Cherokee Baby Part 7

Tonight was her only chance, the last opportunity she had to fulfill her fantasy, to summon the courage to invite him to her bed. She'd even groomed herself for a potential seduction, for a slow, sweet, s.e.xual night. Beneath a slim black dress, she wore thigh-high stockings, wispy panties and the see-through bustier she'd accidentally dropped at Bobby's feet nearly a week ago.

"Do you play?" he asked.

She blinked, felt her pulse jump to her throat. "Play?"

"Pool." He motioned to the back of the bar. "There's a free table. Should we claim it before someone

else does?"

She glanced over her shoulder, in the direction he indicated. "Truthfully, I don't play all that well. But I'm more than willing to try."

"I can help you."

"Okay. I'll just get my wine." And let her cousins know she was spending the rest of the evening with

Bobby.

As he headed toward the billiards area, Julianne told Mern and Kay her news, which they saluted with

thumbs-up smiles, boosting her courage.

Anxious to return to her cowboy, she joined Bobby at the pool table, where he racked the b.a.l.l.s.

"I think you should break," he said.

Julianne shook her head. "No. You go ahead."

"I want you to do it."

"All right." She set her belongings on a nearby ledge and reached for a pool cue, chalking the end

because it seemed like the right thing to do. Her knowledge of the game was more than limited.

She aimed the stick at the white ball and sent it rolling into the triangle of numbered b.a.l.l.s, barely

scattering them. "I told you I wasn't very good at this."

"That's okay. I'llrerack and you can try again. Only this time, I'll help."

And help he did. He rolled up his sleeves, critiqued the way she held the cue, and then repositioned her,

giving advice she was determined to follow.

This time, she crashed through the b.a.l.l.s, sending them in a variety of directions.

She turned to smile at him and he grinned back at her.

"Keep going," he said.

"Isn't it your turn?"

He shrugged. "We don't have to play by the rules."

"That sounds good to me." After all, this was her night to break free, to teeter on the edge. To make turning forty a wild, wondrous experience.

"Take your time," he coached.

Julianne studied the table and started to go after what she thought was a logical shot. But when she glanced up at Bobby, he shook his head.

"Try it this way instead."

As he explained where to hit the ball and what pocket it should land in, he leaned into her.

His fly b.u.mped her rear and for a second they both froze. Julianne tried to concentrate on his direction, to stay focused on the game.

But she couldn't.

He smelled like the wind, like a warm, dark, summer night. He lowered his body, just enough to bring his face closer to hers.

"You need to imagine the cue ball touching the ball you want to pot," he said.

Because thefront of his jeans were still pressed against her bottom, she wondered if he was getting aroused. His breathing was raspy, she noticed, his voice rough.

"Does that make sense to you?" he asked.

The hair on his arm tickled hers and goose b.u.mps raced up her spine. "Yes."

"Good." He stayed right where he was, his body molded to hers. "Do you want to give it a go?"

Julianne nodded, and he moved away, but not abruptly. He took his time, running his hands down her waist and over her hips. Slowly. Gently. Almost provocatively.

He was aroused, she decided. Hehad to be.

A little dizzy, she took her shot. And made it.

Stunned, she rose to look at him. And for a moment, neither spoke. They simply smiled at each other.

Soft, flirtatious smiles.

"I just might cream you," she said.

"Really?" His smile deepened. "We'll have to see about that."

They played four games and he beat her every time. But nonetheless, Julianne gave him a run for his money, making faces at him, batting her lashes, teasing him like a teenager in heat. He teased her right back, clearly enjoying every minute of her fortieth birthday, of the s.e.xual innuendoes sizzling between them.

Getting creamed had taken on a whole new meaning.

"Had enough?" he asked. The rest of the partygoers, including her cousins, had left over an hour ago, leaving them alone in thequietening bar.

"Have you?" She finished the last of her wine and flicked a peanut at him.

She wasn't tipsy and neither was he, but they seemed a little drunk. Naturally intoxicated.

"I think I should take you back to the lodge and tuck you into bed."

Her heart jumped. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. After all, you are an old lady. And old ladies need their sleep."

"Wanna bet?" She tossed a pretzel this time. It flew past him and landed on the pool table, sliding into a corner pocket.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. That was the best shot she'd made all night.

A few minutes later she gathered her jacket, her purse and the rose he'd given her.

She intended to let him take her back to her room. But when he put her to bed, she was going to do her d.a.m.nedest to keep him there. * * * Bobby parked his truck in front of the lodge and cut the engine. Julianne sat next to him, quieter than she'd been all night.

But then, the evening was nearly over and he suspected she hated to see it end. He certainly did. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had so much fun.

Flirtatious fun. Barroom fun.

He looked at Julianne and felt his groin tighten.

s.e.xual fun. The thrill of a man and a woman recognizing a mutual attraction and acting on it. Just a little, just enough to make them antic.i.p.ate a long, l.u.s.t-driven kiss.

She sighed and gazed out the winds.h.i.+eld. "The stars are so pretty."

He glanced at the sky, but only for a second. He was more interested in gazing at her, at taking in every feminine detail. Her hair, that bewitching red mane, fell in loose waves. Curled, he supposed, with a wand or an iron or some sort of heat-activated device. Because he enjoyed watching women primp, he wondered about the glossy lip-sticks, s.h.i.+mmering powders and scented lotions Julianne used.

"You're prettier than the stars," he said.

She turned to look at him and he realized how foolish he sounded, like a guy trying to spout poetry.

"I'm sorry. That was goofy."

"No, it wasn't." She fidgeted with the strap on her purse. "It was nice."

Bobby merely nodded. Was she waiting for him to kiss her? She seemed nervous. Sort of girlish and fluttery.

h.e.l.l, he was nervous, too. Anxious about leaning over, covering her mouth, tasting her with his tongue.

"I had a good time," he said, stalling a bit, taking a minute to ease into the kiss they both wanted.

"So didI ."

She smiled and he released a shuddering breath, trapped by the softness in her voice, the hardness beneath his fly.

He was aroused. So d.a.m.n aroused and trying to convince himself he could handle it.

He'd pretended half the night that the slow, intimate touches and quick, verbal foreplay hadn't been driving him crazy.

And now he was stuck with a bulging zipper. Bobby removed his hat and tossed it into the extended cab. He would get this d.a.m.n kiss over with and go home and take a cold shower.

These days, he knew how to freeze his hormones. He met Julianne's gaze. She just sat, watching him, waiting.

Determined to do this as quickly and painlessly as possible, he leaned into her. In turn, she wet her lips and leaned into him.

Then it happened. Their mouths came together. Warm and moist.

She made a sweet, soft sound and suddenly he forgot about rus.h.i.+ng through it. Instead he lost himself in the sensation, in the flavor of a woman.

This woman, he thought.

Sliding his hands through her hair, he deepened the kiss, let the hunger, the need,wash over him. The feeling shot through his veins and caressed his loins.

Their tongues circled, dancing like fire. He licked the inside of her mouth and she made that sound again, that soft, girlish moan.

She took his hands and moved them to the front of her dress, offering him the top b.u.t.ton. Without thinking, he loosened it, along with two more, and lowered his head to nuzzle between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

He saw a hint of sheer lace, a small swell of cleavage. But that wasn't enough. He tugged until he found a nipple, until he was rooted, kissing and tasting.

She held him there, touching his face, watching him suckle, encouraging him to do so even harder.

U-di-le-ga,was all he could think. Heat. Sweet, sweet warmth.

A s.h.i.+ver racked his spine. A volcano burst in his chest, working its way down the center of his body.

If this went on much longer, they'd both be immersed in hot, boiling lava.

Or heaven help him, his seed.

Struck by that mortifying revelation, Bobby pulled back and dragged a gust of air into his lungs.