Girl's Guide to Hunting & Kissing

“What sign?”

Stopping again, she leaned against a sleek, unobtrusive marble wet bar and sighed. “When’s your birthday?”

He had so lost the thread of this conversation. “May twelfth?”

“Of course, you’re a Taurus. I’m an Aquarius.” She withdrew a silver pendant that had been hidden under her dress. From his vantage point, it looked like a disk with a few wavy lines carved across the front. “You’re the bull and I’m the ever-changing water sign. It will never work.”

Ah. A challenge.

If Summer Farnsworth had known him better, she would have realized she couldn’t chase him off by declaring he couldn’t possibly win. Throughout the course of his career, challenges had always fueled him. Fired him up. Made him all the more determined.

Rising, he stepped closer to Summer. Plainly, the time had arrived to employ stronger means of persuasion. “This Aquarius condition…does that make you clairvoyant or something?”

She tilted her chin as he neared and he could almost see her dig her heels into the plush taupe carpet. “I once accurately predicted a hurricane in a Tarot-card reading. But in general, no, I’m not psychic.”

“Then you can’t possibly know what might happen between us if we got together.” He stopped a fraction of an inch inside her personal space, just close enough to catch the wild floral scent of her.

“It just seems unwise for a man in your position to court trouble.” Her breath caught, a fact he noticed since his glance had somehow strayed to her chest.

Dragging his attention back to her wide gray eyes, he concentrated on listening to her words as opposed to her body language.

“Especially when we have so little in common.” She cleared her throat, licked the rim of her lips.

Too bad Summer talked in very articulate body language. Jackson didn’t have a prayer of ignoring it.

Or her.

Or what he’d wanted from the moment he’d first spied that rosy-colored mouth of hers.

“It seems even more unwise to pretend we don’t feel what’s going on right now.” He reached for her, his fingers skimming her jaw while his thumb found the soft fullness of her lower lip.

She swayed slightly. Her eyelids fluttered but refused to fall.

“I’m the kind of person who craves freedom. I break rules all the time. Just for fun.” Her voice held a note of warning, mild panic. “Didn’t I tell you I was the original bad girl behind the Bad Girl Bordello?”

Jackson had no interest in being warned off. The temperature between them cranked up a few more degrees, giving him no choice but to pull her to him and mold her slender body to his.

“I don’t see you breaking any rules tonight, Summer. If I’m going to be convinced you’re such a bad girl, I think you’re going to have to prove it.”

3

Be aware that kissing can lead you into dangerous territory.

PROOF?

Summer had greeted the man with her bustier untied and now she was practically unraveling in his arms from just a touch, yet he required proof of her wild and wanton streak?

Well by God, she would gladly show him.

Stretching up on her toes, she brushed her lips over his the way she’d wanted to for the last hour. Sitting beside sexy Jackson Taggart in the lush sensuality of the bordello room had made her more than a little edgy. And since the kiss was simply an exercise in proving a point, she didn’t bother to hold anything back.

She flicked her tongue across his lips to steal a taste. He possessed a full, soft mouth for a man of such chiseled features and hard angles. Her eyelids fell shut, heightening the sensations of his kiss. The warm whiskey taste of him intoxicated her, made her even bolder.

Splaying a hand across his broad chest beneath his jacket, she absorbed the feel of starched cotton and warm muscle through his white dress shirt. Her fingertips itched to cover more ground, to explore the terrain of the rock-hard abs currently plastered against her. To follow the silky path of his tie to the leather of his belt and then dip lower still…

Yet she contented herself with reaching to touch his face, to cradle his rough-hewn jaw and stroke the crisp hair at the back of his neck. His aftershave smelled clean and expensive, elusive enough to make her want to linger so she might catch the scent more strongly.

But then Jackson expelled a throaty growl of pure male hunger and tightened his grip. Arms banded around her, he locked her body against his, his formerly still hands now coming to life.

He deepened their kiss, delving into her mouth to mate and join them. Summer closed her eyes more tightly against the onslaught of heat, the tingly wave of needy sensation that tripped through her whole body. As his tongue probed hers, an answering shock wave pulsed between her legs.

In the recesses of her brain, she heard the bluesy piano of Duke Ellington somewhere in the background, but even the vivid reds of the bordello were fading to black when forced to compete with the magnetic draw of this man.

Jackson.

In her mind’s eye, she could see no one and nothing else. The heel of his hand smoothed over her cheek while his long fingers combed through her hair. Her scalp prickled with warmth while her breasts tightened against his chest.

The silk moiré bustier that she’d retied now strained at the seams with her erratic breathing. She could already anticipate what it would feel like to peel off the stiff fabric and press herself intimately to Jackson’s hard chest.

Bliss.

She wanted this man with an intensity that surpassed any longing she’d ever felt for a tattooed surfer. How had she ever thought Jackson was low-key or laid-back when he kissed with the exquisite finesse of the devil himself?

He backed her closer to the bed recessed in a private alcove of the larger room. Or perhaps she drew him toward the bed. It seemed their chemistry had exploded all of a sudden, leaving them both in the grip of a power that was hotter and more volatile than either of them.

Her thigh skimmed the red satin coverlet as the black lace grazed her ankle. The dull thud at the back of her leg barely fazed her, but it seemed to bring Jackson back to life.

He broke off their kiss, his eyes refocusing on their surroundings.

On her.

“That’s not so bad in my book, Summer.” His voice hit a smoky note, blending in with the gravelly blues singer emanating from the bedside radio.

She struggled to recall what they’d been discussing, or what his words had to do with climbing into bed right now and not getting out for the next forty-eight hours. “Hmm?”

His hands wandered over her bare shoulders. Apparently she’d lost her shawl again on the way to the bed. Now, the warm pad of his finger gently cruised the slope of her collarbone then dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat.

Wasn’t Brianne supposed to be making a few security checks on her tonight? If Summer didn’t get some help soon, she would surely burst into flame from Jackson’s touch.

“I said that wasn’t so bad.” His voice rumbled in his chest even as his whispered the words.

Summer felt the words as much as she heard them.

“Damn straight it wasn’t so bad,” she whispered back, debating how difficult it would be to topple him down onto the bed with her. “In fact, that was downright fantastic.”

The distinct sound of a smothered laugh drew her attention from the logistics of maneuvering a six-foot-plus man into bed. Her gaze landed on a mouth suppressing a smile.

“I meant that you aren’t so bad, Summer. As in, maybe you’re not quite the bad girl you think you are.” He twined his fingers through hers.

Ah. She’d rather forgotten that conversation and her last-ditch effort to scare him off before his kiss had rocked her world. In the past, she’d chosen quick liaisons with no-commitment men who were willing to follow her lead. While those relationships hadn’t been overly fulfilling, they’d at least taken the edge off her sensual longings and allowed her to pretend she was in control.

But Jackson had a way of taking charge that unsettled her even though her body was already responding.

“Maybe kissing wasn’t such a great way of showing off my wild side.” Or maybe underneath Jackson Taggart’s oh-so-refined suit beat the heart of a tattooed thrill seeker.

Then again, maybe he was nothing like any guy she’d ever been with and she was totally out of her depth.

“Or maybe you’re just not giving me enough credit for being able to take whatever you dish out.”

A little thrill of a different kind skipped through her. Not that she would let it sway her decision. “I’m sure you could handle it. I’m more concerned that your public won’t be able to.”

“Then again, maybe you’re just scared to take a chance on me.” He leaned closer to look her in the eye, the challenge simmering in his words. The man looked mighty at home framed in the background of shirred burgundy velvet that covered the walls of the sensuous bordello.

Damn. How could she be so transparent to this guy? She hadn’t been accused of being scared of anything since—well, since she’d been old enough to armor herself with wild clothes and crystal talismans. Her mystical image combined with a few random outrageous acts had always made people keep their distance.

Until now. She sniffed, hoping she could regain lost ground. “Hardly.”

“Prove it. Go boating with me tomorrow.” He called her on the bluff.

She shouldn’t be surprised. Jackson had skillfully outmaneuvered her from the moment he’d strolled into the bordello in his deceptively buttoned-up suit.

“Boating?” Could she help it if her ears perked up a bit? She’d decided to quit her gypsy lifestyle and hang out in southern Florida on a permanent basis just because of the beach.

“No better place to improve your outlook than skimming over gulf waters. You Aquarian types ought to appreciate that.” He tugged the leather thong around her neck, dislodging the silver pendant with the water markings of her astrological sign from the narrow valley of her cleavage.

Did he realize how the action teased her breasts?

She gazed up at him and found heat smoldering in his eyes. Of course he knew what it did to her.

Still, she had no clue how to conduct a real relationship, and Jackson didn’t seem to be interested in a one-night conflagration. What man wasn’t interested in easy sex? Not that she had a vast amount of experience in that particular arena, but growing up in communes had given her a lot of knowledge.

She had to admit, a man who could deny immediate sex for the sake of something more possessed an admirable amount of control. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of sexual prowess a man with so much control might possess.

Still…

No matter how intriguing that particular thought might be, Summer knew she couldn’t give him what he wanted.

Even if she wanted to venture into real-relationship terrain, a public figure on the verge of a big career move was definitely not the right kind of guy to play trial and error with.

Her errors would be dissected on the six o’clock news.

“Come on, Summer.” He whispered the words in her ear like a devil perched on her shoulder. “You can’t let a straight-laced attorney one-up you in the thrill-seeking department. You’re risking your reputation as a wild woman.”

She had to smile. “Who’d have thought South Beach’s golden boy would turn out to be such an instigator?”

“Can I take that as a yes?”

No. No. No. Definitely not.

“Yes, on one condition.” Damn it, how had she blurted that out? She hadn’t consciously made up her mind when the words were tumbling from her lips. But then, her impetuous nature had brought her as much good luck in life as bad. She owned a quarter of the controlling shares of Club Paradise thanks to following a whim.

As long as she kept an upper hand in this relationship, she would be okay. And her condition would provide that edge she needed to stay in charge.

“Name it.”

Reaching up to his neck, she loosened his tie and then carefully unfastened the top button of his perfectly pressed shirt. She could do this seduction thing, couldn’t she? Surely she could find a way to rattle Jackson’s oh-so-admirable control.

Allowing her voice to hit a breathy note, she gazed up at him. “You let me teach you how to go a little wild.”

Maybe part of her hoped he’d back down. That way she’d never have to risk having a good time with a man all wrong for her. Of course, that was the same part of her that also wished they could have just slept together tonight after that amazing kiss. They could have taken the edge off all those lusty feelings zinging back and forth between them without the messy complications bound to follow in a relationship.

To his credit, Jackson never even hesitated. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Summer. And lucky for us I just happen to know the most legally binding way to seal the bargain in the absence of a notary.” His hands materialized on her shoulders, the hardened palms providing a pleasing rasp against her skin.

“You do?” She was too busy worrying about whether she’d just made a crazy decision based on physical attraction to follow Jackson’s thinking.

But as his gaze narrowed to her mouth and he loomed closer, Summer realized what he had in mind.

And maybe it wasn’t too late to tumble all gorgeous six-foot-plus of Jackson Taggart into bed tonight.

HER KISS seared his insides. Hell, his outsides were pretty much on fire, too.

Must. Not. Hit. The. Sheets.

Jackson clung to the thought as Summer tugged at his shoulders and wriggled her way toward the lush red satin bed.

He never should have indulged in another kiss. He’d only wanted a little taste of her to tide him over until tomorrow and make her anticipate their day together.

But she’d thrown herself into the lip lock with no restraint, and now she proved to be every inch the bedroom goddess he had pegged her for when he first spotted her in the lounge tonight.

If he allowed her to woo him into her bed, his gut told him she’d skate out of their date tomorrow and he’d never have the chance to learn anymore about her.

Damn it, he wanted more from her than that.

He wanted to see what she had in mind for teaching him how to go wild. No doubt, he’d have a few surprises in store for her in that department, but he was perfectly content letting her take the lead if it made her feel more comfortable.

And just maybe part of him looked forward to thumbing his nose at his family, the press and all his government contacts pressuring him to run in a race he hadn’t had time to really even consider.

Dating unconventional Summer would certainly be a public declaration that he was tired of being the golden-boy bachelor.

After too many years of dating ambitious society debs who played all the same games as him, he’d have a hell of a time smashing that picture-perfect image of himself.

If he wanted any of those things to materialize, however, he needed to stay out of Summer’s bed tonight.

Pulling away from her sultry embrace despite the flames licking over him, Jackson searched for a breath that wasn’t laden with the musky floral scent of her.

Found none.

Much to his male satisfaction, her eyes remained closed for a long moment afterward. It would be so easy to resume their kiss, to follow the irresistible pull of her…

Desperate for a way to keep things under control before he lost it completely, Jackson’s gaze seized on the pile of lingerie on the other side of the room.

Thank you, God.

“So is it my turn to ask the questions yet?” He traced a line down the bare skin of her arm and slipped his hand around her fingers. Her nails were short, painted with barely-there polish. She wore a silver band woven with a Celtic pattern on one thumb.

She blinked twice, tucked a strand of silky blond hair behind one ear. “Ask away.”

“Is that your lingerie over there?” His loosened tie and unbuttoned collar didn’t make him feel any less hot. And although Summer’s lingerie collection wasn’t exactly safe conversational territory, it was a damn sight better than falling into bed with her before he could find out more about her.

“I chose the pieces, but they’re all going to be specialty amenities and props for the bordello.” She eased her fingers from his grip and made her way toward the coffee table where the mountain of silk, satin and velvet presided. “Some are vintage and some are new, but they’re all reminiscent of nineteenth-century bordello garb.”

To illustrate, she held up a creamy-colored corset thing edged in black lace. Black satin garters dangled from the bottom.

“Very nice.” He peered from the creamy corset to the crimson lace-up garment Summer was wearing. “It’s sort of like what you have…on.”

An image of those garters hugging her thighs blasted into his brain in full-blown color. His throat promptly dried to dust.

A wicked smile kicked up the corners of her mouth. “It’s exactly what I have on. Same vendor, different color. I have to admit this job is dangerous to my personal budget, but I find a lot of gorgeous clothes and furnishings this way. Did you know I’m the ambiance coordinator for the club?”

He hadn’t known, and he scrambled to pick up the conversational thread before he drowned in sensual visions of Summer’s pale thighs draped in black satin and lace.

“Is that like a decorator?” His voice sounded strangled even in his own ears.

“The decorating is just a part of my job. I have a hand in the total sensual experience of Club Paradise from the food and the music to the colors, party themes, flowers…” She laid the creamy corset back on the pile of silky undergarments. “…and occasionally, lingerie.”

The comment called to mind snippets of the conversation he’d heard between Summer and her girlfriend earlier. He happened to know the bordello was her favorite fantasy room.

“So did you come up with the concepts for the hotel suites?” Crossing the thick pile carpet to where she stood near the sitting area, Jackson peered around the room with new eyes, taking in the details of the lush seating, the silver-plated cigar box on the night stand, the framed sepia-toned photographs depicting half-clad women from another era.

“I brainstormed with my partners to come up with the themes and then I ran with them.” She reached into the open cherry armoire and pulled out a padded hanger. With careful fingers, she draped a frothy pink scrap of lace across the padding and hung the costume in the closet. “I’m proud to claim full responsibility for the bordello however.”

He recalled her wistful remark to her friend about being totally overwhelmed and at a man’s whim. Dangerous, forbidden knowledge he had no right to have heard.

Still, he’d trade his stellar track record as a trial lawyer for a chance to be a part of Summer’s fantasies.

“You should be.” He walked over to the silver cigar box to prevent his restless body from getting closer to her again. He didn’t know how much longer he could be in the same room with Summer without touching her again. Removing one of the Cuban smokes from its velvet-lined case he sniffed the aroma. “I’m no expert on the historical authenticity, but if you were aiming for a design that promotes intense sexual thoughts, the ambiance of the bordello is dead-on.”

Summer watched Jackson finger the cigar before replacing it in the box, his words causing her blood to pump a bit faster through her veins. She paused as she reached for a wine-colored merry widow and straightened.

Did he think to play games with her that he would rev her engines so acutely and then turn away?

“Actually, I’m beginning to wonder if I failed miserably in the design now that I’ve shared this room with a man for the first time. How come a room that promotes intense sexual thoughts doesn’t inspire any actual…sex?”

Jackson flipped the lid closed on the cigar box. When his gaze met hers across the room, his eyes glittered with new heat. “Never let it be said I left this room uninspired tonight.”

As he turned more fully toward her, the tent-effect of his trousers told her just how inspired he’d grown.

Realizing she was staring, she struggled to lift her gaze. Failed.

Had she had that affect on him?

Suddenly she felt quite inspired herself. She blurted the first thought that entered her mind. “So why leave the room at all?”

The question hung there, an echoing reminder of her recklessness.

When he didn’t answer right away, Summer couldn’t resist the urge to keep right on talking, thinking out loud. “Or is that too impulsive for you, Jackson? As a public figure, do you need to script out your every move ahead of time, or can you ever act according to whim and…inspiration?”

“I can act on impulse when the situation calls for it.” He crossed the room, his slow, deliberate steps a physical reminder of the way he carefully crafted his next move. “But when something is very important to me, I’d prefer to rely on well-thought out strategy.”

The implication that she—a free-spirited gypsy who’d never stayed anywhere longer than six months until now—might rank as important to him caught her off guard. She’d had to say goodbye to too many friends in her life to risk her emotions with someone who thought she might be important. Much easier to keep things simple. And okay, maybe a little superficial.

“How am I ever going to teach you to go wild with that kind of attitude?” Planting a fist on her hip she licked her lips, flirting openly. She still held out hope she could sway him to break his rigid ideas of how this relationship was going to progress. “You must realize careful strategy is directly opposed to everything that being wild represents.”

“I think we can effectively co-exist on both ends of the spectrum.” He halted a few steps from her, almost as if he drew a mental line between them.

What would he do with all his damn strategy if she plastered herself against him right now and let her body to the talking?

Then again, according to the local newspaper, Jackson Taggart had made a name for himself in Miami with thorough trial preparation and an ambitious career strategy. He’d left the lucrative family law practice at a young age to work in the D.A.’s office, quickly accumulating an amazing track record as a prosecutor.

Summer admired that kind of drive even if she’d never possessed it herself. Old self-doubts threatened as she wondered if she’d be able to claim half as much success in her own new business. Could she—the woman who’d held twelve different jobs before this one—ever stick with something long enough to make it a success?

Tamping down the twinge of insecurity, she crossed his physical line to stand toe-to-toe with him. “Are you prepared to settle for just co-existing when we could be doing so many other more interesting things?”

To prove her point, she laid her hand against his chest and walked southward with her fingers.

Jackson caught her wrist as she hit his belt, his fierce grip an indication that she might have pushed him to his personal limit.

They stared at one another in the swirl of blues music and the sea of red velvet, silent for a tense moment.

Finally, Jackson released her wrist to a more gentle hold, soothing her skin and her racing pulse with the pad of his thumb.

“How about tonight you go along with my strategy and tomorrow I’ll adapt to your impulses?” His voice was even but his breath huffed out in a ragged sigh.

Nodding, she agreed, even as she wondered if she’d lost her mind.

Clearly this steely-willed Taurus man was all wrong for her artistic, move-with-the-flow Aquarian self. Even the stars said she had no business dating Jackson on a boat or anywhere else.

As much as Summer looked forward to the freedom of the waves and the lure of the water tomorrow, she also couldn’t help but fear she was already in way over her head.