The Maverick Read online

  Furthermore, cooking would guarantee no more dinner rendezvous with Guy. She’d never been a girl scout, but that hadn’t prevented her from learning how to be prepared.

  The duplex was lovely, an old two-story house which had been divided for the sake of efficiency. A large eat-in kitchen, living room and a half bath downstairs, two bedrooms and full bath up. Beat-up hardwood floors and tall ceilings added character and a host of mismatched furniture provided extra charm. It was cozy, Julia decided, and much preferred to a sterile hotel room.

  In many ways it reminded her of home. She’d bought a little craftsmen fixer-upper just outside of Atlanta three years ago and had been painstakingly restoring things a room at a time. She was a room away from being finished—a guest bedroom—and then she planned to start working more on the landscaping.

  Presently she kept a small herb garden with only tomatoes and peppers, but she longed for more room and more vegetables. Actually, she wanted to plant a few rows of corn, but couldn’t see her neighbors appreciating that.

  Wow, Julia thought, marveling at her train of thought. It looked like she was prepared to go to extreme lengths to avoid thinking about Guy McCann being right next door. Even this was a new one for her—hot guy or planting corn?

  Sheesh, she thought with a silent whimper. She was in trouble.

  She’d hurried around getting everything in order—her fix for stress—and the whole time she’d been annoyingly aware of the fact that only a wall separated them, when it didn’t seem potent enough to stop his appeal. In less than fifteen minutes he’d knock at her door and collect her for dinner, the one Garrett had suggested, so she couldn’t very well refuse.

  In truth, Julia realized that their meeting before their classes started in the morning was a good idea. Professional and all that. But keeping it professional with a guy like him… Well, that was going to be the true test of her character and, considering she desperately needed to rip a seam in her moral fiber to fix her sexual performance—and he was exactly the type of guy she needed to do it for her—she knew she was wading into uncharted waters.

  Hot water, no doubt, she thought, if that incinerating stare she’d felt as she’d walked up the sidewalk a little while ago was any indication.

  She didn’t have to look up to know that he’d been standing at the window watching her. Just like before, she could feel it. Not the typical someone’s-looking-at-me sensation, either. This was more potent. Lethal. It made her spine tingle, her breasts quicken and her belly inflate with fizzy air.

  Quite honestly, she didn’t think she’d ever been around a man who affected her more. She wanted to chalk it up to her recent plan to find a sexual instructor, but instinctively knew that wasn’t the case.

  Guy McCann elicited strong emotions from her and thus far they’d run the gamut of wanting to slap his smug face to wanting to kiss the irreverent smile right off his lips. Unaccustomed to not being in complete control of her emotions, Julia knew her ability to reason had been severely compromised as well, otherwise she wouldn’t be fantasizing about making Guy her sex tutor.

  It was out of the question, she told herself. Ludicrous. She was here in a professional capacity for chrissakes, representing her father. To use this convenient opportunity away from home for her own personal gain had to be wrong. Sure, it wasn’t like they’d be doing it in the classroom in front of their pupils, but still… If she took advantage of him, it would be after she’d already conducted her lesson for the day, when her time was her own, but—

  A knock sounded at her front door, preventing her from completing the thought. Julia’s gaze darted to her watch and she tamped down a surge of irritation, then got up and opened the door.

  Looking freshly showered, devastatingly sexy and a little too confident and amused for her comfort, Guy stood on her front porch. “You’re early,” Julia said by way of greeting.

  Guy consulted his cell phone for the time and frowned. “Sorry. Do you want me to come back in three minutes?”

  “No,” she said. He kept glancing from her to his cell phone and back as though doing some sort of comparison. Julia paused. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no,” Guy said, scrutinizing the image on his cell phone again. He held it up for her inspection and the picture she saw there made her belly tip in a nauseated roll.

  Her mug shot.

  How in God’s name had he—

  “Personally, I think you should have just left your hair down instead of using the wig, but I have to admit it’s pretty damned sexy.” He flashed a grin that would have made a rose bloom in the artic circle and a hopeful furrow emerged between his brows. “You didn’t happen to bring that dress, did you?”

  4

  THEY SAY A PICTURE IS worth a thousand words, but Guy would have to deem this particular photo priceless. He grinned.

  Because it matched the look on her face.

  Julia gaped, eyes wide, and high color rose in her cheeks. “Where did you get that?” she demanded, albeit weakly.

  He snapped his phone shut. “A friend. I’m famished,” he said, retracing his steps off her porch. He looked around and took a deep cleansing breath, as though all was right with his world. “Are you hungry?”

  She hurriedly locked her door, then scrambled along behind him. He decided he liked it, her chasing after him for a change. Go ahead, he thought. Check out my ass. I happen to like it.

  “What friend?” she wanted to know.

  Guy chuckled under his breath and opened the passenger door for her. “Boy when you said ‘unavoidably detained’ you meant it, didn’t you? The guy who bailed you out of jail, this Warren, is he your boyfriend?”

  Surely not, Guy had thought skeptically when he’d first seen his picture, as well. Bless Payne’s thorough heart, he’d run a check on him, too. The guy looked about as fun as watching paint dry, downright maudlin. He’d dubbed him Eeyore, and one look at him had told him that the guy didn’t possess the necessary skill to rock her world.

  Her?

  With him?

  What? Did she have a “boring” fetish?

  Unfortunately, since it was his house she’d been arrested for attempted B & E—dressed up like a comic-book bombshell, no less—and he’d been the guy she’d called to the rescue, Guy had come to unhappy conclusion that Eeyore had to be her boyfriend.

  It boggled the mind.

  Though he knew he shouldn’t give a damn, the mere idea set his teeth on edge. He—a badass former Ranger—was jealous of a man with absolutely no discernible evidence of testosterone. A bloody tax accountant.

  “How do you know about Warren?” she asked as Guy slid behind the wheel. He started the truck, then dialed the stereo down to accommodate conversation.

  “He bailed you out,” Guy said. He shifted into drive, shot a look over his shoulder, then pulled away from the curb. “You were trying to break into his house. My friend thought I’d want to know these things.”

  Her jaw worked angrily. “Did it ever occur to your friend that none of this is any of your business?” she practically ground out.

  Guy flashed her an unrepentant smile and dropped his shades into place. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Why would it? We’re in the business of not minding our business.”

  She frowned. “Come again?”

  “Ranger Security,” Guy told her. He aimed his truck toward Frank’s, a nice little Italian place off base. “A couple of friends and I run a personal security and P.I. firm in Atlanta. We earn our living by being nosy, though personally, I prefer the term ‘curious.’”

  She snorted. “Call it whatever you want it, but you had no business delving into my private life. What on earth would make you want to do a thing like that?” she asked, a mortified wail creeping into her voice.

  Guy slid her a lingering look and lowered his voice an octave. “I was curious.”

  Julia blushed adorably and looked away. “You could have just asked.”

  “But the
n I wouldn’t have this hot new screen saver for my cell phone.”

  A smile played around her lips before she could fully squash it. “You’re insufferable.”

  Guy shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

  “I’ll just bet you have.”

  “So what’s the deal with Eeyore, I mean Warren?” Guy asked again. “You never answered me.”

  She turned to look at him. “Eeyore?” she asked pointedly.

  He slid her a sidelong glance. “Surely you’ve seen the resemblance.”

  Julia chuckled and shook her head, evidently not quite sure what to make of him. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

  “And you’re really good at avoiding questions. Maybe I should call my friend back and have him get the score from Warren. You know, it’s amazing how people will just spill their guts to you. Really. You wouldn’t believe some of the—”

  She gasped, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t.”

  He tutted under his breath and smiled innocently at her. “Aw, you ought to know me better than that.”

  Looking completely irritated and miserable, Julia crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the windshield. “He was my boyfriend,” she finally said. “We broke up.”

  Before or after he’d bailed her out of jail? Guy wondered, curiously elated at this news. It meant that she was unattached and available and though he shouldn’t be considering any sort of sexual entanglement with her, he had to admit the idea was becoming more and more seductive.

  Had she dressed up for Warren as a way to win him back? Geez God, surely not. Where was her self-esteem? Her self-respect? Or had Eeyore dumped her after her untimely stint in the slammer? For whatever reason, this seemed more likely. She hadn’t cut him loose, that was for sure, otherwise she wouldn’t have been planning a sexy little rendezvous featuring her in the starring role.

  As unbelievable as it was, Eeyore had dumped her.

  He smothered a disbelieving grunt. Boring and stupid. Now there was a winning combination. What the hell had she been thinking? Granted he’d known her less than a day, but even he could see that this Warren hadn’t been the guy for her. He’d had chesticles for pity’s sake, big man boobs. Hell, the guy probably had more estrogen than she did.

  Since she seemed more humiliated than hurt, Guy decided to continue his roll as nosy ass and probe for further details. “Why’d you break up?”

  Her lips formed a humorless smile. “Like a dog with a bone, aren’t you? I’ll bet you were one of those kids who liked poking dead animals with sticks to see if they were really dead.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Guy said, stung. He loved animals, dammit, and while he’d admit to being a hellion, he’d never been a bully. Or a psychopath in the making. He shot her a glance. “My dog would take offense at the comment.”

  “You’ve got a dog?”

  Her brows winged up in surprise, as though he were too shallow to care for a pet. Guy set his jaw and found himself becoming more and more perturbed. “Yes,” he said tightly. “I have a dog—Bear. He’s a chocolate lab.”

  “Oh.”

  He waited a beat and when she didn’t expand on comment he said, “Why would you think I wouldn’t have a dog?”

  “I just assumed you wouldn’t have time for one,” she said breezily. “An animal requires a commitment and, what with all your snooping around and womanizing, I wouldn’t have figured you’d invest that much of yourself into a pet.”

  “And I wouldn’t have thought you’d dress up like a hooker to try and drum up some sexual interest in your boring boyfriend, then get yourself thrown into the slammer for your trouble, either.” He smiled wolfishly at her. “But I guess we all make mistakes.”

  Back to being mean again and he instantly regretted it, but dear God, the woman was provoking.

  “I’m sorry,” Guy told her, mentally swearing. “That was uncalled for.”

  Julia sighed heavily. “Don’t apologize. I goaded you.”

  “That’s no excuse for being cruel. You just—” Guy paused, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say what he meant, which was highly unusual for him when he normally didn’t use an internal editor.

  “Don’t sugarcoat it,” she told him, smiling now. “Just say what you mean. First lesson in building a trusting relationship, right?”

  “Fine.” He glared at her with exasperated humor. “You annoy the shit out of me.” He grunted, drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re such a smart-ass.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Hi, Pot. Meet Kettle.”

  “I know I’m a smart-ass,” Guy readily admitted. “I’m just not used to dealing with a woman who’s one also.” Actually, it was kind of refreshing. Women didn’t ordinarily argue with him. They batted their lashes and sat in his lap and ruffled his hair. Conversation was limited.

  She smiled and chewed the inside of her cheek. “No, you’re probably used to women fawning all over you and agreeing with every macho prehistoric comment that comes out of that sexy mouth of yours.”

  He brightened. “You think my mouth is sexy?”

  Julia closed her eyes tightly shut, then opened them again and chuckled softly. “Out of everything I said that’s the only thing you heard?”

  Guy wheeled his truck into Frank’s parking lot and found an empty space. “No, I heard the rest of it. I just liked that part the best.”

  She blushed again, fought another smile. “You would.”

  “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I think your mouth is sexy, too.” Without thinking, he reached over, cupped her chin and gently ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. She gasped softly, the sound vibrating something deep inside of him, and those mesmerizing green eyes fluttered shut.

  Invitation enough, Guy thought, closing the distance between them.

  His mouth settled over hers and a shock of sensation so intense it made every hair on his body stand on end—along with another part below his waist—shook him to the very core. His entire body quaked with a weird sensation akin to adrenaline overload—as a junkie, he recognized it—and a shaky breath leaked out of his mouth and into hers. She tasted like sweet tea and butterscotch candy and the vaguest hint of something wild, wicked and in-definable.

  He became instantly addicted.

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then she sighed—the sweetest breath of supplication he’d ever tasted—pushed her hands into his hair and her tongue into his mouth and the rest of the world vanished.

  He’d been right.

  She was a hellion in the making—and he was just the guy to help her with the transformation.

  IT WAS OFFICIAL, Julia decided.

  She was a slut.

  She’d known Guy McCann for less than day and yet the second he’d touched her—just the barest graze of the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, probably the single most erotic touch she’d ever been privy to—and she’d melted.

  Right into his mouth.

  Truthfully, she hadn’t expected him to kiss her—a pretty bold move for a guy who’d she’d spent the majority of the time arguing with—but then who was she kidding? She’d known from the minute she’d met him that he played by his own rules. He was cocky, reckless and irreverent, infuriating…and absolutely sexy as hell.

  And, oh Lord, he could kiss like the very devil.

  He fed at her mouth with a combination of confidence and skill that was simply drugging with its sensuality. A bold sweep of his tongue, the smooth drag of his lips over hers. He’d leaned over and had framed both hands around her face, angling her closer so that he could deepen the kiss. She felt his fingers slid over her jaw, almost reverently, and a satisfied masculine growl of approval vibrated in their joined mouths.

  Julia’s belly quivered, her nipples pearled and an explosion of heat erupted in her womb, sending a rush of warmth over the quaking, tingling folds of her sex.

  Sweet mercy.

  She tangled her fingers in the short
hair at his nape, sliding her thumb along the smooth patch of skin behind his ear and wiggled closer to him. Her blood burned through her veins, moving sluggishly with the weight of desire, and seemed to burn hotter in her suddenly heavy breasts and needy, neglected womb.

  A kiss, a mere kiss, and yet if he so much as touched her, she knew she’d come.

  This was what she’d been missing, Julia realized as a buzz of excitement joined the tornado of sensation swirling madly through her body.

  This was pure desire in its most potent form.

  Mindless. Desperate. Agonizingly unfamiliar because she’d never experienced anything even remotely close to this sort of passion. Every cell in her body hammered with the urge to get closer, to feel naked skin to naked skin, his mouth attached to her nipple, the hard long thrust of him deep inside of her.

  She whimpered longingly into his mouth and felt him smile against her lips, then seemingly pleased and further emboldened, he upped the tempo of the kiss. Suckling her tongue, probing the insides of her mouth, and all the while, moving those amazing lips over hers in a mimicking dance she’d love to feel below her waist. If he could make this kind of magic in her mouth, then the possibilities were endless on other equally sensitive body parts.

  To her chagrin, Guy drew back. Her swollen lips and drunken expression peered back at her from his mirrored shades. A slow smile slid across his lips. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked stupidly.

  “For not slapping me. I’ve been wanting to do that since the instant I saw your mouth.”

  She blinked. The instant he saw her mouth? But—

  “It’s hot. And you’re a helluva kisser. Good timing. Not too wet, not too dry. Wow.”

  Spoken like a true teacher, Julia thought, still swaddled in the post-kiss afterglow. And he’d complimented her. Now that was a first.