hip.
“Harper Grace,” he said, taking in the lush, luscious curves of her butt. “You’ve been hiding that from me under those long sweaters, and I’m a definite ass man.”
She pushed his shoulders back down and cruised her mouth across his collarbone. “Call me Stella.”
“What?”
“When I’m going for exciting in bed I’ve decided I want to be called Stella.”
He laughed, the sound cut off when she found his nipple and gave it a sharp little suck. He groaned, palmed her ass again, and gave it a light slap. “Whatever you say, Stella.”
It turned out that Stella/Harper used her mouth for more important things than talking. She took it on a trip all over his chest, delivering peppery kisses, sucking kisses, the kind of kisses that drove a man mad. Then she attacked his mouth, taking the lead on even more kisses, as her hand traveled toward his groin.
Her fingers curled around his shaft.
Zane groaned into her mouth, his hips lifting, more pre-cum oozing. She found it with her thumb, wetting the head and making him crazy. “Do you have a condom?” she whispered against his mouth.
“Yeah.” He panted instead of losing it, reaching a blind hand for the foil packet he’d placed on her bedside table. The books sailed off the surface because of his clumsy searching but then she had the foil and he watched, fascinated, as her small fingers tried to peel it open. Snatching it from her, he tore it with his teeth and rolled the thing on himself, his patience wearing thin.
Finally, she crawled on top of him. He steadied her with one hand, then helped her lower. “I’ve got myself a cowgirl,” he said, grinning and groaning at the same time as her hot, tight flesh closed over him.
“Cowgirl Stella,” she said, as if testing it out, and then she was riding him, taking him to a heavenly rodeo.
He gritted his teeth and merely accepted what she gave, trying to hold out as long as he could. But then it was impossible—he couldn’t check himself any longer. So he lifted his head, found one sweet, pouty nipple, and drew it into his mouth. Hard.
She froze, then began to move again, grinding herself onto the root of his cock. “Touch yourself,” Zane said, releasing her nipple. “Touch yourself, Stella.”
And at the sound of her new name, the librarian slid her hand down her belly and found the right spot. Or so he figured, because her inner muscles began to spasm, her head dropped back, and her orgasm triggered his. His hips jerked, short thrusts that tumbled him over the edge of heaven and into the wide and wonderful pleasure fields below.
Later, coming back from the bathroom where he’d ditched the used condom and washed up, he found that Stella had turned to Harper again because she’d crawled between the covers dressed in a nightgown. The sheer cotton of it wrapped the part of her shoulder where the sheet left off. The candle still flickered, lighting her sleeping face.
He smiled and resisted the urge to wake her for a round two. That could wait.
Snagging his boxers from the floor, he glanced at the bed again. She’d pulled back the covers on the other side as well, a clear invitation. That didn’t need to be made twice. He’d roll in there beside her, get some shut-eye, and in the morning he’d show his good manners and his gratitude by rocking Harper’s—Stella’s, whatever—world once more.
She’d find it was going to be even more exciting when he could play with all her pretty curves in the light of day. Into this moment of delightful anticipation, his twin’s voice intruded.
Twenty says you’ll wake up in that woman’s—I’m sorry, your friend’s—bed in the morning.
Damn it.
Zane couldn’t stay, right? If he did, he’d owe his brother forty—he’d upped the ante himself—and there was no reneging on bets. Then the other guys who’d been at Baldie’s with them would be sure to find out—not a one of them would have the decency not to pry, not when it meant foregoing a chance to rib a friend about a wager, won or lost.
But Zane didn’t want them talking about Harper. He didn’t want them picturing Harper in bed.
Quickly donning his clothes, he crossed on stocking feet to the candle and blew out the flames. Then he high-tailed it to her kitchen where he found a scrap of paper and a pen. Unsure exactly what to say, he scrawled a thanks and headed for the front door.
He eased it open and glanced right then left. If anyone saw him slipping out, they’d certainly guess what he’d been up to with her just by looking at him. He didn’t need to confirm for anyone that Mr. Rowdy Fun and Right Now had been up close and intimate with the new librarian.