“With a man?”

She shrugged a slim shoulder. Sniffed and looked down her nose at me, even though I was inches taller. “Who needs one when batteries and high-grade silicone can do the job?”

I shook my head, pushed off the door. “Now that’s a crying shame. A princess like you should be riding dick whenever she’s running hot.”

She wasn’t appalled by my words. She hadn’t smacked me. I’d call it a win… so far.

“And you’re here to be that dick?”

“You’re impressed by mine and you’ve only seen it in my jeans.”

She paused, closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “This is insane. There are probably two hundred emails in my inbox waiting for a reply. My assistant is around here somewhere, hovering and waiting to update me on all the ways things are falling apart at the office since I’ve barely been in since I got the news about Macon. On top of that, I have a house full of people and a dead body in the other room.”

Dead body, not dead father.

I shook my head at her, as if her excuses were petty. I could only imagine the shit she accomplished in a day. In high heels. I stepped close, stroked her cheek. Watched the way her blue eyes went dark. Her skin was like silk beneath my knuckles. My thumb brushed over her lower lip, back and forth. Then, when she didn’t knee me in the balls, I lowered my head and kissed her. Watched her face until the last second when her lids fell closed. For a second she was stiff, then she melted like wax in the hot sun. She tasted like sunshine and sweetness, completely opposite of the image she intentionally offered to the world.

I didn’t linger even though she kissed like a fucking dream.

“You’re North Wainright,” I murmured. “You want my dick, you want it now, make it happen. You remember me and by the way your nipples are poking against your dress, you liked what you saw then and what you see now. You don’t need an assistant to pencil this into your planner.”

She blinked, as if coming out of a trance.

Then she studied me for a minute, her shrewd, blue-eyed gaze raking over every inch of me once again in my jeans and snap shirt, my Stetson in my hand.

Turning, she went to the wall of guns, grabbed a shotgun off the lower mounts. I stepped back, raised my hands in front of me.

Shit, I’d gone about this fucking wrong. I liked my balls attached and it seemed she intended to remove them with a twelve gauge.