Dirty Deeds, Page 3

  lips”—his intent stare lingered sexily on her mouth—“will leave me spellbound, wanting more.”

  She bit back a purely feminine sigh. “Are you a professional charmer?”

  “Interesting that you’d think I was charming.” His sultry voice slid through the evening air like dark, luxurious silk. “So talk to me.”

  Tate clamped her hands down on the bench until concrete bit into her palms. Yep. Really happening. She inhaled, drawing in his clean, soapy scent. Lord he smelled divine. “Here goes. You ready?”

  He gripped the bench with mock fierceness. “Ready.”

  On second thought, she’d never be ready for the havoc this hunk wreaked on her senses. His smile alone made her knees quake. One sweep of those caramel-colored eyes over her body and she felt tingles in places she’d long forgotten actually tingled. “Ever been on a blind date?”

  “Not for a long time. Have you?”

  “Not really. That’s why…” Blast it! Why did her cheeks redden at the most inopportune times?

  “Ah. That’s why you are out here hiding.” His heated gaze skimmed her breasts before zeroing in on her shoulder. Those large fingers flicked a pine needle from her shirt, and he carefully smoothed the puckered material back in place. “So where is your date?”

  She watched the gentle movement, silently willing those deft fingers to stay put. “I don’t know.”

  He signaled for her to continue.

  Tate’s tongue had gone bone dry from his close contact. And weren’t all his muscles sucking up every bit of available oxygen? She managed to swallow once before she pointed at the bottle resting on his muscled knee. “Since I’m sharing my bench, you have to share your beer. No cooties, I promise.”

  He smiled, wiped off the top and passed the bottle without comment, again letting his gaze loiter on her mouth.

  Damn if her lips didn’t tremble. She managed to say, “If I had a shred of self-respect, I’d hightail it home before I follow through with my crazy plan.”

  His dark, expectant gaze wandered over her body, intimate as a caress. “What does self-respect have to do with a blind date?”

  Tate shrugged, offering a rueful smile. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Trust me. I’ve had some strange goings-on myself this week.”

  “Must be the phase of the moon.” She tilted her head to catch a glimpse of the silver orb through the treetops. Her cheek brushed the skin-warmed cotton fabric stretching across his broad shoulder. “Now, aren’t you sorry you asked?”

  “Only sorry you’re drinking all my beer,” he murmured. “Don’t you believe some unexpected things can be…” his gaze read pure sin when it dallied on her mouth, “…promising?”

  Tate nervously moistened her lips, surprised when a sound resembling a groan gusted from his. “Not in this case.”

  Her attempt at legal humor evoked a low, sexy chuckle that suggested he was imagining illicit acts performed outdoors in fading daylight.

  “Your turn.” His purely male presence enveloped her like a sensual fog as his large palm covered hers. Lifting the bottle, he leisurely outlined her lips with the wet rim. “Open for me,” he said huskily, tipping the amber liquid past her parted lips. The yeasty taste rolled over her tongue. His rough thumb wiped an escaped drop of beer from the corner of her mouth, and he slowly brought his thumb back to his mouth and licked it.

  Tate’s amazement that the glass hadn’t returned to its molten stage from his hot touch was second only to her blazing desire to launch herself straight onto his lap and generate some serious sparks.

  “Are you real?” His hungry gaze roved over her face. “Or just a wood sprite sent here to tempt me?”

  “I’m real,” she whispered.

  “Prove it,” he challenged, canting his lips over hers, a mere breath away.

  Her heart leapt. Her mouth watered. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh as she softened her lips and held her breath.

  His eyes burned hotly as he oh-so-slowly lowered his sinful mouth toward hers.

  Crashing footfalls through the underbrush broke the spell.

  “There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere.”

  Tate jumped back and almost toppled off the bench.

  Six-year-old Tanner Westfield wiped the sweat from his brow as he stepped closer. His twin, Tyler, followed behind him. Arms covered in scratches, leaves tumbled from his auburn hair.

  Why had Val sent her kids out as a search party?

  “You’re in big, big trouble.” Four-year-old Chelsea Westfield shoved her way in between her brothers. Despite her tattered cowgirl ensemble, she stood directly in front of the man, blonde ringlets shaking around her dirt-smudged face. “Mommy wants to talk to you. And she’s pretty mad.”

  The man lifted a dark brow. His amused glance swept over the disheveled children. “Yeah? She gotten a good look at you guys lately? Just where were you searching for me? The shelterbelt?”

  Tyler and Tanner looked guiltily over at the long line of trees and bushes sheltering the house. But Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest and grunted. “So? We climbed a few trees for a better view. Now Mommy’s gonna be mad at us too. If we don’t get ice cream tonight, Uncle Nathan, it’ll be all your fault.”

  Every muscle in Tate’s body seized up. Uncle Nathan? She slapped a hand on her flaming cheek. “You—you’re Val’s—brother?”

  The man’s instant, glorious smile said it all.

  Lord, she’d been flirting. No, she’d practically thrown herself at his big feet. Hmm. Was there truth to the rumors about using the size of a man’s feet to gauge the size of his…?

  Tate gave herself a mental slap. What was she thinking? More importantly, what was he thinking? Mortified, she grabbed the beer and drained it.

  “You okay?” he taunted, dangerously close to her ear.

  “Y-yes.” She scrambled to recover her wits. Breathe, Tate. Think. Thank the stars Nathan LeBeau wasn’t a toad, but a drop-dead gorgeous he-man posed even more problems. He was way out of her league. How could she handle him, especially when her wanton behavior suggested she could? She offered him a tentative smile.

  Which he matched with a wicked, wicked grin. He lifted her hand to his sinful mouth and used those mesmerizing lips to nibble kisses on her knuckles. Hot, sweet kisses that didn’t seem to end.

  The parts of Tate’s body that didn’t go all hot and tight turned into a wet, quivering mass.

  Why did she suddenly feel legal repercussions with the city of Spearfish, South Dakota were the least of her worries when it came to dealing with Nathan LeBeau?

  Nathan glanced over at Tate. This darling blonde pixie with bewitching blue eyes, curves the envy of a Formula One driver and luscious lips made for month-long kisses was the Tate Cross?

  He dropped another gallant kiss on her knuckle. Fascinating hands, small and unadorned. He was sorely tempted to taste those tiny fingertips, but he reminded himself to play it cool. “Well, well. I’m very pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Tate.”

  The blush pinking her cheeks deepened and she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. It’d been a long time since Nathan had left a woman tongue-tied.

  Speaking of tied…how would this nymph look tied to his headboard while he ravished her nine ways ’til Sunday? With just his tongue? He imagined her naked and writhing. Her peach skin flushed. Her juicy mouth parted in ecstasy as he licked a path from those outstanding breasts down her soft belly…

  She pulled her hand away. “You all right?”

  “Just thinking about the business matters we have to discuss.” He glanced down her compact, shapely body. Wow.

  A darker shade of rose swept from her neck to her cleavage.

  Tanner and Tyler interrupted his thoughts by attempting to yank him to his feet. “Come on. Mommy wants you now.”

  “Hold your horses, partners. You run along or you’ll blow what little chance you’ve got left for ice cream.”

  Wi
thin seconds the kids vanished, and Nathan chuckled.

  He met Tate’s direct gaze. A spark moved through the air between them. “Mission accomplished. Now I’ve got you all to myself again.”

  “You do realize that Val will be swarming in here, probably with a pair of binoculars, five seconds after they inform her we were spotted together.”

  “We both know she won’t be doing a belly-crawl recon in her condition. Does that worry you?”

  “No. I’ve got to be honest, Nathan. I’m glad we stumbled across each other this way.”

  “Why?” The sexy, breathless way she’d uttered his name startled him.

  Tate’s fingers plucked at the hem of her shorts, revealing another inch of creamy skin. “This is all so bizarre I don’t know where to start.” She stared straight ahead, past the low-hanging pine branches to the crowded street beyond.

  “At the beginning.” He was distracted by glimpses of her white teeth as she gnawed the pink lipstick from her plump bottom lip. He had a serious hard-on for her wanton mouth. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

  She sighed, kicking the dirt with the heel of her Birkenstock. “I’m being court-ordered to meet the city requirements for the property I inherited. Unfortunately my finances are shaky right now. But we both know that isn’t the only reason I wanted to talk to you.”

  Her answer seemed rehearsed, although her embarrassment about the “trade” appeared real. “Go on,” he said.

  “Val knew about my lack of…male companionship before I came back to settle my aunt’s estate. I also told her I’m not looking for anything permanent, just the physical side of a relationship.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Her pale blonde brows lifted. “Don’t you believe me?”

  “No.” Seeing her soft expression turn hard, he clarified, “But only out of habit. Most women won’t consider dating a man who isn’t prospective husband material.” Or they were content to play hide the sausage behind closed doors, hoping like hell their friends wouldn’t find out they’d been slumming, banging a guy with long hair and red skin.

  “Exactly. I’m tired of dating a man for his long-term potential. I want to have fun, be impulsive and not worry about whether or not we’ll be picking out china patterns next year.”

  “In other words, you want to act like—”

  “Like a man,” she finished without looking at him. “Sex without strings and nothing else. Just like the type of relationships Val says you’re used to. I thought we’d meet, you’d get a chuckle from my scandalous proposal and hopefully do the work—the yard work that is—at a substantial discount.” She glanced up warily. “Is that why you’re here? To politely hand me a ten-percent-off coupon?”

  “Not. Even. Close.”

  Tate’s blue eyes clouded. “Explain to me why you’d be willing to work so hard and consider tossing in recreational sex when you don’t know me.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about the Maxwell Landscaping Competition, but he refrained. Tate would tell Val, who in turn would blab to their parents, who would think he was thumbing his nose at the utility business his father had entrusted to him a few years ago. It’d be best to wait and see how this scenario played out before coming clean with the hot Ms. Cross.

  Without meeting her eyes, he confessed, “Val doesn’t know this, but my last girlfriend said I was lousy in bed. First time I’d gotten a complaint to my face. Problem is, I’ve been so busy working I haven’t had time to find a woman who’s willing to prove those accusations wrong. That’s why when you suggested this—”

  “Of course I’d be willing to help in any way I can,” she blurted out. “You know…to recoup your manhood.”

  Everything inside him cringed at his deception. Even his balls seemed to shrivel up. In a diversionary tactic, Nathan reached for her fingers, repeatedly pleating the cuff of her shorts. “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Sure.”

  “Were you really out here hiding from a meeting with me?”

  “Yes.” Her gaze swept his features, but she didn’t release his hand. “I was nervous.”

  “Why?”

  “Besides the crazy purpose of proposing art lessons for landscaping? With wild and crazy sex thrown in as an added incentive? Even if you are my friend’s brother, you have to admit it sounds desperate and sleazy.”

  He caressed her knuckles in a manner meant to reassure her. Tate’s satiny skin beneath his rough hands shot another hot wave of awareness through him. “Whatever we choose to do or not do in private as consenting adults is not sleazy, Tate. Whatever our agreement is no one’s business but ours.”

  “Glad you see it that way.” She laughed quietly, turning her delicate hand to thread their fingers together. “I’ve never done anything like this. And you aren’t what I expected. Not at all.”

  “Am I better or worse?” That same niggling fear arose. Would her cute freckled nose wrinkle with distaste when she saw him in his usual dirt-caked work clothes? Or maybe she hadn’t been expecting the darker reddish color of his skin and the long hair?

  “In most ways better. In some ways worse.”

  Before Tate could elaborate on that statement, the dinner bell in the backyard clanged. She leapt to her feet like someone had tossed a firecracker underneath the bench.

  As usual, his sister had the worst timing. He stood and noticed again Tate was a little whip of a thing, barely reaching his shoulder. It made him extremely curious about how they’d line up horizontally. Or vertically. Or any way at all.

  “Nathan?” Tate looked up and searched his face. “You didn’t really answer my question.”

  “Which was?”

  “After meeting me, are you still interested in my proposal?”

  The stubborn tilt of her elfin chin contradicted her simple question. This woman had stirred something in him from the moment he’d sat down. What besides lust? His true romantic, tender side? Hell if he knew, but figuring it out filled him with an excitement he hadn’t felt in ages.

  He kissed her fingertips, thankful she kept short nails instead of the crimson claws so many women preferred. “After meeting you face-to-face, my interest in the proposal has increased tenfold.”

  Her immediate blush charmed him.

  “I’ll come over, look at the project and we’ll talk more.” At her protest he briefly placed a gentle finger over her plush lips, wishing he’d had the foresight to use his mouth. “Trust me. We’ll figure it out. Tomorrow. At two?”

  “Fine, but I want to point out that you are as persistent as your sister.”

  I want to point out you are as sweet as Val claimed you were.

  He grinned, letting his thumb graze her bottom lip until her breasts rose and fell. “Runs in the family.”

  “Do we really have to go inside?” She gestured to her clothes: khaki shorts and tie-dyed tank top. “Seems Val didn’t tell me this was a themed party. I’m not exactly dressed in the appropriate western attire.”

  “And Denver is famous for being a cow town underneath the towering skyscrapers. You mean you don’t own an outfit with sequins and fringe? Where’s your Stetson? And your tassels? What kind of cowgirl are you?”

  “The kind who prefers to show her sequins and fringe in private. Can’t keep a hat on if you ride ’em as hard as I do.” She leaned forward and whispered, “There are plenty more interesting places to put tassels than on clothes, don’t you agree?”

  Nathan’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Another part of his anatomy reared up with excessive interest.

  “Besides, I don’t much feel like socializing.”

  “With me?” His pulse leapt a warning. Tate wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with him, was she? Although he hadn’t followed Val’s suggestion to dress up in ostrich skin boots, chaps, spurs and wearing a bolo tie with a buckskin vest, he thought he’d cleaned up pretty good.

  “No, with anybody.” Apparently ill at ease, she turned away.

  Nathan snatc
hed her hand and spun her back around. In the twilight, her wide eyes reflected periwinkle blue. Man. He had this overwhelming need to kiss the corners to see what hue they turned from desire. “If you want to leave, I’ll make your excuses to Val.” He lifted her palm to his mouth for a taste, pleased when her breath hitched. “Because I feel the same. I don’t want her gawking at us, wondering if we’ve—”

  “Signed the contract?” Tate finished, amusement lacing her tone. “If you’ve dipped your pen in my proverbial well?”

  He grinned, nipping the tempting, tender skin beneath her thumb until she gasped. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

  “Val didn’t mention you were in—”