High-Stakes Loving [King's Bluff, Wyoming 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  Reagan sighed. “Sorry, you seem to be catching me out in my thoughts today.”

  Phyllis’s lips twitched. “Not hard guessing what they were about. It’s been one heck of a morning.”

  Reagan nodded to the community notice board. “Damn galling, seeing his brochure hanging there.”

  “Hey, I offered to draw horns and a tail on his photo, but you had to be a spoilsport and say no.” The middle-aged, would-be graffiti artist shrugged. She pushed the cart toward the shelves at the far end of the room—the screened-off section for erotic romance—dubbed by locals as Spank Me Central. “Come on and help me stack some returns. It’s quiet and this will keep you from stewing over Wagner.”

  After a quick glance at Matilda and Adelaide at the reading table, now busy working on a strategy to engage older citizens in their campaign, Reagan joined Phyllis.

  She lifted up a book from the cart and smiled. “I see you’ve unpacked our latest shipment. Won’t be long before these are all out on loan.”

  Phyllis selected some titles and ducked behind the row of shelves to stack the other side. “Guaranteed. Most of our favorite authors have new releases. Our next book club meeting can’t come soon enough. Why don’t you pick a book for June? May’s choice is already read and from what I hear, the ladies loved every page. Can’t wait to discuss it at the next meeting.”

  Last year, a former resident had moved to Florida to be with her adult children and had donated some of her furniture to the community, including a couch and coffee table to the library. The couch’s deep cushions encouraged a relaxed atmosphere. The one drawback, at least when the items were placed in Spank Me Central, was the women had lingered—for hours. Reagan wouldn’t have minded, but the couch could hold only so many bodies. Hence the formation of the library’s own Bound by the Books Club. Of the three different reader clubs associated with the library, including one for Sci-fi and another for kids, this third one was her favorite. Current membership was at sixteen, with the next meeting in two weeks.

  In a town where ménage relationships and a BDSM lifestyle were considered mainstream, an erotic romance book club was as tame as a Sunday church social. Of course, if the member’s confessional conversations were taped and played back to their husbands and Doms, it was guaranteed a few sub’s backsides would be a shade of red. Thank goodness for the members’ code of silence.

  Besides, she had her own secret fantasies of late. A smooth-talking bald Texan giant and a dark and brooding wounded warrior had taken up too many of her thoughts, especially at night. When those hours stretched out in silent torture, leaving her with nothing but her fantasies and a vibrator, the images of Quinn Sullivan and Mike Langley had awakened her to a healthy dose of good, old-fashioned lust.

  The two ex-SEALs, now some type of high-end private investigators, were a sheer force of masculinity that had, at first, shocked her into retreat. Between nursing her father for so long and living in a small town with a shortage of single males who weren’t either over fifty-five or enrolled in day care, she’d adapted to the life of a long-term spinster. Romance was a thing lived through novels. Caged in the pages of a paperback or locked in an e-reader, the heroes were no real threat to her cozy, albeit boring existence.

  However, this past month, while Mike and Quinn visited their families in New York and Texas, she’d begun to question the strength of her resistance to their dominant charms. Whenever she’d been caught in the same room with them, like at Penny’s Diner, the town’s Christmas Dance, or the recent wedding of her friend, Chloe, it was as if everything around her dimmed except them. Her heartbeat would speed up. She’d panic out of sheer nervousness, then search for an escape route at the very moment every fiber of her longed for them to chase her, catch her, and make her hear them out. And they’d tried. Come close a few times. If it wasn’t for Purdy riding shotgun…

  Breathing deep through her nose, she filled her head with the faint vanilla scent of books. Her gaze dropped to the cover of the paperback in her hand. Two men and a woman stood in front of a mountain lake. Both men towered over the heroine. The heroes were shirtless, showing off their muscular builds and their jeans stretched tight over long legs. She turned the book over to read the blurb.

  Four sentences in and a warmth tingled between her legs. Nothing like a few of her favorite trigger words to get her in the mood. Special Forces. Undercover. Kidnapped by heroes. BDSM. Protective Custody.

  Lord. Have. Mercy. The book club’s choice for June was in the bag.

  “Do you ever wonder, Phyllis, what it would be like?”

  “To do what?” The volunteer’s voice drifted over from the other side of the shelving.

  “Live out your fantasy. Have two warriors take control. Not giving you a choice but throwing you over their shoulder and taking you to…wherever.” A cabin. In the mountains. Isolated. “Demanding you obey but showing you gentleness. Doing all those things that…” She huffed out a laugh and slotted the book next to the author’s other titles. “You know, like we talk about at book club.”

  “Damn, Mike, we’re joining that book club.” A deep Texas drawl flowed over her from behind.

  Her breath caught in her throat. No. God, no. Not in a million years, no.

  “I can’t wait to hear how the ladies want us to throw them over our shoulders.” The rough-gravel tone with a hint of Jersey was unmistakable.

  Heat swept up her face, burning hotter than a grill on Labor Day weekend.

  Phyllis poked her head past the corner of the shelves, snuck a wide-eyed glance behind her beleaguered boss, and then ducked back out of sight. Coward.

  No way out. She squared her shoulders and turned around.

  Quinn Sullivan and Mike Langley stood in front of her. Quinn’s slow grin shouted danger and matched the devilment of his caramel gaze. Mike’s lips curved up at one corner. The dark richness of his brooding stare weakened the stiffness of her spine. Not a trace of smugness could be detected on either man’s face. Instead, they were filled with the confidence of hard men that seemed certain of one thing. That right now in this instance, it wasn’t the women of the book club that desired warriors to throw them over their shoulders. It was her. And they had her number.

  Just shoot me now.

  * * * *

  Quinn Sullivan allowed his gaze to feast on the pint-sized package standing in front of him. The pink stain on her cheeks enticed him, proving there was more to the woman hidden under her straitlaced office attire. That pale-blue cotton shirt of hers had only one button free at the neck, allowing him a glimpse of a thin gold necklace. At least the black skirt showed off the generous curve of her hips.

  “Hello, Reagan. Been a while.” He kept his voice soft.

  “It has. You’ve been away, visiting your families, right?” She flicked her blue gaze between him and his best friend, Mike. “That’s great. Everyone should get away and…uh, visit.” Reagan cleared her throat. “So, what brings you to our library?”

  “You.” Mike answered.

  Quinn battled the urge to grin at her hard swallow.

  “Me? What do you want with me?” She smoothed her hands down the front of skirt.

  Oh, sweetheart, the possibilities are limitless.

  Quinn chuckled to himself and caught Mike’s grin.

  “We’ve been sent here on a mission. Noah’s organizing a barbecue this Saturday out at King’s Haven, celebrating their return last week from their honeymoon in Australia. It’s short notice, so he asked us to make sure you’re invited.”

  She narrowed her gaze. Teachers and librarians had that suspicious glare down to perfection. “Chloe hasn’t called me about a barbecue. Purdy and I had coffee with her yesterday in the diner, and she never mentioned a thing.”

  Mike shrugged. “Noah and Flynn were telling her just as we headed out. It’s been hectic in the days since they returned. The guys wanted to take her mind off unpacking and preparing lesson plans. She’s due back in the classroom on Monday.”

>   Reagan’s forehead smoothed out and her smile reached her eyes. “Okay, then, I’d love to come. What can I bring? How many are invited?”

  Quinn grinned. In King’s Bluff, people offered to help, no matter how small or big the effort required. Reminded him of the SEALs.

  “The guys kept the numbers down, say about eight adults. Noah asked if you’d bake some of your famous lemon brownies. Flynn’s been hankering for them, and Chloe says they’re your specialty. Rest of the food is under control.” Quinn took a step closer, crowding her back up against the cart. “We’ll be over to pick you up around eleven. Any chance you’ll have a couple of extra brownies put aside for Mike and me?”

  She glanced to the side. Was she judging the odds of making a break? Forget it, sweetness. Between him, Mike, and the cart, she was caught. With a little huff, she pushed a stray tendril of her brown hair behind her ear. “I always bake extra. However, you don’t need to come pick me up. I’ll either drive myself or get a lift with Purdy. I assume Purdy’s invited?”

  Mike leaned in, forcing her to nudge the cart with the curve of her pretty ass. “As Chloe’s best friends, you and Purdy were the first names on the guest list. But you can forget driving yourself out. Noah put your name down, but Quinn and I are the ones inviting you. We pick you up and take you home.”

  As Mike gave his edict, Quinn’s gaze strayed down to the length of Reagan’s blouse. Her nipples pushed against the light material, as if begging for the flick of his thumb. He heard her draw in a jerky breath. Satisfaction surged like a hot wave through his body, not at the proof of her physical attraction to them as men, but at the knowledge that a woman such as Reagan—smart, articulate, with opinions to share—wouldn’t embrace that attraction if her mind wasn’t engaged on an equal level.

  About fucking time.

  They’d waited long enough to catch her. When he and Mike had her cornered, they’d take their time and show her how a real Dom cherishes a woman, right after ruffling a few of her sub feathers.

  She opened her mouth. “I still think—”

  “Eleven, Reagan.” Quinn hooked his finger underneath her chin and with his thumb held her firmly in place. “Don’t try to head out by yourself, sugar, or you’ll learn exactly what it’s like to be thrown over a warrior’s shoulder.”

  A giggle echoed from behind the shelves.

  Those big blue eyes of hers widened. Adorable.

  No way was he leaving without claiming those lips.

  He curved a hand around her shoulder and leaned in for one hard kiss. Shock seemed to render her still. The plushness of her lips absorbed his kiss. He tasted a sweetness that was all Reagan, underlined with a hint of spice that teased his palate like cinnamon in hot cider. The hairs on his neck stood to attention. He could stay here all day, tasting her, testing her limits. Her soft moan vibrated against his ears and his jeans got tight. Damn fucking tight.

  “He’s kissing her, Adelaide. That big fella’s kissing our Reagan,” floated over from somewhere behind him.

  With more reluctance than he’d imagined, he broke off their kiss. For a second he watched her as she blinked, focusing on his chest with her mouth slightly open. Groaning inwardly, he made way for Mike.

  His friend cupped Reagan’s face and kissed her with a whisper-softness that reminded Quinn that Mike had far more patience than his normal gruff demeanor showed. You didn’t become a deadly sniper in the SEALs without self-control. It took a unique skill to wait hours, sometimes days, for your target to show itself. Mike would use that same deadly precision in snaring their shy librarian.

  Reagan lifted her hands, possibly to push Mike away, but his friend ended the kiss and moved back to stand beside Quinn.

  “Until Saturday, little reader.” Mike’s voice rang with promise.

  Quinn turned and walked toward the entrance, nearly tripping when the two elderly ladies sitting at the reading table gave him and Mike the thumbs-up signal. Man, he loved this town. He returned their gesture with a wink.

  They had three days until the barbecue. That was more than enough time to ensure all contingencies were covered. Reagan had ducked and weaved from them for the last time. She was locked in their sights. Prepare for the takedown.

  * * * *

  “Hey there, Reagan. I hear you’ve got some exciting news,” said a soft female voice from behind.

  Reagan whirled around from watering the library’s window boxes, taking an extra step to the left as the four-gallon watering can banged into her leg.

  Vicki and Leonard Aitken stood, arms interlocked, a few feet away. Leonard wore his usual business shirt, tie, and dark slacks. The buzz-cut strands of his hair revealed a growing splatter of gray compared to black. When had that started? Reagan hadn’t noticed it in…well, never. Vicki, who seemed to have settled into her early sixties with the softness of a contented woman, pulled away from Leonard to hug Reagan.

  “Hi, Vicki, Leonard.” Reagan returned the embrace, a quick thrill invading her body at the woman’s obvious pleasure. “News travels fast, huh?”

  “We’re happy for you, Reagan.” Leonard stepped forward and squeezed her arm in that clumsy way men do when they want to hug you but don’t know if you’d react well.

  Reagan, not wanting to embarrass him, simply nodded her thanks and gave him what she hoped was a warm smile. With Vicki, there was no such discomfort, having known her as one of the library’s longtime volunteers, dating way back to before Reagan had become librarian. Leonard had been more someone her father had known. Sam Edwards had performed the odd carpentry job on some of the properties Leonard managed in his real estate business.

  He opened his mouth and hesitated with a quick glance at his wife before finally he spoke. “I hope you understand, Reagan. I made a decision early on not to endorse any candidate. I can’t go back on my word.”

  At least he’d saved her the embarrassment of rejection. “Sure, I mean, that’s entirely your choice.” She smiled in an effort to break through the sudden awkwardness that filled the three feet between them. “And hey, I was shocked myself by the suggestion of being nominated. So, I’m sure others are just as stunned.”

  The older couple broke into laughter. Tension diffused. Phew.

  “I admit, I’m surprised.” As one of the town’s elder statesmen, Leonard would have had his finger on the pulse of political power plays. “What made you put your hand up?”

  “Wagner’s plan is to close our library.” She shook her head. Even saying the words now seemed like someone’s bad idea of a joke, one that was all too sickeningly real. “I can’t allow that to happen. He’s against so many of the new initiatives Noah, Flynn, and others are trying to get off the ground. This town’s just now starting to find its feet again. Letting Wagner win is unacceptable to me.”

  “That man is a trial for all concerned.” Vicki’s mouth compressed in a hard line, which was about as close to outright anger as she’d ever seen the woman express. A more polite soul Reagan had yet to meet. The lady was from the school of women who hoped to be good wives and even better homemakers.

  And if that’s what you wanted in life, Reagan didn’t see anything to holler about. The females of the human race needed to stop eating their own and support a woman’s choice to be whatever the hell she wanted.

  Leonard sighed. “Not his finest moment, I agree.” His gaze narrowed on the watering can and now-dripping window boxes as if they might conceal a secret microphone geared to record him nailing Wagner’s ass to the proverbial election tally board. “But we need to step back and let others have their say. I want to finalize selling the business and then move Vicki and me closer to the kids in Nevada.”

  The man sounded like he had a mission. “How long before you leave?”

  “Straight after the election.”

  Wow, she’d had no idea. “That soon?”

  Vicki’s smile seemed to lose a smidge of its earlier glow before she gazed at her husband and somehow received the reaffirmation she needed
to keep the faith. “Len wants us to have time to enjoy being grandparents. And it would be great to be closer to our family.”

  “Who can argue with that? I bet you both can’t wait to spoil those grandbabies.” Reagan smiled as they chuckled with the kind of wryness that showed her comment was spot-on. She spied the time on Leonard’s large oval watch face. Penny would be here any minute to discuss their first election committee meeting. “Well, I’ve got to finish drowning these poor plants and then organize my play for world domination.”

  As the couple waved and walked off, Vicki looked over her shoulder at Reagan. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, Reagan. Len might need to keep silent, but I’m all yours.”

  “You bet. We’ll discuss it next time you’re on duty.” Reagan forced a smile and chose not to remember the fiasco Vicki left behind after maintaining the library’s accounts as Reagan nursed her dad in his final weeks. The older woman had meant well. But her assurances that accounting was a strong point had proved wide of the mark.

  The good thing about Vicki was she was a hard worker, and if Reagan wanted any chance of winning this election, she needed all hands to the cause. She’d just keep Vicki away from computers and their pesky spreadsheets. After all, what could go wrong?

  * * * *

  Reagan snapped the lid closed on the tin containing Flynn’s requested lemon brownies and conveniently ignored the small container she’d put aside packed with extra squares for Mike and Quinn. She was just being neighborly. Isn’t that how things played out in King’s Bluff? Yeah, right.

  And that was one neighborly kiss they’d each given her in the library. Damn her for all eternity, she’d wished it had gone on longer. For three days since, she hadn’t been able to get their kisses out of her head. The firm pressure of their lips combined with the skillful confidence of men who didn’t push too far too soon was intoxicating. She turned to the ancient wall clock above the kitchen bench. And they’d be here in five minutes.