Dead Sexy

Dead Sexy

Kimberly Raye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIMBERLY RAYE has always been an incurable romantic. While she enjoys reading all types of fiction, her favourites, the books that touch her soul, are romance novels. From sexy to thrilling, sweet to humorous, she likes them all. But what she really loves is writing romance—the hotter the better! She started her first novel back in high school and has been writing ever since. Kim lives deep in the heart of the Texas Hill Country with her very own cowboy, Curt, and their young children. She’s an avid reader (she reads all the Blaze® books) who loves Diet Dr Pepper, chocolate, Toby Keith, chocolate, alpha males—especially vampires—and chocolate. Kim also loves to hear from readers. you can visit her online at www.kimberlyraye.com or at www.myspace.com/ kimberlyrayebooks.

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This book is dedicated to cowboys the world over

and the women who love them!

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Copyright

1

HE NEEDED A WOMAN.

If Jake McCann had been anywhere else in the free world, he would have headed for the nearest singles bar. But he was stuck in the middle of nowhere—aka Skull Creek, Texas—and so he’d headed for its one and only pickup spot: the forty-second annual Founder’s Day festival, a weeklong celebration that kicked off with tonight’s carnival.

He tipped back the brim of his Stetson and studied his surroundings. The rides had been set up on the ten-acre stretch of gravel parking lot behind the local high school. Pastureland surrounded the area, stretching endlessly in all directions, reminding Jake exactly how far out of his element he really was.

No blinding lights or slabs of concrete. No sirens wailing in the distance or horns honking. Instead he heard the whir of rides, barks of laughter and the cry of a violin from the country two-step that drifted from the large tent at the rear of the carnival, where a battle of the local bands had commenced.

There was a giant Ferris wheel and a brightly lit merry-go-round, along with a few more daring rides. Mad Teacups. The Whirligig. The Octopus. Booths lined the main strip, offering everything from the chance to knock down a dozen milk cans and win a giant stuffed SpongeBob, to hoop shots for a dollar.

He shifted his attention to the two brunettes who stood munching hot dogs near the ringtoss. His gaze locked with one of them and hunger brightened her eyes. She licked her lips suggestively and lust echoed through him. His gaze caught and held number two, who eyed him with the same blatant interest. Her wedding ring winked as she lifted the hot dog to her lips, and he turned away.

His gaze slid to a pretty blonde who clasped the hand of a young boy and dragged him after her. Her brother. Jake knew it even though he didn’t know her.

He could see into her thoughts, taste the frustration in her mouth, feel the displeasure that prickled her skin. She’d been stuck babysitting and she wasn’t at all happy about it. She’d wanted to hang with her boyfriend tonight. She’d wanted to…

Jake shook away the thought and hopped off that horse before it could run away with him. He was wired enough on his own without letting someone else’s fantasies feed the desire already gripping him tight.

He spotted another woman. A knockout in her late thirties. Married. Mentally counting the seconds until she could slip away from her husband and rendezvous with his brother over by the Haunted House. They’d been seeing each other off and on for the past three years. He’d become an addiction she couldn’t do without.

Jake knew the feeling.

He had his own addiction.

His own curse.

Not for long.

He’d searched and watched and waited for the past ten years since discovering the means to free himself, and the time had finally come. In nine days he would escape the hunger that held him captive. He would face his past, his sire, and he would defeat him—and then he would be normal again.

A man rather than a vampire.

If he intended to be victorious, he had to be at the top of his game.

Fully alert.

Physically strong.

Emotionally ready.

Powerful.

And there was only one surefire way to beef up his strength—he needed to feed.

Not in the traditional sense. There were some perks to being over one hundred years old—namely he could go days without sinking his fangs into a sweet, succulent female. Contrary to popular myth, the need for blood didn’t define him. It was just a part of who he was.

He was also a giant mass of energy.

Tonight’s hunt was all about charging that energy. About finding another life force, preferably while it was at its most vibrant, and soaking up the extra voltage.

Tonight’s hunt was all about S-E-X.

That’s why Jake had left Houston and his motorcycle design business to head for the hill country. He wanted plenty of time to prepare for the coming confrontation. He’d ridden into town just a few hours ago, over a week before his sire was due to return to Skull Creek to relive the turning.

It was what all vampires did on the anniversary of their change. On the exact date, at the exact moment, each was instinctively called back to the site where he or she had left their humanity behind. While reliving the moment of death, a vampire was at his most vulnerable.

Jake had managed to pinpoint the location and he intended to launch his attack while his sire was at his weakest. But he wasn’t going to rely on timing alone to guarantee victory.

He’d checked himself into the nearest motel and wasted zero time in heading straight for the one event that offered the biggest selection of females—the carnival that kicked off a weeklong celebration honoring the town’s founders. In particular, Sam Black who’d single-handedly fought off a group of Santa Anna’s men during the Texas Revolution and preserved the small settlement of Skull Creek.

The man was a legend. A hero.

To everyone but Jake.

He walked toward the ticket booth, looking, sensing, feeling. It was another perk of being what he was and the only one he was truly going to miss. Trust had never been a high commodity with the people in his life. Not during the thirty years he’d been human nor in the hundred-plus years since.

Luckily he didn’t walk into any situation blindly. He could look into any human’s eyes and see their darkest fear, their fondest dream, their deepest desire, their true character. It had saved his ass more than once since he’d been turned and it also kept him from hooking up with the wrong type of woman.

Namely the nice kind. The ones interested in more than a night of hot, wild, steamy sex. The sort who wanted love and marriage and commitment.

All three were impossible for him.

Love? Hell, he’d never been in love with anyone, not when he’d been just a man, and certainly not since he’d turned. He wasn’t even sure such a thing existed.

And marriage? Immortality sort of put a crimp in the whole till-death-do-us-part deal.

As for commitment…He had that one down pat, but it didn’t involve a female. His dedication centered solely on finding and destroying the vampire who’d turned him back in 1883 and freeing himself once and for all.

Jake’s only real potential when it came to the opposite sex involved lots of bone-melting orgasms. That much he could and would guarantee every woman. Rather than deceive anyone, he preferred to be as up-front as possible. Obviously he wasn’t anxious to get himself staked, so he kept the vampire part to himself. But his intentions—sex and nothing but sex—he made crystal clear.

Satisfaction.

That was the only promise Jake ever made.

The only one he could keep.

He kept walking, his boots crunching gravel with each step. The cool evening breeze slid over his bare arms and whispered over his skin, feeding the anxiety already gripping him tight. His gaze slid this way and that.

Just beyond the roar of the rides and the squeals of laughter, he heard the sharp intake of breath. A soft gasp that popped in his head and stoked the fire in his blood.

The sound drew him around the corner, away from the games, toward the food section which had been separated into three aisles: Sweets Boulevard, Vegetable Drive and Hearty Meat Street.

He turned down the first aisle and stopped a few feet shy of one booth draped in vibrant pink tulle. His gaze zeroed in on the woman who waited for a mountain of cotton candy to be draped around a white paper cone.

Her long strawberry-blond hair had been pulled back into a simple ponytail. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, the name Dog the Bounty Hunter emblazoned across the back.

She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But there was just something about her…a warmth that sizzled through the air between them and drew his undivided attention.

“Thanks, Molly,” she told the forty-something woman who handed her the treat. She fished in her pocket for a dollar bill.

“On the house,” Molly told her, waving the money away. “Just make sure you squeeze me in for a color tomorrow afternoon. I want to look my best for the rib cook-off tomorrow night.” She grinned. “I think Arliss Dupree is going to ask me out. I heard from Mabel who heard from Louise who heard from Denise Duttmeyer that he was seen stocking up on antacids.” A dreamy look crept into the older woman’s eyes. “I just love a man who plans ahead.”

“Call the salon first thing in the morning and I’ll work you in.” She stuffed the money back into her pocket and started to turn.

“And, by the way, just you never mind about Bill.” The cotton candy lady waved her hand. “He’s a slimy turd and you’re better off without him.”

The blonde stiffened, and even though Jake couldn’t see her face, he felt the disappointment that rolled through her. And the embarrassment.

“And here I always thought he was such a nice boy,” Molly went on. “Just goes to show that you can’t trust anybody, even a savings-and-loan officer. If he’ll lie about going to Vegas on the pretense of attending a seminar only to have an orgy with a couple of strippers, he’ll fudge on interest rates, that’s for damn sure.”

“I…It’s okay, really. It’s not like we were engaged or anything.” Not yet.

The silent thought crossed the distance to Jake and echoed in his head. Anger rolled through him and his fingers tightened. He had the sudden urge to hunt down the slimy turd and beat him to a bloody pulp.

“If you need anything,” Molly told her, “you know where to find me. Or if you want my nephew Zeke to break his ankles, I can arrange that, too. Zeke always liked you, you know.”

“Really? I never would have guessed, what with the way he ran over my lunch with his bike back in the sixth grade.”

“Aw, honey, my poor, departed Reggie—God rest his soul—did the same thing to me back when we were in grade school.” Molly beamed. “Men just have their own way of expressing themselves. Haven’t you read that Mars and Venus book? You really ought to read that. You might have better luck with the fellas.”

“Thanks.” Not. The thought slid across the distance to him as clear and distinct as if she’d whispered directly in his ear. “I’ll keep my eye out for it.” She turned then, giving him his first real look at her face.

His heart paused and he stopped breathing for a long, drawn-out moment. Not that he needed oxygen, mind you, but old habits really were hard to break. And this particular one made it easier to blend in and preserve his anonymity.

His pulse quickened as his gaze roved over her.

She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful. She wore very little makeup and her mouth wasn’t as full as he usually liked. But there was an excitement that burned in her whiskey-colored eyes as she stared at the candy confection in her hand. A vibrancy that zipped down his spine and fireballed smack-dab in his gut. All thoughts of revenge faded into a rush of need that drew his body painfully tight.

He watched as she touched the fluffy sweet to her lips and felt the satisfaction that pulsed hot and consuming at the first luscious bite. She closed her eyes, letting the candy melt on her tongue, but the taste lasted only a few blissful seconds and did little to relieve the anxiety knotting her muscles.

Because she didn’t really want cotton candy. Or funnel cakes. Or caramel apples. Or any of the other treats being dished up at the various booths that lined the aisle.

She wanted something richer—and much more potent.

She stiffened and two tiny lines pinched between her eyebrows. A subtle change that no one else seemed to notice. Hell, other than the occasional hello from a friendly face, no one really noticed her at all.

Except for Jake.

He saw the disappointment that clouded her gaze and the stiff way she held her shoulders and he felt the rest—the hot rush of blood through her veins, the frantic beat of her heart, the buzz of her nerves and the tingle of her nipples.

She was a bubbling cauldron of repressed sexual energy just waiting to boil over.

Jake smiled and stepped forward.

It was time to turn up the heat.

2

NIKKI BRAXTON WAS through with men and relationships.

Done.

Finished.

That’s all, folks!

She eyed the mountain of whispery pink sugar and smiled. From here on out, she was eating her way to happiness.

She lapped at the sweetness and focused on the rush of happy that surged from her brain to the tips of her toes and back up again. Sugar was definitely the way to go.

That’s what she told herself as she snagged a piece of cotton candy with her finger and popped it into her mouth. Her taste buds tingled and her frustration eased. Temporarily, of course.

But then, that was the story of her life.

Another bite, another surge of satisfaction, and she started to think that maybe, just maybe, the phone call from Bill two weeks ago, complete with a very graphic, albeit accidental, image from his picture phone, had been a good thing.

Okay, it hadn’t been so great that he’d purposely sent the pic to his bowling buddies, who, in turn, had shown everyone and their dog. Which meant the entire town had shared in her humiliation.

Even so, it wasn’t the end of the world.

So what if Bill—the two-timing jerk—had cheated on her? So what if he was still in Vegas, holed up with two pairs of fake boobies, having a bona fide orgy, just as Molly had said? Good riddance. He’d been a mama’s boy who still lived at home, and she’d wasted seven months on him already. Seven months of Friday-night dinners with him and his mother and Saturday-night movie dates with him and his mother and Sunday picnics with him and—you guessed it—his mother.

While seven didn’t sound like a lot, add it to the sixteen months she’d wasted with Roger Beeville (he’d had a thing for women’s shoes that had driven him to swipe every pair during tournament week down at the bowling alley), the thirteen months before that with Stan Caufield (he’d had a thing for his secretary…and his cleaning lady, and the clerk down at the video store and the acrylic-nail girl at Nancy’s Nails) and the eighteen months before that with Jerry Whatshisname (he’d had a thing for his old football buddy named Buck), and it amounted to a lot of wasted time. Factor in at least six months between each for a decent mourning period (and enough Hershey’s Kisses to dull the pain), and we were talking years.

Forget the optimistic twenty-two-year-old she’d been with a brand-spanking-new degree in cosmetology and dreams of her own happily ever after—a nice, reliable man, two kids, a couple of dogs and a house with a huge backyard. She was now thirty years old and the stressed-out owner of her own hair salon, To Dye For. She had a monstrous bank loan and an endless string of bad relationships with dysfunctional men.

She also had a giant mortgage.

While she’d given up on the guy for now, she saw no reason to hinge everything on Mr. Nice and Reliable. Sure, she wasn’t ready to go it alone when it came to kids, or even the dogs, but she was more than capable of buying a house and taking at least a small step toward her happily ever after.

She’d done so last week and had spent every night since making a list of needed repairs—they didn’t call it a fixerupper for nothing. She still had a lot to do, from painting to new flooring, but she felt good. Productive.

If only she felt satisfied.

Instead she was wound tighter than an extrakinky perm. She needed an orgasm in the worst way.

The knowledge stuck in her brain as she turned to walk toward the dunking booth just around the corner.

Not that she couldn’t head home right this second and treat herself if she felt like it. She shopped online, like every other woman in her small town, and she had her own personal arsenal of female sex toys. She was more than capable of handling the situation on her own. But she knew from past experience that the release would be all too brief. Even more, there was no satisfaction in snuggling with a multispeed vibrator.

She needed a flesh-and-blood man for that.

Hence Bill.

Seven months of snuggling and cuddling and making out—when they were able to elude his mother, that is—and she’d finally been ready to go all the way. She’d planned a big welcome home at his place, complete with a home-cooked dinner and herself as the dessert. A huge offering for a woman who’d grown up hearing her great-aunt Izzie preach, “A man won’t buy the cow if he gets the milk for free.”

Old-fashioned. Sexist. The saying was both. And it was also true. Nikki’s mother—Izzie’s niece—had spent her entire life “giving it away,” and not once had she ever had a meaningful, lasting relationship.

There’d been no joint checking account, no monogrammed towels, no picture perfect family gathered around the Thanksgiving table. There’d been only Aunt Izzie, Nikki, Nikki’s mother, and whatever man Nikki had been calling “Uncle” that week.

Nikki had wanted more for herself. A solid, lasting relationship. Permanent. And so she’d taken Izzie’s advice and held back.

Not that she was a virgin, mind you. She’d done the deed a handful of times in the past. With Jerry (before he’d started wearing her underwear). And with Stan (before he’d started wearing her shoes). But with each man she’d waited a decent amount of time. Long enough to preserve her nice-girl status and really get to know him.

Or so she’d thought.

She tugged at another fluff of pink and popped it into her mouth. There. Talk about ecstasy. No batteries needed. No waiting period required. No weird hidden fetish ready to jump up and bite her when she least expected it.

It didn’t get much better.

“Wanna bet?” The deep, masculine voice slid into her ears and snagged her out of the sugar high dulling her senses.

Every nerve in Nikki’s body snapped to attention as she stopped and turned. Her gaze collided with a pair of eyes so gray and translucent they looked silver.

Excitement pumped through her, followed by a bolt of desire that gripped every inch of her body and stalled the air in her lungs. She forgot to breathe for the next several seconds as she drank in the cowboy who’d come up behind her.

He had a great face. Not the perfect GQ kind but a face that said he was every bit as rough and rugged as his voice implied.

Beneath the brim of his black Stetson, his gaze gleamed hot and bright and knowing. Stubble darkened his strong jaw, circled his sensuous mouth and crept down the column of his throat. Dark hair curled from beneath his hat and brushed his collar.

He stood well over six feet, his shoulders broad and massive beneath a black T-shirt. Just below the edge of his sleeves, ornate slave-band tattoos circled each muscular bicep. Faded jeans cupped his crotch, clung to his thighs and traced the outline of his long, sinewy legs. He wore scuffed black cowboy boots and an air of raw sexuality that made her nipples tingle.

Oh, boy.

That was her first cohesive thought when she actually started to breathe again.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t her first thought.

Number one? Oh, no.

She became keenly aware of the raggedy old tee and baggy jeans she’d pulled on prior to leaving the house. Shapeless. Unattractive. The perfect attire for stripping and painting the walls of her dream house.

For meeting hot guys? It definitely lacked.

Then again, she hadn’t come here to meet guys. She’d come to satisfy her sweet tooth.

The reminder was enough to spark some sense, and she forced her lips to move. “Excuse me?” she finally managed.

His grin was slow and easy, wiping away the mesmerizing intensity and replacing it with an irresistible charm that eased the thunder of her heart.

Instead of answering her question, he simply stared at her, into her, for a long moment before he nodded toward the mountain of spun sugar she held in her hand. “Mind if I have a taste?”

It wasn’t even close to a decent pickup line, and she couldn’t stifle the disappointment that rushed through her.

Obviously this tall, dark and delicious cowboy had fallen head over heels for her cotton candy rather than her.

Just the way Bill had fallen for the strippers and Jerry had fallen for that pair of silver Michael Kors sandals he’d bought for her birthday.

Another guy with a fetish. Great. Just great.

Not that it mattered. She’d sworn off men, and this guy was just more fuel to add to the proverbial fire.

She shrugged. “Sure.” She held up the pink treat. “Knock yourself out.”

His grin widened and he leaned forward.

And then he kissed her.

3

HIS STRONG, PURPOSEFUL mouth claimed hers. His tongue swept her bottom lip, licking and nibbling and—

Wait a second.

Nikki’s heart thundered as she struggled to grasp the current scenario. This was not happening. No way was a hot, sexy stranger kissing her for no apparent reason, in front of God and everyone, including the senior ladies’ bingo squad. From the corner of her eye Nikki glimpsed a dozen pairs of bifocals trained on her.