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    Austin Jericho had never kept company with girls he’d had no sexual interest in. He’d always wanted something from them and they’d wanted something from him—namely a good round of red-hot, breath-stealing sex. Or several rounds.
    Not Maddie.
    The only thing she’d wanted from him had been his daily homework assignment and his full attention when she was explaining the newest algebra equation.
    There’d been no sly glances, no fluttering eyelashes or wandering hands or heaving cleavage. Hell, he’d never even known she had cleavage, thanks to the sacklike flower-print dresses she’d always worn.
    Except for that Friday night at the football game. She’d worn a red sweater and blue jeans and he’d actually realized she had a figure. Nice, round hips. Large breasts. But while shapely, the clothes hadn’t been revealing.
    Not like what she wore now.
    His attention shifted back to her and the enticing display of creamy flesh fully visible above the neckline of her black leather tank top. His gut hollowed for a long moment and his mouth went dry.
    Easy, he told himself.
    So what if she had visible cleavage? That didn’t mean she’d checked her morals at the door and turned into a bona fide, red-hot, give-it-to-me-now wild woman.
    This was Maddie, he reminded himself, drawing a long pull on his beer.
    The only girl he’d actually been able to talk to about stuff, like his love of horses and his desperation to do something other than perpetuate his family’s no-good reputation. He hadn’t worried about impressing her or sweeping her off her feet. He’d never even thought about her like that.
    Okay, maybe that once, when he’d opened her love letter. But when he’d asked her about it at the football game, she’d sworn that it hadn’t been meant for him. He’d let things go at that, and he’d let her go. He’d walked off with Barbara Mayfield for a wild ride on his Harley and an even wilder ride in the back of her daddy’s old pickup.
    His attention snagged on her lips. Soft, full, kissable lips. His heart bucked and his blood rushed and a certain part of his anatomy, a certain hard part, throbbed just thinking about what she would taste like.
    “What do you say?” she asked, her sweet voice pushing past the pounding of his heart. “Are you up for a little two-stepping?”
    He was up, all right. But his throbbing erection had little to do with dancing and everything to do with Maddie.
    It’s Madeline. No one really calls me Maddie anymore.
    He could see why. She looked too sophisticated, too sexy, too… hot.
    So?
    Even if the package looked a little different, this was still Maddie. Nice, wholesome, respectable Maddie.
    He smiled, set his beer on the bar and reached for her hand. “Lead the way, darlin’.”
     

    T HERE WAS NOTHING NICE , wholesome or respectable about the sexy woman in his arms.
    The thought struck him the moment they moved onto the dance floor and she stepped into his arms.
    The two-step had faded into a slow, sweet, cryin’ tune that required a little more contact than he’d anticipated. Her arms slid around his neck. Her full breasts pressed against his chest. Her pelvis cradled his, moving against him with a soft, subtle sway that sent a bolt of electricity straight from his hard-on to his brain.
    The jolt scrambled his sanity, and instead of pushing her away and running for safety, he pulled her even closer and closed his eyes.
    Her hair tickled the underside of his jaw. Her strawberries-and-cream scent filled his head. Her luscious curves pressed against his hard body. Her warmth seeped inside and made his blood rush faster.
    His hand slid an inch lower, easing from the small of her back to the swell of her sweet little ass molded by the tight miniskirt. His other hand slid up her back, under the spill of hair to cup the back of her neck. His fingers pressed into her flesh and his thumb drew lazy circles against the tender spot just below her ear. If he hadn’t