Caught Up Page 6

  “It’s kind of stupid.”

  He looked up with only his eyes. “I want to know.”

  If it would make him stop looking at her like that, why not? And, strangely, a part of her wanted to share something of herself with this man who seemed so damn interested. She attempted to compose herself and let out a long, nasally breath. It helped. ’Cause nasally breaths were super sexy. “I guess I was about twelve when it happened. My cousins had this go-cart, and I was cruising around one day—”

  She was interrupted by a chuckle. And, yes, he was still staring.

  “You heard me, cruising around.” She grinned, slipping back to the good ol’ days. “All of a sudden, I had no brakes. We found out later that the spring for the brake pedal or whatever had popped off, which is why I couldn’t stop the rattletrap. I panicked and headed for the barn, looking for my uncle. He was out on a tractor, and—”

  “You grew up in the country?”

  “Not hardly. City mouse, here. My mom’s brother farmed cotton up around Temple. I was always jealous because it seemed like the idyllic life. Turned out he had the whole operation mortgaged to the hilt…” She paused, not sure why she’d gone there.

  “And?”

  And here…

  Here was her landowner, tilting his chin, coaxing out more of her story…which had nothing to do with the minerals under his property.

  “And I made the brilliant decision to stop a runaway go-cart by plowing into a row of hay bales.” Not the turn he’d expected, eh? “I see you smirking, and you look just like my cousin after he pointed out the muddy cotton field he’d have used. But, he wasn’t destined for great powers as I was, nor did his scrawny butt possess the sheer bravery it took to brace for impact and run that sucker head-on into the end bale.” She sat back, as if exhausted from telling the tale. “And that’s how I found out hay bales are a hell of a lot harder than they look.” Her admission garnered an empathetic smile, and she eased up. “I didn’t break my ankle, I just sprained it badly…really badly. I had to use crutches for months, and it’s been weak ever since.”

  “But you were gifted with a built-in barometer for your…sheer bravery, was it?”

  “Yeah.” That smile…she honestly couldn’t tell if he was in on the joke or thought she’d hit her head, too. “And people think you’re crazy when you say you can feel a change of weather in your bones. I get it. Call it what you want, it’s still very real.”

  “I’ve heard crazier things,” he said. “Now, I want to hear how you managed that dam crossing.”

  Dam crossing?

  Oh yeah, the death-defying final obstacle before reaching the Lucas ranch house. How could she forget?

  “What was I supposed to do? Fly?” She slapped her hand on the table. “Damn it, I should have held out for that superpower.”

  Her landowner wasn’t amused.

  “Look, I survived a go-cart accident, I survived your brother, and I’ll survive…whatever.”

  “Cassie, listen to me.” Jason’s hand cupped her jaw again, and his blue eyes bore into hers. “You don’t go to the Neelys’, and you don’t go near my brother. You get that, baby?”

  Oh-ho. “We sure went from Ms. Mitchum to baby at warp speed, don’t you think?”

  “What I think…”

  She twisted her head, breaking his grip—

  “…hell, it doesn’t matter.”

  —and the connection that grip had to a very intimate part of her anatomy. “Mr. Lucas—”

  “Jase.”

  “I’m in your kitchen, attempting to discuss a business proposal, and—”

  “Jase.”

  “And I would very much appreciate it if we could actually get to that proposal.” Because she needed to distance herself from this…this…whatever this was. It had started out as mutual attraction, pure and simple. Now? Now, it felt infinitely more personal. She reached for the folder containing the lease agreement, and a calloused hand came down on hers.

  “Are you going to call me Jase?”

  God, his hand was warm. And big. One of his fingers had been smashed recently if the purple and black beneath the nail were any indication, and she couldn’t stop staring at the grease or whatever staining the deepest grooves of his skin. Working man’s hands. He could probably smash her if he tried, and her voice sounded shaky when she gave in. “Yes…Jase.”

  “Okay,” he said, straightening. “Propose away, if that’s what you want.”

  “Okay,” she said, ignoring that last comment and opening the file folder. Yep, trembling. “The proposal is two-fold. The first item is a seismic agreement, followed by the, uh, oil and gas lease…” She glanced up to see Jase now leaning against his sink, ankles crossed, and raised her eyebrows in a combination of frustration and entreaty.

  “Go on a date with me.”

  What? They’d gone from friendly flirting to something admittedly more in the last few minutes, but the proposition still surprised her. She’d assumed their game was the kind where he tripped her up with veiled threats to the point she settled for a higher offer than she should. Jase had already proven himself a capable opponent in that regard, so what had him crossing the line?

  “Go on a date with me,” he repeated before taking a long pull from a new bottle of Shiner Bock, his gaze locked on hers. “A real one.”

  No man looked at a woman like that unless he was dead serious. Cassie’s heart pounded uncontrollably, adding to the overall sense that she’d reached a drop-off, her head only barely above water as it was. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not appropriate.” Her husky voice contradicted the attempt at professionalism, and she cleared her throat. “It’s a conflict of interest.”

  “What’s conflicting? You want something from me, I want something from you.”

  “And you’ve already stated your reluctance to lease. Why should I give ground?” She found she could stand after all. But when Jase pushed away from the sink, Cassie realized she wasn’t out of the water yet.

  “I can see you considering.”

  Frustration battled with serious temptation—the kind of temptation that could land her in one of those big hot messes. “Will you at least look at the paperwork if I go out with you?”

  “Looking only. No signing.”

  “Why are you being so difficult?”

  “I’m not. I just want to see you in those jeans again.”

  “I can wear them to our lease signing meeting.” Oh God, why had she just said that?

  “There won’t be any meeting unless you go out with me.”

  Mixing business and pleasure reeked of trouble. But she needed the lease. She’d already sung to the man and told him an embarrassing story. How much worse could it get? It wasn’t like he was asking her to spend the night in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre house.

  “One date. Saturday night.” She slammed the folder shut. “Then we talk business.”

  “Has anyone ever mentioned how good pissed-off looks on you?”

  She shouldered her bag to hide the alternating shades of red flushing her face—she knew it. Things felt…heated. “If that’s supposed to be an attempt at flirting, save it for the date, Mr. Lucas.”

  “Jase.”

  “You can be Jase on Saturday.” She made for the nearest exit posthaste, wondering what exactly she’d agreed to.

  As she reached for the knob or handle or whatever, one of those big weather-chapped hands splayed across the door. “What are you doing the rest of the week?”

  She turned to face him and her body made electric contact with his. “I’m going out with the other landowners I’m negotiating with,” she said, sucking in a breath and trying to melt into the door.

  “Cute.” Jase’s little grin quickly faded. “I meant during the day.”

  “I’m working.”

  “On what?”

  Okay, now she was getting pissed. “We haven’t even been on our ‘date’”—she hook
ed her fingers into quotation marks—“so I really don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

  He stared at her for several heart-stopping seconds before answering.

  “You always sing to men in the dark?” The softy spoken question took her aback. And maybe that was why she allowed his thumb to part her lips as she shook her head, speechless for once. “No? That’s good. But I’m still going to be thinking about you changing a tire in sky-high shoes and a tight-ass skirt in front of someone other than me. So yeah,” he whispered, “call me concerned.”

  The heaviness in her breasts and the prickling in her belly told her she liked what he’d just said. She shouldn’t. It was inappropriate. It was crude. It was…way hotter than she’d like to admit. She slapped his hand away and summoned a sneer. “Concerned you’re going to miss out on some action?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re acting territorial over something that hasn’t and never will happen between us.”

  “Territorial?” Jase’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, this is my territory, despite half the oil field trompin’ all over it. This town’s changed in the last year, lots of trash coming and going. And I don’t just mean roughnecks. A gorgeous girl with attitude and dimples walks into the middle of it? That’s trouble. Trouble I don’t want to deal with by getting a visit from a lawyer in a fancy car.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that on my account,” she ground out, perturbed at the level of attraction she felt over Jase’s concern for her well-being. Her nipples, the traitors, had worked themselves into stiff peaks to accompany the blooming warmth between her legs. And it was complicating the hell out of things. She needed to distance herself. Immediately. “I’ve been doing this a long time. Get over yourself and find someone else to go all mad-dog over.”

  In a flash of movement, Jase pinned her wrists to the door, one on either side of her spinning head. She told herself she didn’t like that either. But she’d never been a successful liar. “Let—”

  He cut her off with a low growl. “Mad-dog?” He leaned closer, and those blue eyes travelled to her breathless chest before settling on her mouth. “Baby, you have no idea what I’ll unleash on a man who messes with—” He stopped short, and an expression she hadn’t seen before darkened his rugged features.

  “With what?” she demanded.

  “You’re right,” he said, “nothing’s happened between us yet. But it will.”

  This was completely unacceptable. But the aching want, the throbbing void between her legs, begging to be filled, meant the exact opposite, just as it had since the beginning of time. Damn it. Is this what happened in the wild? Mindless attraction? And then what?

  “And I’m staking my claim right now.”

  Jase Lucas’s mouth slammed against hers. The kiss wasn’t tender, it wasn’t soft. It was a force of nature. His tongue flicked across the seam of her lips, and she opened them. Tongue, lips, teeth, it built like a storm—a groan from deep in his throat, a crashing in her chest, something breaking apart when he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth.

  This can’t happen. What was she doing? A date didn’t preclude kissing. And like a punch to the gut, she realized they hadn’t even made it that far. She whimpered the weakest of protests, and he released her wrists. But her sigh of relief was cut short when he cupped her face, tilted her head back, and ran his nose up her neck, inhaling her scent before slanting his mouth over hers once more. Again, and again, his tongue delved deep in search of hers, sliding and swirling, claiming.

  This is happening.

  His thigh stroked up between hers, and she pressed her hips to his, further stoking the fire between them. In perfect sync with his hands, pulling her closer, with his tongue, warm and coaxing, she began the melt.

  Without warning, Jase pulled his mouth away, and she slammed her butt against the door, away from the sparks threatening to consume them both.

  Hissing through his teeth, Jase swiped his thumb across her kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Now this is my territory.”

  She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. Oh, God. And they were coming closer. He was going to kiss her again.

  His breath hit her cheek, just to the side her mouth. “You’re hell-bent on going after this lease?” he whispered. “Fine. But you deal with me and me only.”

  “Yeah.” She’d never been so attracted to someone. Nor had she ever needed to close a deal so badly. Conflicted didn’t begin to explain her state of mind. “Okay.”

  Jase wrapped his fingers around her arm, opened the door, and walked her to her car. She should’ve said something. Something bitchy, something stupid. Anything. But she had no words. And she had no thoughts, other than the fact that she’d just been “claimed” by Jason Lucas, whatever that meant in Roughneckville.

  She managed a glance as she slid behind the wheel of her car.

  “Wear the jeans Saturday.”

  When she didn’t respond, Jase shut the door and stood watching as she pulled out. Nobody had ever, ever, kissed her speechless. But Jason Lucas just did.

  And damn.

  …

  So, she thought him some kind of man-whore.

  Chuckling, he closed the door of his camper and leaned his back against it. She had no idea what he was. Neither did he anymore. He’d asked her out. As in, on a date. And then he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her because she’d sung to him. Because she’d refuted him then sung to him. Because she’d spoken of property and ownership, and because that had hit him all kinds of ways he didn’t feel like exploring with her taste still on his lips. And because she was beautiful and vulnerable in a way she didn’t understand, and hopefully never would.

  No, she wasn’t his. But she could be while she was here. It would be safer for her and entertaining for him. It had been too long, and she’d be here just long enough for him to get his fill. It was crazy, yes. But with no strings attached, no one had to get hurt.

  And wouldn’t that be nice for a change.

  He turned and pulled back the shades to watch her taillights fade into the darkness, and something delicious curled in his belly. He ignored the accompanying pinpricks of danger. He could handle that.

  He’d been doing it most of his life.

  …

  Cassie slammed her car into park beneath the neon Tee-Pee sign at the juncture of Main Street.

  Jase remained a good quarter mile behind her. She was just waiting for her heart to catch up before braving the near-deserted thoroughfare. She’d never been kissed like that, even at her freaking age and supposed experience level. And she couldn’t stop replaying it, much less do something like drive the four blocks to her motel.

  This wasn’t gonna do.

  Cassie reached for her bag and fumbled for her phone. She thumbed a text, pressed send, and glanced around, aware for the first time she might be blocking someone in. She wasn’t, but she’d bet anything there was a sherriff’s deputy Camaro parked in one of the dimly lit strip malls across the way. For being county enforcers, they sure haunted the town and incoming highways that intersected at the main stoplight downtown. Yep, the county boys made an art of pulling over speeding oil-field truckers and suits driving imported cars. Leave the locals alone. They’re our voting base. All that small-town BS.

  Kyle: U want some company tonight?

  Cassie: Just need u to work ur magic. Lucas brothers.

  Two welding trucks pulled into the Tee-Pee while she awaited Kyle’s response. The second driver chucked a beer can out his open window and into the ditch as he turned. And I’m the suspicious vehicle. Halfway through the accompanying eye roll, her phone chimed.

  Kyle: Under one condition.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  Cassie: Anything.

  And she pretty much meant it.

  Kyle: Stop working so damn hard and go to dinner with me tomorrow night.

  Guilt twisted her gut. Yeah, she’d neglected her best office buddy the past few day
s.

  Kyle: And no fast food. REAL food.

  She chuckled. Kyle definitely deserved more than a bucket of fried chicken shared over title notes.

  Cassie: Can’t wait.

  And she couldn’t wait to hear what he unearthed concerning one Jason Lucas.

  No…

  Jase.

  Chapter Five

  Roma’s was a delicious melding of cultures. Want chips and salsa while your pizza bakes? No problem. Here’s your Modelo tallboy, sir. (And yeah, it was served in a can. Classy.) Would you like to see our wine list as well? We offer several vintage Bordeaux. Todos excellente. That’s what went down in the dining room. The bar area was something else entirely. A watering hole right out of the Old West. It even had one of those spit-trough things running along the foot of the bar.

  Cassie was fairly certain this shit only occurred in South Texas.

  “You missed Marshall’s morning meltdown,” her colleague said from across the table.

  “Not quite,” she grunted, crunching a chip. “They’ve invented these things called cell phones, see. And these convenient devices make it possible for the Marshalls of the world to reach you any time, any place.”

  Cassie pictured her broker leaned back in his chair, phone to his ear, those nervous blue eyes darting over the wall map opposite his desk instead of finding a focal point. “This is the big one, Cass. Lucas and a few others and we have our block. I can’t sell this to the client without the entire block. How long is it going to take? Days? Weeks? Make it days. We’ve only got about another month or so here.” This morning he’d added. “You wear those tight jeans yet?” And she’d briefly thought about suing him.

  “I’m working single at a double desk, babe.” Kyle shrugged as their waitress placed a vegetarian supreme on the stand between them. “Just sayin’.”

  That “desk” amounted to two folding tables, their sides butted together so she and Kyle faced each other. Such were the luxurious appointments of a roving band of lease hawks. Nothing pretty, nothing permanent. They currently roosted in a five-bedroom ranch-style right off Main Street. Swanky digs. It was still nice to know that her favorite coworker turned BFF missed her presence.