Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) by Jacie Floyd Read Free Book Online

like, didn’t you?”
    “Maybe… partly…” She chewed her
bottom lip. “Yes.”
    “I fooled you by having a good time
anyway.” He put that Southern drawl on and off like a pair of sunglasses,
flattening his vowels and stringing out his words with several extra syllables.
“Turnabout’s fair play, don’t you think?”
    “What?” Apparently, the champagne
had covered her brain in pink fuzz balls, leaving her more than a little slow
on the uptake.
    “I mean, maybe we should—”
    “Are you two going to kiss or not?”
Roger interrupted.
    Darn Roger, anyway. Why couldn’t he
keep his mouth shut? What had Max been about to say? Would he have tried to
kiss her without being prompted? Would she have let him?
    “If you’re only going to shake hands,
do it, so I can leave. If you’re going to kiss, I’ll wait around.”
    “We’re not going to kiss,”
Annabel said.
    “Yes, we are,” Max contradicted.
“Get the camera ready, Roger.”

Chapter Three
     

    The fleeting brush of
Max’s lips against hers came and went before Annabel objected or responded. Not
that she could have responded before the tingling after-effects froze her in
place.
    “Is that the best you can do?”
Roger goaded.
    “No, I can do better. Want to see?”
Max proceeded to show them—and potentially all the people in the tri-state
viewing area—exactly how much better he could do.
    Even knowing the display was all
for show, his arms around her felt too muscular. His mouth on hers felt too
possessive. His chest against hers felt all too real. Her eyelids fluttered,
then closed. Heat curled through her, warming her from her fingertips to her
toes. And in all the interesting places in between.
    Had anyone ever kissed her this way
before?
    Not the much-older husband who
treated her with too-much respect even before he got sick. Not the
inexperienced boyfriend who dumped her in high school when caring for her
mother had taken up so much of her time. Not the sweet, but earnest young
artist who had been the only one to show any interest in her since her
husband’s death.
    Desire overcame her resistance to
Max’s bold kiss. His scotch-flavored tongue flirted with hers. Intoxicated by
him more than the champagne, her hands moved up the smooth texture of his suit
to grasp his broad shoulders. His hands caressed her, moving down her back to
her waist, to her hips, to her—
    Whoa there, buddy! Far enough!
    They each recognized the rapidly
escalating level of intimacy at the same moment. Dazed, Annabel took a step
back and banged into the door. Max took a step back and teetered off-balance on
the edge of the porch. His arms flailed against the inevitable until gravity
won the battle.
    A freshly blooming azalea bush
broke his fall, but he bounced off it and crash-landed in the tulips. A string
of curses colored the air.
    “Are you all right?” She peered
down at him, trying not to laugh.
    “I’m fine.” His voice came out in
that clipped way men have when refusing to admit to any pain less severe than a
compound fracture or a bullet wound. He scrambled up and brushed pink petals,
leaves, and mulch off his formerly immaculate suit.
    “Very smooth. A perfect end to a
perfect evening.” Roger chuckled from the sidewalk. “Very cinematic. I think
I’ve seen the Three Stooges do something similar, Max. I loved it.”
    “If you try to use that on the
show,” Max said, genially, “I’ll tie you up, weight you down, and throw you in
the river.”
    Roger waved in Annabel’s direction.
“Then give me something better.”
    “With pleasure...” Max advanced up
the porch steps again.
    Annabel held up her hands to ward
him off, but blinked at the heat and determination banked in his eyes. She
braced herself for her third kiss of the night—making it a record number for
the last three years.
    Her heart fluttered with pleasure,
then fear. She reacted to the second instead of the first and took charge. She
straight-armed him to a stop. “Hold