Rachel Gibson - Simply Irresistible

John leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Honey, ‘little’ and ‘cocky’ are two words a man just never wants to hear strung together in the same sentence.” He watched her blush, and chuckled. But there had been those horrible seconds when he hadn’t felt so “cocky.” The sick moments when she hadn’t answered his proposal, and he’d had a hazy thought of tossing her over his shoulder and running out of the room, kidnapping her until she said what he wanted to hear.

“What do you want, Wall?”

John turned his attention to Virgil. “Pardon?”

“I asked what you wanted.”

He kept a straight face, but he was smiling inside.

Checkmate. The old bastard had been bluffing. “For what?”

“I made a very rash and extremely poor business decision when I threatened to trade you. What do you want to stay?”

John rocked back on his heels and appeared to give the question some thought, but he’d already anticipated Virgil’s backpedaling. “A second-line enforcer might persuade me to overlook the fact that you threatened to trade me. And I’m not talking about a fourth-line rookie you can pick up for spare change. I want an experienced hockey man. Someone who isn’t afraid to play the corners and hang out in front of the net. Big. Low center of gravity. Hits like a freight train. You’re going to have to cough up good money for a guy like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Work on a list and give it to me it the morning.”

“Sorry, I’ll be busy tonight.” Georgeanne stuck her elbow in his ribs, and he looked into her face. “What? You’ll be busy, too.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “Give it to me next week. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to take care of.”

“There’s one more thing.”

“A million-dollar enforcer isn’t enough?”

“No.” John shook his head. “Apologize to my fiancйe.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Georgeanne sputtered. “Really, John. Mr. Duffy gave you what you wanted. I think the gracious-”

“Let me take care of this,” John interrupted.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly why would I apologize to Miss Howard?”

“Because you hurt her feelings. She told you she was sorry for running out on your wedding, but you threw her apology back in her face. Georgie is very sensitive.” He gave her a little squeeze. “Aren’t you, baby doll?”

Virgil stood and glanced from John to Georgeanne. He cleared his throat several times and his face turned red. “I accept your apology, Miss Howard. Now will you please accept mine?”

John thought Virgil could do a little better and opened his mouth to tell him to try again, but Georgeanne stopped him.

“Of course,” she said, and placed her palm on John’s back. She looked up at him and slid her hand down his spine. “Let’s leave Mr. Duffy to his work,” she suggested, a gleam of love and maybe a bit of laughter in her eyes.

He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and walked from the room. He held her against his side as they slowly walked down the hall toward the locker rooms, and he thought of the dream he’d had after he’d returned home early that morning. Instead of the erotic dream he usually had of Georgeanne, he’d dreamed of waking up in a huge, flowery bed surrounded by giggly little girls jumping all around. Sissy girls with sissy dogs, all looking at him as if he were a superhero for killing spiders and saving tiny fish.

He wanted the dream. He wanted Georgeanne. He wanted a life surrounded by dark-haired little chatter hounds, Barbie dolls, and hairless dogs. He wanted lacy beds, flowered wallpaper, and a woman with a sexy southern voice whispering in his ear.

He smiled and slid his hand up Georgeanne’s arm to her shoulder. Even if they never had any more children, he had everything he wanted.

He had it all.

Georgeanne stood on the steps of the Princeville Hotel on the island of Kauai. The tropical sun warmed her bare shoulders and the top of her head. It had taken her several days to completely master her sarong, but she now wore the fuchsia flowered material tied behind her neck and covering her swimsuit. She’d stuck a big orchid behind one ear and laced a pair of pink Hercules sandals up her ankles. She felt very feminine and thought of Lexie. Lexie would have loved Kauai. She would have loved the beautiful beaches and cool blue water. Lexie would have to settle for a T-shirt. Georgeanne and John needed time to themselves and had left their daughter with Ernie and John’s mother.

A rented Jeep Cherokee rolled to a stop next to the curb. The driver’s-side door swung open, and her heart swelled beneath her breast. She loved to watch John move. He was filled with supreme confidence and walked with the fluid assurance of a man at ease with himself. Only a man comfortable in his own skin would have chosen to wear that particular blue shirt with huge red flowers and big green leaves. He was so self-assured, he sometimes overwhelmed her a little. If she’d let John have his way, they would have been married the day after he’d proposed. She’d been able to hold him off for a month so she could plan a nice wedding at a little chapel in Bellevue.

They’d been married a week now, and she loved him more each day. Sometimes her feelings were too big, and she couldn’t hold them all in. She’d catch herself staring into space and smiling, or laughing for no reason at all, unable to contain her happiness. She’d given John her trust and her heart. In return, he made her feel secure and loved with an intensity that sometimes took her breath away.

Her gaze followed him as he walked around the four-wheel-drive. He opened the passenger door, then he turned and smiled up at her. Georgeanne remembered the first time she’d ever seen him, standing next to a red Corvette, broad-shouldered and gorgeous, looking like her savior.

“Aloha, mister,” she called to him as she descended the stairs.

A frown wrinkled his brows. “Are you naked beneath that thing?”

She stopped in front of him and shrugged one shoulder. “Depends. Are you a hockey player?”

“Yep.” A smile smoothed away his frown. “Do you like hockey?”

“No.” Georgeanne shook her head and lowered her voice, affecting the rich southern drawl she knew drove him wild. “But I could probably make an exception in your case, sugar.”

He reached for her and slid his hands up her bare arms. “You want my body, don’t you?”

“I can’t help myself,” Georgeanne sighed, and again shook her head. “I’m a weak woman, and you’re simply irresistible.”

A past recipient of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart award, RACHEL GIBSON makes her home in Boise, Idaho, with her husband, three children, two cats, and a hyper dog.

Rachel began writing shortly after she was given a personality test to determine job suitability. The test results strongly suggested that she become a nun. Since she was already married, and not Catholic, she turned to writing.

Rachel is an avid hockey fan, enjoys forensic science, and is a sucker for a happy ending.