Healing PleasureBy: Tonya Ramagos
Rescue Ranch 1
Lena Conley struggled not to gape at the super hunk sitting across from her in the booth. It was doubly hard considering he was not only one deliciously looking prime slice of muscled male perfection, but he’d actually just suggested…
She glanced at the elderly trio at a nearby table, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. “You want me to pretend to date you?”
He leaned forward, too, and matched his sexy drawl to her quiet tone. “I suppose I could ask you out, take you to dinner, and make it official if you’d be more comfortable with that.”
His rusty voice sent tingles down her spine. She averted her gaze, straightened, and reached for her cup of coffee. “I don’t mix business with pleasure, Mr…”
Playing it cool, she pretended to forget his name. Not that she didn’t remember it. A woman would have to be half-dead not to remember everything about this man, from his military-regulation buzzed dark hair, perpetual Stetson crease in his masculine forehead, and potent Jolly Rancher–green eyes to his name. Yeah, no doubt about it, Trey Berke was smoking hot!
A slow, devilish grin unfolded on his too-kissable lips. “Thank you.”
Puzzled, Lena blinked at him. “For what?”
His grin turned seductive, sending a wave of do-me heat washing through her. “Admitting you’d find pleasure in going out with me.”
“I never said…I didn’t mean to insinuate…” She snapped her mouth shut and glared at him, irritated as much by his arrogance as the fact that she didn’t doubt she would find unspeakable pleasure in going out with him. “I’m sure that was not the first time in your life you’ve heard that expression, Mr. Berke. I’m also equally sure you understand the meaning of it.”
He held her gaze and she knew by the swirls of heat and amusement in his eyes that he wasn’t buying her attempts to show disinterest. “He’ll let you get closer to him if he thinks I’m courting you.”
Courting her? Who talked like that in this day and age? “Why is that?”
Trey tapped a long finger, surely crafted to stroke a woman’s G-spot to orgasm, on the side of his coffee mug. “It’s the way we work, sugar. Just trust me on that.”
His gaze possessed an intensity that made her believe for an instant she was the only person in the restaurant. She sucked in her stomach, hoping to squash the fluttering butterflies, and eyed him over the rim of her mug as she sipped her coffee.
“Let’s back up a bit.” More like a lot. Holy hormones, she’d gotten the sensation when she’d answered the phone that morning that she was about to get into something over her head, but she’d never in a zillion years thought it would be something like this.
She set down her mug, rummaged through the shoulder bag on the seat beside her, and pulled out the steno pad where she’d jotted down notes of their phone conversation. Thank God she’d gone with her gut and suggested they meet at Kelly’s, a quaint diner on the edge of Pleasure, Tennessee known for its downhome Southern cooking, rather than inviting him to her home office back in the city. She could just imagine how the meeting would’ve gone then.
Oh, no the hell you can’t.
Okay, so she better not allow herself to imagine it. Getting wrapped up in a fantasy of opening her front door to find Mr. Tall, Dark, and Supremely Drool-worthy standing there wouldn’t help her hold onto her professionalism one iota. No doubt, she would’ve spent half the meeting picturing the two of them having wild, dark, and dirty sex all over her house. Although, if she gave herself a half second, she didn’t doubt she could come up with a few intensely erotic images of the two of them trying out every tabletop in the diner.
And how ironic was that? She hadn’t had sex with anything but her trusty vibrator in so many years she’d lost count. She’d given up on sex, given up on men, knowing she’d never find anyone who could make her feel the passion and ecstasy Mark had once showed her.
She flipped the cover of the steno pad, ruthlessly pushed all thoughts of Mark from her mind, and quickly glanced over her notes before looking up. Her gaze collided with Trey’s and damn if she didn’t have to consult her notes again to remind herself of what she’d been about to say. “You said you and your friend are in the Navy.”
Trey nodded once. “We’re SEALs.”
Deciding it might make it easier to keep her thought process on track, she focused her gaze on his mouth as he spoke. It was a very, very bad idea. The way his lips moved to form the words, coupled with the rusty, confident tone in his voice had juices leaking from between her pussy lips to wet the cotton lining of her thongs.
Lena swallowed, checked her notes once more, and forced herself to meet his gaze. “And you’re both on leave?”
He leaned back and stretched a powerful looking arm over the back of the seat. “He’s on medical. I’m on personal.”
What would it feel like to have that arm wrapped around her waist? What would it feel like to have that arm holding her tight against the hard wall of his body? More, what would it feel like to have his large hands imprisoning her wrists as he settled his narrow hips between her legs and…