The Sex Solution. Kimberly Raye

Hale had ever attended.

      She’d given up her usual Saturday night at the doughnut shop in favor of the chance to see Austin somewhere other than the school library. Not that it had been a date or anything like that. Just a chance meeting that she’d taken great pains to plan. They’d happened into each other near the concession stand.

      She could still smell the fresh buttered popcorn and hear the roar of the crowd and feel the wild air emanating from the boy who’d walked up to her. He’d stared down into her eyes and she’d stared up into his, and they’d had nothing short of explosive chemistry.

      For a few precious seconds.

      But then the moment of truth had come and she’d learned one of life’s biggest lessons—geeky good girls like Maddie did not end up with cool bad boys like Austin. She wasn’t brave enough, bold enough, bad enough.

      Then again, she wasn’t plain old Maddie anymore. She was Madeline Hale. Sophisticated. Worldly. Bad.

      But with Austin so close and overwhelming and still sexy as hell, it was hard to remember that.

      “When I spotted you through the window,” he told her, “I said to myself, ‘Why, that looks like Maddie Hale’ and sure enough—” he gestured to her “—here you are.”

      “You saw me through the window? You saw me?” Even as the question passed her lips, she knew she should bite it back and think of something witty to say. But it was hard to think with his heat surrounding her.

      And his scent filling her nostrils…the musky smell of horse and leather and warm male that made her drink in a deep breath.

      And his smile right there, directed at her…

      As if he read the thoughts racing through her mind, his lips parted, his grin widened and her heart stalled.

      Yep, that smile could do enough damage all by itself. Add it to everything else wreaking havoc on her senses and she was a lost cause.

      “You saw me,” she said again, as if repeating the truth would help it to sink in. “You saw me.”

      “You look really good.”

      “I look good?” She shook her head. Goober alert! “I mean, uh, yes, I do look rather good.” Conceited goober alert! “Um, so do you. Look good, that is. You look really good.”

      “I look more wet than anything else. It’s hot enough to fry eggs outside.” He glanced down and plucked at his damp T-shirt. “But thanks anyway.”

      “Even all dusty and sweaty you look really good,” she rushed on. “Especially all dusty and sweaty.”

      He grinned again. “I could use something cold to drink. Say—” he looked at her as if an idea had just struck “—maybe we could grab a root beer float over at the fountain. I mean, if you’re not busy.”

      “You want to have a float? With me?” Here comes the goober again. “I mean, of course you want to have a float with me. I like floats. I mean, I used to like floats. I stick to diet sodas now.”

      “Diet soda?” He gave her a puzzled look as he studied her. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or anything when we collided, did you?”

      “I…” Boy, he smelled good. And felt good. And looked good.

      She found herself wishing that she’d worn her black slacks. Black was slimming and her thighs needed all the help they could get.

      The thought drew her up short and she stiffened. “I’m okay.” She was, and she didn’t need black slacks to prove it. Mind over matter, she told herself, and her mind was much bigger than her matter, even if she’d barely managed to squeeze said matter into the size-ten jeans hugging her thighs. She was no longer fat. She was voluptuous. And proud of every inch. “I’m fine, really.”

      “That’s good news.” He shifted his attention away from her then, thank goodness, and glanced around them.

      Reality zapped her and she followed his gaze to the spilled contents of her bag. “That’s what I get for being in a hurry.” She dropped to her knees, grateful for a distraction from Austin and the all-important fact that he was standing just inches away from her.

      She forced the notion aside and concentrated on gathering up her stuff. “They don’t make bags like they used to….” Her words faded as her attention snagged on the worn tips of his boots.

      Boots were good. Totally nonsexual. They shouldn’t inspire lewd thoughts. Unless, of course, they drew to mind a vision of him so strong and powerful and naked, except for the boots….

      Her nipples tingled. Her thighs trembled. And she felt dampness between her legs.

      She drew a deep breath and reached for a canister of peanuts with one hand and a pack of batteries with the other.

      “Good choice.”

      “Thanks. You can recharge these if you want…” Her words faded as she realized he wasn’t talking about the pack of AA’s, but the box of Trojans he’d retrieved.

      Embarrassment flooded her. “Those aren’t—” she started but then her eyes collided with his.

      Hunger.

      There was no mistaking the sudden flash in his deep blue stare. For several fast, furious heartbeats, she was seventeen all over again, staring at him over an open algebra book, wanting him and wishing that he wanted her the way he wanted the blueberry muffin she’d brought for him that day.

      But this was no daydream. And there was no blueberry muffin. He was looking back at her now, and he wanted her just as much. It was right there in his eyes. In the way his gaze hooked on her lips…

      “You always invest in such a big box?”

      “They’re not—” she started before common sense kicked in and she bit her tongue. “Um, bigger is always better.”

      A sexy grin tugged at his lips. “And here I thought size wasn’t a big issue with women.”

      “Small is okay, but big is more economical. You get more bang for your buck.” Heat crept up her neck and she drew in a steady breath. “Especially with this brand. They give you three free.” Okay, she’d wandered into the land of goober again. Here she was discussing condoms with Austin Jericho.

      “I’ve always bought the red pack myself, but maybe I’ll give these a try.”

      “They’re much better.” As if she knew. “Better value and they’re, um—” she glanced at the colorful package “—lubricated.”

      He nodded. “Lubrication’s good.”

      “And they have spermicide. You’ve got to have that.”

      “Absolutely.”

      “So what were you saying about us having a—”

      “I’ve really got to go,” he cut in, his expression abruptly closing as if he’d just remembered something vitally important. He stuffed the condoms into her bag and pushed to his feet.

      Madeline gathered up the last of her stuff and stood. Had she heard him wrong? “But what about that diet cola?”

      “Can’t stomach the stuff myself. Too much aftertaste.”

      “You can have a float and I’ll have the diet cola.”

      “I’d love to, darlin’, but I’ve got a sick horse waiting.” He retrieved a written prescription from his pocket. “The vet says I need some of Ben’s liniment.” He handed the sack to her. “Here you go. Nice to see you again, Maddie.”

      “It’s Madeline. No one really calls me Maddie anymore.”

      Surprise flashed in his eyes again as he watched her for a few fast, furious heartbeats. “Madeline,” he finally repeated, a frown on his face, as if the