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“But you know what I mean, you’re a good guy.”
“Yeah, good guys like sex, too. You didn’t get the memo?”
Georgia laughed, but the laughter didn’t breach the sadness in her eyes. “I’m leaving next week. You’re looking for—”
“You’re presuming a lot, aren’t you? What if I want to screw you sideways and never call you again?”
She blinked. “Screw me sideways?”
“I have skills you don’t know about.”
“I see,” she said, returning her gaze to his. This time the sadness was gone. Replaced with humor and, yeah, a little horniness. Again, desire reared its head between them. “And you wouldn’t call me afterward?”
“No. No calls.”
“What if you run into me in town?”
“I might say hello... or I might pretend you don’t exist.”
Georgia laughed. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might. I can be an asshole.”
“No, you can’t.”
He smiled. “Okay, I can’t. I’d probably call you the next morning just to see if you ate a healthy breakfast and didn’t break a nail when you opened the shampoo bottle. Then I’d show up at your hotel room wearing a speedo and carrying a bottle of massage oil. It could turn into stalking. So, yeah, you should just get on up to your room. I’ll go take a cold shower.”
“You’re funny.”
“Hey, I’m the whole package.” He adjusted his cowboy hat on his head and started the engine.
“I’m going to kiss you and then tomorrow, I’m coming out to your place to cook you dinner.”
“What?” He jerked his gaze over to her. Georgia wanted to come out to his place? And cook for him? He started to pinch himself. Instead he leaned over and pinched her.
“Oww,” she said, swatting his hand. “I’m going to cook you Sunday dinner, and then we’ll go find some hay. As long as you promise you won’t show up at the Imperial in a weenie bikini carrying cooking oil.”
“You cook?”
Georgia shimmied close, Reed’s gaze zeroing in on her lips. “I may live outside Boston, but I was raised on greens and cornbread. I can cook you under the table... if you’re willing to screw me sideways. We’ll call it a trade.”
He studied her beautiful lips before lowering his head and brushing his mouth softly across hers. “I’ll have a bale ready.”
She leaned closer and kissed him more firmly, swiping her tongue across his bottom lip, nipping it before drawing back. “Deal. And neither one of us will get attached.”
He settled back and gave her his sexy Brad Pitt smile—the one fromThelma & Louisethat all the ladies liked. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“I thought you were a real Texan now? You know dinner means lunch, don’t you?”
Reed had lived in Texas for years but always forgot the quirkiness of Southerners. “Of course.” Her smile said she didn’t believe him. “I’ll be there as soon as I pick up what I need from the store. Get your speedo ready, kid.”
Reed saluted as Georgia climbed from the truck; watching her, he rolled down his window and called, “I won’t leave my wallet in the truck.”
Georgia turned around, one delicious hip jutting to the side. “Make sure that wallet is nice and fat. You’re going to have to work off a damn good meal.”
Then she turned and clipped up the steps in that short, tight miniskirt, a promise for something better than what he’d gotten on that tractor—blue balls.
After leaving the barn, he had told himself their failed attempt at a roll in the hay was for the best. Georgia Hightower wasn’t what he needed. He needed someone to build a future with, not someone to test drive his new sheets... or a broken-down tractor.
