The cell phone buzzed inside Lola’s pink Birkin bag and she fumbled to retrieve it. After crossing through the doorway, she headed to the empty U-Haul truck to return it to the office on Main Street. And hopefully not get lost. At least Earl had offered to give her a ride back from the office, saying he had to run some errands in town later anyway.

She added buying a secondhand car to her to-do list. An adult sized plastic wagon would make more sense with her budget. She needed to save every remaining penny to inject in opening the B&B. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Who knew paying for a hefty cab ride would ever be on the top of her list of small luxuries she couldn’t afford?

The blinding sun hit her, and she squinted to read the caller ID, without luck. She settled for answering it, holding the phone with one hand and sliding the other inside her bag to get the key. “Lola here.”

“Ms. St. James?” chimed the dull voice on the other side of the line.

She tossed her bag on the passenger side and climbed in the truck, smothering a groan. Her backside still ached from the godawful horseback ride earlier, and the skin on her sunburned legs was stiff. “Yes.”

“This is Kendra, from the Texas Adoption Services. I’m returning your call.”

Lola’s heart skipped a beat. She’d made that call from the road two days ago. Was it fair to Daddy and Margo she wanted to look for her biological parents? The identity of her birth parents had always been a mystery, a curiosity. She’d grown up making up stories, wondering what could have happened to them—out of simple interest and without a dire need to meet them.

Perhaps her relationship with Jack had ignited more questions in that department. After she lost her baby, she’d been overwhelmed, and Jack had told her they could try again. She hadn’t wanted to—not when taking care of someone else seemed like a responsibility she’d never master. Deep down, there had to be something wrong with her not being able to… commit to things that matter. To people who mattered.

“I’m sorry, your case was a closed adoption which means the biological parents don’t wish to be contacted,” the woman continued, her clipped voice void of any emotion.

Lola glanced at the house, then to the graveled path leading to the paved road. “I understand, but what if they changed their minds? It’s been twenty-six years.”

The woman’s sigh came through the line.

“Is there a way you can get in touch with them, and give them my information in case they changed their mind?” Lola asked.

“No. A lot of people contract personal investigators who specialize in reuniting families. Maybe you can try those?”

“Sure, the long route sounds like a fantastic idea, Kendra.” Frustrated, she muttered a good bye and shut her cell phone off, and then slid it in her bag. She slammed the truck door shut, harder than she’d intended, and a quick tremor followed.

Oh, the irony. When she’d had money she hadn’t wanted, it hadn’t mattered, but now… as she sought strength to open a business and see it through, emotional needs also hit her. A growing melancholy swept over her, and her temples throbbed. Between the estimated amount she’d have to pay handymen for the minor remodeling of the house to become a bed and breakfast, paying for gas, and buying supplies, there was no way in hell she could afford to pay a private investigator. Not anytime soon, anyway.

An hour later, she walked into the office to return the U-Haul. The only employee talked into the phone as he searched for some information on the computer screen. She scanned the surroundings and a board filled with business cards from local vendors grabbed her attention.

One, in particular. She walked closer, and read the coffee stained card. Cody Terrence. Handyman. Right on. She would contact him, and ask for an estimate on the projects she wouldn’t be able to do herself. Sure, she could slap some paint here and there, but she wanted to make the downstairs bedroom and bathroom wheelchair accessible, which required a lot more than following YouTube tutorials. Also, she’d need a ramp leading to the entrance.

Excitement threaded down her spine. This is a sign. She’d call Cody the next day, and schedule a meeting. All on her own, she’d get a handyman without Jack’s recommendation. The less she needed him, the better.

“Ma’am?” the clerk called her. “May I help you?”

She blinked. “Yes, of course. I came to return my rental.”

The clerk sized her up. “Must be new around here. I thought you were lost on your way to No Regrets.”

“No Regrets?”

The blonde male employee gave her a slow nod. “The bar across the street. They do happy hours. Ladies pay half until seven p.m.”

Why waste a good opportunity to celebrate her new life? “I guess a half-priced drink can’t hurt me.” And that’s about all I can afford.

Goddamnit. The woman hadn’t been back for twenty-four hours and she was already turning his life upside down. Jack slammed the door of his Land Rover, and strode inside No Regrets, swinging through the salon-styled doors. The bar where Earl had told him she’d called from. Apparently, Lola had returned the U-Haul truck and decided to socialize with the locals, and was using his manager as her personal driver. Ten o’clock at night and she expected to be picked up.

Country music blasted from the speakers, and a few couples line danced amongst laughs and cheer. Jack tipped his hat to the bartender, Mickey, who waved at him. A couple other patrons called his name, but Jack marched on. His gaze drifted to the pool tables, and every time he didn’t find her, his heart skipped a bit only to throttle in full mode a second later. What would he do if he found her with another man? That would be the last fucking drop.

No, she wouldn’t. Would she? He’d read in papers she always partied with a pretty boy in L.A. He curled his hand into a fist. She could do whatever she wanted far away from him. But this was his town and she had no right to come here and—

The noise around him faded into the background.

Lola. There she was, sitting on a stool, legs crossed one over the other, her spine straight. The stupid outfit from the morning was gone, replaced by a black dress so short he could see some sunburnt patches above her thighs.

His eyes drifted to the sweep of her thighs, and his cock stirred. The image of her shapely legs wrapping around him, as he impaled her, her head leaning back, hit him. He’d kiss, lick, and nip her neck till she filled the air with soft moans. If he were stupid. Which he wasn’t—not anymore.

He licked his bottom lip and headed in her direction. He closed most of the gap between them to find Hoyt, Mel’s protective older brother, chatting her up. Why Hoyt of all people? It was like she knew how to pick them—and to annoy him.

Hoyt had always kept a distance between he and Jack, which honestly was fine by him. He didn’t care for bonding over a few beers with him. Hoyt always had a mysterious smirk playing on his lips, like he kept tabs on everyone who crossed his way. And by the way he glanced at Lola, the bastard sure wanted to keep tabs on her.

“Lola.” Jack’s annoyed tone made her raise her eyes to his. Surprise, then a familiar flicker of defiance sparked in them. He stepped in the middle of Hoyt and Lola, with his hands casually perched on his belt line.

“Jack?” Hoyt raised an eyebrow, and straightened his posture.

A cold, acidy knot formed in Jack’s stomach. “You called my foreman to pick you up at a bar,” he said, annoyed. He wanted her to know just how much of a big inconvenience she was. “He’s not a Uber driver.”

“No. He’s a nice individual who offered to pick me up. I called him at nine o’clock.”

“Well, it’s ten now. Look, bottom line is, Earl got held up and asked me to give you a ride.” He stretched out his hand to help her down from the stool.

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not ready to go.”

Withdrawing his hand, he shoved it in his pocket with a frustrated sigh. “I’m not your limo driver, sweetheart.”

Hoyt stepped forward, even closer to her. “Hey. I’ll give her a ride home.”

Of course he would. The knots in Jack’s gut throbbed with anger. If Lola thought she could just return to Red Oak and bring home any man under his roof, she had another think coming. Now it was time to stand his ground.

“Don’t make this complicated.” Jack clasped her elbow with his fingers. “It’s time to go.”

Hoyt stepped toward Jack, arms folded and chin up. “Jack, you heard the lady. She doesn’t want to go.”

Jack clenched his jaw and lifted his hand in disagreement. “Stay out of this, Hoyt.”

“No.” Hoyt raised an eyebrow, and turned his attention to Lola. “How do you know him?”

Lola looked away, then cleared her throat. “He’s my husband,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Husband? Y’all are married?” Hoyt raised his voice and widened his eyes. “Does my sister know this?”

Jack ran his hand down his face, tired of the bullshit. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with another human being ever—let alone with Hoyt, in front of an audience. “It’s not what you think. We’re separated.”

Someone in the back whistled, and a couple of nervous laughs followed. Yet nothing reduced the pulse-racing pressure—the airtight energy—zinging between the three of them.

“If she’s staying with you, Jack, it sure as fuck doesn’t sound like separated to me.”

Jack stared Hoyt in the eye, not moving, although the distance between them diminished with every word spoken. He curled and uncurled his fists. A whoosh swirled around them. Patrons were probably enjoying the show. It would end faster if he told him the truth. “It’s a long story. I never lied to Mel, as my friend she always knew I was still legally married.” The emphasis on the nature of the relationship didn’t loosen the tight planes on Hoyt’s face.

“And that makes it okay?” Hoyt shook his head, then glared at Jack in silence. Hoyt grunted, his fingers curling into a fist.

An invisible ball of hot air stroked his skin and without flinching, Jack straightened. He could take Hoyt out any day, but fuck it, if punching him would make the prick move on, then so be it.

“You bastard,” Hoyt said between his teeth, then punched him.

Jack arched back, and the crowd oohed in unison. Currents of pain teased his right cheek, which tightened like a brick. Jack blinked, his blood boiling. Shaking his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Hitting Mel’s brother wouldn’t make things better.

“Cool it, y’all!” Mickey shouted from behind the counter.

“Now it’s over.” Jack crossed his arms. He wasn’t about to give the whispering crowd a show. His gaze flew to Lola, whose jaw dropped. The moment his eyes met hers, she closed her mouth and stretched to her full height.

Jack lifted his chin, narrowing his eyes at her. His entire body stiffened, and he opened his mouth to speak when Hoyt’s hand collided against his cheek. The ache pulsed again, this time, stronger. He touched the sensitive area around his eye, and his fingers slid on the bump.

Shit. Did he really have to break Hoyt in half just to leave the place? Only one day in town, and superficial, troublemaker Lola St. James had already inconvenienced him beyond belief.

“It’s over.” A bouncer marched between them. “You’re both leaving. Separately. Starting with you.” He pointed at Jack.

Jack nodded, and raised his eyebrow at Lola. “You coming?” A wintry mix flooded his veins. What if she went home with Hoyt? Couldn’t she wait until their divorce was official? He wasn’t going to put up with her playing the field in the town he loved while sharing his home. No way. Especially after he’d remained celibate the entire time they’d been apart.

A bob made its way down her throat, and she tucked some hair behind her ear. She shuffled her feet, the high heels tapping the flooring. She shot a confused look at Hoyt, then motioned to follow Jack. “Between dealing with a brand new jerk and the jerk I already know, guess my pick.”

“A smart choice, at last.” He flinched, and the ache above his cheek stung. He’d just made a fool of himself in front of the entire bar. Talk about smart choices.

“Jack,” Lola called, following him into the kitchen after they arrived back at the ranch. She wouldn’t let him off the hook without a conversation. Hell no. Who does he think he is?

Moonlight spilled over the granite countertop and tiles. Jack flicked on the light under the microwave, and continued to walk over to the freezer. He studied the contents in silence, ignoring her. He fumbled with one hand, while the other touched the area under his eye.

She nudged his back, gestured at the chairs by the breakfast nook and ordered, “Sit down.”

He tried to roll his eyes, but stopped midway because—she guessed—it hurt. Nevertheless, he plopped down on the seat, his back shifting against the wall. She reached for the pack of frozen peas inside the fridge and closed the door. He stretched his hand to grab the package, but she shook her head and took a seat on the chair in front of him.

“Allow me.” She lifted the cool chunk against his eye, and placed it on the bruise, a tad more abrasively than she would have had she not believed he had it coming.

“Ouch.” He clasped his fingers around her wrist, making her loosen her hold. The chillness of the peas contrasted against the warmth of his skin, and pure heat flooded her veins. Every single one of them. Still, she didn’t move, all of her nerves on full alert.

Clenching her legs together, she inhaled. Trying really hard to ignore the signals her body darted at her. Ruthlessly. Achingly. “How come Hoyt didn’t know you’re married?”

True, they hadn’t visited Hope Springs after their marriage, as husband and wife. And during the few times she had been on the ranch she had probably flown under the radar, preferring to spend time with her father than exploring town. Still. Had she been such a crappy mistake to him that he had never even shared the news with his friends and acquaintances? But then she shouldn’t be surprised when most of his guests at her wedding had been business partners rather than old pals.

Pressing his lips together, Jack slumped against the wall, relinquishing his hold on her. She handed over the package, and he jerked his head back, placing the frozen bag over his forehead as if a headache approached with the new subject. A subject she wasn’t about to let go.

“It’s not what you think. Hoyt and I aren’t buddies.”

“Oh, I believe you.” She brought her hands together in a soundless clap. “Why didn’t you fight back? You could have clocked him in your sleep.” The two of them were the same size, maybe Jack a tad taller. Did he try to keep from a bar brawl because he knew deep down he made a mistake?

“Whatever. I took a couple hits. No big deal.”

Frustratrion lodged in her throat. “Did you really mislead his sister?”

“No. Mel and I hung out a few times, but we never, we didn’t—”

“Have an affair? Screw?” She let out a hard laugh. “Please. Spare me.” From their time together, she knew damn well a red-blooded male like him couldn’t go without sex for too long. Heck, when they were together, even a whole day without making love had been a stretch. She touched her neck, the skin sticky under her palm. “Why did you never push for the divorce, Jack?”

“I did, at first.”

“Yes, but you can afford a team of lawyers. You could have—”

“I could,” he said, his voice rich and soothing like a miraculous lotion on sunburnt skin. A tremor surged through her. “Your dad asked me to give you time to come to terms with losing the baby and not wanting to be married anymore. He said you were always hotheaded.”

She leaned back against her chair, folded her arms and let out the question burning the tip of her tongue. “Did you ever think I’d change my mind about us?” she asked unsure what she wanted to hear.

His gaze held hers hostage. A spark pulsed in his cobalt eyes, and just for a moment the tile flooring under her feet dissolved. A different kind of warmth engulfed her. The kind squeezing the air out of her lungs. Breath by breath.

“No. But doing what he’d asked me felt right.”

She bit back a smile. Jack being uber responsible was no shocker, but Daddy noticing things she’d never had to tell him with words… A drop of hope entered into her sea of doubts. No matter how crazy her life got, she could always count on her father’s unconditional love to protect her. Her heart shrank to the size of a nugget. Even after his death.

He cleared his throat. “How about you and Berlin?”

“Berlin?” The frivolity of the question washed away the nostalgia welling inside her. “You mean London?”

“Yes. Whatever. I’m sure you two have been intimate.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t judge me.”

She smothered the hearty laughter floating up her throat. “I’m surprised you even know about his existence.” For a brief second, she toyed with the idea of telling Jack the man she frolicked with at the best parties in L.A. had an obsession for designer bags worse than her own, and he constantly stole her coconut scented hand moisturizer.

“Found out by accident,” he grumbled, placing the frozen peas on his eye again.

She braced herself, and contemplated the dimly lit kitchen. Stainless steel appliances and tacky kitchen accents held no appeal over the man in front of her. Rarely had she seen him like this, somewhat relaxed and stern even when at peace.

Ogling him did nothing to soothe her. Yet she found it impossible to stop, to prevent from fantasizing about his large hands on her body. His hard mouth, softening and opening to claim hers. If he hadn’t had sex with Mel, who had kept his bed warm and his sheets rumpled?

Rumpled sheets. She swallowed the lump of forbidden desire in her throat, but it rolled down and turned into a shot of heat, speeding her heartbeat, blazing in the pit of her stomach. She shifted on the chair just enough to press one leg against the other, the humming between her legs making her thighs stick.

She moaned.

“What’s up?” Out of the blue, he opened his eyes with a start.

Too late. A chill zapped down her spine. No. No. No. How embarrassing. To think for years she’d fed her body organic foods and treated it to deluxe treatments and massages, only to have it betray her at the first opportunity. Thanks a lot. “N-nothing.” How could she ever fight the desire sweeping over her? She stood, her clit a big knot of tension, throbbing whether she encouraged it or not. “It’s time for me to go to bed.”

“Sure.” He rose to his feet, his voice huskier than usual. “I should do the same.”

“Yes. Good idea.” Excellent idea.

He opened the door to the freezer, threw the frozen peas inside, closed it, and moved to turn the light switch off. With small steps, she walked out of the kitchen. Even though he knew the house better, he marched behind her, his breathing filling the air.

She nearly tripped on the couple of steps leading to the living room, blinking to adjust to the dim lighting. The recessive lights from the foyer skipped through the pitch black in the kitchen. She threw her arms in the air to find balance, cursing her choice of high heels.

“You okay?” Jack asked behind her, perching his hands on her waist to keep her steady.

She exhaled, and propped her head back and closed the gap between her spine and his chest.

The little hairs at the back of her neck stood on end, his hot breath too close for comfort. An invisible force kept her from moving. Holy Louis Vuitton, she barely managed to breathe! His touch was heavy, as if all his tension and worries concentrated on his hands. But something else heaved…

Jack erased the distance between them, grasping her tightly. He pressed his bulge against her ass.

A strangled sound left her parted lips. Before her, the stretch of subdued light into the living room was an invitation to common sense. Behind her, the mystery of a darkness she’d once known and loved. Known and hated.

“Lola.” He tightened his grip and spoke in a low growly voice.

Gathering whatever strength she had left, she spun on her heel to face him. They stood under the doorway, where light and dark collided. Present and past. Without making an effort to jerk away from him, she stared at him. A big lump made its way down his throat. The planes of his chest stiffening against his shirt. The shimmer in his blue eyes gave away his controlled yearning.

The thudding of her heart drove her insane. This couldn’t be happening. Could it? For the first time since she’d been back, they contemplated each other without resentment or pride. Just pure lust.

Resist him. Warning bells soared in her mind. Jack dipped his head down, the brush of his lips a whisper over her forehead.

Resist him. She caught a whiff of his undeniable scent, the earthy, leatherish notes expanding her lungs.

Resist… him.

She lifted her head and parted her lips, offering her mouth to him. Resisting him was not an option.

He pulled her back into the kitchen, and covered her lips with his, and the brush of his flesh on hers ignited an electrifying signal through her entire system, every tiny part of her awakened and vibrated with life.

Unable, unwilling to wait, she darted the tip of her tongue out of her mouth and glided over his upper lip. He smothered a groan, tipped her chin up and deepened the kiss. Within seconds, gentleness vanished—their lips, tongues fused with each other, in relentless pursuit. Heat overloaded her, the sensitive spot between her legs aching.

Jack lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around him with an intimacy scaring her to the very bone. The edge of the wooden table brushed against the back of her knee. Cupping her ass with both hands, he sat her on the table, and she linked both arms around his neck.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he groaned in between kisses, each one more passionate. Each kiss testing her lungs.

She nibbled on his lower lip. “Absolutely nothing. We go together like Champagne and Frito pie.” Except she wasn’t sure which one represented her… the bubbly drink, or the super caloric treat. Did it matter?

His reassurance only solidified her resolve. Nothing would change after they had sex, which gave her carte blanche to enjoy it, guilt-free.

“You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he whispered, and the immediate joining of their mouths kept them from saying any more. She’d suffer a sexual hypothermia if he withdrew his hands from massaging her back, his tongue from swirling with hers, his cock from poking against the apex of her thighs. Hinting at what they both craved. Needed.

“Now.” She touched his chest, her palm gliding over the hard muscles, and slid her hand down, pausing briefly at the tight confines of his waistband, then into his boxer briefs. She found his massive delicious cock, and fisted it, clasping her fingers around the vibrating veins, feeling the rush of blood surging through them. Right or wrong, Jack Canyon wanted her badly.

He threw his head back and closed his eyes. If she had her way, soon he’d worm out of those clothes and take her, like he used to in the past. Oh if she had her way—

“Not now,” he said roughly.

In complete control, he grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his jeans. With one swift movement he laid her down on the table. She spread her legs a bit, ready to hook him between them and address the painful thump beating through her.

He covered her body with his, kissing her into submission, hovering his hand over her, brushing her breasts through the silky material. Arching toward him, she grasped his hair, deepening the kiss, showing with her tongue and lips her urgency. He left her mouth and began to kiss her neck, his hot tongue sliding over her flushed skin. She moaned.

She stretched her hand to reach for his length. He stopped her midway and held both of her hands above her head. After kissing her breasts over her dress, he dipped his head lower, the sensation of his mouth over the silk making her burn from her scalp to her curling toes. Letting go of her wrists, he ventured lower, and when he removed her lacy G-string, her sex clenched in anticipation.

She closed her eyes, and bit her folded index finger. He planted small kisses on her thighs, each time breathing closer to the center. “Jack.”

The stroke of his tongue on her pussy made her lift her arms above her head, seeking support on the edge of the table. His tongue delved into her wetness, and he began to brush it in the part of her tingling for release. She squirmed, grasping the edges harder, her head moving from side to side as he captured her completely in his mouth, savoring her, rubbing her tender aching flesh.

He plunged two fingers inside her, mimicking with his digits and tongue what his cock would do later. The pressure began to build and stir. Her inner muscles clenched and throbbed for a couple of glorious seconds, followed by the release. Pleasure sent her into a swirl of sensations.

He pulled her to him, with a scorching kiss that put her right where she was about a second ago. She held him tight, cruising her hands over his chest, the anxiety to get him naked growing. Not the only thing growing, she smiled, his cock straining against her.

She raised her gaze to meet his, and found an implacable determination in them. Were the sparkling ripples of turquoise blue really necessary when it was obvious she’d handed him her pride, along with her betraying body?

Is he going to walk away? Her heart slammed against her rib cage. He closed the gap between them again, taking her mouth with ferocity, the kiss a punishment for what she had no idea.

He snaked his arm around her waist, and she wrapped her legs around him. If sex was their sole common ground, why not indulge for just one night?