Sloan stared at her. She was all fired up, her color high, Eve Hannah looked hot—hot enough for him to give her a second look. Her eyes flashed, and the pulse at her throat beat wildly.
As wildly as that of a woman about to climax.
Her heat drew his own.
His groin burned.
His dick strained against his zipper.
He’d be full-blown in a matter of seconds.
Wickedness pushed him to say, “Want to know what I’d have gotten you, had it been your birthday?”
Curiosity pursed her lips before she shrugged. “I couldn’t care less.”
He read women, and knew she wanted to know. So he told her: “A gift from Good Vibrations. And it’s not a Beach Boys CD.”
“A gift that runs on batteries?”
“You’re quick, Eve. My women like Intimacy Kits.”
“I’m not one of your women.”
Definitely not one of his women. Sloan McCaffrey would never have a tight-ass in his life. Yet he had the sudden urge to provoke, to get her so worked up she squirmed.
He leaned in closer so his breath warmed her ear. “For you, I’d have gone with the deluxe kit.”
Her eyes widened, and her blush deepened. Yet she didn’t pull away.
“The deluxe includes
Naughty Nights
, an erotic novel that tucks you in and turns you on.”
He heard her swallow.
“Then there’s the chocolate thong. The heat of your body melts it down. Mm-mmm, good.”
The tip of Eve’s tongue wet her upper lip.
“And the Tickle-Popzzz. Green and purple guilt-free pleasure treats. The soft, vibrating rubber suckers are perfect for massaging those sweet spots that need a little extra attention.”
Her breathlessness amused him.
“The kit also comes with a tangerine massage cream that makes you tingly all over.” He took her hand and very slowly rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “You could use a tingle, couldn’t you, Eve?”
Hot little shivers made her fingers twitch, and she clenched her hand to still the sensation.
He moved his hand to her hip, finger-walking across her belly—a surprisingly flat little belly. “You’d like the spearmint lubricant. The gel works to keep things warm and slippery.”
Sloan swore he felt her stomach flutter.
Her lips had parted, and her eyelids had gone heavy.
His next words brushed her cheek. “The G-Swirl’s my favorite. It has three speeds and is waterproof.” He nipped one corner of her mouth. “Beats the hell out of bathing with a rubber ducky.” Then he quacked.
His
quack
broke her trance. Eve stepped back so quickly, she bumped into the bar. She rubbed her back and glared at him, more embarrassed now than angry. “Save your deluxe kit for someone else’s birthday. You’d never be on my guest list.”
“A shame, sweetheart. You could use a buzz.”
“You should get your head out . . . out—”
“—from between a woman’s thighs,” he said around her stammer.
“There’s more to life than chocolate thongs and flavored lubricant.”
“Maybe so, but both make life sweet.”
She shook her head, her cheeks now as red from embarrassment as they were from anger.
He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable, only to tease her. Somehow he’d crossed the line. Her narrowed stare made him feel shallow and small. He didn’t like the feeling.
In his mind, sex toys were to foreplay as warm-up pitches were to baseball. Both left the body well oiled and fluid and ready for action.
Yet the buzz of a vibrator would probably send Eve screaming from the bedroom. She’d never crack the spine on an erotic novel. Never get tangerine tingly.
He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. He didn’t want Eve totally ticked for the remainder of the party. He gave an inch. “Addie’s your grandmother. You’ve thrown her a great party. If you want me to leave, I’m gone.”
Eve blinked, blew out a breath that fluffed her bangs, and sighed heavily. Her mental debate lasted longer than he liked.
“Steak and cake,” she finally said, “but be gone by the Bunny Hop.”
“You hop?” It was hard to imagine her having fun.
“I’m the lead bunny.”
Sloan couldn’t help himself; he threw back his head and laughed out loud.
Eve fought her smile and lost. Her braces and one deep dimple flashed for two whole seconds, then were gone.
“Truce?” he asked.
“We’ll never come to terms, McCaffrey,” she said with conviction. “It is, however, Addie’s day. She’s all that matters.” A short pause. “Go flirt with Taylor.”
“That I can do.”
Addie had opened her last gift and announced that it was dinnertime. Sloan got in line behind the seniors as they filed by Risk Kincaid at the grill and selected a steak. His wife, Jacy, stood by his side—a gorgeous woman, even in her quirky clothes.
“Which sister are you hitting on?” asked Risk as he dropped a T-bone onto Sloan’s plate.
“The sweet one.”
“Eve?”
Sloan frowned. “How can you call her sweet?”
“Eve’s known as sweet, Taylor as sexy,” Risk informed him.
“Eve invited me, but I’m interested in Taylor.”
Risk looked at Jacy. “We heard you invited yourself.”
Damn, did the whole world know he’d party-crashed? “I was at Thrill Seekers a few nights ago booking a trip when I overheard the ladies discussing the party and Addie’s transportation problem. I knew I could fix it.”
“You fixed it just fine,” Risk said. “Taylor and Eve have full lives. Addie will soon have you on speed dial.” He served up two thick tenderloins to an elderly man and woman, then asked, “You have a decent vehicle?”
“I’m looking at vans tomorrow.”
“I’ll go halves with you.”
Sloan looked at the big man who played center field. Risk Kincaid was relaxed in social situations, yet came on hard on game day. He was known for his community involvement and accessibility to those in need. “I can afford the van,” Sloan stated.
Risk cut a glance to Jacy. “It would please my wife greatly if I participated in transporting the elderly.”
“If I’m happy, Risk will be grinning like a fool.” Jacy slid one arm about her husband’s waist and squeezed him tightly. Risk responded by dropping a light kiss on top of her red head. They were an openly affectionate couple, comfortable in each other’s company.
Sloan admired what they had. On dates, he had women bumping and grinding and climbing his body. But he’d never stuck with one woman for more than three dates. Commitment and permanence were lost on him.
“Nice going, Sloan,” Jacy complimented him. “Addie’s in good shape and financially secure, but most of her friends are legally blind and on fixed incomes. Many haven’t driven in years. Taylor told me that Addie has a trick right knee and that it locks on occasion. She refuses to drive for that reason. Your van will give the seniors lots of freedom.”
“I’m certain several of the other Rogues would give one night a week to help out too,” Risk said.
“I want Addie’s gift free and clear of community-service hours,” Sloan said firmly. “Anyone who transports, drives on his own time, not team time.”
Risk nodded. “Agreed. I have a friend at the Dodge dealership. After practice tomorrow, we’ll check out the Sprinter. It’s durable, and with custom bench seats you could fit twelve.”
“Let’s get it done,” Sloan agreed.
“You’re a good man.” Jacy smiled at him.
Tell that to Eve
, he wanted to say, but let it pass.
“Go eat your steak before it gets cold.” Jacy nudged him on. “There’s a buffet laid out beneath the tent.”
Sloan went to the buffet. He was one hungry man. He took heaping helpings of pasta salad, coleslaw, and corn on the cob. When he couldn’t decide between a sweet or a baked potato, he took both, and piled on the sour cream.
He checked the tables for Eve and noted that she’d slid in between Addie and her horseshoe partner, a tight fit. No room for him there. He carried his plate back to the bar, where Taylor continued mixing drinks.
“Share my steak?” he offered.
“M-mm, maybe a bite. I’m not too hungry.”
“Your leg’s hurting you,” he guessed.
She wasn’t the type of woman to complain. “I ignore pain.”
“You shouldn’t be standing.”
“I’ll be off my feet shortly. Once the coffee is—”
Is what?
Sloan took a bite of steak, waiting for her to finish her sentence. She never did. Taylor’s gaze was fixed on the patio doors, and she’d gone pale.
He chewed and swallowed, then scanned the five new arrivals. He recognized Mayor Talbott from his picture in the paper, as well as Stuart Tate, his campaign manager. Then there was Brek Stryker and a pretty brunette, whom Sloan assumed was his fiancée, Hilary Talbott. As well as a photographer.
He saw Addie set aside her plate and rise to greet the mayor, manager, and brunette with a handshake and a smile. She next embraced Brek Stryker with a welcoming hug, as if he were family. Addie pointed to the bar, offering drinks.
All eyes came to rest on Taylor.
The mayor and manager nodded.
The mayor and manager The brunette frowned.
Stryker’s stare went from narrowed to hungry in six seconds flat. Hungry for steak, birthday cake . . . or Taylor Hannah?
For a solid minute Taylor and Brek openly stared, their gazes locked as tightly as any two bodies during sex.
Singed by their sexual vibe, Sloan patted down his clothes, checking for fire.
What the hell?
No one had told him that Stryke and Taylor knew each other. Yet it was obvious they packed a hot and heavy history.
A silence settled over the party.
The mood went from cheerful and loud to a funereal hush as gazes darted between the thrill seeker and the starting pitcher. It was obvious that everyone but Sloan knew about their past. Closemouthed Eve must have been laughing her ass off behind his back as he came on to Taylor, a woman who’d turned white as a sheet.
Gone was the daredevil with spirit and energy to burn. In her place stood a vulnerable woman barely holding her own.
Taylor’s hands visibly shook as she measured coffee from a canister into the fifty-cup urn. Grounds spilled onto the shelf behind the bar. It took her two tries to plug in the coffeemaker. She then brought out the after-dinner liqueurs, offering the guests their choice of absinthe, Kahlua or crème de cacao.
Observant to the point of annoying people by what he saw, Sloan took it all in.
Only a man could make Taylor so edgy. That man had to be Brek Stryker. There was some major drama going down.
Amid it all, Sloan’s steak called to him, thick and juicy and pink in the middle. He sliced off a big bite, chewing thoughtfully. He liked a party with a lot of action.
“Beck’s,” he requested of Taylor. When she didn’t immediately respond, he threw a cashew at her. The nut bounced off her bare shoulder and got her attention. “Beer,” he reiterated.
She poured him a Bud.
The lady was definitely distracted.
He set down his fork, reached across the bar, and laced his fingers with hers. “Want to touch my tattoo?” he teased to ease her tension.
A small smile curved her lips, and she managed to exhale. “Eve told me about your three.”
Eve. Sloan groaned.
“Behave yourself, McCaffrey. You’re her date for the party. No two-timing her.”
“She told me to flirt with you.”
“But did she mean it?”
Of course she meant it. Eve had no interest in him. None whatsoever. He looked across the tables to where she was chatting with Addie, her horseshoe partner, and five other guests. Eve had them leaning toward her as she related a story that held everyone’s interest.
Taylor caught him looking at her sister. “Go join them. I’m fine behind the bar.”
“The bar can’t protect you like I can.”
“Protect me from what?”
“Whatever or whomever broke your heart.” He glanced toward the sliding patio doors and saw Hilary Talbott leave her group and wind her way toward the bar. Brek Stryker was right behind her. “Put your game face on, Fearless,” Sloan warned. “We’re about to play hardball.”
Taylor’s chest squeezed so tightly she thought her heart would burst. She’d known Mayor Talbott would make an appearance at Addie’s party; she hadn’t, however, expected Brek and Hilary to show as well. Yet there Brek stood, tall and handsome, his supportive palm high on Hilary’s spine. A man protecting his woman.
Hilary . . . the woman who owned his heart. She looked stylish in her red blazer and gray skirt, complementing Brek’s more casual appearance in a white button-down and navy trousers.
Unable to escape, Taylor returned Brek’s stare. His expression was fixed, unreadable—a man who gave nothing away.
Her ears buzzed and her body hummed as Stryke and Hilary crossed to the bar, and Sloan McCaffrey closed in on her.
Sloan . . . For all his jock ego and cockiness, he was doing her an enormous favor. He was hanging out at the bar, paying her the attention of six men. The man could charm.
Had Taylor been several years younger, she might have taken Sloan for a test drive. He’d proven today that he could be her friend. But because she’d already had Brek Stryker, she wanted no other man. Stryke was her once-in-a-lifetime love. She’d never forget him, even after he’d married.
“How do you know Stryke?” Sloan lowered his voice discreetly.
“We were close once.”
“Close as in sharing a cup of coffee or doing the dirty?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’m sizing up the competition,” he told her. “Are you only into starters or will you date a reliever?”
“I’d date the closer if I liked him.”
He cut into his steak and offered Taylor a bite. “Pretend the steak melts in your mouth. Moan a little.”
She ate off his fork, a friendly yet intimate gesture. However tasty the food, she couldn’t bring herself to moan.
“Want to round my horn?” Sloan used the baseball term as a sexual invite just as Hilary and Stryke reached the bar.
Taylor barely managed to swallow.
“McCaffrey,” Stryke acknowledged before he looked at Taylor, a flatness in both his tone and expression.
Hilary, on the other hand, studied Taylor with shy interest. “I’m Hilary Talbott.” The soft-spoken brunette introduced herself with the polite formality of a politician’s daughter. She looked from Sloan to Taylor. “I believe you know my fiancé, Brek.”