Rock Solid. Samantha Hunter
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downstairs.
Was he with a woman last night? He didn’t think he’d had so much to drink that he wouldn’t remember. Though his sponsor had told him to behave, Brody wasn’t much good at that, either. There had been a few women since he’d left the track. He had to have something to do.
He’d had contractors in for several months, renovating the old farm house from top to bottom, and he’d adopted some new horses, but apart from all that, sex was at least a temporary reprieve. Though, since that news item appeared saying he was looking to settle down he couldn’t bring a girl home without her wanting to stay for good.
Now he tended to not go out. It was like being in prison. Walking to the window, he groaned when he saw a familiar car parked out front.
He must have drunk more than he usually did to have Jackie over. What a mess.
“Hey, sexy. Hungry?”
Jackie stood smiling inside his bedroom door, then she crossed the room to link her arms around his neck and kiss him before he could say anything. He turned his head, breaking the kiss and loosening her hold.
“Jackie, what are you doing here?”
She shrugged, pouting.
“I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d come over and surprise you with breakfast.”
Brody brightened slightly. “So you just got here?”
“About an hour ago. I brought some muffins from the bakery you like, made coffee and I could put on some eggs, too. I thought you might like to work up more of an appetite first, though...”
He stepped away, putting some distance between them—he’d been trying to put a lot of distance between himself and Jackie. He’d explained it to her several times, but she was more persistent than he’d expected. She’d been a high school girlfriend and more recently...an impulse. A mistake.
He was thankful that at least he hadn’t made it worse. She knew where he left his extra key, and had let herself in, obviously.
Grabbing some jeans from the chair, he pulled them on.
“Don’t get dressed on my account.”
Brody’s only response was a withering look as he left the room. He could hear her heels on the hardwood stairs close behind as he went to the front door.
“Jackie, I appreciate your making breakfast—”
“Then show me,” she said, sidling up to him again and putting her arm through his.
Brody sighed, stepping back and putting her away from him, his patience threading thin. He wasn’t interested.
“You need to go,” he said bluntly. “We’ve already talked about this.”
Her eyes turned diamond-chip hard as she set her hands on her hips, ready to argue. A knock at the door startled them both, and Brody almost groaned aloud. Who else was here this early in the morning? He was relatively private about where he lived, but still, fans and reporters seemed to find him more often than he liked.
“Hold on,” he said, turning away from Jackie to see who it was.
When he swung open the door, though, he couldn’t have been more shocked to see a familiar pair of blue eyes staring back at him.
HANNAH STARED AT BRODY, who wasn’t on television this time, but standing only two feet in front of her.
She froze, unsure what to say, her bravado evaporating like the morning fog in the sun. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
She’d driven all night, wanting to see him before she lost her nerve, but apparently she had lost it anyway. She’d gotten the address of his family’s ranch from Abby, but he’d been hard to find, especially since she’d ended up navigating unmarked farm roads where her GPS had also lost its signal.
She was exhausted and hungry, but she was here. Part of her mind registered that it was one of the most flat-out beautiful properties she’d ever seen. The sprawling colonial farmhouse with its black shutters, enormous porch and pretty red door were classic. The brass race-car knocker on the door had let her know she was in exactly the right place. Lush green fields and trees surrounded the house, and several horses grazed in the pasture—it was like something from a postcard.
She tried to say his name, but no words came out.
Lifting her hand uselessly—to do what? Wave? Shake his hand?—she let it drop to her side again.
Thoughts scattered as she remembered how he used to look in the morning...naked, mussed head of hair, gleaming eyes...and sexy. Extremely sexy.
Brody’s six-foot-plus frame filled the doorway. He hadn’t shaved. Shaggy brown hair that had been cut shorter when she’d been with him had sprouted waves, and a few curls brushed his neck. His jaw was strong but tense. His lips as tempting as ever. He was shirtless, the top button on his jeans undone, as if he had only now gotten out of bed.
That brought back a wave of memories that nearly did send her running back to her car. What had she been thinking, coming here?
Then his face broke into a welcoming smile, his expression switching from surprise to pleasure. The next thing she knew, Brody encompassed her in a bear hug. Then his delectable mouth was all over hers, his bare torso flush against her.
Hannah forgot to breathe.
His beard scratched her lightly, but she was so blindsided by the unexpected embrace that she held on for dear life, her fingers pressing into his bare shoulder blades, her internal temperature skyrocketing as Brody’s tongue parted her lips and sought out hers.
Stop this, her brain said.
Just one more minute, her very happy libido argued, getting a sudden charge from the kiss, as if she’d been hit by a lightning bolt.
She couldn’t help but smile into his kiss. This was Brody. He was never what she expected, but whatever happened around him, it was always good. At least, it had been.
Hope flooded her. He was glad to see her. Very glad.
“Excuse me,” an annoyed voice hissed somewhere behind them.
As Brody released her, breaking the kiss, Hannah found the source glaring daggers at her over his shoulder.
Tall, busty blonde, dead ahead.
Brody kept one arm around her, which was a good thing, because Hannah’s knees were definitely suffering from a slight wobble.
“I’m so glad you’re here, honey,” Brody said to Hannah, dripping with his own special brand of charm. But something about his tone hit her as fake; it was the tone he often used around groupies. “Jackie was just leaving.”
Hannah saw the other woman’s fingers clench. Angry, icy gray eyes and thinned lips emphasized her displeasure as Jackie looked Hannah up and down.
“Who is this?” Jackie asked Brody as if not hearing the dismissal.
“This is the reason you need to go,” Brody said simply, delivering a kiss to the top of Hannah’s head.
Hannah tried to step away—clearly she had walked into the middle of something awkward—but Brody’s muscular arm held her fast against him.
The tension thickened as Brody and the blonde stared each other down for a few seconds.
Brody won.
The woman grabbed her bag from the table and came to the door, standing only inches from Hannah.
“Jerk,” she spat back at Brody before she stalked out, marching to a white Mercedes that Hannah had parked beside.
The door closed, and Brody let out a breath.