“Mr. Mayor.” Lola nudged his arm. “May I please have a word?” She forced a smile, hoping the mix of businesswoman and femme fatale that her long black gown suggested would help her get into his good graces. Or at least grab his attention so she could pitch her idea and ask for him to expedite the business license.

Arnold Wright, the sixty something man, a tad shorter than her and with a burgeoning belly, mumbled something to the small group he talked to and turned to her, the bona fide politician’s smile forming on his lips. “Yes?”

Handing her old Ford to the valet had been embarrassing, when most of the other guests had driven up in sleek sports cars or limited edition, top-of-the-line trucks. Arriving alone at the lavish party where she didn’t recognize a soul had been intimidating, given most of them looked like they came from traditional old money families.

“I visited your office to get a license, but they told me I had to schedule an appointment with you.”

“And?” He nodded, his smile narrowing.

“Well, I’m on a time crunch, and hoped you could make an exception. I’d really appreciate your help.”

“The thing is…” he started, and looked over her shoulder to greet a passerby. With a wave, he continued, eyes following everyone in the huge salon but her. “It’s hard to make exceptions. There’s a procedure for a reason.”

Red tape. “I know, but I’ll be so grateful if you just hear me out.”

He tapped her bare shoulder. “Sure. Call my assistant Sue, she’ll schedule something.”

Lola’s hands curled and uncurled. Assistant? The man blatantly brushed her off, and without a shadow of interest in her plea. Crap. If only Daddy…

Enough. A bolt of determination traveled through her. She blinked. In slow motion, she watched him walk around her. No freaking way. She gave herself a mental slap, and grasped his elbow, causing him to turn to her with a frown on his face.

“Mr. Mayor, I’m Lola St. James. I’m turning my ranch property into a bed and breakfast. I hear you’re up for re-election, and I’m sure the voters will appreciate more jobs injected in town, especially in this economy,” she said with enough confidence to remove her hand from his arm. He raised his eyebrow, and she knew she had his attention.

“I hear you sweetheart, but how will a bed and breakfast influence my voters?”

“It’s a luxury bed and breakfast. It’ll bring guests with money, who’ll be going to your restaurants, souvenir shops, and I also have plans for expansion to create daytime activities which will require more local staff.”

A sigh. “And what do you need from me again?”

Hope filled her. This is going to work. And I’m doing this on my own. “I need you to sign the license and grant me permission to start working on adding the signs to the main highways leading to my B&B,” she said, injecting energy in her voice.

He leaned back, sizing her up as if figuring out if she was worth his time. “Where is it located?”

“Red Oak Ranch.”

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head, skeptical. “Hhhm. That’s where Jack Canyon lives.”

Was their marriage such an embarrassment for Jack he didn’t even mention it to his current acquaintances? They had wedded in California—where Jack had been living at the time while he ensured his properties there took off. “Yes. We’re... married. Sort of complicated. Anyway. He’s on board, so that’s all you need to know.” Did she lie? Maybe a little white lie. He didn’t want her to open the B&B per se, but they were now friends, and friends supported one another. She swallowed.

“Okay.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit and withdrew a business card, then handed it to her. “My cell phone number is on there. Call me on Monday and we’ll sort this out.”

She felt like kissing the top of his baldhead, then waltzing across the ballroom. Yes! Good news at last. “Thank you.”

“Mayor,” a deep voice said from behind her.

She turned on her heels. A dry spell worked its way down her throat, thickening it, making it hard to breathe. With damp hair slicked back and dressed in a spotless black suit and crisp white shirt with a sexy bow tie, Jack made her mouth water. Smooth and dangerous. Sexy and intriguing.

His gaze met hers and it trailed down, analyzing the vintage Versace long gown she hadn’t had the heart to sell in LA. A high slit revealed her leg at every movement, grabbing attention since the rest of the dress was surprisingly modest.

“Jack.” The mayor’s smile broadened. “So nice of you to make it this time. I was just discussing our plans to improve local tourism with this charming young woman.”

Our plans? Mayor Wright could be small town, but he was a politician all right. She stretched to her full height, anxious to see Jack’s reaction. Damn it. His approval shouldn’t matter. It so should not.

“She gave me a great idea,” the mayor continued.

“Has she?” A spark flickered in Jack’s eyes, and it had the power to twist her insides. She lifted her chin and held his gaze as goose bumps rose on her arm. A vibrant, latent energy passed between her and Jack. For how much longer would they be able to suppress it?

A thread of pride surged through her. “I’ve told the Mayor about my plans for the B&B, and how his support to speed the process is much appreciated.”

“Interesting.” He took a sip of his champagne, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way his sexy lips touched the chilled glass. “I’m impressed.”

“Really? Well, I’m impressed you’re impressed.” Especially given the fact you didn’t believe I’d see things through.

A woman with a headset approached the mayor, and with a promise to call her soon, he left them alone.

“Well done, Lola,” Jack said.

“Are you cheering me on? Because that would make things easier. If we didn’t want different things,” she said. Then again, what would his support mean? Would he agree to her opening the B&B and selling her his share of the ranch later on when she could afford it?

“I’m man enough to compliment an opponent,” he said with a wink, but despite his uncharacteristic playfulness, she just knew what he meant… he wasn’t changing his mind. Crap. He took the glass to his lips again. She shuffled from foot to foot, unable to tear her gaze from his long fingers.

“I knocked on your door but you were already gone.” Jack gulped down the rest of his champagne and handed the flute to a passing uniformed waiter.

“Oh, yeah.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Earl fixed my truck. I needed to come here on my own.” Making an invisible pattern on the golden rug with her sky-high stilettos, she avoided his eyes.

“Are you upset about today?” His voice dropped an octave, and he popped his knuckles, like he was actually anticipating her reply.

What a loaded question. His challenging her added a boost to her goals. In a twisted way, he encouraged her to stick to her guns. “No.”

“Prove it.”

She raised her eyes to his, and he pointed his head in the direction of the dance floor. A band played the slow version of a popular country song. Considering his face for a second, the rugged features contrasting against his indigo eyes, the closed lipped smile offering her no more than a guess. Now she’d achieved her goal to talk to the mayor, she could let her hair down. But a voice deep inside warned her she wouldn’t relax if she danced with Jack.

Still, stubborn and raging against her common sense, she accepted his challenge, and was barely getting used to the prickling of her hand in his when they reached the dance floor.

He embraced her, and an invisible, heavy draft of warmth encircled them. His hand on her back, and with legs dangerously close to each other, he began moving first, setting a slow pace that matched the song’s melody.

She looked to her side at the couples dancing next to them. Then upward to the chandelier shining far from them, in the same room as a delicious buffet was set. She glanced everywhere, taking in anything—even the chocolate fountain or ice sculptured water fountain—because anything else was better than staring at Jack. Her new friend Jack.

The friend who pulled her closer, whose grip on her back turned into a caress, his fingers circling her searing skin. The friend with a hard-on twitching at her through the confines of his pants and her dress. Her pussy responded with urgency, throbbing a beat faster than her heart. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“Jack, we shouldn’t dance like this.” She cleared her throat, but didn’t manage to stop moving against him. “This isn’t appropriate now we’re friends.”

“What is it called again… friends with benefits.”

She waited for a snicker, or any trace of humor in the situation. His body stiffened, barely moving against hers yet persuading her to accept the unthinkable, audacious proposal. “It would never work,” she said, more to herself than to him.

Picking up the pace and continuing his smooth moves, his silent response didn’t bring her relief. He dipped his head down, and his hot breath fanned her shoulder. The touch, lighter than a brush, sent a thrill of excitement through her. Her nipples hardened, and she smothered a moan. Giving in… was crazy.

“You know… In the country, some dogs get rattlesnake vaccines.” He slid his finger down her back, going from her goose bumped skin to the silky fabric, the heat on his fingertip still burning her.

What could she say? He’d never been much of a smooth talker. I could walk away. With one swift movement, she’d get out of the cloud of arousal. Do I want to? Gathering all her strength, she lifted her head and her eyes searched for his.

Sexy, darkening blue eyes contemplated her. Entranced her. Seduced her. “There’s rattlesnake venom in the vaccine they take, to stimulate the dog’s immune system to produce antibodies. This way, if he’s bitten he’ll suffer less pain and have more chances of survival,” he said lazily, his eyes trailing her eyes and mouth. Promising and warning. “They do this to buy time.”

Her stomach clenched. “Duly noted, but what does it have to do with us?”

He curved his lips into a smile that would have any woman begging for mercy. Holy Louis Vuitton, was he gorgeous. “We didn’t work as a couple because we wanted more than we were able to give each other. We broke up but didn’t really extinguish the fire of the one thing that brought us together—kept us going long after we should have ended it. Sex.”

She licked her lips. Her heart tightened, and her breath caught in her throat. He was telling her the truth, but why wasn’t she relieved? “Jack—”

“We don’t have any illusion of rekindling the relationship now. In a few months’ time, we’ll divorce.”

Divorce. The word brought a sour aftertaste to her mouth. She’d been separated for years, and soon it would become official. He would have been a part of her past. She would be an independent divorcee, taking charge of her life. Kicking ass and taking names. “Why would I need to mess things up before our grand farewell?”

The message in his eyes intensified. “Some couples have rebound sex. We’d get it out of the way before.”

How pragmatic. “Like some sort of farewell fuck fest.”

“The antidote.”

“If I follow your analogy, what am I? The dog?” The nonchalance in her voice managed to hide the jumbled thoughts racing in her brain.

He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, provoking her to an almost unbearable level, “No, baby. You’ve always been the venom.”

When they’d screwed on the stairs, it’d been impulsive and no words about it were exchanged afterward. Now, razors stuck in her throat. Sharp and powerful, like the desire pooling between her legs. However, would talking first and going over what could happen if they had sex again make things better or worse?

She closed her eyes, and soaked in the sensation of leaning against him until their foreheads touched. “You’re dangling a hot fudge sundae in front of me on the first day of my diet, Jack. That’s what you’re doing.”

He kissed her cheek. A small, quick peck that upped the level of sexual awareness even more. “You don’t need a diet,” he said gruffly.

But did she need to indulge in this temptation? What would the consequences be to her hard won, slowly growing, independence? “What I need is to think before I act.” She disengaged from him, and lifted her hand to her warm cheek. He frowned, and was leaning closer again when she stopped him with her hand. “I have to freshen up. I’ll be right back,” she said, willing her wobbly legs to walk all the way to the restroom. A sense of pride surged into her. She could have made an impulsive decision, but she’d preferred to think about it first.

Truth was, she needed a Jack-free diet. But would sleeping with him be like a cheat day or would it lead her to a lifetime addiction?

Jack clasped the tumbler—switching to hard liquor had been the right choice to ease his anxiety. He glanced down at the amber contents, wishing that what was inside the glass had the answer to the question burning inside. Why did he propose they have no-strings sex?

You know why. Nothing made more sense other than addressing the urge, fixing the problem, and moving on. Sex was the only thing pulling them together, and it would be so much easier to say goodbye after that well had fully dried up.

She’d said it herself. They had as much in common as Champagne and Fritto pie. Even though he had a fat bank account, inside he was still a little boy abandoned by his mother—the boy with silly dreams to create a family of his own. A family he would never abandon. Meanwhile… leaving was in Lola’s agenda.

His wanting to have kids while he still could enjoy them had irked Lola after their marriage. She didn’t get him, and probably never would. But her understanding wasn’t what he needed.

“Jack.” He put his drink on a console table and nodded at the mayor.

“Mayor Wright.”

“What’s the story with the nice lady who spoke to me?”

Jack ran his hand down his face. He’d talked to the mayor at some social events, and Wright didn’t fall into the friend category. He’d made some donations to his campaign, as he had to his opponent. As a seasoned businessman, Jack knew the best way to deal with politicians was to donate every so often and not pursue any close friendships. “She’s my wife.” He doubted Wright would be interested in the details of his personal life.

The mayor patted his back. “Well, wow. I don’t remember hearing you got married. Congratulations.”

Jack waved him off, and glanced around them to make sure no one heard them. Bringing up his marital status in front of the upper crust of the entire county was not what he wanted. “That was a while ago. It’s a long story.”

Wright shook his head, apparently pleased with the news. “She should have told me she was your wife right away. I would have granted her the license sooner.”

Jack’s jaw clenched. The look in her eyes flashed in his mind, how satisfied and proud she’d been when she announced she nailed the task, just a few moments ago. “She wanted to solve the problem on her own,” he said.

Wright fixed his glasses. “Well, don’t worry. The moment I asked her about the ranch and she mentioned your name, I decided to help her.” He grinned, like he’d done Jack a goddamn favor.

“You didn’t have to,” he said. Was he saying it because he missed being one more obstacle in her way? Or because he had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting she could do it on her own? Jack reached for the scotch and downed a shot. Damn it. Listening to her had ruined his perception.

He didn’t want her to finish what she’d started—because a B&B would mean he would lose his home, the place where he grew up and loved. A side of him still knew he needed more time to consider her a winner in their deal. She’d overcome one obstacle, sure, and he was proud of her for trying. But, in the big scheme of things, she had a long path until she saw it through.

“That’s the least I could do. You’re a valuable member of our community. Now if you excuse me... I need to shake some hands.”