“Do you want some lemonade?” Lola asked Cody, the handyman who had been helping her. In her defense, she’d done as much as she could as long as it didn’t include electric work or a run with a chainsaw. She’d painted the bedrooms a soft off-white color to brighten the spaces and give her eyes a break from the horrible light brown shade her father had picked when he first bought the place.

I’m leaving the living and dining room just as you would have wanted, Daddy. Compromising.

He stopped drilling the metal bar in the bathroom and wiped his forehead. “Who made it? You or Miss Consuelo?”

Lola’s jaw started to drop, but she quickly shut her lips. Was her lemonade super sour? She used the same lemons as Consuelo did and she’d been trying to be more domestic. Hell, she would have to develop some kitchen savvy once her guests arrived, wouldn’t she? She didn’t expect Consuelo to take care of tourists. Sure, she’d have to hire a real cook later, but in the beginning she’d be torturing people with her lack of skills in the culinary department. I’ll offer continental breakfast when I first open for business. No need to go all fancy full-service until she could ensure the guests’ well-being. Not to mention she didn’t want to drive away future clients with bad Yelp reviews. “She did.”

Cody happily stretched out his hand, and mumbled a thank you before he took the glass to his lips. Lola watched him, his eyes slightly widened as a big lump made its way down his Adam’s apple, and he quickly jerked the glass away, splashing a bit on his shirt.

“You lied.”

Laughter floated up her throat. “Tough luck. Your penace for dissing my lemonade.”

“Not cool, ma’am. Not cool.”

“Be glad I’m not making you eat my eggs.”

He rolled his eyes. “No thank you. Earl already warned me about them.”

Lola waved him off, pretending the teasing didn’t get to her. Then, she took the lemonade jar with her back to the kitchen and poured it into the sink. Shit. She wasn’t in on the joke, she was the joke—at least when it came to cooking and mixing stuff.

She was about to turn on the sink, when strong arms pulled her from behind. Turning around to guess who held her wasn’t necessary. Jack’s manly scent swirled around her, and he planted a kiss on her shoulder, sizzling her flesh. She quivered. “Jack. I thought you were in Houston today.”

“I canceled my meeting.” He breathed into her hair, then nipped her ear lobe. A delicious shiver zapped through her spine, the arousal arrowing down her sex. “You’re bad for business, Lola.”

“A good kind of bad?” she whispered. He shoved his cock in between her legs, and her clit pulsed in high alert.

“Bad, bad girl,” was his answer, and she moaned. Why did his deep drawl add a notch of naughtiness to any exchange?

She clasped the edges of the counter, but even though her body answered to his touch, there was one last remnant of sanity flickering inside her somewhere. “Jack. Cody is working in the downstairs bathroom. He can walk in on us any time.”

Jack groaned.

She turned around, and an animalistic need gleamed in his cobalt eyes. They’d been at it for three weeks, having sex without strings. Even though she would spend much of the night in his room, she’d always go to hers at the end of their rendezvous. Leaving him meant a self-inflicting wound, but she used it as an eye opener to what happened. And Jack never asked her to stay.

He led her into the walk-in pantry, and slammed the door behind them. He crushed her with his weight against the door. “I was halfway into my trip,” he said, his voice hoarse. He hiked up her skirt, and she moaned. “When I realized…” He tore off the side of her panties, and the pressure of the fabric against her skin sent a hot shot of awareness through her. “… what I really wanted to do was this.”

He nudged her legs apart, and she wrapped them around his torso. She touched his shoulders, her fingers making circles on the plaid fabric. She loved when he dressed like this, like a typical cowboy—plaid shirts, tight denim, and boots. She knew even those simple items cost a lot more than what others wore. But it still didn’t take away from a silly fantasy most women had—to be ravished by a cowboy. Jack was born a cowboy and would die one, no matter the size of his bank account.

The tip of his cock rubbed against her entrance, and she bit her lower lip hard to keep from moaning. She quivered, and arched into him, wanting to stop the intense need that only came to an end when he impaled her.

He brought his lips to hers, in a kiss that demanded rather than soothed. Breathless, she linked her arms around his head, and squirmed against him, desperate for more. His tongue teased hers, their teeth grazing.

Finally, he plunged into her, and she gasped. Her slick walls needed a moment or two to stretch and recognize him. But when it happened… he started to move inside her, and sweat trickled down her back.

For the next few minutes, he drove himself in and out of her, filling her to the max then retreating a bit. Her heart thumped in tandem with each thrust, and she wondered when it’d been the last time that she’d felt this happy. This complete. This fulfilled.

He caught her lips in a soul-searching kiss, and she wrapped her legs tighter around him. “Oh yes Jack. Feels so good.”

“Yeah baby. Keep moving.”

He licked the outer shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. She closed her eyes, and the most wonderful rapture drove over her body. She groaned, riding the pleasure like Jack rode his horses. But this… this was so so much better.

He growled, announcing his imminent orgasm, and soon his warm seed filled her. She should have loosened her hold on him, but an emotion far stronger than good judgment had her clutching the sides of his shirt to tighten their embrace.

He kissed the top of her head, and put her down on the floor carefully, but without missing a beat. “I need to go to LA tomorrow for a meeting.”

She recomposed and smoothed her hand over her skirt. “LA?”

He pulled up his pants. “Yes. One of my properties there is for sale, and my realtor already showed the client the land and had it inspected. But before closing the deal, he asked to meet me for dinner. He’s an old friend I’ve done business with, and I couldn’t say no.”

She touched her bottom lip, still tender and swollen from his kisses. “Oh. I didn’t know your properties in California were for sale.”

“Just a couple. These ones demand more attention, and I’d rather keep my focus in Texas.”

She’d always assumed one of the reasons he kept investing in California in the past had been because she lived there—because she loved it there. And now he was cutting those ties. She cleared her throat, wishing she could will away the discomfort stinging her like a bee. “Safe travels, I guess.”

“I want you to come with me.”

What? Was she ready to go back to LA? With Jack, of all people, to the city and lifestyle that had tore them apart in the past? The place that had exposed their differences in bold technicolor? Did she dare return? “I don’t know. There’s a lot to do here.”

“It’s just a couple of days. We leave tomorrow, we’re back the next day. It’s the weekend, and Cody doesn’t work on weekends.”

She snorted. “No kidding. He barely works during the week.”

He kissed her nose. “My point exactly. What else would keep you from going?”

What else? She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Stop hiding, Lola. Face the music. If this trip sets you straight and you two try to murder each other, then so be it. “Fine. I’ll go.”

He dipped his head and kissed her neck. A thrill of excitement tickled all her nerve endings. “You won’t regret it.”

Jack gestured for Lola to step out of his private jet. The engine’s roar reverberated through him. Maybe it was the excitement of being in her presence. Granted, he didn’t need her to come along. He could have done this without her. Of course he could. But he didn’t want to go without her. He wanted to share this part of his life with her.

During the last weeks, he left his offices a bit early or canceled meetings to spend more time with her. Screwing. But now, he wouldn’t need to call his assistant and tell her to rework his schedule. They would have two days in LA to themselves.

Jack scratched his head. Why had sex with her made him more addicted rather than recovered? Because it was damn good. She had imposed limits, like going to sleep in her own room, and he appreciated those. Because they meant she wanted the same things—to scratch that itch, relieve the need, then move on. In the end, he would get divorced, and be free to meet someone with the same goals. Settling down, making a family, growing old together.

Lola didn’t seem the least interested in having children or building a solid lifetime commitment… or did she? The other day, she’d confessed she feared she’d be a crappy mother. Ah, how he wanted to tell her the fact she was so worried was the evidence she wouldn’t be a bad mom. Like mine.

“Jack, what are your plans for today?” she asked as they walked in tandem on the tarmac. An airfield agent greeted him, and he nodded. His rental shouldn’t be far.

The concierge gave him the keys for the Land Rover he preferred to drive whenever he was in town. He wouldn’t miss the unnecessary trips to California. Pleasant, sure, but they sucked up his time and kept him from his focus. “I need to go over some reports for a couple hours but then I’m free until dinner.” He opened the door for her and she slipped inside.

“Do you mind if I catch up with friends while you’re working in the hotel room?”

He cleared his throat. So much for non-stop screwing. “No.”

“Thanks. I’ve been gone for two months. It’ll be nice to see everyone.”

“Sure.” See everyone. Did she miss her old life? Why did he even question it? Of course she did. Because, despite how well she played house—or how adorably she failed at some domestic tasks—Lola had always enjoyed the hustle and bustle of LA along with the kinds of social events and people he couldn’t stand.

They headed to the five-star hotel, and after checking in, he entered the suite. He didn’t want to have sex with her—not when she’d rush to meet her friends afterward. The same people whom he never got along with. A strange feeling nagged at him, and he unpacked his clothes even though the maid could have done that.

When he checked his phone, an email got his attention—from the mayor, asking if Jack and his wife would mind endorsing him publicly during his next political rally. Wright wasn’t an idiot. Jack may be a lone wolf sometimes, but he was well respected and no one in the community ever questioned his work ethics or his integrity. If Wright needed to boost the Latino vote, having Jack and his wife Lola in his corner would be beyond beneficial, it could be a game changer in his re-election campaign.

We have plans that day, he typed and hit send. He’d never expose his Lola for political reasons. Even if she was only his temporarily.