Talk Me Down (4 page)

His cock grew harder as she watched, and she ceased to care about his abs. He was long and thick, the skin stretched tight until it glowed like silk.

Itching for something naughty to do, Molly’s fingers drifted over her hip and pressed against her damp panties. A moan crawled from her throat as she pictured Ben watching her, getting harder, his cock throbbing with need. She wanted him desperate, delirious. She wanted him to watch until he snapped, until he took her rough and hard.

Molly’s free hand reached blindly for the knob on the nightstand drawer as her other slipped beneath pink cotton and stroked.

“Oh,” she whispered, encouraged by her own slickness and heat. God, she wanted him there, sliding in, stretching her until she begged for more or for mercy or for anything he’d give her.

Her other hand closed around her favorite toy. Not Ben, but it had been her best friend for months now.

Molly slipped off her panties and clicked the switch. The familiar buzzing made her smile, and then it made her arch her back and moan in approval.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, yes, yes, yes.

She began floating up into pleasure and turned back to her fantasy of Ben. He was eyeing her with hot anger, furious that she hadn’t let him near yet.

Molly stroked one of her nipples, imagining the way he—

A sudden metallic screech interrupted, terrifying her into a scream. She sprang up, flinging the vibrator across the room. It landed with a thud and writhed itself into a dim corner. “Jesus! What the—?”

The ancient phone next to her bed rang again, nearly jangling itself off the table.

“Oh. My.
God.
” She thought she’d electrocuted herself with a defective sex toy. Her heart was still trying its best to escape from her chest, jumping ship at the first sign of danger. She pressed her hand to it, panting to catch some air.

Brrrrrrr-ring.

It had better be Ben. Maybe the two of them had some sort of psychosexual connection. If they did, she’d been giving him a hell of a ride for the past ten years.

Molly snatched up the phone and attempted to answer with some dignity.
“What?”

“Hey, beautiful.”

Unfortunately, she knew exactly who it was. Cameron, that
bastard.
“Go away!”

Molly slammed down the phone, hoping she broke the ancient menace in the process, but of course they didn’t make ’em like they used to. No, this phone wasn’t slapped together in China. The damn thing was probably made of pure American steel.

It jangled alive again. Loudly. Her aunt had clearly been hard of hearing.

Molly was nearly weeping with frustration when she answered. “Please, Cameron, for the love of God, leave me alone!”

Cameron just chuckled. “Pete said you were in a bad mood. I don’t think mountain living suits you.”

“I’m not coming back to Denver. Now,
goodbye.
”

When she hung up this time, Molly turned the phone over, searching for an off switch. But apparently Ringer Off switches hadn’t been invented forty years ago, so she just unplugged it.

Un-fricking-believable. Cameron Kasten was now officially ruining even her solo sex life. Had he
known
she was masturbating? Molly glanced at the windows, just to be sure, then shook her head to clear the shocked buzzing away.

The buzzing stayed. Frowning, she tugged the sheets up over her chest and glanced around the room. But of course it was nothing menacing, just her favorite toy, shaking its little blue self half to death against the baseboards. Despair slapped Molly full in the face.

She didn’t even want her favorite blue toy. She wanted Ben Lawson, and he didn’t want her.

Legs weak and heavy, Molly forced herself to get up and retrieve the vibrator. She stared down at it for a moment, but she wasn’t even close to being in the mood now. She just switched it off and headed for the shower.

Thank God she hadn’t adjusted to the altitude yet. She was going out tonight and she needed those drinks to hit her hard. It was all the hard she’d be getting for a while.

No way was Molly Jennings a hooker. She was sweet and smart and had always been a good student and daughter.

But then who were all these male “friends” she seemed to have acquired? Sure, she’d claimed she was doing nothing illegal, but she’d already lied about a half dozen other things, why not that?

He glanced at his computer, tempted to do a background check. It’d be easy enough to find out if she had any arrests on record. But it felt unethical; he didn’t really have a good reason to pry into her life.

Even if she had been a hooker in Denver, it was nothing to him. He wasn’t going to date her. She certainly wasn’t going to be turning tricks up here; she’d have moved to Aspen for that. So he just couldn’t convince himself he had a reason to look her up.

“Plus, she’s not a prostitute,” he muttered. There was no way in the world she’d be so cute and shiny if she’d been living that lifestyle. She had a sharp wit, but that was the only thing hard about her. Molly Jennings was all softness and light. And heat.

Ben crossed the offensive word off his list and let his body fall back in his chair. He cracked his neck, ran his hands over his face.

It was almost seven. He was exhausted and frustrated and jumpy. He needed a damn drink.

Leaning as far to the left as he could, Ben craned his neck to catch a glimpse of The Bar outside his office window. The
h
on the sign had burned out long ago; half the locals called it T-Bar now. The place was worn-out and small, and it was the only place in town to get a drink.

And she’d be there.

He couldn’t avoid the woman; there was only one gas station, one grocery store, one bar. Still, maybe seeing her tonight wasn’t a good idea. He’d been picturing her in her fuzzy pink hat and white coat and high-heeled boots…and nothing else. In his mind, she looked all wrapped up and proper, bundled against the cold. But then she untied the belt on the thigh-length coat and tossed it open and there she was in all the natural pink and white glory of her naked body.

“Jesus, I need to get laid,” he groaned, rubbing his face again. Except that he immediately thought of Molly and his body began to cast its own vote on the subject.

No, he wouldn’t date her. But drinking wasn’t dating, after all. Neither was flirting.

Ben shut down the computer and headed for home. A shower and then…bed. Probably.

Molly had never written anything quite so wicked before, and Mrs. Gibson wouldn’t be the only one shocked by it. Molly expected her editor to be very pleasantly surprised. Though Molly wasn’t into bondage herself, there was a huge market for that kind of story.

And heck, even if she wasn’t into being tied up, she just might change her mind after this book. That sheriff was one hot hero. Almost as hot as Ben himself.

Ben. If he didn’t show up at The Bar tonight, Molly had promised herself she’d leave the poor guy alone. If he
did
show up…well that was another beast altogether. She didn’t want to add complication to her life any more than he did, but there was nothing complicated about gettin’ it on.

She was giggling at her own thoughts when the night darkened around her. She’d passed all the houses on her street and walked right out of their friendly porch lights and into the small strip of forest that divided her neighborhood from Main. Her neck prickled in warning. She stopped.

She wasn’t scared. This was Tumble Creek, after all. But she did turn in a slow circle all the same, searching every shadow for signs of movement. Nothing except her city-girl imagination.

The full moon shone on the street a dozen yards ahead of her, illuminating the back lot of the feed store. The apartment above the store was where Ben and Quinn had lived together during college summers. The rent had been cheap—really cheap—and the summer jobs plentiful. And Molly had hung around as much as she could manage.

She’d made herself at home there, even to the point of bursting in without knocking.

Oh, her little heart had broken that night, even if her sex drive had roared awake at the sight of Ben naked and impressively aroused. That girl—definitely not a local—had…

Molly’s familiar thoughts froze when dry leaves crackled behind her. Her steps stuttered as she shot a look over her shoulder. That wasn’t the sound of the wind tossing dead leaves around. A twig snapped. All her muscles jumped.

“Who’s there?” No answer.

She hurried toward the lights ahead. She’d had this feeling before of being watched and followed. But that had been in Denver, where Cameron had shown up in odd places—at restaurants, at her local Starbucks, even a women’s clothing store. A complaint to his supervisor had resulted in nothing but a lecture about how she was clearly sending mixed signals.

Was he here now? Trying to scare her? Chase her back to Denver where he could control her life?

Molly rushed down the sidewalk, almost to the light, and the corner of Main Street was only a little farther. She broke free from the shadows, gasping, and dared a look back.

Dark shifted against dark, then deepened to nothing. But she was sure that shadow had been movement, and not just her imagination.

It took only seconds for her to reach the corner and dash around it. Leaning against the brick wall of the feed store, Molly drew freezing air into her lungs and watched it rush out in clouds as she exhaled.

This is Tumble Creek,
she told herself.
You’re in the wilderness. It was a raccoon or a possum, maybe even an elk.

Her heart seemed to believe her. It slowed to an almost normal pace, and Molly risked a glance around the corner. She saw nothing. Was it possible that cheap coffee had more caffeine in it than the good stuff? She’d been jumpy all day. Her vibrator hadn’t tried to kill her and neither had that raccoon or whatever the hell it was.

Willing herself into a shaky laugh, she pushed off the wall. The Bar was just across the street, less than a block away. As if on queue, she heard the door of the place open and tinny music spilled out. Someone pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and drove toward her. Life resumed its normal pace. Everything was fine.

Forcing a smile, she headed for The Bar.

“Molly Jennings!” the barkeep called as soon as the door swooshed shut behind her.

Molly tilted her head, studied his face, and then grinned. “Juan! You look great.” A bit of an exaggeration, but he smiled and shrugged. Juan was two years older than her. He’d been a star football player at Creek County High, but his bulky muscles had softened to something that looked suspiciously like fat. His smile was just as wide and genuine, though. Molly grabbed a seat at the bar.

“Lori called,” Juan said right away. “She’ll be a little late. Had to go pull a car out of a ditch.”

“Thanks, Juan.”

“What can I get you? Some kind of wimpy drink? Cosmo? Appletini? Pomegranate Twist?”

“Oh, um, really? You’ve got pomegranate juice?”

“Nah, not really. But I do have cranberry juice and apple sour. What’s your poison?”

Molly glanced around. Most of the booths were full and every single person had a beer or shot glass in front of them. But, damn, she wanted a cosmo.

Her sigh ruffled the little napkin Juan had set in front of her. “I’ve got to build up some street cred here, Juan. I’d better have a Coors.”

Juan glanced up and down the bar, then leaned a little closer. “How about if I make you a lemon-drop martini and put it in a highball glass with ice? Think you could pull it off as a vodka tonic?”

Molly sat straighter and laughed. “Hell, yeah. Bring it on.” This night was gonna be all right after all.

While Juan turned his back on the bar to mix the secret drink, Molly strolled over to the jukebox to check out the selections. Apparently they hadn’t been updated since the eighties; all the selections were still classic country or guitar rock. She chose George Strait and made a beeline back to her drink.

When the door opened, she turned to say hi to Lori. The sight of Ben walking through the door froze her tongue to her front teeth. Oh, hell yeah, this night was gonna be all right.

He was looking down at the floor, but he shot a glance at her past his lashes. Warmth melted from the top her head to her toes. Her tongue relaxed.

“Hey, Ben,” she drawled. “What’re you doing here?”

He raised his face to her, wearing the policeman mask. “Just dropping by to check on things like I always do.”

“Hey, Chief!” Juan yelled from the other end of the bar. “What’re you doing here?”

Blood rushed to his cheeks, but one side of his mouth turned up. “I’ll have a bottle of Bud,” he answered.

Molly grinned, then she let her eyes drop and her smile faded. Ben wasn’t in uniform tonight. He was wearing his jeans and boots and an old brown coat, but besides that he wore a faded green T-shirt that clung to his chest. When he took off his hat and shrugged out of the coat, she felt like she was seeing him naked. Her sex actually tingled.

Oh, God, his shoulders really had gotten wider, his arms more solid. His hair was slightly damp and it clung to his nape. Molly bit back a groan, trying to fight the urge to walk over and run her tongue down the back of his neck.

She’d never even kissed the man, but right now she wanted to eat him up, swallow him whole, ditch Lori Love and this bar and drag him home with her for mindless, sweaty, dirty sex. He looked young and hot and delicious. And he was here. With her.

Molly grabbed her drink and drained half of it in four swallows.

“Maybe I should start making you another,” Juan guessed, and Molly confirmed his question with a hurry-up motion as Ben took the seat beside her.

She didn’t look at him. Her panties were already wet, her nipples hard, and she was sure if she met his eyes his police instincts would pick up on her horniness right away.

Yes, she wanted to do him, but there was a difference between seduction and taping a big sign to your forehead:
You don’t have to bother with small talk, mister. Just take me in the broom closet and use me like the cheap ho I am.
That kind of thing should really come later in a relationship.

“So, um…” Ben cleared his throat. “Did you have a nice day?”

“Yes.”

When he shifted, his knee brushed hers, making Molly jump.

“Sorry,” he offered and moved his leg a few inches away.

Molly slumped and sucked down the rest of her drink. A pleasant warmth soaked into her muscles and relieved some of her concerns. So she was horny? It wasn’t a crime even if she was thinking about molesting a policeman.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” Ben said softly. “I didn’t mean to offend you today. Asking questions is my job.”

“It’s fine.”

Juan set the new drink down and Molly picked it up.

“I just can’t understand what you’re hiding and why. If you’d tell me…”

“Dream on, Chief.” Buoyed by the lemon drops, Molly turned on her bar stool and let her knees press against his hip. “My secret is the most interesting thing about me. Why, look! You can’t stay away! Don’t deny that you came here to see me. You’re not even on duty.”

“Maybe.” He arched a look down at her knees, bare except for the black tights she wore under her miniskirt. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Well, my legs have forgiven you, and isn’t that all that matters?”

His eyes warmed by slow degrees, and when he met her gaze, alcohol or not, Molly plummeted right back into heady lust.

“I won’t deny the importance of that,” he murmured. Then he took his sexy eyes off her and raised his empty bottle to signal for another.

The door opened behind them and Molly prayed it wasn’t Lori.
Let there have been an accident…. No injuries! Just a slow-speed pileup in the gas station parking lot that will keep her busy for another hour.
Ben’s resolve was weakening, Molly could
see
it, like he was stripping his clothes off right in front of—

“Long time no see!” Lori said from behind her.

Ben tipped his head and stood. “I’ll let you two catch up.”

“You don’t have to—” But he was already moving away. Molly watched him go with mournful eyes.

“Don’t tell me Miles actually got it right?”

“What?” Molly asked, distracted. What a gorgeous ass that man had, all tight muscle and—

“Are you and Ben hooking up? Didn’t you just move back to town—” Lori looked at her watch “—about seventy-two hours ago?”

“No.” Molly laughed as Lori perched her petite little behind on the seat Ben had vacated. “It’s been a full four days. Wait, how many hours is that? More than seventy-two?”

“I’ll have whatever she’s having,” Lori said quickly. Juan raised an eyebrow at Molly.

“It’s a lemon-drop martini,” she confessed in a whisper.

“Perfect.”

“And I’ve waited ten years to get in that man’s pants, so don’t begrudge me.”

“Only ten?” Lori asked, green eyes sparkling like polished jade.

“Okay, more like twelve. I can’t take it anymore. Something’s gonna fall off if I don’t use it soon.”

“Oh, no, you can’t have my sympathy on that, Molly. I’ve lived in this town my whole life and most of the eligible men think I’m gay. You got to go to Denver to spread your wings. And legs.”

Molly nearly spit her drink out as she collapsed in laughter. Juan was blushing, so he must have overheard, but surely he’d heard worse than that before.

When she recovered, Molly looked over her old friend’s tiny waist and narrow hips, then up to the big curls she wore in a chin-length bob. “Why does everyone think you’re gay?”

Lori held her drink with just her thumb and pinky and raised the other three fingers above the rim. “One,” she said and ticked it off, “I never put out in high school. Two, I refused to give Jess Germaine a blow job in his backseat when I finally did start dating. Three, I fix cars. Lesbian, all the way.”

“Well, I’ll try not to drop my keys near you, then.”

“Oh, I’ll be on you like white on rice, sista.”

They both roared with laughter at that, drawing looks from the other patrons. “Sorry,” Molly called. “Nothing to see here.” The men turned back to their beers, all except Ben, who sat at the other end of the bar, watching them like a movie. He aimed a disapproving glance at her drink, so Molly ordered another.

“I noticed you painted all the Love’s Garage trucks lavender.”

“Aren’t they pretty?”

“And your dad doesn’t mind? How is he, by the way?”

“He died a few months ago, Moll.”

“Oh! Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, Lori. No one told me.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I just…Last I heard he was doing better. Oh, Lori, I’m sorry.”

“No, it was time. He was ready—I could see it in his eyes.”

Molly nodded. “So you own the garage now?”

“Yep, the garage, the tow truck, the snowplows, all the land. And the glory, of course.”

There was a definite edge to her friend’s voice. “That’s great,” Molly said carefully. “But…I thought you were only going to put off school for a couple of years.”