“Thank you,” Brady said, sliding a glance at Lilah, who was grinning. He wanted to be annoyed, but the sight of her genuine amusement always derailed him.
Ellen introduced them to the three homeless dogs she’d found, each a Collie mix and probably litter mates as well. They were clearly neglected but dying for affection and made immediate friends with Twinkles.
Lilah said she’d have little trouble finding them homes, but before Brady could help her load them up, Ellen had dinner on the table and refused to let them go without eating.
Leo said grace and thanked God for the food, the house, the ranch, and every single animal on the ranch, and then his children, and his children’s children, and then for the past fifty years with a great woman, and just before Brady fell asleep at the table, his ears pricked up as Leo added, “and for bringing a new couple by for company tonight.”
Brady turned his head to meet Lilah’s wide eyes. Couple? she mouthed, looking so horrified he nearly laughed.
Leo smiled. “Sorry, it’s just very obvious that you two are recently together.”
“Yes,” Ellen said. “You keep staring at each other or touching in some way.”
Brady looked down and noticed that indeed he was thigh to thigh with Lilah, and even more telling, he had an arm draped over the back of her chair, his fingers tracing absent circles on her shoulder. His fingers froze midtrace.
“So, how long has it been?” Ellen asked, passing around the thick pot roast and heart-attack-in-the-making mashed potatoes that were the best mashed potatoes Brady had ever tasted. “I mean, I assume this is brand-new,” she said with a secret smile at her husband. “Since there was no mention of a relationship in the Dr. Death article, and we all know how thoroughly invasive that gossip rag can be.”
“Um,” Lilah said, looking uncomfortable. “Well, to be honest, we’re not-”
Brady reached under the table and squeezed her knee. He didn’t know what came over him, probably retribution for how she’d mercilessly teased him in the Jeep, but he heard himself say, “Don’t be shy, honey.”
She stared at him, clearly concerned he’d lost his marbles.
And he had. The day he’d met her.
“Oh, tell us the whole story,” Ellen said, clapping her hands with glee. “I love a real-life romance.”
Brady smiled at Lilah. “Go ahead, darlin’. You tell it.”
Lilah’s eyes narrowed on Brady. Her fork was still in midair, full of potatoes that he suspected she might want to fling into his face as she contemplated him. “Well, sweetheart,” she said, “it’s just that I don’t know where to start.”
Ellen was smiling so eagerly. “At the beginning!”
Lilah looked at her and hesitated. Clearly, she was willing to go head-to-head with Brady in a battle of wills, but she wasn’t so willing to be rude or cruel. But she must have gotten over that because she said, “We met at the beauty salon in town.”
Brady had been smiling, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself for one-upping her-until this.
“Yeah,” Lilah went on, clearly gaining steam. “Brady was at his weekly grooming session.” She leaned into Ellen as if departing with a state secret and continued in a stage whisper, “He’s very hairy, you see.”
Brady choked on his peas.
“Wax or laser?” Ellen whispered. “My son-in-law swears by his monthly male Brazilian.”
“Brady, too,” Lilah said, patting a still coughing Brady on the back. “You okay, baby?” She smiled sweetly at him and began shoveling her food in as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. “Oh, Mrs. Johnson, this is all so delicious!”
Brady finally recovered. “Lilah cooks, too, Ellen. Actually, she’s an incredible baker. She makes the most amazing desserts.”
Now it was Lilah’s turn to go pale. The only thing she baked was store-bought cookie dough.
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Ellen exclaimed.
“And you should see her on the fly,” Brady said. “That’s her specialty-improvising.”
Lilah narrowed her eyes at him but before she could respond, Ellen spoke again. “Oh, that is a talent. Maybe you can demonstrate,” she said hopefully. “I have just about everything you could need for any recipe.”
Lilah sent Brady a look of sheer, undulated panic, followed by a look that promised her own payback.
That was okay. After the male Brazilian thing, he was pretty sure he could take whatever she dealt out. Smiling, he leaned back and shot her his best your turn look, which she returned with a you-are-so-going-down volley.
Fine by him. He’d go down with her any day. With her, on her… however and wherever she wanted.
Seventeen
A little while later, Lilah escaped to the Johnsons’ very small, slightly fussy bathroom at the end of the hallway and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, and there were two spots of color on her cheeks. She looked under the influence.
And she was.
She was under the influence of lust. Damn Brady for baiting her, for making her feel…
Alive. The man made her feel so alive.
She was still staring at herself when the door opened. A big, warm, built body nudged her over, making room so he could squeeze in behind her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
Brady gave her a look that made her nipples pebble up against her shirt as he reached out and hit the lock.
Click.
It echoed over the pounding of her heart. Staring at him in the mirror, she shook her head. “Brady-”
“Lilah,” he said calmly. Stepping closer, he forced her up against the sink. His hands gripped the tile at either side of her hips, trapping her in. “A male Brazilian?” His voice was that deep half growl she’d heard only when they were naked and he was whispering erotic, explicit promises in her ear, the ones that never failed to make her blush.
“Well, hey, for all I know you really do wax.”
He pressed himself against her butt. He was hard.
“Oh no,” she whispered on a laugh even as she rocked back against him, causing him to hiss in a breath. She stopped breathing entirely and went damp. “We can’t.”
Seeing right through her, he smiled into the mirror, slow and extremely badass.
Oh no. No, she wasn’t going to melt just because he was giving her that look. “You have to go,” she whispered, attempting to elbow him away. “Shoo.”
He made a sound that might have been a snort of laughter. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
He grabbed her hand and brought it behind her to cup over his crotch.
“Oh my God.” But her fingers stroked him. Bad fingers.
Brushing her hair out of the way, he leaned down to nibble on her neck. “Can’t help it,” he murmured against her skin. “You have this effect on me.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and a horrifyingly needy, hungry little whimper escaped her, loud enough that she lifted her own hands and clamped them over her mouth.
“Mmm,” he barely breathed against her ear. “Love that sound.” His hands slid from her hips upward, beneath her top.
“What are you doing now?”
“If you don’t know, I’m doing it wrong.”
Oh, she knew. And the truth was, she’d do whatever he wanted and they both knew it. Ever since he’d come to town with those sharp, assessing eyes and hard-but-oh-so-giving mouth and all that testosterone, her body had been a complete traitor. His tongue rimmed her ear and she had to lock her knees to remain upright. “Oh God.”
“Give me a minute and you’ll be saying ‘Oh, Brady.’” He ran his fingers lightly down her arms and then encircled her wrists, setting them on the counter’s edge, indicating she should keep them there. She wriggled back against him, grinding her bottom into his erection. “Hold still,” he commanded softly in her ear.