One-Click Buy: April Harlequin Blaze Read online

  When he glanced down at her, she held her breath. Was he used to twenty-one-year-old breasts that hadn’t even started the swan-dive sag? Breasts like Trudy’s?

  Latent suspicion traced through her. Before today, she hadn’t allowed herself to even think he’d been with any of the girls. He hadn’t seemed interested.

  So why now?

  “Perfect,” he said, looking back into her eyes. “You’re so perfect, Carmen.”

  He guided her back into the kitchen, where they found some shelter behind a bank of cupboards. Hidden, he traced her nipple, stimulating her. And when he leaned down to kiss it, she closed her eyes, thinking she might scream.

  The water slapped against the houseboat, sounding louder than it had earlier. It reminded her that the rest of the group was around, liable to walk in at any time.

  But when Eddie eased a hand over her ribs, she didn’t care much. She only pressed against his mouth as he took her breast in, sucking her and swirling his tongue.

  Opening her eyes, she looked down at him, running her hand through his carefree hair as he laved her.

  Then he slid up her body, his mouth catching hers in a kiss—wet, ferocious and starving.

  They melted together, tongues tangling as she stumbled back, unbalanced. Her body flamed, her nipples brushing his chest, her breasts flattening against him when she hit the counter and he cushioned the back of her with his arms.

  He came up for air, their mouths still brushing.

  “How long can you stay with me?” he asked.

  “I…” She tried to think straight, but the humidity of their bodies was clouding everything. “Lucy…She’s waiting back onshore.”

  “With her own guy.” Eddie nipped at Carmen’s lower lip, then let it slide out of his mouth in an endless suck.

  Carmen pressed into him, feeling his erection. The ridge of it nudged her, stimulating her clit.

  “But I’m with Lucy,” she said, the protest weak.

  He pulled back, framing her shoulders with his hands, his fingers coasting down her arms then stroking her breasts.

  She’d almost forgotten about her state of dress. Revealed, when he’d revealed nothing to her.

  But wasn’t that supposed to be the appeal? Wasn’t that what she’d told Lucy about strangers on that first day? It wasn’t his fault that she’d made the mistake of talking too much.

  It’s just that…Well, it would be nice to hear a man speak the truth for once. Malcolm hadn’t done much of that, and she seemed to be getting a repeat performance from Eddie.

  The moment gone, she glanced away from him and tied her bathing suit back in place. She didn’t know what to say now, because he had to be disappointed.

  Then, as if on cue, she heard a yell from outside, and through the window, she saw that the kid who Lucy thought looked like Roy Rogers—Shawn was his name—had caught a fish. He was holding it up like a trophy on a line, high-fiving the other kids.

  When her phone rang, she dived for it, not looking at Eddie. Unable to.

  She felt his frustration though. It tweaked the hairs on the back of her neck as she grasped her cell.

  But what did she owe him?

  Stranger encounters were great because you ended up not owing them a darn thing, right?

  “Luce?” she asked after checking the ID and answering, hoping that nothing was wrong and that this was just a general check-in.

  “Hey, Carm.”

  Her friend paused, and Carmen sensed trouble.

  “Don’t panic,” Lucy said, “but I’m not in Lake Havisu anymore.”

  AS LUCY MADE her announcement, she watched the cowboy while he chatted with a Native American man behind the counter of his Oatman jewelry shop. They were in a small, rough-wooded boutique, with necklaces, rings and bracelets poised for sale on tree branches, behind glass display cases and against black velvet posted on the walls.

  The stranger glanced at her from under the shade of his hat while the owner, Mr. Graham, reached under his display case to extract a piece. She smiled at the cowboy, indicating that all was well, and he winked.

  Lucy’s stomach flip-flopped. Boy, she’d really done it this time.

  She prepared for Carmen’s shock and it wasn’t far behind.

  “What!” her friend said on the other end of the line.

  Holding the phone away from her ear, Lucy made an “oh, my” face to the cowboy, then put the cell back in place again.

  “I told you not to panic,” she said. “It’s no big thing.”

  “No big thing? Where are you? And why are you there instead of here?”

  “Because this is the real Lucy.” Seemed enough of a sufficient explanation. “I’m the girl who isn’t tied to a reason.”

  Carmen went silent, and Lucy wondered if her friend’s reaction had anything to do with how she was wishing she didn’t have any kind of timetable or expectations to meet, either. Even if her carefree friend talked the talk, she had a lot to account for with her family.

  “I’m going to keep in touch, Carm, just like I promised,” Lucy said, turning away from the cowboy and facing a wall of draped silver belts studded with stones. “You’ve got the cowboy’s license number, but nothing bad is going to happen, so you won’t need it. Truly.”

  “You can’t make those kinds of vows,” Carmen said, hardly assuaged. “And ‘keep in touch’? You’re going to be back here tomorrow, right?”

  “Tomorrow night. Of course.”

  “Okay.”

  But one of those rebellious urges had ripped through Lucy again—the same kind that had caused her to take that first impulsive turn out of Peggy Sue’s and onto the highway. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow, even though she wanted Carmen to be reassured.

  “You still haven’t told me where you are,” Carmen said.

  “Close by.”

  “Lucy!”

  “Carm.” She pointed a finger in the air, as if her friend would be able to see how strongly she felt about keeping her location mum. But how could she clearly explain that secrecy was part of her newfound freedom?

  Revealing her whereabouts would only mean that she hadn’t really escaped from the empty spaces she’d seen stretching before her in life. If Lucy didn’t make a change, she would end up alone in her bed at night, in a darkness that allowed her to think too much. And she didn’t like how that darkness isolated her, bringing every suspicion that she would end up alone true.

  She kept her finger up, as if it supported her last-ditch attempt to avoid becoming her worst fears.

  “I’ll surprise you with the location tomorrow,” she said. “But for now, just trust me.”

  She could almost see Carmen’s hackles rise over the phone line. Wrong thing to request of a woman who had such Malcolm issues, but throughout their friendship, Lucy believed she’d earned this one thing.

  “Okay?” Lucy repeated.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “And that makes it all the sweeter. You good on your end?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then go and be wild and free, babe. I’ll see you soon.”

  As they signed off, Carmen still didn’t sound happy, but Lucy knew her friend would come around. She had to stop worrying so much. Lucy knew from experience what a drag it was.

  She’d already checked in with her brother, taking care not to tell him the details of who she was with—let him still think she was a virgin, for heaven’s sake. Besides, she would also call her parents sometime tonight to say she loved them, just as she always did. She was definitely covered.

  But now it was all about her stranger.

  Going to the counter to nestle by his side, she noticed that he was holding a bamboo-link choker with a turquoise pendant as a centerpiece. She’d been admiring it earlier.

  “Maybe you could put that on and I’ll inspect you with devoted admiration,” Mr. Graham said, crinkles framing his brown eyes. His face was a map of laugh lines, his skin leathery under his fe
ather-accented cowboy hat.

  Her stranger glanced up from the jewelry. “I’ll give her all the admiration she needs.”

  He broke into an amiable grin, and the shopkeeper waggled his eyebrows.

  Lucy’s pulse fluttered. Her cowboy sounded kind of jealous, or at least possessive. She shouldn’t have wanted that, but it felt nice anyway.

  “I’d like the choker though,” she said, reaching for her wallet. “How much?”

  Before Mr. Graham could talk, the cowboy put his hands on her shoulders and turned her away from him. “I’ve already taken care of it.”

  “You bought it?”

  The owner’s laugh was tobacco gritted. “He’s giving you a gift, sweetheart. Accept it gracefully.”

  The cowboy lifted her hair, pushing its thickness to the side, and then slid the jewelry around her throat. She reached up to feel the turquoise, overwhelmed by this token. He didn’t have to do this. It wasn’t a part of what she’d imagined.

  Abruptly, she realized that she’d structured her fantasy, too. And that meant she was the same old Lucy, caught in a never-ending cycle.

  Rebelling again, she let go of all expectation.

  “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder as he spread her hair out.

  She caught the look on his face, and it sent a wash of lust through her. Enraptured? Was that what he was?

  By her? Lucy Christie?

  She caught herself middoubt. This was something else she would have to change—not believing that she was worth it, that a man would want to stick around for her even if she didn’t push him to. She’d spent so much time being rejected that she’d come to believe the worst.

  But that didn’t make sense with this cowboy, who was looking at her as if she was the be-all and end-all.

  When Mr. Graham cleared his throat to cut through the intimacy, she dragged her gaze away, blushing.

  “You’re welcome,” she heard the cowboy say softly.

  There was a trace of…something…in his tone. An undercurrent that she couldn’t comprehend.

  Avoiding it, she bought some silver feather earrings for Carmen, then said goodbye to the shopkeeper, exiting into the dusty street. But Lucy could barely put one foot in front of the other. She was that weak-kneed.

  They walked past the hitching posts in front of other shops, past the parked cars, past the burros that were said to be wild descendants of the ones the miners had brought here. Their sole purpose was to wander around, looking for food from tourists, then return to the hills when the town shut down for the day.

  “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Lucy said, touching the choker. “But thank you again.”

  “You have this and I have your panties. And I have ulterior motives.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him.

  He tipped up his hat in a manner that was too cocky to be completely “aw shucks.”

  “I want to see you in nothing else but that jewelry,” he said.

  She almost went liquid then and there.

  Doing her best to volley back, she said, “I noticed that you picked a stone that clashed with my red-and-white top, the better to get the clothing off me. Clever of you, Mr. Cowboy. Very clever.”

  They came to the adobe-faced Oatman Hotel, where they’d already checked in. They’d thought to rent the Gable-Lombard room for the night, but more than anything, it was a display piece that allowed tourists to take a gander, with mementos and a window in the door. The viewing square had a shade, of course, but Lucy hadn’t liked the idea of disturbing what seemed like a tribute to past glory.

  So they’d checked into a room on the opposite side and down the hall. No one else seemed to be staying on the premises though, and the bare halls almost sang of ghosts.

  “Hungry?” the cowboy asked as they passed the steps leading to the rooms and headed for the restaurant/bar instead.

  “I could stand a bite.” It was going to be a long night, and the cheese and fruit from this afternoon wasn’t going to hold.

  As they sat down at a time-scarred table, she took in the clutter of the Old West room. Dollars decorated the walls, and the barmaid told them that miners used to pin their bills there before going back to work, just so they’d have enough drinking money when they returned to town. Antique tin signs, like a round red Coca-Cola ad, and paraphernalia, like washboards and small brooms, provided a warm ambience in spite of the gray-planked walls.

  After they ordered drinks—bottled beer for him, soda for her—they listened to the crowd around them, the tourists on their way to other destinations tonight.

  Lucy smiled. She had nowhere to be.

  Yet…for a moment, it left her floundering.

  Then she grabbed back onto where she was, who she was with. A cowboy, minding his manners by taking off his hat and hanging it on the back of a chair, his hair dark, his eyes pale and ice-hot.

  He saw her watching him and, before she could even remember to breathe again, he’d leaned over, his expression pulse-stutteringly serious as he caressed her cheek.

  He didn’t say it, but she knew what he was no doubt asking again.

  Who are you?

  She had no answers. Not anymore.

  9

  WHEN DAWN TILTED through the unshaded hotel window, illuminating a room that looked as if a miner might be right at home in it, Joshua was already awake.

  He had liked the idea of rising and shining to a bare view of the morning. But more importantly, the anticipation of seeing the sunrise cover the woman beside him in bed excited his senses even more.

  In fact, he’d been so stimulated that he hadn’t actually ever gone to sleep. Having sex most of the night could’ve had something to do with keeping him up though.

  And in more ways than one.

  Sitting up in the rickety old bed, Joshua ran a hand over his face, then ruffled his hair. The brunette still lay sleeping, her dark locks splayed over the pillow, her hand resting next to a face that seemed almost angelic in repose.

  But, farther down, sheets gathered just below her hipbones, and that tempered some of her innocence. There was just something about naked breasts tipped by dark pink nipples that signified temptation to a man who was all too willing to sin.

  Joshua’s skin tingled. He’d tasted those breasts last night, tasted every other pink part of her over and over again until she had fallen into an exhausted slumber.

  From that point on, Joshua had mostly lain awake, hearing the eerie bray of a burro that was still wandering the street. His imagination had taken it from there, conjuring all the ghosts that were supposed to haunt this old hotel.

  Lonely, he had thought as he watched his lover while sleep made her chest gently rise and fall.

  He had felt lonelier than he could’ve ever imagined, and he thought he knew why now.

  This woman reminded him of home because he’d always wanted what had lived there: love. And throughout his life, as he’d taken all the women, all the possible affection, for granted, he’d never dwelled on the emotion. Not until his dad had lost his mom and Joshua had lost the land.

  Now he wanted it all—the property and the feelings. The innocence of accepting someone who fit him perfectly, even if the connection was chemical and unspoken right now.

  Yet it could be more, Joshua thought, finally wishing to accept it. Much more.

  As if sensing the light creeping through the window, his no-name brunette stirred, stretching her arms and drawing in a long breath. Then she opened her eyes, smiling lazily in the pale morning.

  His heart clutched, emphasizing how empty it’d been.

  They didn’t say anything at first, just got used to each other all over again. But maybe there wasn’t anything left to talk about since she hadn’t allowed either of them to verbally provide anything of substance.

  She reached for the half-full glass of wine that rested on the wobbly wooden nightstand. After sipping from it, she put it back down and reclined.

  “Morning breath,” she mum
bled. “Who needs it?”

  Following suit, he scooped his bottle of beer from the floor and took a swig. They’d brought up some drinks from the bar before it’d closed last night.

  He gave her a knowing grin.

  They both laughed softly. It was too quiet, even if they suspected that no one else was in the hotel…or in town, for that matter. They weren’t even sure if there was a caretaker around.

  She stretched again, as if her body needed to work out the positions he’d put her through last night.

  “Were you watching me because I snore?” she asked. “Please tell me I don’t.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Thank God.”

  He wondered how many men she’d asked the same question. A spike of envy thrust at him, but he didn’t know why. It couldn’t be important, even if he had become enamored of this woman’s spirit, the vitality she had that he sorely required himself.

  Setting his beer back on the floor, he said, “I was only looking you over, trying to get more hints about you.”

  Her gaze filled with that odd expression he’d noticed before. “And what did you find out?”

  “Nothing. Just that you don’t move around much during slumber time. See how the sheets around you are still nice and neat while on my side of the bed…?”

  He gestured to how the linen tangled with his legs.

  “You’re restless.” She tugged at the sheets covering his nethers. “That’s what sleep says about you. I seem to be a much calmer napper.”

  “Great. Now I know more about you when you’re sleeping than when you’re awake.” He yanked his section of the sheet away from her grasp and secured it over his groin. “I’m striking gold by the minute.”

  There was that look again: definitely something like…

  Wariness.

  That was it. A caution that went beyond the pseudodanger of their games.

  Games she insisted on playing. Games he was ready to leave behind, except for the fact that he was pretty sure it wouldn’t take her long to leave him once she’d had her fun.

  Joshua fell into a reverie of what-ifs.