Take Me Home: Home is Where the Heat Is, Book 3 Read online

  She’s beautiful. Sexy. Important. Now all he has to do is make her believe it.

  Home is Where the Heat Is, Book 3

  Rude and fake people aren’t Cash Dillon’s style, and there are more of them here in New York than the entire population of his Texas hometown. Once this quick modeling job is done, he’s gettin’ the hell outta Dodge—with a fat paycheck to help take care of his Gram. Until the magazine’s sweet, curvy assistant editor crosses his path and blows him away.

  The moment Cash turns his sinfully erotic gaze in her direction, Shawna Little sternly tells herself to ignore temptation and keep her mind firmly on climbing the career ladder at StyleU magazine. Attention from someone as smoking hot as Cash isn’t easy for her to accept, especially since her own curvetastic body is constantly surrounded by gorgeous, stick-thin models.

  When she and Cash touch, her body issues, her career plans—even her future—are almost lost in a cloud of steam. But can she trust Cash’s insistence that the hot-as-hell attraction between them is honest, real…and forever?

  Warning: Contains one sexy cowboy looking for a real woman with a real heart, one with a taste for firebrand bedroom heat. And this cowboy won’t settle for anything fake. Including fake orgasms.

  Take Me Home

  Candi Wall

  Dedication

  To Lise Potter.

  I couldn’t ask for a better neighbor, reader and friend. (Even if we only see each other in town. :-) ) Can you believe twenty-three years have passed since I walked in on my first day on the job and met you??? You gave me my first moment, as an author, in a crowded place, when you asked me to sign your copy of Primitive Nights.

  I am forever grateful to have you in my life, as a friend, as a reader.

  Your encouragement is invaluable.

  This one is for you.

  Chapter One

  “You’re doing fabulous,” the photographer encouraged. “Unbutton your jeans for me.”

  Cash Dillon glanced at the people around him. Several women besides the photographer stood nearby. A few men watched as well. The continuous flash of cameras created bright spots in his vision, and he blinked. He wouldn’t be doing this at all if his grandmother wasn’t so sick. The money he’d make with the pictures would cover her bills for close to a year. Which meant, like it or not, it was suck-it-up time.

  Needing a bit of grounding, he searched the crowd for his brother Nick, and Chloe Garrison, the editor of StyleU magazine. Her job offer, if that’s what posing with his pants down was called, was a stroke of luck he hadn’t been able to ignore. Now they were MIA, and he was going to kill them both for abandoning him with the city folk. More so Nick for creating a scene with Chloe that had left everyone in a cranky mood.

  The only familiar face he could find belonged to the woman who’d shown him to Chloe’s office early that morning. Shawna Little, if he remembered correctly. The one and only normal person he’d met since arriving at StyleU’s New York City office. She’d been awful good to him, offering a black cup of coffee and an aspirin this morning when his sunglasses couldn’t hide the whopping hangover he’d been sporting thanks to way too many drinks with Nick on the flight in last night. She stood near the side of the stage with an encouraging smile.

  “Cash? Your jeans?”

  With a sharp glance at Lynn-Ella, the not-so-patient photographer, he loosened a few buttons on his jeans and waited. “Ain’t nothing natural about a woman asking me to unbutton my jeans for pictures.”

  “That’s because you’re old school, honey.”

  “Not by home’s way of thinkin’,” he maintained. “Hell, if a woman wants my pants halfway off back home, I know what’s what.”

  “Another button, please.”

  If doing what she asked would get him out of there faster, he’d do it. Popping another button loose, he smiled. “Better?”

  “Very nice.” She ignored his sarcasm and called out, “Jenna, on your knees to his right, and Lise, behind his left shoulder with your hand midway across his chest.”

  A gorgeous brunette in low-cut jeans, black boots and a halter top revealing a mile of cleavage joined him on the platform. Her sultry brown gaze, darkened with chocolate-colored eyeliner, moved down his body slowly. In her wake came an equally beautiful redhead. Her long hair trailed behind her almost to her hips. She wasn’t as stick-thin as the brunette, but she’d never pass for healthy in his eyes. Her large breasts nearly spilled from her shirt, which was unbuttoned far enough to show the lace of her black bra. Her jeans were faded and worn, and she sported boots as well.

  He watched as they approached. The girls at home wore similar stuff—usually with less tits showing—but somehow on these women, the clothing looked out of place. Fake, like their oversized breasts hanging off skeletally thin frames.

  The redhead offered a hand. “I’m Jenna.”

  He returned the greeting, careful not to squeeze too hard for fear he might break the delicate appendage. “Cash Dillon, ma’am. Nice to meet you.”

  She giggled, glancing at the brunette. “Ma’am?”

  The brunette nodded. “That’s called good manners, Jenna. Only country bumpkins use them.” She held out a hand as well, but her grip was firm and she held herself with more certainty. “I’m Lise. Pleasure.”

  Cash shook his head. “All mine.”

  “Could be.” Her gaze dropped to his unbuttoned jeans. “Later.”

  Lynn-Ella cleared her throat. “If you’re done with introductions, we have work to do.”

  Lise sent the woman a nasty sneer and dropped to her knees. Her arms coiled around his leg even as her cheek pressed tight to his thigh. “We’ll all need a way to relax after the shoot. Any ideas?”

  Jenna reached around him from behind until her firm breasts brushed against his back. Her fingers slid across his stomach, then higher to trail over his chest. Her warm, cinnamon breath rushed past his ear. “Lise is right. Lynn-Ella’s one of the best photogs around, and her sessions are hot enough to tempt the Pope.”

  Her lips touched the curve of his neck, and goosebumps erupted along his arms. The camera’s soft shuttering sound started again, and a barrage of bright flashes darkened his sight. The frantic beat of techno music drummed from somewhere behind him, and the lights outside the circle of the platform dimmed. Lise and Jenna weren’t shy in their roles. They posed and modeled for the camera with natural ease. Their hands moved over his body, touching, teasing until he was dragged into the arousal and heat of the room’s atmosphere. One moment he had control and the next, hell, he just wanted what the women were offering.

  His gaze moved over their smooth skin, the toned curves and turns of sinewy bodies. Each slow, sexy movement tugged at his gut. Heightened sensuality darkened their eyes, shimmering lips parted on breathy sighs. He’d have to be dead not to react.

  A soft sigh came from Lynn-Ella. “That’s it, Cash.” She snapped more pictures as she spoke. “Erotic, isn’t it? Go with it. That’s what we’re missing. That hot factor.”

  Missing hot? Was she a vampire? The room was an inferno. He wasn’t sure how the hell guys did this for a living. Much more heat and he’d need a cold shower since his cock didn’t want to listen. The ol’ boy wanted to play, and the way Lise’s hand moved up the back of his thigh, her nails dragging across his jeans, didn’t help. Neither did the warm skin of Jenna’s breasts rubbing against his back with any shift or movement.

  “Water,” Lynn-Ella called out. “Let’s get him sweaty. He needs a spritz.”

  Lise and Jen
na moved away, and he took a deep breath. He had to think of something other than the women wrapped around his body. He imagined his barn, the soft, rolling fields of home and the scent of honeysuckle thick on the air. Calm washed over him. He could do this without making a fool of himself. He had to.

  Chloe had told him StyleU’s distribution was nationwide. That meant his image would show up on local magazine racks—boner in place—where his family and friends would see. He’d never live it down.

  A cold spray of water across his chest jerked him back to reality. Shawna stood in front of him, her hand wrapped around a small spray bottle. She glanced up shyly, her brown eyes wary. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She showered his chest again, and he shied away. “No problem. ’Cept you coulda used warm water.”

  “I did.” She sprayed a bit of water on her wrist, her brows knit in confusion. “Warm enough.”

  He smiled down at her as she shook her head, the clean scent of her hair drifting up to meet him. She had the auburn mass pinned up in a mangled bun at the back of her head. Unlike the other women, she wore conservative charcoal slacks and a white button-down shirt, both of which she filled out nicely. Sweet curves, in all the right places. From his height advantage, he could just detect a curve of cleavage, but even that he had to actually look for. And when the hell had he started looking down women’s shirts?

  Grasping for a nonsexual thought, he groaned. “Must be the heat in here.”

  She nodded and spritzed him again before her hand dropped to her side. “Yeah, Lynn-Ella’s pretty good at that. Good luck.”

  “Thanks for buttering me up for the she-wolves,” he teased.

  She laughed, and it was such a soft, husky sound it sparked a renewed fire in his groin. “You’ll survive. I promise.”

  She turned to go, but the photographer called out to her. “Wait, Shawna. Stay there for a minute. You two are so different. There’s something captivating in the contrast.”

  Cash stepped back as Lynn-Ella pushed between them to rumple Shawna’s clothing. After looking her up and down, the photographer popped a button free on Shawna’s shirt and pulled several tendrils of hair loose to frame her startled face. With a quick nod, the woman pushed Shawna toward him. “Let’s try this again.”

  Shawna stumbled, and he grabbed her arms to steady her. “You okay?”

  “Yep.” Her answer grated out through clenched teeth. “Who isn’t okay with being bossed around?”

  The camera shuttered five or six times and Lynn-Ella walked closer, watching them through the camera. “Shawna, don’t move away. Just stand there and look your plain-Jane goodness. Cash, I want you to show me what you’d do to get a good girl like Shawna into bed. How would you look at her? Show me how you’d work for that first kiss and more.”

  “Dinner and a movie ain’t what you got in mind?” Cash clarified.

  “No.” Lynn-Ella smiled hugely. “I’m not after your nice-cowboy-in-love crap. I want to see what you’d do if you were trying to fuck her, not marry her.”

  Cash met Shawna’s panicked gaze. “I don’t think she—”

  “She’s a professional,” Lynn-Ella interrupted. “She knows what’s best for the magazine.”

  Cash was pretty well spent on overbearing StyleU folk. The rest of the world might consider Lynn-Ella a brilliant bitch; he just found her rude. “Only if the lady agrees.”

  Jenna and Lise stood next to the platform, their gazes sharp. The other people in the room watched with interest. He blocked them all out and met Shawna’s gaze. “You up for this? I mean, if you don’t want to, I understand.”

  “Not much choice.” She looked away quickly. “I’d like to keep my job.”

  “Bullshit.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her farther away from the others. “I signed up for this. You didn’t. We don’t do anything until you say so.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I kind of did when I took a job here. Anything goes when it comes to StyleU.”

  “There’s no such thing as ‘anything goes’ if you’re being paid for a specific job,” he pressed. “I ain’t into doing anything with an unwilling woman.”

  Shawna sighed heavily. “Let’s just get this over with. Someday I’ll claw my way out of the piss-on pit. At StyleU you’re either at the top or a no one. There’s no in between.”

  “If it helps, this ain’t my thing either.” He put a hand on her shoulder, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear him. She was jumpy as a scared rabbit. “Just pretend you’re someone else for a while, and we’ll see if we can pull this off.”

  “Giving me advice?” she teased. “You’re already a professional, huh?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Where should we start?” She looked at him without heat, as if he were nothing more than a job that had to be done.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Good fucking question. Leaning close, he whispered in her ear. “I’m just gonna do what she asks, so I hope I don’t cross any boundaries. I want you to respect me in the morning.”

  She grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Chapter Two

  Shawna’s heart nearly jolted from her chest when Cash pulled her back to the middle of the stage. Was she actually going to expose herself, and her way-from-perfect body, for a potential career move? Ugh. How was she supposed to compete with anorexic Barbie and her minions?

  Then Cash was leaning closer, obliterating rational thought, his sexy smile hidden from the camera. “How long have you worked for the magazine?”

  Warm, calloused fingers trailed down her arm.

  Okay. If she focused solely on him, this was definitely a job perk. She’d be thanking the dumb-blind-luck gods for the next decade for putting her toe-to-toe with this handsome creature. The seduction, in front of shitloads of curious eyes and cameras, was eat-your-heart-out material.

  And he’d asked her a question. Focus, girl. “I’ve been with StyleU for five years.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Like what?” His touch? The smell of his skin? Or maybe the delicious V of muscles that all but forced her eyes to follow them down into his waistband. She shuddered.

  “Your job?”

  Oh. Of course. He was attempting passive conversation to offset the naughtier behavior he was about to launch her way.

  “I love it most days,” she admitted. “But this makes me nervous.”

  “Why?” His eyebrows scrunched as he rested his forehead against hers. Then his thumb trailed a scorching path across her bottom lip.

  Instinct had her licking the tingling remnants of the touch. Shaking the mind-muddling sensation away, she focused on the conversation. “Great opportunities aren’t the norm at StyleU, but getting fired is. I have no idea what getting sucked into this shoot will do for my career.”

  The pressure of his muscular arms drew her closer. Ignoring the hard length of his body was as impossible as ignoring the tendrils of arousal snaking through her insides. “So if the shoot isn’t good, you’ll get in trouble?”

  She nodded, her mind growing fuzzier as his hand cupped her thigh just below her ass. “Yes and no. Or maybe. Shit. I can’t think when you’re touching me like this.”

  “Sorry, ma’am.”

  He grinned then, and she had a funny feeling he didn’t mean the apology in the least. Stiffening her back, she eyed him closely. “If this shoot goes well, my ever-perfect boss, Ms. Chloe Garrison, will move up the ranks to editor-in-chief as planned. I want the acquisitions editor position she’ll vacate. If it goes bad, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve been stuck as an associate editor for long enough, and I have plans beyond all of this.”

  “Like what?”

  Curing cancer? Starting a foundation? Writing the next greatest literary masterpiece? Anything to leave her mark. “Nothing and everything. Making it big her
e will open a lot of doors though.”

  “Then we need to make it good.”

  “Better than good,” she whispered. “You have to be the best cover ever.”

  His grin turned to a full-on smile.

  She recognized the spark of competitiveness the second it erupted in his eyes and she decided to push it. “It’s claw and bite your way to the top at StyleU. I don’t know if Chloe will be pissed that Lynn-Ella shied from her directions or if she’ll be happy that an employee took creative license. It might backfire, or it could be the chance Chloe’s been waiting for to shine.”

  “Then we’ll make it no-holds-barred.” He sidled close, brushing her ear with his lips. “You ready?”

  It was a dream opportunity. A make-it-or-break-it moment that rarely came in StyleU history. And dreams just didn’t get much hotter.

  “Yes,” she breathed. Like there was any other response?

  Cash was a man straight out of her naughtiest wet dream. Tall, incredibly built with broad shoulders, he was far from a hulking, muscle-bound ape. His body was trim, sinfully sculpted, with ridges that ran his entire chest and torso to frame the tight muscles beneath his golden bronze skin.

  His jeans rode deliciously low on his hips, revealing a slight tan line. She wanted to draw her finger across it, just to hear his intake of breath. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t form a truly coherent thought while his hands were working her hair free, pulling it down her back, his mouth so close to the pulse at her throat she was certain he must be able to feel its frantic beat.

  A dizzy sensation swirled through her mind as his arm wrapped around her waist to draw her against him. His fingers slid beneath her shirt, caressing her skin, his thumb drawing a sensual path over her hip. Somewhere in the distance Lynn-Ella’s voice gave direction. Shawna moved her hand to his chest mechanically, following the photographer’s sharp instructions. Warm skin met her fingers, and she pushed lightly at him, nervous of the intensity of arousal taking over.