sighed and slipped onto a red vinyl-and-chrome lowbacked stool and scooped up more of the avocado dip. She didn’t need the seconds it took to eat the chip to gather her thoughts since she’d rehearsed plenty on the drive over, but she used the time anyway.
“The cops said there isn’t anything they can do,” she reported in a breezy tone as she sipped the margarita Mitch handed her when he walked by.
“They can investigate,” Belle insisted, stabbing the vegetables with her spatula.
“Not really. There’s no threat. These are just pictures, and pretty crappy ones at that. There is nothing to go on. As offensive as it might be, sending crappy pictures isn’t a crime.”
Sierra shoved another loaded chip into her mouth to keep the “I told you so” from spilling out next. A shiver of fear worked its way down her spine, but she told herself she hadn’t expected anything else. They knew the situation. The cops didn’t think it was a big deal.
“But the pictures are blatantly sexual,” Belle sputtered in protest.
“No, they are blatantly a joke. Irritating, tacky and rude, but not criminal.” At least the police had believed that someone was sending the pictures. They’d been polite, a little surprised at some of the poses, and in one case complimented her on her dexterity. But the bottom line was there was nothing they could do for her. Except offer a grocery list of cautions and warnings, most of which required someone to hold her hand. Just in case.
The idea of a babysitter made Sierra shudder. She totally refused to even consider just in case.
“They’re going to do something though, right? I mean, they’ll keep an eye on you just to make sure you’re, you know, safe and all?”
Who knew keeping up a fake smile could be so much work? Just discussing this made Sierra want to scream. But she managed to keep her look cheerful and easygoing. “They wrote up a report. I’ll keep them apprised of any more pictures and they’ll stay on top of things.”
Belle’s low growl was a dangerous thing. It wouldn’t take much to send her off to the phone to call the cop shop and throw a fit. For a second, Sierra missed the good old days when Belle had backed off from any sort of confrontation.
“When’s dinner?” she asked in a blatant subject change. She was done giving those stupid pictures her attention and energy. She’d followed the rules. She’d reported the mess. Now it was time to move on with life. Or more importantly, on to fajitas.
Belle’s look was a combination of irritation and something Sierra couldn’t quite place. But her friend gave a short jerk of her shoulder, poured the sautéed vegetables on a platter and said, “In a couple minutes. I’m just waiting for Mitch and, um, something.”
The something became apparent sixty seconds later when Mitch walked in with a platter of barbecued ribs. Sierra’s stomach constricted with sudden nerves, but she didn’t know why. Then the scent hit her over the wafting smell of dinner. Earthy, male and totally sexual. Shoulders tight, she turned to watch the man following Mitch.
Her hottest fantasy and her biggest nightmare. The one guy guaranteed to push all her buttons and send every thought of self-preservation straight out of her head.
Temptation in a cowboy hat.
Well, hell, Sierra sighed.
Hadn’t her day been stressful enough already?
Chapter Two
REECE CARTER.
Long, lean and sexy.
Heat flashed in Sierra’s belly as she faced the only guy to scare the hell out of her.
Not because he was the sexiest man on Earth and made her want to strip him naked, then lick her way up his body. That she could deal with.
What scared her was that she was a savvy, strong and opinionated woman. But when she saw Reece, she instantly wanted to become sweet, timid and compliant.
So she spent all her time around him being a hard-ass bitch, just to prove she could.
Pathetic.
Her breath quickened as she took in the delicious width of his shoulders encased in a black T-shirt. She wanted to trace her palm over the fabric where it curved lovingly over his big, muscled biceps. She wanted to press her cheek to the hard lines of his torso and run her fingers down the slim, denimcovered hips. The man had a body like a swimmer, with the tightest ass she’d ever seen grace denim.
He made her mouth water.
He had ever since she’d seen him for the first time six years ago at Belle and Mitch’s first wedding rehearsal dinner and fallen into instant lust. Then he’d opened his mouth and they’d fallen into instant verbal foreplay. Nobody could turn her on with a few words like Reece could. Unfortunately, nobody could make her lose control with just a few words like he could, either. Because it hadn’t taken more than a half-dozen exchanges for her to realize he was too much of a threat to her. To her independence, to her self-control. That hadn’t stopped her from getting hot and wild with him on the dance floor, though.
Pitiful that she’d been saved from the biggest mistake of her life when her friend dumped Mitch at the altar. She’d used loyalty as her reason to turn down all of Reece’s advances after that. Not that there’d been too many. A few weeks of phone calls, one or two in-person date requests. Then poof, he went away. Just like she’d wanted.
A shame, really. He was so delicious to look at. His white Stetson cast a shadow over wavy black hair, midnight-blue eyes and a chiseled jaw. All-masculine hotness.
Their gazes met. In his eyes she saw both desire and assessment. The unspoken message was that he wanted her like hell, but he didn’t like it.
Sierra’s shoulders stiffened at the judgment. But that didn’t stop her body from going into instant lust mode. For one second, she wished the picture of her face pasted on the woman using the sex swing could be real if Reece was the guy she’d be swinging with.
Then he opened his mouth and, as usual, ruined everything.
“I hear you’re doing a little modeling on the side,” he teased in his slow, easy drawl.
Telling herself it was fury and not embarrassment she was feeling, Sierra swung around on the stool to glare at Belle. Unrepentant, her friend just shrugged and topped off her half-full margarita. “I thought we could ask Reece what he thought. You know, get a little advice. Maybe some help.”
“I don’t need help,” Sierra claimed, gritting her teeth as she stretched her mouth into a fake smile.
“If you need the police, you need help,” Reece said easily.
“I didn’t need the police,” Sierra returned precisely. She hated that whenever she was around Reece, she felt the need to argue. And win. The need to win was almost overwhelming. But their verbal sparring was like an addictive foreplay. Every time they went up against each other, she got turned on, insanely hot for him. No. Not smart. She needed to stay away from the arguing.
“If you wanted to do a sex pictorial you should have given me a call,” Reece said, patting her shoulder to let her know he was teasing. Sierra’s first reaction was to pull back so she couldn’t feel the heat of his hand on her bare skin. But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Even if the look in his eyes told her he knew.
“There is the one shot with a goat,” she returned, determined to hold her own. “It did remind me of you.”
“Horny?”
Sierra gave a wicked smile. “Knock-kneed.”
Belle gasped, then slapped her hand over her mouth when Sierra glared at her. Mitch, ever the gentleman, mumbled something about checking the barbecue and left.
Reece, though, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. His laugh bounced off the walls, his white teeth flashing.
God,