was deep and had the effect of a good shot of whiskey—grabbing her immediate attention and making her shiver all over.
“Ah, no,” Harper replied and then cleared her throat. “I drove my car.”
“Because you didn’t have a date.”
“I didn’t need one,” she replied quickly and with certainty.
“Yeah, I know how that feels,” he said and then looked away.
“You’re not from around here,” Harper stated. “Are you visiting someone?”
He didn’t reply, but he did look at her again. Then, as if just remembering, he looked down at her hand. The one he was still holding. Harper’s cheeks warmed again and she attempted to pull away, but he held tight.
The Freedom Hall—now called the Gloria Ramsey Place—was part of the old shoe warehouse that had gone out of business ten years ago. The building had been purchased by Kittinger Hale, a retired schoolteacher who had hit the lottery and found his birth mother in the same week. Gloria Ramsey had been on the run from her abusive husband when she’d stopped in Temptation to give birth to the son she would leave at All Saints Hospital the next morning. Buying the building and slapping Gloria’s name across the front window was—Harper figured—Kittinger’s tribute to Gloria. To the citizens of Temptation, it hadn’t meant nearly as much. The building would always be called the Freedom Hall, after Freedom-brand shoes, which had been manufactured there for fifty years before the company went out of business.
The building was on the corner of Maple and Grove Streets. There was a black streetlamp still sporting the multicolored spring fling banner just a few feet away from them. The light was excruciatingly bright, bringing even more attention to the fact that they were holding hands.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he said. Harper stopped looking around to see if anyone was outside at the moment, and stared at him.
“Neither should I,” she replied.
He was rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand at this moment. Attempting to pull away again was certainly an option, except that Harper didn’t want to break the contact. The warmth from his hand was comforting, his strong grip protective and the heated spikes moving quickly throughout her body foreign, but not unpleasant.
“I should go,” he said.
“Me too,” she replied.
Yet neither of them moved.
There was space between them, even though their hands were connected. His body wasn’t touching hers, and while she felt as if she were being physically drawn to him, Harper hadn’t moved an inch.
So why did it suddenly seem warmer?
“Thanks for agreeing to donate to the veterans,” she said because she didn’t know what else to say.
“It’s no problem,” he replied.
Then, finally, after more silent moments, Harper figured this situation was absolutely ridiculous. She yanked her hand away from his—not realizing he’d lightened his grip so that her extra effort made her look even more preposterous.
“I’ll also apologize for what just happened back there. I don’t know what they were thinking, but getting a tourist roped into their shenanigans probably wasn’t the plan.”
“I’m not a tourist,” he told her in a very exacting way. He didn’t sound like he was offended, but that he wanted her to know this for certain. It was odd, but then, wasn’t this entire situation?
“Fine. Well, I apologize. Good night.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“It’s not—” Her words trailed off as he once again took her hand.
“Which way?” he asked.
“Down here on the corner,” she replied.
Now she was walking down the street with a guy she didn’t know. This was strange. And it was dangerous. And she should know better.
“Well, good night, again,” Harper said when they reached the car. She kept her back to the driver’s door and her eyes on him.
He was standing with his legs slightly spread, hands tucked into the front pockets of his slacks. Again, Harper noted how attractive he was and how that thought exacerbated the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Good night, Harper,” he said.
Once again neither of them moved.
It was confusing, because just fifteen minutes ago Harper had wanted nothing more than to run out of the hall and to her car. She lived on her grandfather’s farm, on the outskirts of town about twenty minutes from the hall. Tonight was Sunday, which meant that Pops and her dad were sitting in front of the television watching whatever sport they could find. Uncle Giff and Aunt Laura would be at their house a little closer to town, probably sitting in front of their television, too. There wasn’t much else to do in Temptation on a Sunday night, except maybe stand around with a strange—yet undoubtedly sexy—guy.
He came straight toward her, stopping only a breath away. A breath that Harper immediately sucked in when he closed his eyes and shook his head. Before Harper could make another move, he was gone. He moved even faster than he had before, because by the time Harper found her breath and let it out slowly, a hand going to her thumping heart, he had disappeared around a corner.
What the hell had just happened?
Harper had no clue. What she did know was that she wasn’t going to forget her first and only Sadie Hawkins dance, or the undeniable arousal that her highest bidder had awakened.
He was undressing in front of her. Slowly unbuttoning the three buttons at the top of his shirt before pulling it up and over his head. His body was magnificent—bulging muscles, ripped abs, narrow waist. It was like a Playgirl centerfold.
When his strong fingers touched the button of his pants, Harper sucked in a breath. He was actually getting naked. The tightening of her nipples at that thought drew her gaze down her own body. She was already naked. Lying on her bed, legs spread wide in open invitation.
Had she invited him to her place? Her room? Her...
He stepped closer to the bed now, his pants unbuttoned, his chest bare. His gaze was hot, sending heated glares down her body until every inch of her exposed skin felt as if it were on fire.
“Show me what you want,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Show me how to please you, Harper.”
What?
No, she couldn’t.
It was wrong. Wasn’t it?
She lay back against the pillows then, heart beating wildly as her throat tightened and the heavy fog of anxiety began to settle in. She was a healthy twenty-nine-year-old woman who had a right to know what she wanted and to ask for it. No, to demand it. She deserved that, didn’t she?
Especially after all that Harper had been through, all the humiliation and embarrassment she’d endured over the years. And not just in Temptation, but even during the four years she’d spent in Virginia. She’d been a trouper, as her father would have said. She’d stood strong in the face of adversity each and every time.
So, yes, dammit, she deserved something for herself. For once in her life, she deserved pleasure that she so often dreamed of. And tonight, she was going to take it.
With that resolution in mind, Harper opened her mouth to speak. She let one hand fall down to cup her breast while the other moved farther down to rest on her cleanly shaved mound. She was going to show and tell him what she wanted. He’d bid and donated a good chunk of money on her behalf tonight, and he wanted her. She wanted