Irresistible Stranger

“Yes, honey.”

“You are so full of baloney.”

“What I am is embarrassed. I can’t remember the last time I told this story, probably because I never did. I was raised with better manners than to bore a charming, beautiful woman. We’re wasting this moonlight. I never-it’s the cardinal rule of my life-waste moonlight.”

For a man who’d had four glasses of wine, he was out of the lounge chair faster than magic. His eyes met hers in the darkness as he coaxed her out of the chair, pulled her close, pulled her into him.

Okay, she told herself. Okay. She’d been charged up from the first instant she met him, and she knew it. He was full of baloney, he charmed her, enticed her. Made her want to experience-just once!-being involved with a bad boy, a man who knew his way around women, who just plain liked women and knew what to do with them.

Every woman she knew had flings. Why on earth shouldn’t she?

She realized she wasn’t experienced in being wild and loose, but she was willing to practice. He was ideal to take lessons from.

It was just…the more she knew him, the less she believed of his bull.

And now he’d completely messed up the fantasy. Kissing him wasn’t about the wild, loose, immoral fling she’d had in mind. She liked the damn man. He was lonely, a solo flyer. Tons of people claimed to “love him”, but no one she’d seen so far actually seemed to know him. Much less really love him.

Not like a person needed to be loved.

So really, it was entirely his fault that it all just got out of hand.

He swooped her in his arms, and even though she wasn’t exactly sure how to seduce a seducer, she swooped right back.

Chapter 4

Griff couldn’t fathom how she’d so completely messed with his head. Kissing her was supposed to be about…well, about kissing. One of the most enjoyable activities in the universe. A prelude to an even more enjoyable activity.

And a side benefit of kissing her was shutting her up-not that Griff was thinking in such crass terms, but hell and a half, she’d somehow gotten him talking about personal history. He never did that, and never wanted to do that. Hell, he never even allowed himself to think about the past. The whole point of burying something was making sure it was nowhere near the surface.

Her scent, on the other hand, was dangerously near the surface. He was falling into this drug, this unexpected intoxicant made up of all the textures of Lily Campbell-her scent, her taste, her thick lustrous hair, the butter softness of her lips, the sweetness of her. The latter was the killer ingredient. He just wasn’t prepared for that yielding sweetness, the way she tipped her head back, the way she leaned into him, to him.

Hell times ten. What was it about this woman? His arms swept around her, wrapping her closer, as if to protect her from the moonlight, from chills and dangers that didn’t exist, from…him. She was a teacher, for heavens sake, not a Lorelei. She gave off more nerves than an untried girl. She wasn’t a player.

Every Southern girl emerged from the womb knowing how to flirt, knowing the danger line, enjoying the sport. Not Lily. She drifted off when he tried to charm her. And now, when he expected her to bolt because he was crossing the danger line, she curled around him as if inviting Armageddon. Hoping for it. Daring him to bring it on.

Hands skimmed down her sides, testing, exploring. Beneath her thin top, he could feel the suppleness of her skin, the warmth. The allure. Her eyes closed against the impossible brightness of moonlight. She sank into his touch, into yet another kiss, not yielding so much as communicating yearning.

Slow, wary of scaring her, rushing her, of doing anything to break this crazy spell, he eased the side of his hand against her breast, heard her responsive intake of breath, felt the heat rush straight to his groin. His arousal was no surprise, but he was hard to the point of pain, hard like a teenage boy who could only think of one thing. Having her.

Dipping deep into that softness and heat.

He brought her closer, achingly close, burning close, his hands sweeping down to her fanny, pressing. Her breasts crushed against his chest, nipples tight, igniting another firestorm of hunger, of awareness, of want.

Responsively, she swayed even more snugly against him, shimmying just a little against his arousal, nestling against it. At that precise second he understood she was saying yes. That he could have her naked, have her in his bed this night. All night.

Even more confounding, he couldn’t remember wanting a woman more.

Ever.

That thought was enough to scare a little sense into him-not a lot, but enough. He eased back from a kiss, pressed his forehead to hers, tried to remember how to breathe normally. Since they were still glued hip to hip, possibly, normal breathing was highly unlikely, but maybe he didn’t want that much sanity quite yet.

“What are we doing here?” he murmured, knowing exactly what they were doing. That was the problem-an intense awareness of how right, how damned perfect, she felt in his arms.

“You don’t know?” she whispered back. “I could have sworn you started this.”

He hadn’t. He’d started a kiss, yes. He’d intended to thoroughly enjoy a devastating, thorough, evocative good-night kiss. But she was the one who’d brought on the tsunami, not him.

“You’ve been seducing me,” he accused her.

“Trust me. It had to be you doing the seducing. I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

“Oh yeah, you do.” Her nonsense made him smile. Or maybe it was that hypnotic look in her eyes. He swayed against her, wanting to, needing to torture himself a little longer. “We’re going to make love aren’t we, Lily Campbell…”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Oh, it’s a statement for damned sure. But not tonight.” He heard the landline ringing in the house.

So did she. She straightened. “You need to answer that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I want you to know, if it weren’t for a potential emergency call, I’d let it ring until ten months from Tuesday. It’s not about wanting to stop this.”

“Griff.” It rang two more times while he tried to explain. “Just go. It’s all right.”

It wasn’t remotely all right. He could barely walk straight, and his head was still buzzing. But he always answered the landline phone at night. He only gave the unlisted number to so many people-like his boys. Jason and Steve were in the riskiest situations at the moment.

He grabbed the kitchen extension, prepared for…hell, prepared for anything. He’d had to be in the past.

Instead of a boy’s voice, though, he heard the gruff tone of Cashner Warden, the fire chief. “Griff. Got a fire at your shop. The fire truck’s on its way, but I’m driving in from home as well.”

He saw Lily pausing in the doorway, then her expression changed to immediate concern. She’d obviously grasped that something was wrong.

“Was anyone in the store? Do you know how bad the fire is?”

“Not sure of anything yet. Neighbor saw smoke, called nine-one-one. I know you got a sprinkler set up in there, so I’m hoping that-well, it’s foolish to speculate until we know more. I’m on my way.”

“I’ll be there.” Before Griff could hang up, Cashner got in one more question.

“Griff. You happen to know where Lily Campbell is?”

Griff frowned. “Say what?”

“I’m just asking. If it’s arson, my first thought would normally be one of those loser kids you take on-but that’s not so logical, considering you’re the one always bailing ’em out of trouble. So then I have to say. You know. It’s the second fire since she’s been in town.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Griff snapped, and hung up.

“What?” Lily asked. “Something’s wrong-”