Annabelle Leahey is ready to be bad. Fed up with quilting bees and bridge clubs, Ann has to change or grow old alone. But going from bashful to bold won't be easy—especially since thong underwear is her idea of risqué. So Ann needs a guide, and rancher Mitchell Black is the perfect candidate.
The last thing Mitchell needs is more trouble. He hasn't lived down his bad boy days yet and he has no intention of resurrecting them now. But when Ann asks for his help, he can't refuse. Especially since the preacher's daughter has suddenly become a fireball of temptation.
Mitchell's determined to keep his role in Ann's research hands-off, but Ann has plans of her own. She intends to show Mitchell what's he's missing—and that being bad with the right person can be o-o-o-oh so good.
Page Count: 224
Word Count: 61445
Mitchell glared at the people at the table next to them until they at least pretended to return to their meal. He turned back to Ann. “Shouldn’t you be at the shop?”
“I’ve got time.” She leaned closer, fiddling with a tendril of hair at her nape.
The hair he’d thought was scraped back in a bun was actually a loose twist that left delicate wisps at her nape and temples. It gave her a fresh, just-out-of-bed-after-amazing-sex look that he felt in his front pocket. Ah, hell. He reached for his wallet. “I’ll walk you.”
She didn’t budge. “I realized you’re absolutely right.”
Caution mixed with relief to form an uneasy frown. “I am?”
“Absolutely. So I’ve decided exactly what I want to learn.” Ann sat tall and regal in her chair. “And I want you to teach me.”
Full-fledged need buried itself in Mitchell’s stomach and corkscrewed straight through his spine, preventing him from standing.
Educate Ann? His thoughts took a distinct, X-rated turn. Lots of hands-on work and one-on-one experimentation. Judging by her reaction last night, she had no concept of what sensuality encompassed. Had never experienced the erotic.
Homework took on a whole new meaning. Erogenous zones. Seduction techniques. Touches and teases. And kisses. Lots of kisses. The syllabus was limitless, and extra credit never sounded so good.
“Me,” Mitchell managed to choke out, the word strangled.
Ann nodded, a quick jerk of her head that threatened to tumble that mane of hair. “I need you, Mitchell.” She covered his hand. “I need you to show me how to be Bad.”