Rumor Has It (An Animal Magnetism Novel) (4 page)

“No, I didn’t.”

She dropped her hands from her face. “Yes, you did. You said it was perfectly acceptable for me to seduce a groomsman. Well, here I am, trying to seduce a groomsman. You.”

“I didn’t mean me!”

“What’s wrong with it being you? We’re two consenting adults.” One of whom was wearing her best panties, too.

“I’m not consenting,” he said.

This stopped her in her tracks. “Why not?”

“Why not?” He appeared at a bit of a loss here, which didn’t help her ego any.

“Yes, why won’t you sleep with me?” Stepping into him again, she poked him in the chest with a finger. “What’s so wrong with me that you won’t?”

He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “For one thing, you’re drunk.”

She was stone-cold sober now, but she cocked her head. “That’s never stopped you with other women.”

“Don’t judge me by my past.” But he blew out a breath as he set her away from him and pushed off the bookshelves to prowl the room. “Look, I might be an asshole, but not that big of one.”

“And the second thing?”

He turned to face her. “You’re Holly’s best friend. You’re . . . sweet.”

Oh no, he did not just say that. “Sweet,” she repeated. “You have no idea how tired I am of that word.”

“Well you are sweet. Sweet, warm . . . kind.”

She drew in a deep breath for calm, which—for the record—didn’t help. “You think I’m sweet and warm and kind.” She paused. “You realize you’ve just described a puppy.”

His gaze dipped to her low-cut lace top. “You’re not a damn puppy, Kate.”

“No kidding!” In spite of his heated look, she was really starting to feel insulted now. “And just so you know, I’m not all that sweet either!”

He didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not!”

“Tell me one not-sweet thing about you,” he said.

“Well . . .” She searched her brain, but for once it was quiet. Then she remembered. “I’m wearing a leopard-print demi-bra.” There. Take that.

He stared at her, and then his gaze lowered to her shirt again. Her nipples promptly hardened. The traitors. “And,” she said with great attitude, “my panties match.” Not that he was going to see them. Ever. “And they’re those cheeky cut ones, too.”

He groaned. “Killing me,” he muttered, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes before dropping them. “We’re not going to talk about sex.”

“You’re right. We’re talking about my undies. And whether or not I’m sweet. Which, FYI, I’m not.” She wanted him to feel some of what she was feeling. She wanted him to ache like she did. Even for a moment. So before she lost her nerve, she gripped his shirt in her fists and kissed him. It had made all sorts of sense in her head, but for one single, horrible beat he didn’t move. Kate went utterly blank, forgetting how to kiss, but then he let out a very rough, very male sound and took over, fitting his mouth to hers. This caused a wave of desire so strong her knees wobbled, but he caught her up in his arms.

He tasted like wine. He tasted like her secret hopes and dreams. He tasted like the very best thing that had happened to her all week.

All damn month.

Because Griffin knew how to kiss. He was the master of all kissers, and when he started to pull back, she tightened her grip on him in protest.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. Instead he spread hot kisses along her jaw and throat, and then he opened his mouth on her heated skin. Her toes curled in response. Clearly it had been way too long since she’d had a social orgasm. Locking her wobbling knees, she tried to live in the moment, tried to soak it all in for the deep dark of the night when she was alone again.

Treading water . . .

He whispered her name, a soft, sexy “Kate.” And then his mouth was back on hers.

Trembling with need now, she pushed closer, responding to the raw kiss and wanting so much more. When he broke the connection, it took her a moment, but eventually she realized she was leaning on him and that he was fully supporting her. Her only salvation—he was breathing as raggedly as she was.

“You have to admit,” she said. “That wasn’t sweet.”

He manacled her roaming hands by clamping hard fingers over her wrists. “Kate,” he said, voice low and rough with command.

She had no idea why that revved her engine, but it did, and she rubbed her body against his.

Sucking in a harsh breath, he firmly set her away from him, holding her there. His gaze was glued to her mouth. “Christ.” He lowered his head and drew in a deep breath.

The hunger was palpable in the room. His. Hers. When he finally opened his eyes again, he looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. His baseball cap was low, covering his expression. Needing to see his eyes, she tried to dislodge it and then found herself pinned to the wall by 180 pounds of muscle.

“Don’t,” he said.

She stared up at him. “You’re not as much fun as I imagined you would be. Which shouldn’t surprise me. I have a hard time finding the fun.”

He laughed harshly, shook his head, and then, without another word, turned and walked from the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Stunned, and not quite knowing what exactly had just happened, Kate gave into her wobbling knees and slid down the wall to sit.

She’d kissed him to prove a point, but hell if she could remember what that point was. And somehow in the process she’d been rejected because . . . why exactly? She’d proven she wasn’t all that sweet, so it had to be something else. In horror she put a hand in front of her face and checked her breath. Whew. She didn’t stink. Oh God, did she kiss badly? No, Ryan would have told her that much.

Whatever the reason, she needed to get over it, stat. She also needed to find her smile and get back to the party, because she was taking this rejection all the way to her grave.

T
he next morning Kate made her daily stop at her dad’s, where it was a wash and repeat of every other morning. Ashley couldn’t find her own stuff; Tommy was dressed like . . . “Who are you?” Kate asked him, not sure what the glowing circle on his chest meant.

“Tony Stark,” he said, nose in a book.

Channing Tatum scratched at the back door and then came in carrying a still-alive field mouse, which had everyone running around and screaming for a few minutes until said field mouse was caught and exported back outside.

Finally, Kate rushed everyone out the door and slid into Ryan’s waiting car, handing him a coffee. “I didn’t doctor it up,” she warned.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mean.”

“What? I am not.”

She looked at him. “No? So if I said I needed you to be my date to tonight’s wedding rehearsal, you’d say . . . ?”

“Hell no.”

“And that’s why you’re drinking black coffee.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and drank his black coffee without further complaint. “Thirteen days, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” Thirteen days left to accept at UCSD. She had her acceptance typed up in her e-mail. All she had to do was take it out of the draft folder and hit Send.

But she hadn’t.

Because how could she? How could she walk away from her dad for a year? What if he needed her? What if Tommy or Ashley needed her? And her job. Ryan had promised to hold it for her, but he couldn’t really guarantee that. It was up to the school district . . .

They drove in silence. Ryan was in his zone, and so was Tommy.

Not Kate. Unless you counted reliving kissing Griffin Reid. Because actually, that had been a hell of a zone . . .

* * *

Grif woke up the next morning drenched in sweat, heart pounding out of his chest, and with absolutely no idea where he was. Afghanistan? Germany? Sitting straight up, he took in the room with one glance before sagging back. He was stateside, in Sunshine, at his father’s house.

Shoving his fingers through his hair, he let out a long breath. His phone was vibrating across the nightstand, the number unfamiliar though he recognized the DC area code. “Reid,” he answered.

“You got your head on straight yet?”

Joe Rodriguez. They’d served together before Joe had gotten out and gone to work for the ATF. “My head’s straight,” Grif said. “It’s the rest of the world that’s sideways.”

Joe laughed. “Ain’t that the truth. Heard you’re not going back to Crazy-stan.”

Grif knew soldiers whose entire life was caught up in their military career, guys for whom an injury like he’d sustained would have not just been physical.

Grif wasn’t one of them. Yes, he’d have stayed in the military if he hadn’t been hurt. But he had been, and he wasn’t one to look back with a lot of regrets. “I’m done with all the ’Stans,” he confirmed.

“Got something for you then. A job. You interested?”

“Where?”

“In the good ol’ US of A, man,” Joe said. “The land of free Wi-Fi, Thai takeout, and Fantasy Football. There’re a few things uniquely suited to you and your skills here on the East Coast, and a few other places, too. Up to you.”

Grif turned his head and looked out the window. He could see the outline of the Bitterroot Mountains. He’d spent a lot of time over the years exploring those peaks—pretty much the only time he’d ever been happy in Sunshine. But he hadn’t meant to actually stay here. Had he? Getting away after the wedding would probably be for the best. Having a job would be even better. “I’m interested.”

“Good. I’ll get back to you soon.”

Grif disconnected and lay back, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, thinking it was sort of nice not to be worried about dying today. He could get used to that.

Then he heard a soft, musical laugh. He knew that laugh, and not just because the sound of it made him hard. It was Kate, and he supposed he knew why he thought he heard her now. After that kiss they’d shared last night, he’d dreamed about her, about being wrapped up in her soft curves, buried deep. And now he was imagining that she was here. Which probably made him crazy.

But then he heard it again. Rolling out of bed, he strode straight to the window.

Reid Ranching was more like an empire these days, but the biggest ranch in the corporation still remained this one. For as far as the eye could see was Reid land. Most of the rugged landscape was outlined by the jagged peaks of the Bitterroot Mountains, formed by glaciers during the Ice Age. At this time of year the huge snowpack was melting, producing a massive water runoff, filling a myriad of streams and rivers carving their way through the valley floor.

Kate stood in the yard surrounded by the majestic view. Next to her was his dad. They were both talking animatedly and laughing.

His dad was laughing.

It took Grif a moment to realize why he felt so shocked. It was because he couldn’t remember the last time he and his dad had laughed together.

Maybe because they’d never laughed together.

And yet Donald was out there playing the part of the charming rancher, laying it on thick, too, and Grif could only stare at the broad, genuine smile on his face. He’d never gotten any of that from the man, ever.

It was Kate’s doing. She had a way of bringing the best out of someone. Whatever she was saying had his dad practically bent over with amusement. Then the two of them shook hands, and Donald walked off toward one of the barns.

Kate leaned against the fencing and looked out at the land, hugging herself as if a little chilled. She wore a brightly colored skirt, navy blue tights tucked into boots, and another sweater, this one with a row of teeny-tiny buttons down the front. Her hair had been contained on top of her head, held there by a . . . pencil? Strands were trailing down the sides of her face and throat, all golden red silk against her skin.

She didn’t look like any teacher he’d ever had, except maybe in his fantasy life. She’d certainly been his favorite fantasy last night, and everything about her—each smile, each sexy step, hell her every breath—put him in overdrive.

Which meant they had a problem.

Or at least he did.

She turned her head and met Grif’s gaze through the window. Seeing him clearly surprised her—unpleasantly so, given the way her eyes widened slightly and then narrowed.

Maybe she was remembering last night, too. He’d honestly believed he could actually resist her—until she’d kissed him. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but getting his mouth on hers had knocked his socks off. He’d never made a habit of turning women down, and turning this woman down had been far more difficult than he’d imagined, so he hoped like hell he got some sort of credit for acting like a gentleman.

He sure as hell hadn’t walked away in his dreams afterward. Nope, he’d taken her right there in the den against the wall, with her cute little skirt up around her ears and the heels of those sexy boots digging into his ass, and it had been extremely mutually satisfying.

He realized Kate’s gaze had fallen south. Grif looked down at himself and remembered—he’d slept in the buff and stood there in the window butt-ass naked.

The sill hit right above his groin so she couldn’t see much, though her cheeks were flushed. Still, she didn’t play coy or shy and look away. Nope, it was him who moved, and he didn’t want to think about why as he yanked on clothes and headed outside.

Kate had moved to the horse pens and was stroking a huge quarter horse named Woodrow. Woodrow was old as dirt, but he still had a thing for the ladies and was leaning heavily on Kate, sniffing out her pockets. This was making her laugh again, that soft, musical laugh that did things to Grif’s gut. Stopping with a good ten feet between them, he watched her a minute. Woodrow snotted on her skirt, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Hey,” he finally said.

“Oh!” She jumped and then turned to face him. She still didn’t smile. Which of course was what happened when a beautiful, adorably sexy woman threw herself at you, and you somehow managed to resist her.

Yeah. He was probably going to hate himself for that for a good long time.

She put a hand to her chest, which was rising and falling rapidly like she’d just gone running. “You okay?” he asked.

“Did you know that your right lung takes in more air than your left one?”

“No, I didn’t.” He was making her nervous again. He searched for something to say to put her at ease, but putting pretty women at ease wasn’t exactly his forte. Unless he was trying to get them naked. “Are you hungover?”

“No.” She paused. “However, I don’t remember anything I said or did last night in the den.”

He took in the slight hope in her expression and unbelievably found a laugh.

“It was worth a shot,” she said on a sigh. “I guess I hoped that if I pretended not to remember your rejection of my sloppy attempt at seduction then I could tell myself it never happened.”

She thought he’d rejected her. He started to tell her that her coming on to him had been the best—and most terrifying—thing that had happened to him in a damn long time. But since he didn’t know if he was strong enough to turn her down a second time, he kept his mouth shut.

Kate smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt and closely examined a speck of lint on her sleeve, and then it was his turn to sigh. Damn, being the good guy sucked. “You need to be more careful,” he said. “Just about any other guy there last night would’ve taken advantage of what you were offering.”

She lifted her head at that, staring at him with two high spots of color on her cheeks. “I wasn’t offering anything.”

They both knew that was a big, fat fib. “Listen,” he said. “Guys are dicks. Or at least they think with their dicks. You can’t trust them.”

“None of them?”

“Not a single one,” he said, and meant it.

“I kissed you,” she said, as if he needed reminding. “I threw myself at you. And yet you managed to control yourself.” She met his gaze evenly. “Either I was totally repugnant to you, or you were one hell of a gentleman.”

Shit, he didn’t have the brain capacity to spar with her this morning. She was sharp as hell and way too good for the likes of him.

She cocked her head, waiting on his answer, and if it had been any other situation, he might have laughed at her teacher-to-errant-student expression, which she had down. It should’ve turned him off, but instead he wanted to push her up against the fence railing and show her exactly how not “repugnant” she was.

Which would be an incredibly stupid thing to do. “What are you doing here?” he settled for instead.

“Dropping off some seedlings and then coming back with the kids in an hour.”

“Seedlings?”

“We’re going to plant them along the creek beds,” she said. “It’s a living science project that your dad so sweetly agreed to.”

Grif nearly laughed. He’d heard his father described in any number of ways, but sweet had never been one of them.

“We’ll come back weekly to check in on their progress and report on the growth,” Kate said. She stopped talking and frowned up at him.

And then, before he realized what she was up to, she closed the distance between them, went up on tiptoe, and pushed his hair back from his forehead and temple. “Oh, Grif,” she said softly, a world of emotion in her voice. “What happened?”

Shit. He’d forgotten to put on his baseball cap, leaving his four-inch scar in plain view. He started to back away from her, but she gripped his arms as she leaned in, pressing her mouth to the scar in a gentle kiss that made his throat feel uncomfortably tight. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Kissing it better.” She settled back down on the balls of her feet and gave him some desperately needed space. “Did it work?”

He had to clear his throat to speak, and he still sounded like he’d just swallowed glass. “You think a kiss can make something all better?”

She met his gaze, her own filled with plenty of emotions, but thankfully pity wasn’t one of them. “Yes.”

He let out a breath. She was right. A kiss from those lips would make just about anything feel better. He wanted her to do it again and then work her way south, to the other body parts that could use some kisses right about now. He saw the rise and fall of her breasts with each breath she took, and it was fucking with his head more than a little. “So the left lung, huh?”

It took her a moment, and then she looked down at her breasts. Making a sound low in her throat, she crossed her arms over herself. “You turned these down,” she reminded him.

He loved that while she looked a little prim and repressed on the outside, on the inside she was anything but. She wasn’t shy, and she had no problem stating her mind.

It was sexy as hell.

It wasn’t often he allowed regrets, but he was starting to regret that last night hadn’t turned into something between them. And it was exactly that way of thinking that could get him into big trouble.
You’re stronger than this
, he told himself.

Not today you’re not . . .

Not when he was back on his dad’s turf, out of his element, and completely off balance. And much as he’d like to blame it all on Kate’s fathomless eyes and pinup girl mouth, he couldn’t.