Free Stevie Lee by Tara Janzen

back and pulled her out of the chair and between his legs. He needed her closer, wanted her fully against him.
    “Don’t mind me, kids. I’m just getting a case of beer for the cooler.”
    Stevie instantly froze in his arms. Hal swore, first in Spanish, then Arabic—the little rat, he thought. The coolers were fully stocked.
    Doug hefted the case and walked back toward the hall.
    Thoroughly flustered and even more embarrassed, Stevie disentangled herself from his passionate embrace.
    “Stevie,” he began.
    “No. No, Hal. I can’t afford this . . . this situation. You, me, I can’t afford this.” She turned away, but Hal caught her hand and pulled her back into his arms. Lowering his mouth to hers, he reminded her of what they’d shared. Once again she responded, telling him everything he needed to know.
    When he lifted his head, it was to cloudy gray eyes, tawny skin flushed with warmth, and a full mouth too breathless to close.
    “You can afford me, Stevie,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m here anytime you want me—free of charge.”

Five
    “Free of charge. Free of charge. Tell it to the Granby National Bank, Mr. Morgan,” Stevie muttered, tightening her one-handed grip on the steering wheel. The Mustang flew down the highway, a red streak burning up the road. Wind whipped through the open window and tangled her hair.
    Depositing the week’s receipts had barely covered the Trail’s outstanding checks, a fact her banker had insisted on dwelling upon, pointing it out—over and over again. The man was uncanny. Inside of five minutes, without her even asking, he’d made it darn clear that her line of credit was drier than a desert in June. He obviously hadn’t studied Hal Morgan’s theory of economics.
    “Free of charge.” An unladylike snort summed up her opinion of his offer. Unfortunately, nothing she’d tried in the last three days had been able to negate the effect of his last kiss. With very little effort, she could recall every mesmerizing, emotionally drowning second. She also remembered how she’d kissed him back. The thought alone was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks. She’d tried to forget how it felt to be held by a man, and it hadn’t been too tough. Kip’s charm had been his love of fun not his lovemaking, at least not with her—that probably was why he’d left. But Hal Morgan’s kisses, the growing spiral of sensuality he so easily pulled her into, refused to be forgotten. Damn him anyway.
    The last thing she needed was another man, especially one of the traveling kind. If he thought he could breeze into town and fool around with a country girl for a couple of months, he had another thought coming.
    The Mustang roared up behind a slow-moving trailer, and Stevie downshifted, gunning the motor for a burst of speed. The car delivered in seconds and she shot by the vehicle. The action matched her mood, reckless. If she’d had a dime to her name, she’d have turned around and headed the other way, out of the county, out of the state, out of the whole mess. The only thing awaiting her in Grand Lake was a line of suppliers she couldn’t pay, and Halsey Morgan. She didn’t know how she was going to face either.
    Sighing, she put the car back into fourth gear and felt the responsive surge of pure power. A wide, silver ribbon of water flickered between the pine trees bordering the road, the first of the three-lake chain leading into Grand Lake. Midafternoon sunshine streamed over the mountains and turned the high country meadows into fields of greenish-gold, but Stevie didn’t see the beauty, only the sameness of a view she’d memorized long ago, a view she’d probably take to the grave unless a financial miracle fell out of the bright blue sky.
    Typically, trouble not miracles was lined up in front of the Trail’s End. Stevie pulled in next to Hal’s hunk-of-junk truck and counted no less than three delivery trucks parked on either side, one for liquor, two for