Anything You Want
Copyright Erin Nicholas, March 2011“How about a Long Slow One?”

Sabrina snapped out of her thoughts as someone ordered a final drink before they closed. It was one of her own concoctions. She was having fun with that at least. She shoved the letter under the edge of the blender and reached for a glass.

“A Long Slow One?” The deep voice tumbled down her spine like a staircase, goose bumps rippling out and down her limbs. Marc had come behind the bar when she wasn’t looking.

“Want one?” she asked, turning to face him.

She loved—loved, loved, loved—the sexual innuendos and teasing between them. It seemed constant. There was a current between them whenever they were in close proximity and neither of them shied away from it.

Which was stupid, but apparently unavoidable.

“I’d be crazy to say no to that wouldn’t I?”

He gave her the grin that always made her think Take me now.

“Definitely,” she said with a smile. “But you should know that the Hard and Fast is another option.”

“Now we’re talking’.” He moved in as if to simply pass behind her but his chest brushed her upper back and his hand slid across her hip and right butt cheek as he did. “What’s in it?”

“The most important ingredient is cinnamon schnapps.”

The next millisecond she realized what she’d admitted. Marc chewed cinnamon gum. All the time. His kisses were always cinnamon flavored and yes, that had come to mind as she invented the drink. And its name.

“I love cinnamon,” he said gruffly. “The Hard and Fast sounds good to me.”

She turned to face him, wanting to see his eyes as she said, “I personally like it better than the Long Slow One.”

“Should I say that doesn’t surprise me or act like I haven’t thought about how you like…your drinks?”

Breathing. That was what she was forgetting.

She sucked in a long breath. “I’m not sure what you should say.”

“Doesn’t matter what I say,” he said, his voice low. “I still wonder about it.”

“Now you know.”

“I won’t forget, either.”

God, what was she doing? She wasn’t even flirting with the man who’d proposed, but she was basically telling his best friend exactly how she’d like him to take her.

The urge to kiss him was nearly overpowering. “You have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Being so…all of this.”

“Sexy?” he suggested with a grin. “Hot? Hard to resist?”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop her smile. “Yes. All of it.”

“You think I’m hard to resist?” He sounded surprised.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

His smile changed from cocky to something much warmer. Her entire body felt it.

“It’s really, really fun, isn’t it?” he asked.

It really, really was. But she couldn’t shake the weirdness of it. This was Marc after all. Marc who had come to Wyoming to keep her away from Luke…

And that was what was bugging her.

“You’re very attentive for a guy who doesn’t like me much.”

“Until a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t like you at all.”

“Thanks for clarifying. And for making my point.”

“You’re wondering why I’m suddenly so…”

“Attentive is the word I’m most comfortable with.”

He chuckled. “Okay, you’re wondering why I’m suddenly so attentive.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to her next question. “Because you don’t want me with Luke?”

He crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the back counter. “I don’t want you with Luke.”

“Are you trying to make him look bad?” She regretted it as soon as she’d said it.

He looked very interested in that. “What does that mean?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

She started to move past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her around to face him.

“I’m making him look bad?”

“You’re not trying?”

“Dammit, Sabrina.” He hadn’t let go of her yet and he pulled her closer. He sounded intent rather than annoyed. “Tell me how I’m making him look bad.”

“You’re making me want you more than I want him.”

He looked pleased and turned-on in equal parts. Then he frowned. “You want him?”

“I’d be stupid not to.”

Something flared in Marc’s eyes. Jealousy? Possessiveness? That was wishful thinking. She shook it off.
He stroked his hand up and down her arm, watching the movement. Then he looked into her eyes.

“Has he asked you again?”

“To marry him?”

Marc clenched his jaw before saying tightly, “Yeah.”

“No. He’s just been sweet. And attentive. He’s always bringing me stuff—flowers and muffins and tea—and asking how I am. He bought me a rocking chair.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“What he should be doing to win you over.”

“What should he be doing?” She was very interested in Marc’s opinion on this.

He moved in a little closer. “He should be telling you that you are the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. That he passes by as close to you as possible whenever he can just to smell your hair. That when you laugh it makes him want to French kiss you up against the wall. He should buy you something you’d really appreciate—like cinnamon massage lotion. That he could lick off, slowly and thoroughly, after rubbing it all over your body.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t think you’re supposed to eat lotion.”

“Edible massage lotion is made to be eaten.”

At the word eaten she had to press her inner thighs together. Damn.

He gave her a lazy, sexy smile and continued to hold her arm, but his eyes went to something over her shoulder.

She glanced back and saw Luke heading for them from across the room. Luke. The guy who’d given her the rocking chair. The rocking chair she was going to use for the baby. Should pregnant women really be getting edible massages anyway?

“Maybe the best way to keep you away from him is to marry you myself,” Marc muttered.

She swung to face him, shock vibrating through her bones. Uh, oh. That shouldn’t be so scary. Or tempting. It should be funny. Because the idea of Marc proposing to her was ridiculous.

“Yeah, right.” She tried, really tried, to sound flippant.

“Why not?” He was studying her. “What does he have that I don’t? I have my own business—the same one, incidentally. I live in a great little town—the same one, incidentally. I have a wonderful family who loves you—the same one, incidentally.” He shrugged. “Seems like the only thing that makes me different from Luke is that you want me.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. This was beyond ridiculous. This was…torture.

“People have affairs all the time,” she said.

“You’d rather have an affair with me after you marry Luke?”

Her eyes flew open. She couldn’t believe how wound up she felt. Like she’d taken a shot of caffeine straight to her heart. “I meant marrying you doesn’t ensure I’ll leave Luke alone.”

Marc moved in, filling the space around her completely. She couldn’t look away from his dark green eyes, hot and swirling with emotion. “I promise you that if you were in my bed every night, there’s absolutely no way you would want to—or have the energy to—mess around with anyone else.”

Oh, God, she believed him.

She swallowed, closed her eyes to tear her from his gaze, took a deep breath. “It would kill Luke if we were together.”

She felt Marc’s hand fall away from her. She opened her eyes and saw the pained look on his face.

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.