Lip Lock: Country Fever, Book 2

Dedication

To all of my friends who keep me from climbing that clock tower and roaring in frustration when I reach a rough patch in my writing and life—Suzanne, Krystal, Dirk, Derek and G. And to my awesome kiddos for giving me laugh breaks, my puppy for warming my feet, and other VIPs for allowing me to follow my dream.

Chapter One

Whir-thump-thump. Whir-thump-thump.
Dr. Brant Foxfire tilted the shopping cart off its back wheels and let it slam into the floor.

A woman who was scowling at the small-town grocer’s cereal selection looked up at the sound.

“Sorry,” he said as he pushed by her. “Noisy wheels.”

“Oh, these carts are so old.” Her face wreathed in the false smiles he saw too damn often from women. As the only orthodontist in Reedy, Wyoming, he got plenty of female attention when mothers paraded their crooked-toothed kids into his office. And the women at the coffee shop or diner he frequented all made it a point to display their charms. More often than not he got eyefuls of flesh he had no desire to see.

While this attention flattered him, he wasn’t in the business of chasing skirts like some of the local cowboys. Long ago, he’d sworn to keep out of the beds of Reedy residents. It was too easy to ignite rumors, which for a professional man could be the equivalent of career assassination.

Whir-thump-thump.

Goddamn cart. Couldn’t he just have a peaceful trip to the store for coffee and a frozen tray of lasagna without that whirring noise? He heard enough of it in the office from all the gadgets used to suction and clean patients’ teeth. While he loved his job, he didn’t get away from it often enough. Fifty-hour workweeks and no distractions at home…

He jerked as a woman passed the end of the aisle, carrying a plastic shopping basket over her arm.

Brant’s chest constricted a little at the sight of her long blonde braid straggling over one shoulder, the soft end kissing the curve of her full breast. Who was she? In a small town like this, he knew just about everyone, from the older citizens who frequented the coffee shop just down the street from his office to every member of the police force. And who could forget all the women he knew but didn’t want to know better?

But this woman was mid-height with all the curves and secretive allure of Marilyn Monroe. Fuck yeah, he would have remembered seeing her.

The lady perusing the cereal was staring at him, and she had that look. The one that said she was hungry for some man-prey.

Shit.

“Excuse me.” He quickly wheeled his
whir-thumping
cart past her. She grinned and struck a pose with a box of granola like a model in an ad.

In the main aisle leading to the two cash registers in Brenniman’s store, Brant spotted her again. His Marilyn. She wore a white, curve-skimming summer dress that clung to her hips when she walked. For a moment, he stared at her round ass, battling an arousal he hadn’t felt in far too long.

He might be a bachelor by choice, but he was far from dead. And this woman could raise a man from his grave.

Or from another dark pit? Brant pushed back this thought with a low grunt. He wasn’t going to think about tying this woman up or laying the flat of his hand against that lush ass of hers. It wasn’t normal, and he wasn’t sinking into that quicksand again.

The cart wheel locked up completely, and he gave it a swift kick. Then, scooping his food items out of the basket, he abandoned the cart altogether. Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of Marilyn taking her place in the checkout line. She was wedged between a mother with three kids in the back of a cartful of diapers and Franklin Worthy, an eccentric cowboy painter. And he could tell by the way Franklin looked at Marilyn that Brant wasn’t the only one to find her inspirational.

“Hello, Franklin.” Brant crowded into line.

Franklin’s head was tipped down, his gaze obviously clinging to Marilyn’s shapely calves. Possessiveness flared inside Brant. Would Marilyn catch Franklin staring and let the playboy engage her in conversation? Lots of women fell for Franklin. With his long hair, French cigarettes and perfectly paint-splattered clothes, he ensnared women like cowboys roped cattle.

But not her.
She’s off-limits.

For a long minute, Brant stared down at Marilyn’s bare toes peeking from her leather sandals. Christ, the woman was wearing silver toe rings. Lurid images of pulling those off with his teeth slithered through his head. He also envisioned different silver ornaments—shackles for her wrists and ankles.

No. He would not—could not—entertain those ideas. He’d left all that behind years ago when he’d lost his last girlfriend over his need to control in the bedroom.

Franklin didn’t respond to Brant’s greeting, so he ignored the painter too and instead focused on Marilyn. She was unloading her shopping basket onto the counter. Bags of beans and rice, a small amount of ground beef. A candy bar and a bag of sunflower seeds.

The corner of Brant’s mouth tugged with a smile. Sunflower seeds?

When she presented her profile, he studied her delicate jaw and upturned nose. The cashier gave Marilyn the total, and her long lashes swooped over her cheeks as she turned her attention to her purse. Her face, devoid of makeup, was country girl Marilyn before Hollywood dolled her up.

She dug through her purse and came out with a bank card. When she swiped it, Brant swore she shivered.

Gazing at her openly now, he fought to control the feelings she aroused in him. He wanted to throw himself in front of her, shield her from the leering Franklin Worthy and the frowning cashier.

“I’m sorry, but your card’s been declined. Do you have another form of payment?”

Marilyn’s face mottled red, and Brant’s heart strained toward her. Eyes averted from the cashier and the customers in line behind her, she flicked through her wallet and came out with a few bills.

“Take these off.” She pointed to the sunflower seeds, the beans and the candy bar.

“Sure thing.” The cashier gave her a new total, and Marilyn passed her the bills.

When the cashier dropped a few coins of change onto Marilyn’s open palm, Brant’s throat tightened. Suddenly, the urge to fill that little hand up was so strong, it dizzied him.

Had he ever felt this way? The need to protect, possess, care for and claim all at once?

Marilyn grabbed her single shopping bag and hurried toward the exit. Everything in Brant’s body screamed to stop her, to ask her name and to buy her sunflower seeds.

But Franklin Worthy blocked his path, gaping at Marilyn too.

Brant nudged his shoulder with more force than necessary. “You’re next, Franklin.”

The man shot him a narrow look and began to move down the line.

In the parking lot, Brant realized he’d missed Marilyn. She’d vanished from his life as quickly as she’d come. Except she’d left him with that burning loneliness and the yearning to be more to someone.

“Where are my sunflower seeds?”

Hayley Graff glanced up from her checkbook into her fifteen-year-old son Drake’s face. “Forgot them. Sorry. Here’s dinner, though.” She gestured to the rice and hamburger patty with gravy, wishing with all her heart that she had those seeds to put into her son’s hand for tonight’s baseball practice even if she couldn’t give him a vegetable for dinner.

Drake, as easygoing as always, took a seat at the little kitchen table and dug into his food with relish. “Don’t worry about the seeds. Coach always has extra.”

Yeah, for parents like me who can’t supply enough.

With a sigh of disgust, she shoved her checkbook aside and took her fork in hand. “How was school? You get your homework done?”

“No more homework. End-of-the-year finals.”

“Need help studying?”

“Nah, I’ve got it covered. I’ve been studying with Katie.”

Hayley lifted a brow but fought to stay cool. No teen son wanted his mom to question him about girls. But Drake caught right on to her act.

“You can stop giving me that look.”

“Which look?”

“The one that says you think something is up with me and Katie. It’s not like that. She’s just a friend, someone to study with. Besides, she likes another guy.” His voice dipped a notch. No one but Hayley, who knew him inside and out, would detect it.

Ouch. At times like this, she wasn’t sure what to say or do. Drake’s father would be better suited to discussions about girls, but the smooth-talking heartbreaker was in Montana, working odd jobs for cash under the table in order to wriggle out of paying child support.

The bite of rice Hayley tried to swallow stuck in her throat at the thought of her ex, Kent. She took a drink to cover the moment as much as she did to get the bite down. Gently, she asked, “Why do you think Katie likes that other boy?”

Drake avoided her gaze. “Because of his looks. Movie-star smile and all that.”

Hayley’s heart bled a little at her son’s words. For months he’d been asking her for braces to straighten his very crooked teeth. He could thank his dad for handing down the bad-tooth genes and also the lack of money to fix them.

“I don’t think all girls are interested in smiles only, Drake. And you’re such a good-looking guy.”

He shoveled the last bite of food into his mouth and stood in the same motion. Slouching across the kitchen, he dumped the plate into the sink and ran some water over the surface.

“I’ve gotta be at practice in twenty minutes.”

“I know.” She dumped the contents of her plate in the trash, her appetite vanished. She didn’t need the food anyway, no more than she’d needed that candy bar she’d had to put back at the checkout. She could stand to lose a few pounds after a sedentary Wyoming winter. When she’d hauled her summer wardrobe out last week, she’d been horrified to find every garment tight-fitting. The white dress she was wearing felt like a sausage casing around her chubby body.

Guess Drake’s not the only one with a bad self-image.

“I’ll take you to practice, but then I’ve gotta get up the highway. Andrea wants me at the flea market stalls bright and early to find all the best deals.” Every month Andrea, Hayley’s boss at the secondhand shop, asked Hayley to travel the area searching for new finds to sell.

“Yeah, I know, Mom. I’m already packed to stay at Andrea’s this weekend.”

She smiled at her responsible and growing son. Feeling hope rising, she gave Drake as swift a hug as possible before he protested her motherly attentions. “You know, Drake, maybe we can call the orthodontist, Dr. Foxfire, that your dentist recommended and see if he has a payment plan.”

Drake’s face lit. “Really?”

Hayley ignored the checkbook lying on the table with the zero balance and the niggling feeling that she was getting in over her head, if for all the right reasons. “Yep. Monday morning I’ll give him a call.” She squeezed her son one more time, unable to help herself even when he slapped her away. “Have fun at practice. I’ll call you tomorrow morning at Andrea’s.”

And I’ll worry about buying food, braces and paying the rent all on my own, thank you very much, Kent Graff.
Even now the man had a grip on her.

Chapter Two

“Hiya, Dr. Foxfire. Been seeing a lot of you lately here at Brenniman’s.” The cashier’s syrupy voice tickled his ears, but in that annoying way of mosquitoes on a hot summer night.

Brant glanced at the girl who couldn’t be more than twenty. He zeroed in on her teeth. “Is that you, Darcy?”

“Oh, no!” She laughed. “That’s my sister. I’m Dani. But I was in your office a coupla times with my sister while she was going through the braces era of her life.” She flipped her hair behind her ear.

Great. Now he was part of what was known among teens as “the braces era”. Did that make him a dinosaur? He rubbed a hand over his face. Yeah, he felt like one. Desperate Homo sapiens pathetically scouring the aisles of local grocery for a rare glimpse of the blonde who haunted him.

He’d been to the market every day for two weeks and hadn’t set eyes on her twitching curves since. His pantry was well-stocked even if he almost never ate at home.

With a sigh, he asked Dani about her sister. She launched into a story about how Darcy had spent too much time drinking last term of college and was now on academic probation.