Free Teasing Annie: The Temptation Saga: Book Two by Helen Hardt Page B

the personality and sense of humor, I think.” Joe rose to his feet. “Tea, you said?”
    “Yeah. Thanks.”
    “I’ll be right back.” He winked at her.
    Joe was attractive. Funny. Smart.
    But he wasn’t Dallas McCray.
----
    T here was a knife in Dallas’s gut.
    A dull, jagged knife that tore into his flesh.
    A knife named Annie DeSimone.
    He wanted to kick the snot out of Joe Bradley, and for what? Buying his girl a cup of tea? Hell, she wasn’t his girl. He didn’t want her. Couldn’t go down that road again. He would never get involved with a woman who was capable of deceiving her husband.
    Still she haunted him day and night. He dreamed of her smooth skin, her sweet kisses, her lovely body.
    If only things had been different.
    The knife in his gut was buried deep, and he wondered if he’d ever be free again.
----
    F ifty thousand dollars .
    Morgan Bailey cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said to the tall man on the bar stool next to him. He met all kinds at the Sour Mash Saloon. The hub of Lorna, a small town that made Bakersville look like a thriving metropolis, the Sour Mash attracted local ranch hands, due mostly to its dollar beers from four to six p.m. daily.
    “Okay what?” The man arched his dark brows.
    Morgan took a deep swallow of his beer and set the mug on the bar.
    “Okay.” He fidgeted with some change and laid it on the counter next to his empty glass. “I’ll do it.”
    “Friend, you seem…uneasy.” The stranger’s gaze pierced Morgan’s own. “I can’t afford to take on someone who may have second thoughts. If that might be the case, I’ll leave now and you’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”
    Morgan cleared his throat again. “No second thoughts. I’m your man.”
    “Excellent.” He handed Morgan a cell phone. “Keep it charged. I’ll contact you with the details.”
    “Understood.”
    “Good. And friend?”
    “Yeah?” Morgan looked around the bar. Several men he knew were shooting pool. A couple others had started a poker game at a corner table. No one was watching him. His pulse thrummed in his ears. Nerves.
    “You cross me, and you end up in a body bag.”

Chapter Nine
    A fter an hour of trying on and discarding various outfits, pretty much every garment Annie owned was scattered across her floor in disarray. What exactly did one wear to a barbecue at the McCray ranch? Especially if one wanted to look sexy enough to make Dallas McCray swallow his tongue? She considered calling Dusty, but thought that would make her look completely hopeless.
    Which, of course, she was.
    The June day was sunny and warm with a spring breeze gently blowing. She finally decided on a dusty violet silk camisole that brought out her eyes—Dallas loved her eyes—and paired it with a floral broomstick skirt that fell nearly to her ankles. She had reapplied her signature toenail polish the evening before, and strappy silver sandals completed her outfit. Dallas loved her feet.
    She laughed to herself. How completely absurd. Trying to accentuate every part of her that Dallas had professed to love would make her look like a two-bit whore. Too bad she didn’t have see-through magenta pasties to bring out the plum color of her nipples. That would really drive him crazy.
    She whirled around in front of the mirror. The creamy silk fell around her full breasts in soft curves, and the rayon skirt lay nicely over her smooth rump. Perfect.
    Underneath she wore a lacy demi-bra and a satin thong.
    Yes. She, Annie DeSimone, was wearing a thong. The only thong she owned. The thong she’d had since her bachelorette party and had never worn. The thong she had almost thrown in the good will bag before she left New Jersey.
    It rode up her crack, but what the hell.
    Dallas McCray, eat your heart out.
    Of course, he wouldn’t see the thong, but it made her feel sexy. Actually, it made her feel completely underdressed, but Frederick’s of Hollywood and Victoria’s Secret couldn’t be wrong,