The Sex Solution

Then again, she wasn’t plain old Maddie anymore. She was Madeline Hale. Sophisticated. Worldly. Bad.

But with Austin so close and overwhelming and still sexy as hell, it was hard to remember that.

“When I spotted you through the window,” he told her, “I said to myself, ‘Why, that looks like Maddie Hale’ and sure enough—” he gestured to her “—here you are.”

“You saw me through the window? You saw me?” Even as the question passed her lips, she knew she should bite it back and think of something witty to say. But it was hard to think with his heat surrounding her.

And his scent filling her nostrils…the musky smell of horse and leather and warm male that made her drink in a deep breath.

And his smile right there, directed at her…

As if he read the thoughts racing through her mind, his lips parted, his grin widened and her heart stalled.

Yep, that smile could do enough damage all by itself. Add it to everything else wreaking havoc on her senses and she was a lost cause.

“You saw me,” she said again, as if repeating the truth would help it to sink in. “You saw me.”

“You look really good.”

“I look good?” She shook her head. Goober alert! “I mean, uh, yes, I do look rather good.” Conceited goober alert! “Um, so do you. Look good, that is. You look really good.”

“I look more wet than anything else. It’s hot enough to fry eggs outside.” He glanced down and plucked at his damp T-shirt. “But thanks anyway.”

“Even all dusty and sweaty you look really good,” she rushed on. “Especially all dusty and sweaty.”

He grinned again. “I could use something cold to drink. Say—” he looked at her as if an idea had just struck “—maybe we could grab a root beer float over at the fountain. I mean, if you’re not busy.”

“You want to have a float? With me?” Here comes the goober again. “I mean, of course you want to have a float with me. I like floats. I mean, I used to like floats. I stick to diet sodas now.”

“Diet soda?” He gave her a puzzled look as he studied her. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or anything when we collided, did you?”

“I…” Boy, he smelled good. And felt good. And looked good.

She found herself wishing that she’d worn her black slacks. Black was slimming and her thighs needed all the help they could get.

The thought drew her up short and she stiffened. “I’m okay.” She was, and she didn’t need black slacks to prove it. Mind over matter, she told herself, and her mind was much bigger than her matter, even if she’d barely managed to squeeze said matter into the size-ten jeans hugging her thighs. She was no longer fat. She was voluptuous. And proud of every inch. “I’m fine, really.”

“That’s good news.” He shifted his attention away from her then, thank goodness, and glanced around them.

Reality zapped her and she followed his gaze to the spilled contents of her bag. “That’s what I get for being in a hurry.” She dropped to her knees, grateful for a distraction from Austin and the all-important fact that he was standing just inches away from her.

She forced the notion aside and concentrated on gathering up her stuff. “They don’t make bags like they used to….” Her words faded as her attention snagged on the worn tips of his boots.

Boots were good. Totally nonsexual. They shouldn’t inspire lewd thoughts. Unless, of course, they drew to mind a vision of him so strong and powerful and naked, except for the boots….

Her nipples tingled. Her thighs trembled. And she felt dampness between her legs.

She drew a deep breath and reached for a canister of peanuts with one hand and a pack of batteries with the other.

“Good choice.”

“Thanks. You can recharge these if you want…” Her words faded as she realized he wasn’t talking about the pack of AA’s, but the box of Trojans he’d retrieved.

Embarrassment flooded her. “Those aren’t—” she started but then her eyes collided with his.

Hunger.

There was no mistaking the sudden flash in his deep blue stare. For several fast, furious heartbeats, she was seventeen all over again, staring at him over an open algebra book, wanting him and wishing that he wanted her the way he wanted the blueberry muffin she’d brought for him that day.

But this was no daydream. And there was no blueberry muffin. He was looking back at her now, and he wanted her just as much. It was right there in his eyes. In the way his gaze hooked on her lips…

“You always invest in such a big box?”

“They’re not—” she started before common sense kicked in and she bit her tongue. “Um, bigger is always better.”

A sexy grin tugged at his lips. “And here I thought size wasn’t a big issue with women.”

“Small is okay, but big is more economical. You get more bang for your buck.” Heat crept up her neck and she drew in a steady breath. “Especially with this brand. They give you three free.” Okay, she’d wandered into the land of goober again. Here she was discussing condoms with Austin Jericho.

“I’ve always bought the red pack myself, but maybe I’ll give these a try.”

“They’re much better.” As if she knew. “Better value and they’re, um—” she glanced at the colorful package “—lubricated.”

He nodded. “Lubrication’s good.”

“And they have spermicide. You’ve got to have that.”

“Absolutely.”

“So what were you saying about us having a—”

“I’ve really got to go,” he cut in, his expression abruptly closing as if he’d just remembered something vitally important. He stuffed the condoms into her bag and pushed to his feet.

Madeline gathered up the last of her stuff and stood. Had she heard him wrong? “But what about that diet cola?”

“Can’t stomach the stuff myself. Too much aftertaste.”

“You can have a float and I’ll have the diet cola.”

“I’d love to, darlin’, but I’ve got a sick horse waiting.” He retrieved a written prescription from his pocket. “The vet says I need some of Ben’s liniment.” He handed the sack to her. “Here you go. Nice to see you again, Maddie.”

“It’s Madeline. No one really calls me Maddie anymore.”

Surprise flashed in his eyes again as he watched her for a few fast, furious heartbeats. “Madeline,” he finally repeated, a frown on his face, as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “Take care.” And then he strode toward the pharmacy counter, leaving her to wonder what had just happened.

First off, he’d actually noticed her and—ring!

Her thoughts were dissolved by the shrill sound of her cell phone. Madeline tore her attention from Austin’s delectable backside and turned to her oversize purse.

“I’m walking out the door right now,” she told a frantic Janice when she finally managed to answer.

She swallowed a sudden thirst for diet cola, gathered up her purchases and headed out to her black Mustang waiting at the curb. The phone rang again as she climbed behind the wheel.

“Girl, we need ice,” Janice quipped.

“Ice,” Madeline said, and stabbed the off button.

She was barely able to ignore the urge to kill the power completely. She was irritated, not irresponsible. She knew Duane, her lab assistant, might need her.

A wave of anxiety went through her as she thought of the young man. She turned on the car, flicked the air conditioner on high and quickly punched in the familiar number.

Duane was a maverick—fresh and creative, and not much for following rules. That’s what made him so brilliant. He wasn’t afraid to try new things. To take chances. Unfortunately, fearlessness equaled carelessness sometimes.

Madeline stifled a nervous flutter. She’d taken time off before, albeit only a few days, and her lab had still been standing when she’d returned. Of course, her desk had been a little charred around the edges after Duane had ignored the no-food rule and chowed down on a chili dog while mixing up a new acidic skin peel just inches away. Unfortunately, the chili had contained several spices that, when mixed with some of the acid compounds, proved combustible.

“Are you okay?” she demanded when he picked up the phone after the tenth ring.

“I’m not even eating chili today. But, man oh man, I could use a good cup of coffee. And a peanut-butter sandwich.”

She did a mental evaluation of the ingredients of both, and tried to pinpoint any contrary elements. Nothing. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances. “Eat in the break room.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Actually—” she started.

He rushed on. “I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m a new man. Walking around without eyebrows for six months will do that to a guy.”

She thought about arguing the point, particularly since she’d found an empty coffee cup stuffed under the counter where she kept the petri dishes. But Duane was the type who had to learn on his own.

“Have you finished the trial tests for the new lotion?”

“Finished number five today. It’s good to go.”

“We need six before we make that determination.”

“I’ve had the same outcome for five. It’s not going to change. Trust me.”

“Did I tell you that I found a tattoo shop that does permanent eyebrows? Two hundred stabs of the needle and you won’t have to worry about growing yours back.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do another test. What about you? Have you decided what we’re going to do to spice up this stuff? How about a flavored lotion?”

“That’s already been done.”

“We could do unusual flavors. Coffee. Peanut butter. Mmm.”

“We want to remind women of their sensuality, not what they had for lunch.”

“What about scented lotions?”

“That’s already been done.”

“We could do unusual scents.”

“If you say coffee and peanut butter, I’m firing you.”

“Hey, everybody loves the smell of a good cup of coffee, and peanut butter’s the universal bread spread.”

“Just finish the preliminary tests on the basic compound and feed the data into the computer. I’ll plug in later and review everything.”

“So what’s the zinger then?”

“I’m working on it.”

“I hope so. I’m getting claustrophobic in this tiny lab. I need some space. My own desk. My very own coffeemaker—”

“Did I hear slurping?”

“That was my stomach grumbling. All this talk has me hungry. And thirsty.”

“Keep it in the lunchroom.”

“Don’t I always?”

Madeline hit the off button, dropped the phone into her purse and glanced up in time to see Austin Jericho stroll out of Skeeter’s. He crossed the street, his strides long and sure, and climbed into his pickup truck.

She still couldn’t believe it. Austin Jericho had actually noticed her. And he’d remembered her. And he’d been attracted to her.

Madeline smiled. Maybe being home wouldn’t be all that bad, after all.

SHE HAD TO FIND a hot man now.

A man was all that stood between Madeline and the fifty points she needed to prove to each of her old friends—as well as every other person at Cherry Blossom Junction—that she had, indeed, turned into the baddest babe in Texas.

Her focus shifted to the game card she’d just drawn.

If a bad girl is what you long to be,

Forthright and daring are always key.

Even the hottest man loves a bold miss,

So prove yourself and give him a kiss!

“What about him?” Every eye at the table turned to peer across the semicrowded dance floor.

“Girl, get out of here,” Janice shook her head. “Your roots are showing, Eileen.”

“What, like, is that supposed to mean?”

“That you’ve been married so long you’ve forgotten what hot means. We’re not talking sweaty.”

Eileen, a petite blonde, stiffened and straightened her baseball jersey that sported Team Mom in royal blue letters. “Well, when I, like, sweat, it usually means I’m hot.”

“Ignore her,” Janice told the other women. “She doesn’t get out much. So what about him?” Janice wiggled her eyebrows and pointed out a man currently two-stepping around the dance floor, a smiling redhead in his arms. “He certainly can fill out a pair of Wrangler jeans.”

“He’s not very handsome.” Brenda Chance, ex treasurer of the Chem Gems, adjusted her wire-framed, rose-tinted glasses.

Brenda worked as an interior designer in Austin now, but in her day she’d recited the elements table faster than anyone in Kendall County. While she had a practical head on her shoulders, she also had a romantic nature that had her wearing an old-fashioned lace dress that looked suspiciously like a pair of window sheers.

“That’s definitely a face only his momma could love,” Brenda went on. “My Cal has a great face.” She sighed dreamily, then glanced around before zeroing in on another man. “What about him?” She smiled as she indicated the guy from their high school past voted Most Likely to Spit on Old People. “He’s got nice eyes—the exact color of Cal’s.”

“Girl, he’s about as nice as a pit bull,” Janice said. “Besides, he’s got puny arms. We need some muscle.”

“And good hands,” Sarah added.

Back in her day, Sarah Buchanan had been part of the in crowd, the only one among the Chem Gems. She’d been smart and beautiful and the baddest bad girl in Cadillac. She’d changed her ways the day of Sharon’s death, however, and she now sat quietly, her long red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, her mouth void of the red lipstick she’d always loved. Longing filled her eyes for a brief moment. “I used to love great hands on a guy.”

“And a mustache,” Brenda chimed in. “They’re sooo dreamy. Cal has a mustache.”

“They’re lethal to supersensitive skin.” The comment came from the bride-to-be. “She’s supposed to kiss him, not break out.”

“Let me get this straight.” Brenda adjusted her glasses again. “She has to dance with him and kiss him?”

“If she wants to win the game,” Sarah said.

“So what if she kisses him but doesn’t dance with him? Does she get half the points?”

“Girl, it’s all or nothing,” Janice said.

“So does she, like, kiss first or, like, dance first?” Eileen asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Madeline fingered the game card and scoped out prospects. “I could do either.”

“You can’t just walk up to a guy and kiss him,” Brenda said. “It’s too forward. Whatever would he think?”

Madeline smiled and indicated the game spread out on the table. “That maybe I’m the baddest babe in Texas?”

“I say you dance with him first,” Cheryl Louise offered. “Talk a little. Then kiss him. It’s more romantic.” She sighed and gazed dreamily at a man standing near the bar. A group of men surrounded him, their beers lifted in salute. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. She waved back. “That’s how Jack and I met. He asked me to dance at the Charity Chili Chowdown last year. We ate and talked and swayed. Afterward he kissed me so softly and tenderly that I just knew he was the one.”

“How totally sweet,” Brenda sighed.

“How tame.” Sarah looked wistful.

“How abnormal.” Janice gave a shiver.

“I don’t see how dancing and kissing and finding the man of your dreams can be construed as abnormal,” Cheryl Louise said.

“The bride and the groom having their parties at the same small-time honky-tonk is what’s whacked-out. Girl, how in God’s green earth are you supposed to let your hair down with your fiancé a few feet away?”

“I don’t have enough hair to let down. Besides, this is the only place in town that has a dance floor. The Pink Cadillac is much too small for two-stepping.”

The Pink Cadillac was the only bar inside the city limits. It was a great place to get together to visit and suck down a few cold ones, but it didn’t have the party atmosphere of a real sawdust-on-the-floor, country-crooning dance hall like Cherry Blossom Junction.

The bar was owned and operated by Eden Hallsey Weston, a bad girl in her own right who’d married the town’s golden boy a few years ago. The news had shocked everyone, especially Madeline, who’d heard from Janice, who’d heard from Cheryl Louise, who’d been at the wedding. Eden had always been so outrageous while Brady had walked the straight and narrow path set forth by his conservative family. They’d been opposites, yet they’d fallen madly in love anyway. Just like in a fairy tale.

Madeline didn’t do fairy tales. Hot, hunky, badass bad boys didn’t gravitate toward shy, geeky good girls.

Which was why she’d traded in the old Madeline when she’d rolled out of Cadillac the day after Sharon’s funeral. Maddie had seen for herself how precious life was, and she’d made up her mind then and there to live it to the fullest. That meant conquering her fears and taking chances. Being a bold, brazen woman who lived for the moment rather than the shy, geeky girl who’d spent her days dreaming and baking in her father’s doughnut shop.

While she wished Eden and Brady the best of luck, she wanted more out of life than a husband and a handful of kids and a boring existence in a desperately small town.

Particularly since said town held so many bad memories. Of being a nerd and getting overlooked by the boy of her dreams, and losing her closest and dearest friend.

Her lungs constricted and she forced her attention back to her friends and the conversation.

“…could have driven to Austin,” Janice pointed out. “I know this great little club that specializes in exotic male dancers.”

“And get back at the crack of dawn? I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow.”

“Half-naked exotic male dancers,” Janice added.

“I like knowing that Jack is here.” Cheryl Louise waved again and Jack winked back before shifting his attention to his buddies.

“Cute, half-naked exotic male dancers.”

“Give it up,” Madeline told her. “G-strings don’t interest a woman who’s helplessly in love.”

“Unless it’s the man she loves wearing the G-string,” Brenda pointed out. “Cal wears one for me.”

“Come on, girls,” Cheryl Louise said. “Madeline needs to find a guy and our yapping isn’t going to help her concentrate.”

“So who wants her to concentrate?” Sarah asked. “Sorry, Madeline, but I want to win.”

“It’s just a game,” Cheryl Louise said, fingering the makeshift veil one of the girls had made for her. “A silly little game that’s supposed to be fun.”

“Girl, you say that because you’re about to trade in your bad-girl status and promise not to be bad, but there are those of us who’d like to keep our reputation.”

“You don’t have a reputation,” Cheryl Louise pointed out to Janice. “And you never had one. The only one who had anything remotely bad going for her was Sarah, and even she’s as boring as they come now. No offense, Sarah,” she said to the quiet redhead. “You’re just anxious to win so you don’t have to pick up Uncle Spur from the airport.”

“Uncle Spur’s coming to the wedding?” Madeline asked, her mind rushing back to her childhood and the ornery old man who’d come to visit Cheryl and Sharon every Christmas. He’d sat in the living room with his chewing tobacco and a soda can and offered an opinion on everything from making strawberry jam to the state of world politics. Uncle Spur had liked to talk. Even more, he’d liked being right.

“Of course he’s coming,” Cheryl Louise said. “He’s my oldest living relative. I couldn’t get married without Uncle Spur.” As though she just noticed the effect of her news, her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with Uncle Spur?”

“Nothing,” Madeline said. “It’s just…he’s quite a character.”

“An obnoxious character,” Brenda added.

“He spit on me the last time I saw him,” Janice said.

“He was just showing off,” Cheryl Louise explained. “He was the Waller County Spit-Off champ back then. But then the cataracts set in and he came in third to his two brothers. He never spits now. Besides, I would pick him up myself, but I don’t have time.”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Madeline told her. “One of us will do it.”

“Yep,” Janice said. “The loser gets the privilege.” She turned on Madeline. “Pick someone, or forfeit and let Sarah take her turn. She’s next in line with points if you don’t pull this off.”

But Madeline wasn’t forfeiting. It wasn’t so much about winning—while Uncle Spur wasn’t the most pleasant person, Madeline could endure a two-hour drive from the airport with him if it meant helping out a friend. Rather, this game was about conquering her fears and living life. About proving to all of her friends, and herself, that she truly had changed when she’d left the comfort of her small town for the excitement of the big city. About picking the hottest, hunkiest guy in the honky-tonk and approaching him as bold as you please.

Something the old Maddie would have been too frightened and embarrassed to do because she’d been more content to fantasize about life than actually live it.

No more.

She glanced around, found her target standing just inside the doorway and summoned her courage. Her moment of truth had finally arrived.

THIS WAS A BIG WASTE of time.

The truth echoed in Austin Jericho’s brain the minute he stepped inside Cherry Blossom Junction, the one and only dance hall in Cadillac, Texas.

Not that Austin had anything against dance halls, particularly this one. The place had character. Once a train depot near the turn of the century, Cherry Blossom Junction was far from the typical Texas honky-tonk. Beers were served up from behind the original hand-carved ticket counters. Instead of a mechanical bull, the very first engine to chug out of the station sat in the far corner. Train schedules graced the walls rather than the typical neon beer signs. And when the band cranked up the “Orange Blossom Special,” an authentic train whistle blew along with the music.

Nope, it sure-as-shootin’ wasn’t the place itself Austin had a problem with.

It’s just that if a man had set his mind to add more fruit to his diet, he certainly wouldn’t mosey over to the Dairy Freeze for a double-dipped. Likewise, if a gambler had decided to save his money rather than throw it away, he would damned sure stay far away from Pete, the numbers runner at the bingo hall.

Since Austin had decided to find himself a nice, quiet, conservative woman to settle down with him on his ranch, Cherry Blossom Junction was definitely at the bottom of his potential meet-market list. He needed to stick to church picnics and bake sales to find the kind of filly that would make him happy for the long haul, a goal he’d been working on for the past three weeks.

He’d narrowed it down to a handful of prospects—Debbie the kindergarten teacher, Christine the registered nurse at the retirement home, Angela the church choir director, Jennifer the head of the local Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and Claire who ran the town’s only day care. They were all nice. Pretty. Wholesome. The trouble was, they all sort of blended together with their freshly baked apple pies and their show-me-the-ring-and-I’ll-show-you-some-lovin’ smiles, and he didn’t have a clue which one to choose.

But he’d given his word to Miss Marshalyn Simmons and he aimed to keep it. Miss Marshalyn had been the town’s librarian and expert cake baker for special events. She was also the most stubborn pigheaded woman ever to wag a finger at him and the closest thing to a mother he’d known since his own had passed away when he was five years old. He’d promised her that he would slow down and settle down in time for her going-away party—she was moving down to Florida to live with her sister. While the old woman wanted proof that he’d changed, she didn’t expect him to find and marry someone before she left. She merely wanted to see him with a serious, suitable candidate. In return, she’d pledged one hundred acres of prime pastureland.

While he was more than willing to buy the land, she’d refused to sell it to him. She wanted peace of mind, not money, and so she’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

The land wasn’t the only reason for his decision. While he’d reached a brick wall in his professional life—he needed that land to expand and beef up his herd—he’d also hit a big one in his personal life. A man could only work so much. When the sun set and the day was done, he had to head home.