Free Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) by Katie Lane Page B

because you emasculated him. You took on the male role, leaving him to be the woman.”
    Jenna pulled her gaze from his belly button in the sea of ripped muscles. “Well, you must have a hearing problem because that’s not what he said at all. He did not leave me because I was too manly.” She stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember the conversation. “He left because he…”
    “Didn’t feel needed,” Beau finished for her.
    Since that was exactly what Davy had said, she couldn’t deny it. She also couldn’t let Beau have the last word.
    “He loves me, and I love him.”
    “I don’t doubt it in the least. But we’re not talking about love. We’re talking about need. And need is a much stronger emotion than love. We need things we can’t live without—air, water, food.” He glanced over at the tiny kitchen. “Speaking of which, I wonder if the fridge has milk to go with those boxes of cereal—”
    “Well, I need Davy,” she cut him off.
    He looked back at her. “For what?”
    Jenna scrambled through her mind, but not one thing popped into her head. She could make a mile-long list of why she loved him, but not one reason why she needed him. Not to pay her bills. Or pick up dinner or groceries. Or fix things around the apartment.
    Or give her orgasms.
    “It’s nothing to get too upset about, sweetheart,” Beau said. “It’s not easy finding a person you love and need. It will happen, just give it time.” He squinted up at the window. “Do you think you could close those curtains? For early morning, that sun is blinding.”
    With her mind consumed with finding something she needed Davy for, Jenna followed his direction without argument. The sun
was
bright. And for the first time since waking up, she wondered what time it was. Certainly, they would’ve gotten to Jersey by now. Pressing her head against the glass, she tried to see where the sun was in the sky. Before she could, Beau’s hand settled on her thigh, his fingers skating up toward her butt.
    “I was wondering if there’s any possibility that we could get back to the ‘just sex.’ ”
    Before she could smack his hand away and explain that she had no intentions of making the same mistake twice, a road sign out the window caught her attention. A sign that had her eyes widening and her heart pounding. She forgot all about Beau and Davy and everything else but the white reflective words and numbers.
    N ASHVILLE 248 MILES .

Chapter Eight
    T HE TOWN OF B RAMBLE , Texas, was ready for summer and the patriotic holidays the season brought with it. Red, white, and blue bunting was draped across Main Street, where it would remain until after Labor Day, and American flags filled shop windows and flapped over every doorway, commercial or residential.
    Marcy Henderson paid little attention to the decorations as she pulled her Pinto into the first empty parking space she came to. Her mind was preoccupied with other things—mainly with becoming a hooker.
    The hens had turned out to be a sweet group of old ladies, but either they had forgotten everything they learned about prostitution or they didn’t want to teach it to Marcy. Sunshine had taught her how to make a bed you could bounce a quarter off of. Baby had taught her how to make chicken and dumplings and a delicious apple pie. And Minnie had talked her ear off about the history of the henhouse. But when Marcy asked questions about “the business,” the hens looked at her as if she was speaking a foreign language.
    Maybe Minnie thought Marcy knew everything she needed to know about sex. It wasn’t like Marcy hadn’t had sex before. Her teenage years had been filled with enough sexual experimentation to earn her the title of town slut. And in the years that followed, she hadn’t had a problem feeding into the gossip. She had chased after men like a trailer-park dog after cars. Her sister, Samantha, thought Marcy’s preoccupation with men had to do with the lack of love she’d gotten