Lip Lock: Country Fever, Book 2 (11 page)

His intense stare picked at the threads of her resolve.

To cover the moment, she sank her teeth into his lower lip. A groan vibrated from him, and he drove his tongue into her mouth, deep, hard and fast. Claiming her all over again.

“Give it to me now, Brant. All night,” she whispered. If she was driving the tractor trailer into hell, she was damn well going to do it at full speed. Tomorrow she’d deal with the wreckage of her heart.

Chapter Eight

Brant nearly danced into the office. He spun the key ring around on his index finger, as jittery with excitement as a kid on Christmas morning. To him, this was Christmas morning—better than any he’d experienced since he was ten, anyway.

Today Hayley would come in with Drake for his appointment.

After a mind-blowing night together, he’d returned her to her car on Main Street with a kiss that he hoped expressed his intentions. Pursuing a relationship with her was a definite in his heart. He wanted more than the dark need she lit inside him. He wanted to talk to her until the wee hours of the morning, to hear her laughter bubble from her lips…and he wanted an insight into her soul.

What were her hopes and dreams?

His heart had been swept away, and thankfully his employees hadn’t yet arrived to see it. Hell, he was a little more than out of control when it came to Hayley Graff—he was wild.

He took a moment to calm himself, reliving that slap on her ass again and again. The sound still gonged within his head, turning him on even now. But he couldn’t afford to slip like that again. And he planned to discuss it with her as soon as they were alone.

He tossed a look at the entrance. Would he even be able to tamp down the enthusiasm today when he saw her? At this moment, if she walked through the door, he’d pin her against the wall, yank up her skirt, and fuck her. Repeatedly. For all to see.

He went to the main power box and flipped all the switches. Lights hummed to life, and the quiet whir of the tools they used filled the space. Up until a few weeks ago, he’d lived for his work. Now it seemed a diversion before the time he could see Hayley.

This morning, he’d stormed into Anecdote and kissed her for dizzying minutes behind the flowered curtain, with noxious fumes filling his head, but it hadn’t been enough. And she’d all but ignored his request for her phone number or to allow him to take her to dinner after work.

Why?

He sank to the stool behind the front desk and flipped open the appointment book. Today he had seventeen appointments before Drake’s. Seventeen miserable cases of buck teeth, impacted adult canines and general palate expansion before he could hunt her down and talk to her.

Fighting a groan, he shut the book and took up the thick envelope of paperwork he’d ignored for the past few days. He slit it with a silver letter opener, already knowing its contents. Information about the deed to the next property he hoped to acquire—land rights, mineral rights, square footage, potential problems, past owners.

After flipping through the loose sheets, he was more certain that this property was one he’d like to acquire. This would be his third apartment building, which meant he’d be pulling in quite a sum in passive income from the rents. Even after paying Steve to manage his other two buildings, he brought in a hefty sum.

He could grant Steve a raise and ask him to take care of the third building as well, but it was probably all the man would be able to handle. The repairs alone kept him busy all week long. Speaking of which…

Brant unfolded the supply bill from the home improvement center. Shock tore through him. Shit, really? Was he seeing spots or was that another zero on the end of the sum?

With the stab of one finger, he dialed Steve’s number. His apartment manager answered on the second ring.

“It’s Brant. I’m looking over the invoices for the improvements. There seems to be a lot that needs fixing.”

“That isn’t all of it. Apartment 2B needs a new sink. I’ve been putting off getting it.”

“What for? If the tenant needs a sink, we provide it.”

“Well, she’s behind in her rent. I gave her two weeks to pay. After she clears out, I’ll work on the problems in her apartment.”

That blood pressure Brant had thought high before rocketed through the cloud layer. He jumped to his feet and started pacing. “It’s illegal to withhold repairs from a renter. Even if she’s in arrears, we meet our obligations. Period. We operate by the book. You got that? We don’t make the tenants’ living conditions so bad that they want to leave.”

“Yeah, yeah. Got it, Brant. I’ll get the sink today, okay?”

“And whatever else that apartment needs too. Put it on the line of credit and I’ll take care of it.” Brant ended the call and sank to the stool once more, his pulse drumming. Dammit, he could keep a close eye on his office staff, but his apartment managers were a different story. He depended on them to do the right thing, which Steve obviously wasn’t.

He made a harsh sound in his throat, piled all the papers into one stack and shoved them aside. Later. When he could think clearly. Right now, all he wanted to dream about was his personal Marilyn Monroe.

Hours later and counting down each appointment, he was ready to burst. If he glanced at the entrance one more time, someone would comment on it. His staff was already shooting him questioning looks.

When Hayley finally walked in, he was unprepared. His reaction to her was swift, powerful and rocked his fucking world.

Indication number one hundred that he was in deeper than he’d ever been with another woman.

A growl surfaced on his tongue. Visions of kidnapping her on the spot, of stealing her off and forcing her to her knees swirled in his head.

Dammit, not now.
She doesn’t want that. She’s normal.

His mouth went dry at the sight of Hayley’s blonde waves caressing her spine. He longed to sink his fingers into the mass and twist, dragging her head back for his kiss. He let his gaze skim over the ripe curve of her ass in a knee-length denim skirt. On top, she wore something gauzy and white, as angelic and bohemian as ever.

But when she turned…his stomach plummeted as if he’d stepped into an elevator shaft and dropped a hundred stories. Their gazes clashed, clung.

“Excuse me,” he said to Karen, stopping her mid-dialogue about their next case.

The distance between him and the entrance was too great. He fought to keep from breaking into a run. Hell, sprinting to her, scooping her up and bearing her off to the privacy of the parking lot seemed the best idea he’d had in days.

Grinning, he reached her. Reached for her. In front of everyone, he crushed her waist beneath his hands, leaned in and kissed her.

She turned her head at the last minute so his kiss landed on her cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her pouty lips. Drowning in her scent, he again felt an internal heat—a drive to make her his in every way, to make her give the deepest part of herself.

All eyes in the place were on them. Including her son’s.

A funny expression crossed the youth’s face. Brant withdrew from Hayley and shook Drake’s hand. “Good to see you. I’ll be with you both in a few minutes.”

Stiffly, he turned, aware of his staff’s gaping mouths and a few parents whispering in the waiting room. But one mother stared at him as if he’d just molested her small daughter.

As he passed her, he gave a gentle nod and smile. “Mrs. Martin. How are you today?”

In a swift motion, she rose from her seat, purse locked under her arm, and practically plucked her daughter from the patient chair. “I’ve never seen anything so unprofessional in my life. You might try keeping that kind of display in the bedroom, Dr. Foxfire.”

Shock tore through him along with a blush so intense, his eyes watered. Damn, he’d seen that look before—on his ex-girlfriend once she realized his bedroom appetites were more primal than were considered normal. “I apologize. Hayley and I—”

“We’ll drive to the orthodontist in Casper from now on. If I wanted my daughter to witness—” she clapped both hands over her daughter’s ears and mouthed, “—a porno, I’d let her watch it on pay-per-view!”

Stunned silence reigned as she bundled little Aniston out of the office, giving Hayley a scathing look when they passed.

Across the office, Brant met Hayley’s traumatized stare. Pain creased her long brows and turned down the corners of her sultry mouth. God, what had he done? Acted unprofessional? Yes. But he was a man, after all. And when presented with the object of his desire, he’d lost his head.

And apparently lost at least one patient in the process.

But the most frightening thought was losing Hayley, whose expression closed off to him, like the floral curtain falling into place, a thick barrier he didn’t know if he’d be able to twitch aside ever again.

Drake slid into the passenger’s seat, his dark eyes on Hayley like a bludgeon to her psyche. He didn’t need to say anything—she already knew what was going on in his head. She’d let him down by not telling him about her dates with Brant. Of course he didn’t need the dirty little details, but he deserved to know before witnessing Brant’s shocking behavior in the office.

She twisted the key violently in the ignition.

“Whoa, Mom. Leave the pieces. I’ll have my license in a year, and I’d like to be able to have something to actually drive.”

A thread of hopelessness wove through her, further spearing her heart. “If the truck actually lasts that long, I’ll keel over with surprise.” Besides, her son should have a car of his own, something to drive friends and girlfriends around in, not this piece of shit.

But Hayley would never be able to afford that. She was still a month in arrears on her rent.

Tears prickled behind her eyes, but she fought them down.
I will not bawl because I have no money to properly raise my son. I will not break down because Brant showed his passion for me and lost a patient because of it
.

Because of her.

If she hadn’t realized she couldn’t see him again before, she did now. She’d have to tell Andrea to keep him out of the back room at Anecdote. She inwardly sighed with relief. At least he didn’t know where she lived. She’d provided the shop’s address as a dental billing address because some of her mail had gone missing lately. The last thing she needed was another late bill.

Well, he didn’t know where she lived yet. It was only a matter of time before Steve evicted her, and Brant was clued in as to the reason why one of his apartments had just opened up for new tenants.

Gulping down a cry, she pulled onto Main Street and pointed the truck toward home. At the convenience store, she stopped and ran inside to purchase a newspaper. Maybe something would be listed in the employment section of the classifieds that she was qualified to do. A night shift cleaning the small-town jail. Pet-sitting. Hell, anything to make ends meet.

Not for the first time, resentment clawed at her insides. If she’d never gone to that rodeo and set eyes on Kent, she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant and might have gotten a higher education.

Tears blistered her eyes and fell over the rims. She swiped them with the back of her shaking hand, fighting for composure before she went back to the truck and to her son. He was her world, and if she’d had to deal with her ex and all the lowly jobs in order to have Drake by her, she would have made the decision dozens of times over.

“Ms. Graff!”

She twisted to the sound of her name and found an older gentleman smiling from the milk cooler. “Yes? Do I know you?”

His smile broadened and he limped over using a cane. “No, but I know you. You work at Anecdote, doing refinishing, isn’t that right?”

She hugged the newspaper to her chest. “That’s right.”

“Well, my missus has an old washstand that used to be her granny’s. She’s been talking about refinishing it for decades but never has. Our fiftieth anniversary is approachin’, and I’d like to surprise her with the piece, all spruced up right. Would you be willing to take on such a project?”

Several sputtering words tried to escape but were trapped by shock and hope. “Why, y-yes. That would be easily managed. Would I be able to come get the piece?”

“Yes, do that. Tomorrow Sadie has the quilter’s club at the church, and she’ll be out of the house all day. I’ll leave the furniture in the barn for you to pick up. I’d need it back in a week. Is that too soon?”

“No, a week can be managed.”

“And I’d expect to pay you well for the rush job. Say…four hundred dollars?”

Four hundred! It was nearly enough to pay for last month’s rent. She could skimp on groceries this week and come up with the other hundred. Then she’d almost be on top of things.

“I’d love to accept the challenge, sir. I promise to do a good job.”

Nodding and smiling, he gave her directions to his home. Relief flooded her system. Armed with an address and the newspaper—both promises of more income—she headed back to the truck and her son. The refinishing job would afford her more security, at least for this month. But it would do something infinitely better—distract her from thoughts of the sexy Brant Foxfire.

Chapter Nine