Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

I’ll think about it. Insulted, she swallowed a dozen pithy retorts. She nearly bit her tongue in half not to say them aloud. Instead she took a deep breath and smiled. “You do that,” she said and stepped closer to him. She lifted her head, moving her lips in a moue and making a soft kissing sound. “Thanks for the ride. It was the best.” Stepping back, she saw a flash of heat cross his eyes. “Sweet dreams,” she said and walked away. Cursing his name with every other step she took.

Jackson stared after Lori, feeling as if he’d been hit with a tire iron. What made it worse was that he had a hard-on that felt like iron, too. He swore under his breath. What the hell was she thinking telling him they should get married? What had inspired that insane idea in her head?

Hearing a snort from Rowdy, Jackson glanced behind him and looked at the horse. The light dawned. It was the ride, he realized. The ride on the horse had done it. He twisted his lips. Who would have thought the way to Lori’s pocketbook would have been through a ride on a horse?

His mind raced with possibilities as he led Rowdy to his stall and settled the horse down for the night. She was offering a lot of money in exchange for being her husband. He could use that money as his stake for the real-estate venture he wanted to start. That kind of money could change a man’s life. He could move his mother and brother to a better place. His mom wouldn’t have to work so hard.

But how would a sane man survive being married to Lori? She was a combination of crazy and irresistible. Would she ever learn to control her spending? Would he be able to stand by and watch her go through her daddy’s money like toilet paper? Even for good causes?

What about sex? He would have to be committed to an asylum to agree to a marriage with no sex. Being around her every day, he would have to take her. And he suspected he would need to do so repeatedly. The strength of his sexual desire for her caught him off guard.

He swore under his breath again and shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about this anymore tonight. He still had her perfume on him from the way she’d clung to him during the ride. He still remembered how her breasts and inner thighs had felt against him. He remembered the thrill he’d felt that she’d not only been willing to go with him, but also how she’d urged him to go faster.

The scent of her alone was enough to mess up his head this late at night. No. He would put her and her crazy offer out of his mind until he could think straight. He just hoped that would happen in this century.

Bored out of his mind and unable to sleep, Geoffrey roamed the house and made his way to the only place he’d ever really felt at home, in front of a keyboard. Closing the door to the room at the end of a vacant hall, he sighed with relief. Since a tuner had come to repair the old piano, he’d been playing it every chance he got during the last couple of days.

His stepmother had called his cell phone approximately eleven times during the last twenty-four hours, but he hadn’t picked up. She wanted a progress report, and Geoffrey knew, even though he’d proposed to Lori, that the situation was moving at glacial speed.

His stepmother would harp and pressure him, and he bloody well didn’t want to hear it. He was supposed to be wooing Lori, but God help him, he was totally fascinated by Maria. She was female fire personified. It was as if her very presence caused an internal combustion inside him, and she barely gave him the time of day.

He slid his hands over the keys, listening for pitch problems. Nothing so far, he thought, concentrating. A melody tugged at him, slipping through that part of his mind that he’d never understood but found magically seductive. He played the first notes, added a chord, another measure.

He felt a flicker of excitement and tried to commit the notes to memory. More of the melody slipped through his mind, and he chased after it the same way a child would chase a butterfly. Struggling with a chord, he heard the rusty sound of the door opening. He immediately stopped. “Sorry if I woke you,” he said to whoever had come into the room. “I thought I was far enough away not to interrupt anyone’s sleep.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Maria in the doorway.

His breath stopped in his throat. She wore a T-shirt that hugged her ample breasts and pajama shorts that showed the graceful length of her curvy tanned legs. Her expression, for once, wasn’t hostile.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to clean a closet down the hall,” she said with a shrug. “I heard you.”

Unable to tear his gaze from her, he nodded. “Oh.”

A silence followed, filled with curiosity and that fire she emanated that always seemed to start a blaze in him. “Well, you don’t have to stop.”

He blinked. “You’d like to hear more?” His mind boggled by her nod, he turned back to the piano and played a Brahms intermezzo he’d memorized years ago. When he finished, he glanced up and found her standing beside the piano.

She sighed. “So beautiful. I always wanted to learn to play a musical instrument. Music is like magic, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’ve always thought so.”

“Can you play something else?”

He gave a half smile. “I can play a lot of things. What would you like to hear?”

“Something sweet, but passionate. What was the song you were playing when I walked in?” she said and sat down on the bench beside him.

“Oh, that was something I heard in my head,” he said, too aware of her proximity. She smelled like a combination of roses and fresh spices.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You mean you just made it up?”

“Well, I heard it. It was just a few chords, a few measures, really.”

“Have you made up other things?”

He reluctantly nodded. “I’ve tried.”

“Play one,” she commanded. “Play one you’ve composed.”

This was the nicest she’d been to him since she’d hauled him back to the ranch on the back of her horse. He bloody well wasn’t going to refuse her. “Okay, but no rotten fruit or pies,” he said.

He played one of his recent compositions and held the last note for a few beats, then turned to her.

“That was beautiful,” she said. “Can you play another?”

He would play all night to see that soft look in her eyes. “Of course,” he said and played another. That piece eased into another and another.

Maria sighed at the end. “It’s late,” she said but didn’t move.

He nodded. “It is.”

She met his gaze. “This was nice.”

“Yes, it was.” Her face was inches from his, and it was all he could do not to lower his mouth to her exotic lips. He wanted to explore her texture, taste her, plunder her.

She glanced downward for a second, then met his gaze again, her dark eyes full of secrets he wanted to learn. “Thank you for the private concert, Geoffrey.”

“My pleasure,” he said, feeling his gut tighten in a dozen knots. “I’m quite inexpensive,” he said. “If you should like another-” He cleared his throat. “Session.”

Her lips tilted in a sensual smile and she stood. “Thank you. I look forward to it.” She lifted her hand and brushed his hair from his forehead. “You should go to bed. Morning will come early.”

“Yes,” he said, but he had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t sleep. Maria had infiltrated his senses, and it would take more than a shower to get his equilibrium back.

The following morning when Geoffrey saw Maria in the kitchen, his heart squeezed tight in his chest. “Good morning, Maria. How are you?”

“Busy,” she said in a dismissive voice. “Everyone else has eaten and left. There are biscuits and eggs in the warming pan.” She nodded her head toward the opposite counter.