“Go to hell!” She turned her back on them and thrust her bra and thong in her pocket.
“I’m there, kitten. I’m so hard, I’m losing blood in the rest of my body. You sure you don’t want to stay and help me out?”
The nerve of the unbelievable ass**le! “You’ve got a palm and five fingers. Figure it out.”
She marched to the front door. The sound of the door slamming reverberated into the peaceful East Texas afternoon until she laid rubber on the road and sped away.
“Did you find her?” Luc asked, his annoyance coming through loud and clear.
Damn the perfect digital cell phone signal.
In the old analog days, he could have pretended he hadn’t heard. “Yeah.” Deke had found Kimber, all right. And just like she had at seventeen, she’d tied his gut up in knots so crazy an Eagle Scout with Houdini ancestry couldn’t get them undone.
“You’re going to apologize for scaring her off and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble,” Luc reminded.
Deke didn’t want to. He didn’t. But as Luc had rationally pointed out, scaring the crap out of Kimber was only a temporary solution to a problem that wasn’t going to just go away because he wanted it to. Kimber was too tenacious to simply give up. She’d track someone else down to help her in her quest to catch Jesse McCall—
someone who, at best, would cause her discomfort because they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. At worst, they would take total advantage of her and hurt her.
The Colonel would kill Deke if anything happened to her because he’d had his dick in a knot. Her old man was scary, too. Tough SOB. Mean when he needed to be.
Not that he’d condone Deke and Luc introducing his baby to the joys of anal sex…but somehow he figured the Colonel would pick that over Kimber picking up a very minor acquaintance in a bar and doing— he couldn’t think about what she might do with two other guys. He gripped the thin wooden table in front of him and didn’t let go until he heard it crack.
But it wasn’t his old boss who motivated him now. It was Kimber herself. He’d had vivid fantasies about her once upon a time, great for jacking off to. But reality was far stronger, like comparing a gust to a category-five hurricane. She’d tasted like sugary innocence. Sweet in his mouth. So damn perfect. Bright in his arms, like a summer day. She was white heat and soft skin and…
God, listen to him. Fucking pathetic, going on about the girl like he was Keats or something. Hell.
One fact he couldn’t escape, however: Kimber was the sole temptation that, as much as he hated to admit it, might be stronger than his self-control. He should be pushing her away as fast as he could, before he swallowed her whole, like a snake does its prey.
Before he destroyed her. But she wasn’t going to give up her quest, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else tutor her. Blowing out a breath with a short, ugly curse, Deke lifted the longneck to his mouth and swallowed. And he stared.
Kimber was currently on the dance floor at Adam Catrell’s bar, The Hang Out, swaying her sweet hips to a Shakira song about that very part of her anatomy. With thighs bared by a skirt so short it neared indecency, a strip of pale belly bared, she danced—sandwiched between Adam and his brother, Burke. The club was smoky and crowded and just getting loud. And despite all that, Deke couldn’t mistake the lust on either brother’s face.
“Are you listening to me?” Luc ranted.
He gripped the phone tighter. “You made yourself real clear last night, cuz. I’m going to play Sir Galahad and ride in to save the day.”
“Don’t forget the apologizing part.”
“Back off.”
Luc sighed. “Tell her we’ll help. Nicely. No mention of using her ass so harshly that she won’t sit for a week.”
Deke winced. He’d treated her badly, hoping to dissuade her from this foolish, reckless idea. Luc knew that, but admitting it out loud would only give him more ammunition. He already had right on his side…
“You’re pushing it.”
“You’re the one pushing. You’re shoving Kimber away when she’s done nothing but ask for a favor. And it’s a favor we’re both dying to grant.”
“Hell, yes, I pushed her away. She’s a virgin.”
“She isn’t Heather.”
That was just dirty pool. Deke gripped the phone, pissed at how low this conversation had become in the space of a heartbeat. “She has nothing to do with this. Kimber just isn’t my type.”
Luc laughed in his ear. “Really? Who is your type?” Deke paused. Hell, he could barely remember another woman’s name for thinking about getting inside Kimber. “Alyssa Devereaux.”
“That blonde strip club owner with the Tupperware br**sts?”