Big Sky Seduction Read online

  “You’re panting, too.”

  The bedroom door opened and Daisy’s husband, Jamie, emerged, hair tousled, eyes squinty with sleep. “Wife, of less than twenty-four hours...what are you doing out here?” He rubbed his eyes. “Oh. Hi, Gloria.”

  Gloria covered her face and moaned. It was one thing to be mortified in front of your best friend, quite another in front of her nearly naked new husband.

  “Hon,” Daisy said sweetly. “Go put on some clothes.”

  “I am wearing clothes.”

  “Umm...you’re wearing underwear and they really don’t do a good job of covering up your husbandly junk.”

  Mortification did not even begin to describe Gloria’s current situation. This was a mess, a royal-flipping mess, and if there was one thing she loathed above all else, it was a mess. Gloria pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets so hard that stars burst behind her closed lids. So much better than the alternative.

  It wasn’t until she heard the bedroom door close that Gloria took her hands from her face and fell back against the couch again. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  “You’re obviously upset so why don’t you stay. You can sleep here on the couch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. And if you need to borrow some clothes tomorrow morning, that’s totally fine.”

  “I don’t mean to be crashing your honeymoon.”

  “Oh, you’re not. We’ve already...” Daisy wiggled her brows “...honeymooned. Twice.”

  “God.”

  “Plus, we’re leaving for Maui tomorrow, so there’ll be plenty of...” Daisy made an obscene gesture that involved hip thrusts and pounding her fist against her hand.

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Lots of sex.”

  “Lots of sex,” Daisy confirmed with the biggest grin ever.

  Gloria sighed. Daisy was happy and Gloria was happy for Daisy. But she was a little bit sad for herself at the same time. Things were going to be different from now on. She was going to miss Daisy and the thought made her feel incredibly lonely.

  Still not a good reason to sleep with someone, particularly one who just happened to evoke the panic attacks that you thought you’d licked a long time ago.

  “Besides, you’d have done the same for me.” Daisy gave her a big hug. “But, what I don’t understand is, why not just go back to your room? Ask him to leave. It’s your room.”

  Gazing directly into her best friend’s eyes, she said, “Because, around that man, I don’t trust myself to not make the same mistake all over again.”

  * * *

  DILLON HADN’T SLEPT so well in a long time. Nothing like a warm feminine form to wake up to after a night of hotter-than-hell sex. He reached for the feminine form in question, with a mind to wake her up properly, a little repeat of last night’s performance, but there was no one there. The bed was cold.

  Huh.

  He sat up, scratching an itchy spot on his jaw. Light peeked in around the drapes, revealing clothes strewn all over the floor: one sexy, black high-heeled shoe lying on the dresser, the other caught in the ice bucket. He grinned, remembering how he’d asked her to leave them on. Nothing hotter than a woman in lingerie and heels. Then he’d taken them off and chucked them over his shoulder.

  Goddamn, the little redhead was a firecracker.

  Now. Where was she?

  Dillon pushed himself out of bed, groaning, his lower back stiffening up like it always did. Too many bulls, too many rides. He stretched side to side to work out the stiffness.

  “Gloria?”

  No answer.

  Maybe she was in the shower.

  Nice. Heat washed over him at the thought. He always loved shower sex and he was willing to bet the bossy little woman loved it, too, because—damn—she pretty much seemed to love it all.

  Ambling over to the bathroom, he knocked. “Hey? You in there?” When there was no answer, he turned the knob, but there was no one there.

  Huh. He scratched the same damn spot. Maybe she’d gone for breakfast. He wished she’d woken him up first. They could have ordered room service, had breakfast in bed. He would have liked to see her first thing in the morning, sex-messy, ravenous...

  Hot.

  He’d have liked to kiss her midbreakfast, tasting the flavor of bacon, eggs and coffee in her mouth, her skin warm as he reached beneath the covers. He’d have taken the tray away and made love to her again.

  Sounded like a damn fine way to begin the day.

  After pulling on his briefs and dress pants, he found his suit jacket thrown over a chair and located his phone inside. She’d given him her number, hadn’t she? He scrolled. Yep. There it was, her whole name, middle name, too. He tapped a message—Where’d you go?—and barely sent it before he heard the sound of a key card sliding into the lock and the heavy hotel door opening.

  With a grin, Dillon went to meet her. “Heya, darlin’. I just sent you a message.” He leaned down to kiss her but Gloria turned her face to the side.

  Pulling back, he took a better look at her. Her face was scrubbed of all makeup and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She was wearing some workout clothes that looked a couple of sizes too big. The result was that she looked young, fresh and innocent. Nothing wrong with that. It was the expression she was wearing that was all wrong.

  Her face was pale. Her pretty lips pressed together. Her light eyes dark, as if the pupils ate up all the blue.

  “I didn’t think you’d still be here,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “It’s late.” She looked at her phone. “Nine thirty.”

  “Nine thirty? Holy shit, you really tired me out.” He grinned.

  She frowned.

  “What’s up?”

  “I think you should go.” Her gaze was on his face but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Then her gaze traveled down, stopping at his chest before going lower. Red appeared out of nowhere, staining her neck and cheeks, making her glow as she struggled to raise her eyes. “Look, about last night. It was...”

  He took a step closer and touched the red in her cheek. “Pretty frickin’ amazing.”

  She let him touch her for a split second before stepping out of range. Shaking her head she said, “It was nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He dropped his hand.

  “It was just sex.” She bit her lip. “I probably had too much champagne.”

  He fell against the wall, his shoulder making a thud. Studying her close, he asked, “You telling me you regret last night?”

  With narrowed eyes she said, “I’m not sure regret completely sums up the entirety of my remorse over last night.”

  Holy shit. What the hell? “So when you were crying out, coming all around me, you didn’t like that?”

  Her eyes were large, the same way animals looked when they were frightened and searching for an escape route. “I didn’t say the sex wasn’t good.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “I just...” Her lips parted as she breathed audibly through her mouth. “We don’t like each other.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “At all.” She waved between them. “This was just a by-product of that line between anger and passion, you know? Because you drive me crazy.”

  He nodded. “You did mention that once or twice. Like when I had my tongue in your pussy.”

  She fell against the wall, breathing hard. Kind of like last night but different. “Stop.”

  “What’s this really about?”

  She gazed up at him, pleading. “It was a mistake. Okay?” She gulped air as if it was in short supply. “So, let’s just forget it happened and...” She took a long deep breath in and exhaled audibly. “Move on.”

  Holy hell. She wa
s ditching him. Just like that.

  “It’s not like there’s anything between us.”

  He moved away from the wall, taking a step toward her. Then another. “Really?”

  “Really.” The word, breathy and soft, told him otherwise, as did her wide-eyed gaze as he closed the distance between them.

  With a hand on the wall above her head, he leaned right down. Her lids fluttered and she tilted her face up, as if she wanted him to kiss her. “This sure as hell feels like something,” he whispered.

  “It’s not,” she panted back.

  “Felt like more than something last night.” He wanted to touch her face because there was that blush, spreading like a wildfire up from her chest into her cheeks and he needed to know how it felt.

  “It wasn’t.” She licked her lips in between ragged breaths.

  He leaned down and for a second—maybe not even—their lips touched. Then she ducked beneath his arm and scurried to the other side of the small room. “This will not happen again.”

  “Why?”

  “I already told you.”

  “None of that made sense.”

  She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them, it was as though she was a different woman. Her back straightened, her eyes narrowed and pretty lips thinned. “You don’t even live in Chicago. Where do you live? Wyoming?”

  “Montana.”

  “Right.” She made a hand gesture that said, You see? “You’re what? A rancher? Farmer? What?”

  “A professional bull rider.”

  She pointed. “Exactly!” She motioned to herself. “And I’m an interior decorator and professional stager.” She forced a smile. “I bet you don’t even know what that means.”

  “You make houses ready to sell.” He said that last bit with no inflection because the tiny woman was being condescending and he didn’t particularly care for it.

  “Okay. So you know what I do. Doesn’t matter. We have nothing in common.”

  He arched a single eyebrow, thinking about their amazing compatibility in the sack.

  Her eyebrows drew together and a little crinkle deepened between them. “Life isn’t all about sex, Dillon.”

  No. But good sex was a good indicator that life could be pretty damn good with someone...

  Wait a second. What was he thinking? He raked a hand through his hair. She was doing him a favor right now. He didn’t want forever, especially not with a bossy little fireball from Chicago. He just wanted to share some passion with someone of equal passion. After last night? He thought he’d found it. Clearly she was looking for more. That should be a red flag right there.

  The woman bent down in front of him—a spectacular sight—gathering up his belongings: his shoes, his shirt, his tie, his jacket. Once she was satisfied she’d got it all, she shoved the bundle at him. “Here.”

  He took the clothes. “You gonna help me dress like you helped me take my clothes off last night?” God, he felt like being shitty right now.

  Tilting her head to the side, she said, “I’m pretty sure you can manage.”

  He dropped the bundle except for his shirt. “You gonna watch?”

  “Nope.” She stalked past him to the door. Before opening it, she called over her shoulder. “Be gone in five minutes. No more.”

  “Oh, I will be.”

  “Good.” She stood there for a second and then called, “Bye, Dillon.”

  “See ya around, Red.” Dillon curled his fingers into fists at the sound of the door slamming. A part of him wanted to still be there when she got back, just to be an ass. He wanted to remind her of the fun they’d had last night, do it all over again, make her beg him to stay longer. Another part was glad she’d been so clear. He did not need to get involved with a mercurial redhead who probably didn’t even think he knew what the word mercurial meant.

  2

  FAITH, GLORIA’S ASSISTANT stager and a student of Black Sect Tantric Buddhist Feng Shui—most people called it BTB, but Faith liked to say the whole damn name at least once a day—walked into the bedroom of the house they were contracted to stage, and handed her the phone. “There’s a Mr. Cross on the line for you.”

  “Cross?” Why did that name sound familiar? She took the phone. “Hello?”

  “Heya, Red. How you doing?”

  Dillon Cross.

  No. Just no.

  She hung up and handed the phone back to her assistant.

  “Who was that?”

  “Some stupid cowboy from Wyoming.” She pretended to go back to surveying the room when really all she could think was, why was Dillon Cross calling her? It had been three months. Not that she’d been keeping track, or that she’d wanted him to call. She hadn’t.

  At all.

  The fact that he hadn’t tried to get in touch with her just supported her opinion of him as a macho jerk, which was the only reason she’d kept track.

  Faith arched a brow. “And why is a stupid cowboy from Wyoming calling you?”

  “No reason.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Now, can you help me with this bed? It needs to face the door.”

  But Faith was not easily distracted. Of course she wasn’t. “And if it’s, no reason, why did you just hang up on him?”

  Gloria glared at Faith, the kind of expression that should tell an employee to drop a subject. But Faith was not a typical employee. “Why’d you hang up?”

  “Because I didn’t want to speak to him.”

  “Why?”

  “I think I’ve covered that point already. He’s a cowboy. From Wyoming.”

  “You have a very interesting aura going on right now.” Faith came closer, inspecting.

  The only way to distract her was to change the subject to feng shui. “It’s this room. It’s all wrong.” Gloria indicated the cluttered placement of the furniture. “The bed’s facing the wrong way, the Chi’s interrupted by the big bureau. The mirror is reflecting outside. It’s a disaster.” She crouched down and started tugging on the bed frame. “Give me a hand. This thing is heavy.”

  “You slept with him.”

  Dammit!

  She stood, wiping her palms on the front of her pants. “Maybe. So what?”

  Faith tapped something into the phone, held it to her ear and then said, “Oh, hi. Sorry. We got disconnected. Was there something I can help you with?”

  “Faith,” Gloria whisper-yelled.

  “Gloria? Sure. She’s right here.” Faith handed her the phone again. “Speak to him. It’s the only way to clear this up.” She made a fuzzy gesture at Gloria’s torso. “You’re all...muddy.”

  Rolling her eyes, Gloria took the phone but placed it next to her chest, covering the mic because Faith stood exactly where she was, waiting to listen in. She waved her off, mouthing the words, “Go away.”

  Saluting, Faith left and Gloria raised the phone to her ear. She took a deep breath and then huffed it out. “Dillon. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you asking for real? Because the list is long.” His voice was deep and suggestive. He also sounded strangely out of breath, reminding her of a very vigorous, very intimate moment she’d spent a good portion of the past three months trying to forget. So far she’d been unsuccessful.

  “Why are you calling?” She bit her thumbnail, realized what she was doing and stopped.

  “I’m in town, doing some business, visiting my cousins. Thought I’d give you a call. See if you wanted to get together.”

  “Really.” She chewed the inside of her lip, realized what she was doing and stopped.

  “Uh-huh. Coffee. Dinner. Or...somethin’.”

  “I’m not a hook-up girl, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Never said you were. Just, we had some fun last time I was here,” h
e drawled. Slow and easy. Reminding her of the movement of his tongue against her lips and in her mouth.

  Mmm.

  Ugh!

  “Kind of hoped we could recapture it. You know?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you want an honest answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened between us was desperation.” She gnawed her lower lip.

  He chuckled. That was not the response she was going for.

  “I’m not interested in whatever it is you have in mind,” she hurried on.

  “You don’t even know what I have in mind. Aren’t you curious? Even a little?”

  She shut her eyes, sucking her whole top lip into her mouth while erratic visions of nakedness popped into her head.

  She was not curious. Not one little bit. Honest she wasn’t.

  His voice began, soft and low, reminding her of the naughty whispers from that night. “I’m going to take your clothes off, nice and slow, kissing you as I go. Tasting every inch of you...”

  No.

  “Goodbye, Dillon. Don’t call me again. You want a booty call, try someone else.” She hung up, dropped the phone on the bed—the one that was positioned all wrong—and expelled the big breath she’d been holding.

  Faith came in seconds later, obviously having overheard the entire thing. She looked Gloria up and down, shook her head and said, “You are in trouble, girl.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  Giving her another sweeping gaze, Faith’s expression said different. “You want him. I can tell.”

  “No, I don’t. Now, let’s—”

  “When’s the last time you had sex?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Three months ago. Daisy’s wedding.”

  Gloria sputtered. “How’d you know?”

  “Because you’ve been weird ever since.”

  Straightening herself, Gloria said, “Whatever. Now help me—”

  “How about before that? Before the stupid cowboy from Wyoming?”

  “Again, none of your business.”

  “Greg.” Faith moved over to the bed, squatted down and began to shove, a smug expression lighting her face. “Boring, predictable, accountant Greg, right?”