Christine Rimmer - Marriage, Maverick Style!

So good.

His lips settled more firmly on hers. She sighed in pure delight and had to resist the sharp desire to slide a hand up around his neck and pull him closer still.

She was probably in big trouble.

But the more she got to know him, the less she feared her attraction to him and the more it just felt right to be sitting beside him under the stars with the band playing country favorites. The night had a glow about it, even here in the shadows on their private little square of blanket. She was having so much fun with him, loving every minute of this night. She never wanted it to end. She wanted to sit here and enjoy the man beside her and maybe, a little later, to get up and dance some more. And after that, to steal another kiss.

And another after that.

He reached for the mason jar and unscrewed the lid.

She leaned close and whispered, “You shouldn’t have done that. It’s all over now. Our lives will never be the same.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “The temptation is just too great. I can’t resist.” He sniffed at the open jar. “Smells like a peach.” He tipped his head to the side, his expression suddenly far away. “I’ve always loved peaches.”

“Peaches? No, really?”

“Really.” He offered her the jar.

She took it and sniffed the contents for herself. “Hmm. Smells like summer.”

“What’d I tell you?”

“But not peaches. Blackberries. Just a hint.” She really wanted to taste it now. “I adore blackberries. They’re my favorite fruit.”

He wrapped his big hand over hers, and they held the jar together. He sniffed again, then insisted, “Admit it. It smells like peaches.”

“No, Carson.” She shook a finger at him. “Blackberries.”

“Peaches.”

“Blackberries. And look.” She pulled the jar free of his grip and held it up to the party lights. “It even has a faint purple tint. Can’t you see it?”

He took it from her hand and raised it high to decide for himself. “Looks more golden to me.” He faked a serious expression. “And really, it would be a bad idea to taste it. Right?”

“Right. Bad idea to—Carson!” She let out a silly shriek as he took a careful sip from the jar. And then she leaned closer and asked, wide-eyed, “Well?”

He swallowed. Slowly. “That’s good. Really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Blackberries, right?” She nodded, holding his gaze, certain she could get him to nod along with her.

But his head went the other way—side to side. “Peaches. Definitely. And a hint of a moonshine burn going down. Gives it a nice kick.”

“You’re just playing with me.”

He looked slightly wounded. “Never.”

Only one way to make sure. “Give me that.”

He held it away. “You’d better not. You never know what might happen.”

“Knock it off, Carson. Hand it over.”

“Whoa. Suddenly you’re a tough girl.”

“That’s right. You don’t want to mess with me.”

“Never, ever would I mess with you.” His voice was so smooth and manly, with just the perfect hint of roughness underneath. He gazed at her so solemnly. She really wanted to kiss him again.

Better not.

She reached for the moonshine instead. That time, he surrendered it. She put the jar to her lips and took a teeny, tiny sip.

Flavor bloomed on her tongue. A hint of sweet, summer fruit, and then wonderful heat going down. “Oh, yes. It’s good.”

“Told you so.”

She gave a fist-pump. “Blackberry! Yes!” She sipped a little more, savoring the taste, relishing the lovely burn—and then handed it back to him.

A wonderful, sexy laugh escaped him. She laughed, too, the sound husky to her own ears.

He was watching her so closely, as though he couldn’t get enough of just looking at her. She stared right back at him, a warm glow all through her. It was beautiful. Perfect.

She was lost in his eyes.

Chapter Four Contents Cover Introduction “You want us to be exclusive? That is what you’re talking about here, right?” She groaned at that. “See? I’m a mess when it comes to this relationship stuff. I just asked you to be my friend and ten minutes later I’m grilling you about other women, making you think I’m demanding exclusivity.” “But you do want exclusivity, don’t you?” He had no doubt that she did. “See, that’s the thing, Tessa. You have to tell me what you want.” She blew out her cheeks with a hard breath. “Well, how about if you could be exclusive for the next two weeks, anyway?” Carson tried not to grin. “Even though we’re just friends?” She covered her face with her hands. “We shouldn’t even be talking about this right now. It’s too early to be talking about this.” He suggested, “How about this? I promise not to seduce any strange women for the next two weeks—present company excluded.” She let her hands drop to her lap, revealing bright spots of red high on her cheeks. “Maybe you shouldn’t warn me ahead that you’ll be trying to seduce me.” “Why not? We both know that I will, so the least I can do is be honest about it.” * * * Montana Mavericks: The Baby Bonanza— Meet Rust Creek Falls’ newest bundles of joy! Title Page Marriage, Maverick Style! Christine Rimmer www.millsandboon.co.uk About the Author CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at www.christinerimmer.com . Dedication For MSR, always. Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Epilogue Extract Copyright

Tessa woke slowly, smiling a little. All cozy and safe in bed, she was curled on her side, the blankets tucked up close under her chin.

But then she opened her eyes and felt her smile melt away.

What was this place?

The room was rustic, but richly so. She blinked and stared at an antique bronze mission-style glass lamp by the side of the bed. It sat on a night table made of gorgeous burled wood. Across the room—which was quite large—she saw a pair of French doors that looked out on a redwood deck with plush, padded furniture and a view of evergreen-blanketed mountains beyond. In the far distance, rugged snowcapped peaks poked the sky. It was clear, that sky, and very blue.

Daylight blue.

It must be morning.

But hadn’t it been nighttime just a moment ago, nighttime at the Memorial Day picnic in Rust Creek Falls Park?

She shut her eyes and waited. Surely when she opened them again...

Nope. Nothing had changed. Same big, beautifully appointed room. Same morning light.

She pulled the covers tighter under her chin and whispered, “Where am I?” not really expecting an answer.

Then things got worse.

A sleepy male voice asked from behind her, “Tessa?”

She knew that voice—didn’t she?

Carefully, slowly, clutching the covers close, she rolled to her back. With great reluctance, she turned her head. And there he was, Carson Drake, hair all rumpled, the scruff on his lean cheeks thicker than last night, his devastating mouth sexier than ever.

With a tiny squeal of distress, she lifted the covers enough to confirm her suspicions.

Yep.

Naked under there.

She grabbed the covers close again. “This cannot be happening.”

He looked as bewildered as she felt. “Tessa, I don’t...” Dark eyebrows drew together. Now he looked worried. About her. “Look, are you okay?”