Yeah, baby.
She ignored the frantic cry of her hormones and tried to remember the details of the story she’d worked out on the drive from San Antonio to Skull Creek. “I’m looking for my ex-boyfriend. We broke up last month and he moved back here. I think.” She didn’t sound half as convincing, but then that was the point. To play the sad, confused, pathetic ex-girlfriend and get the locals to talk to her. “One of his relatives passed on and left him quite a bit of money but the estate lawyer can’t seem to locate him.”
Something sparked in his gaze. “So you’re not from here?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got a place in Chicago, but I don’t see it much. My job keeps me busy.”
Sales. That’s what she was going to say when he asked what she did for a living. She’d been through enough interrogations to know that that was the next logical question.
“So what is it you’re after? A piece of the money, or do you still have a thing for him?”
“Sales.”
“Excuse me?”
Yeah, excuse me? Let him ask the question before you answer, dumbass. What are you thinking?
But she wasn’t thinking. Standing there, with the moonlight spilling down around them and his scent filling her nostrils, the only thing she could do was feel. The sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. The awareness rippling up and down her spine. The hollowness between her legs.
“That’s what I do for a living,” she blurted. “In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t. So are you going to answer the question? Money? Revenge? Which is it?”
“Closure. Our break-up was really abrupt. He moved out with no warning and the only thing I got was a text message saying goodbye. I figured if I came here to tell him about the inheritance, it would give us a chance to talk about things.” When he gave her a doubtful look, she added, “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a girl thing.” Or so she’d heard. She’d never been much of a “girl”. Not in the way she acted—no strutting her stuff or wowing men or texting her BFF about her latest conquest—and certainly not in the way she looked—no skimpy clothes or make-up or lacey panties. That truth had always been something she’d been proud of.
But staring up into his gaze, she found herself wishing she’d put on something—anything—besides baggy jeans and a hoodie.
“So what’s his name?”
“Who?”
“The ex-boyfriend?”
“Rayne.” She stared deep into his eyes, searching for some spark of recognition. “Rayne Montana. Do you know him?”
“Can’t say that I do. I’m just passing through myself. I’m visiting my brother and his wife. In fact,” he glanced at his watch, “I’m running late. I was supposed to meet them fifteen minutes ago.”
She tried to ignore the sudden disappointment that washed through her. “Sorry about the misunderstanding.” She started to dart past him, but he caught her arm before he could think better of it.
His fingertips seemed to tingle, sending shock waves through her. Her stomach hollowed out and her nipples pebbled.
“No bother.” His gaze pushed into hers. “So what does he look like?”
She glanced up from the point of contact. “Who?”
“The boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to correct him except that she’d always been a stickler for facts. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she didn’t want him to think she was actually attached. As if he’d even be interested.
But that was the thing. Despite her hoodie and baggy jeans and regulation cotton underpants, he did look interested. His gaze gleamed with a dozen wicked thoughts and she couldn’t help herself.
“We’re not together anymore.”
“I sort of figured that’s what ex meant.”
“He’s a little over six feet,” she rushed on, eager to ignore the heat creeping into her cheeks. Blushing? She didn’t blush. She didn’t stammer. She didn’t act like a freakin’ idiot. “Short, dark hair. Very fit. Scar on his left bicep.”
“If I see anyone that fits the description, I’ll send them your way. By the way, what’s your name?”
“Abby. Abby Trent. Yours?”
“Brent Braddock.”
“Nice to meet you, Brent.”
“My pleasure.”
The last word conjured all sorts of images as Abby climbed into her car and headed back to the Skull Creek Inn, and straight into a cold shower.
Because the last thing Abby intended was to get side-tracked by a man. She had a job to do and she fully intended to stay on course.
No matter how much she suddenly wanted to take the nearest Exit to Sexville.
5
“I’D ALMOST GIVEN UP on you,” Cody said when Brent finally walked into Mary Sue’s Wedding Nirvana. Mary Sue’s was the one and only bridal shop and tuxedo rental in Skull Creek and the last place Brent wanted to be at the moment.
His pulse pounded and his muscles clenched. He was wired. Desperate. Hungry.
“You were supposed to be here a half hour ago.” Cody stood to the left near a small sitting area. He worked at the buttons on his white tuxedo shirt. “All the other guys have gone and left.”
“Sorry to miss the party but I had something I had to deal with.” Brent sank down into one of the leather chairs and tried to ignore his brother’s curious gaze.
Cody arched an eyebrow. “Something or someone?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, it’s just that you might want to watch yourself around here. It’s a small town. A safe town. The last thing we need are rumors flying.” He finished the buttons and shrugged on the black jacket. He turned towards Brent. “What do you think?”
“I’m glad you’re the one getting married and not me.”
“It’s not so bad.” He flexed and the fabric pulled and tugged. “Granted it’s not nearly as comfortable as a T-shirt and jeans, but I’ve suffered through worse. Speaking of which, the offer still stands. We’d really love to have you in the wedding.”
“I’m not really a wedding kind of guy. Love and marriage and forever and ever …” He gave a shudder. “Not my thing.”
“You don’t have to marry anyone. You’ll just be standing up with me.”
“Maybe next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.” Cody looked so certain that Brent almost believed him.
He might have if not for the all important fact that his brother was a friggin’ vampire. Translation? Temporary. Things might be picture perfect now, but it wouldn’t last. While Miranda herself seemed cool with it, there were others who wouldn’t be so accepting. Someone would eventually find out that there were bloodsuckers living in Skull Creek and then all hell would break loose. It always did.
Brent had learned that firsthand and it was a lesson he didn’t intend to forget. He’d barely gotten out of Jamison, Texas, without being staked, and all because he’d been stupid enough to fall in