Straddling the Line - By Sarah M. Anderson Page 0,21

One moment she was struggling with what to say, and the next, he was consuming her. Her body responded, pulling him down into her. Even better, she thought as his tongue swept into her mouth. His hand somehow worked its way under her overalls and found bare skin. His fingers inched up, slipping beneath the band of her bra. His other hand did the same, except it went down, finding the breath of space between her panties and her bottom. And just like that, she was naked—while clothed—in his arms. In broad daylight. In the middle of a school.

Her knees fluttered—everything fluttered. Especially that hot spot between her legs. He could tell, too. His lips curved into a smile against hers while he hummed a satisfied sigh. She could feel the drumbeat of his heart against her chest, going faster and faster as the kiss deepened. Somehow, that sensation made her even weaker. He held her up, cupping her bottom, which made things better and worse at the same time.

God, if he touched her in just the right spot…

“Josey? Where are you, sweetie?”

There’s nothing like the sound of a mother’s voice to take the heated build of sexual tension and drive it into the dirt. Ben pulled away from her, taking up a safe spot across the room as Mom opened the door. “I’ve got lunch and— Oh!”

Just as he’d smiled in the face of a furious Don Two Eagles, Ben didn’t even blink. He grabbed the grocery bag before it hit the floor. “Ma’am, let me help you with that.”

Busted. Josey rubbed the back of her hand against her mouth, as if that would erase any sign of yet another stolen kiss. Good Lord, what was she doing? She couldn’t even be sure if she’d brushed her teeth today.

Mom shot her a look of mild panic, which was enough to remind Josey what she needed to do. “Mom, this is Ben Bolton. He’s the chief financial officer of Crazy Horse Choppers.” Mom’s eyes got even wider, as if to ask, that guy? Josey nodded, yes—that guy. “Ben, this is my mother, Sandra White Plume.”

“Ah—the principal? Nice to meet you.” Still holding lunch, Ben managed a polite handshake. “Your daughter has been telling me about the good work you’re doing here. I’m impressed at what you’ve accomplished.”

Man, he was smooth.

Mom’s panic turned to shock, but only for a second before she managed to pull it together. “Mr. Bolton, how wonderful of you to visit our school.”

Josey took a slow, deep breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Mom’s Lakota accent had dropped, and she spoke in her soft New York accent. She could just do that—turn off the Indian and turn on the New Yorker—like the flip of a switch. It always took Josey a little longer to switch gears.

“Sweetie?” Mom was looking at her. Josey realized she’d lost track of the conversation.

“Huh?”

“I said, I didn’t want to interrupt your tour. Mr. Bolton, it is truly a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ma’am, the feeling is mutual.” Except he had that big, flashy smile on his face. He waited until Mom had reclaimed the bag of peanut butter sandwiches before he turned back to her. “But I do have to be going. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.” And then he extended his hand for a nice, professional handshake.

Really? After he’d hunted her down—after he’d seen her at her grimiest—after that kiss—she was going to get a handshake?

Ben shook her mother’s hand, too. Josey guessed he was thanking her, too, but her ears weren’t working. Nothing was working.

Ben turned back to her. His eyes blazed at her. “Josey, I’ll be in contact.”

Her name. It was the first time he’d said it out loud.

The question was, what kind of contact?

Four

The clanking of the garage door sliding up snapped Ben back to awareness. He was at the shop? Funny. He didn’t remember deciding to come back here. The last thing he remembered was…

Kissing Josey White Plume.

Damn. He’d kissed her. Again. This time had been different, though. He’d touched her. The heat of her bare skin still burned against his palms. Under his touch, her body had shaken with the kind of desire that couldn’t be faked. The way she made him feel—it went way beyond not getting laid for a while. She drove him to distraction. If her mom hadn’t barged in on them, there was no telling how far he would have taken her. How far she