She needed to get laid, April Brooks decided, climbing onto a barstool in the back booth at Red's Bar and Grill. Resting her evening sandal shod feet on the table's brass rail, she surveyed the dancing couples with an envious eye. She didn't want permanence, just a real man to finally make her feel like a real woman. Men might be cheating dogs in general, but they did have their uses, like ridding a twenty-eight-year-old woman of her virginity. She wanted to find out what she was missing, ached to actually—if those hollow longings between her legs were anything to go by. She needed a dream lover—for one night.

Smoothing her new blue dress out on her lap, she decided that it definitely beat her usual garb of lab coats and business suits. They belonged to the old April, the dowdy assistant college professor. This sexy new dress fit the new April she wanted to become. She was determined to reinvent herself as the owner of a successful Bed and Breakfast, and as a woman with at least some semblance of a sex life.

The jukebox twanged a song about 'friends in low places.' That about summed up Red's, and it fit her mood. She hadn't been able to resist coming here, after leaving a friend's wedding reception. Twin calamities flattened her like a one-two punch two weeks ago, and she was still trying to get over them. First, her Aunt Sadie had been incapacitated with a stroke. A week later, April's personal life and career had unraveled when she walked in on her fiancé, Edmund Jones, having sex with one of his grad students.

Humiliated, she'd instantly realized their three year platonic relationship had been nothing but a sham. She'd been tamping down her sexual desires, saving herself for a man that didn't even want her. She coddled him, supported him, and helped him with his work. In short, she'd been more of a servant than a girlfriend. Edmund had suffered from writer's block, and she helped him get published. The truth was, she'd written the articles and he claimed all the credit. She hadn't minded at the time, feeling sorry for him.

Walking in on him, his trousers down around his ankles and Tiffany kneeling in front of him, her lips swallowing his small red penis as he made grunting sounds, had vividly taught her how stupid she'd been. She resigned her position rather than work under the man anymore.

Moving back home to run The Rosebud had been a move in the right direction, but in some ways, the move had only made her feel more discontent. Seeing her old high school friends paired off reminded her that life was passing her by. Fresh from a girlfriend's wedding, she felt as demoralized as a female could get. When her best friend Ellen joked that she was so uptight she squeaked she knew it was painfully true. It was high time she shed her cursed virginity. She needed a dream lover—for one night.

Of course, her dream lover needed to be good at sex. She required a man who could perform. Eyeing the selection of men, she decided to approach her deflowering as a research project. The perfect candidate's qualifications were simple. He had to be reasonably good looking. He had to be good at sex. And he couldn't be clingy! This would amount to a one time occurrence.

A burst of masculine laughter from the head of the bar snagged her attention. She recognized that laugh—that powerful stance. Viewing him from the back, she still knew him. Billy Shepard! A visceral thrill shot through her. Five years older and the town's rebel without a cause, tall, muscular, dangerous, she shivered right down to her toes.

Now, Billy knew how to do it, and she'd bet her bottom dollar he could perform like a super stud. Her gaze swept up his long jean clad legs, to his sexy tight butt, up his v-shaped muscular back, and focused on his wavy, coal black hair. A bit too long, it brushed his collar. If his front looked half as good as she remembered she'd just found her man. Her father would have said he was a rebel, her mother would have referred to him as too wild for his own good. April thought he was just plain yummy.

He turned, and her heart fluttered, slamming against her chest. He was still sexy as sin, and twice as good looking. As if he felt her stare, he looked straight at her. He'd grown into a hard-edged, handsome man, she conceded. His eyes a dark midnight blue, his nose straight, and his chin strong. Billy's mouth—oh my, his mouth, conjured up all kinds of forbidden fantasies. She wanted to taste it. "Perfect," she whispered, and he grinned, like he'd read her lips. She looked away, flustered as her body burned.

Will Shepard, stood stock still at the bar. The only thing moving was his cock, swelling behind the fly of his jeans. Little April Brooks was giving him a hard on from across the room. Not so little anymore, he decided. She was nicely filled out from her sweetly rounded ass, to her full breasts. They were more than a handful for him and he had big hands. He'd noticed her the moment she'd entered, tracking her movement across the bar. She was a lethal combination. Half the men in the joint sat up and took notice.

He knew precisely why she was back in sleepy Landis Falls; she was the new proprietress of The Rosebud, one of his firm's biggest construction jobs. He'd been in the midst of the renovation when Sadie Brooks had a stroke two weeks back. Now little April Brooks was back to take the helm. Watching the telltale blush on her face, he figured he had something else he'd like her to take hold of—all twelve inches.

Everything about her was a turn on, from her red hair to her sparkling green eyes. She was unforgettable. When she was five he'd chased her with worms and playfully pelted her with snowballs. When she was twelve she'd been a gangly girl with pigtails playing the flute in the middle school band. He was just off to the army when she was in high school. He remembered the shy former nerd she used to be. Funny, but he hadn't thought about her for years. He watched her nibble her full lower lip, as she peeked back at him, and he groaned. He knew when a woman wanted him. Yeah, he had plans for those luscious lips.

Stalking her way, he acknowledged to himself that he was acting like a damned fool, but it didn't slow his stride. He was respectable now. A businessman. His well respected construction company belonged to the Chamber Of Commerce, for Pete's sake. After his divorce two years back, he'd been very cautious about the women he chose to bed. But, damn, like a moth drawn to an irresistible flame he made his way to her side.

April watched Billy cross the floor, his eyes never leaving hers. What now? Considering how busy academic life had kept her, she hadn't learned how to flirt well. And then, he was there, sidling up to her. Breathing in the mingled scents of sandalwood and man, her heart fluttered again. He seemed to take up the entire space; the noise and people around them receded into insignificance.

He leaned in close. "Hello, pretty lady."

Pretty? Her? Probably just pick-up lines, she decided and promptly got lost in his deep blue eyes. "Hi. I'm...um...Andrea. Yeah, Andrea Bates." This would be easier for her to do if she remained a mystery woman. Like an actress playing a role, she could act sexy if she put her mind to it. She held out her hand for him to shake, watching his reaction to her blatant lie. There was a small twitch of his manly lips, as he broke into a friendly smile.

"Will Shepard," he said, setting his beer bottle on the table to shake her hand.

April felt a surge of excitement as his big hand enfolded hers. Her gaze darted down to the big bulge in his pants, obvious behind the placket of his tight jeans, and she gulped. He was definitely the right choice. Face heating, she looked up giving him what she hoped was a confidant smile. After a long moment, he let go of her hand and picked up his beer. His long, thick fingers curled around the long neck bottle.

They were big and rough from manual labor. How would they feel on her sensitive nipples, on the hot spot between her legs that was growing heavy and dewy as she stared at his hand? Tracking her gaze back up to his face, she watched him take a sip of his beer, his throat opening and closing as he swallowed. Unable to hold it in any longer she blurted out, "Will Shepard, would you like to take me to bed?"

As her words registered, she watched him choke on his beer for a minute. His eyes flashed, his mouth twitched again, and she saw the bulge in his pants grow bigger. Yes! She'd made the right choice.

He edged nearer, his crotch bumping her hip. "You don't beat around the bush, do you...ah, Andrea?" he asked with a grin.

Burning where he touched her, she looked up at him, studying the slight flush on his face. He was just as affected by the contact, it was a balm to her wounded femininity. "I believe in being direct. Well?"

"Sure," he said, his voice a husky bedroom rumble. "I'd love to take you to bed, precious."

The pet name sounded nice, it flowed over her like honey and made her nipples tighten, the space between her legs melted. "Good."

Picking up her purse, she nudged him, getting him to move back so she could slip out of the booth. She'd be cool and sophisticated about this if it killed her. Resisting the urge to grab him by the hand and drag him out of there, she headed for the door. She could hardly believe her beginner's luck; she'd caught big game—Billy Shepard.

He fell into step beside her, possessively looping a long arm around her waist. A sensual shiver shot through her. He must have felt her tremor, because he squeezed and the breath caught in her throat as her knees wobbled.

When they stepped into the warm June night, April breathed in a lungful of steamy air, collecting her thoughts. The sultry night air stirred her senses, but not as much as the hunk clinging possessively to her waist, as if he didn't want to let her get away. He didn't need to worry, she wasn't going anywhere but the nearest motel. Phase one of her deflowering was about to begin.

Gazing up at him, she couldn't help focusing on his sensual mouth. What would it taste like, feel like, skimming along her tender skin? She stopped by her car and turned to him. "William, if you'd like to follow me to the nearest motel, I'll secure us a room." His mouth twitched again, as if he thought her offer amusing, and she wondered if she'd made a big mistake. If he wasn't going to take this seriously—

He stepped closer, pressing her back against her car, his eyes twinkling. "Why me, precious? Why'd I get to be the lucky guy?"

He sounded hesitant, and she decided he looked a little concerned. "Because you're perfect," she said, meaning every word. She watched his mood lighten, his eyes twinkle, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad you think so."

"I do."

"Well then," he said, pressing closer. "First of all, only my mother calls me William. How about Will or even Billy, if you like. Second, we'll go to my place, precious."

Sensually overcome as he brushed against her, hot and demanding, she tried to focus on her objections. If she picked the place, she had the power. But would a macho guy like this go along with being controlled? Would it hurt his male ego for her to pay for the room? Feeling the hard length of his manhood bump against her abdomen, she gasped out, "I don't know, Will."

His smile tightened, leaning into her, her breasts pillowed against his chest. His hands skimmed up her sides coming to rest on either side of her breasts, his thumbs teasing, inches from her nipples.

A needy moan poured from April's mouth as she arched into him, her head falling back.

"I love that sound, red." Taking advantage of her open throat, he bent to nuzzle it, moving to nip at her earlobe.

Swamped by erotic sensation, she could only whimper and press closer.

Sucking on her earlobe he murmured, "Precious, as the one asked I should get to pick the place. It's common sexual courtesy."

Was he teasing her? Pulling back, she missed the pressure of his hot body against her sensitive breasts. Licking her lips, she focused on that sexy mouth of his. "It is?"

"Sure." He grinned at her, his pelvis rocking teasingly against hers.

Sparks of pleasure shot though her. Seeing his wolfish smile, she wondered how many women he'd bedded, and thought about chickening out. "Well, I'm not..."

He cocked his head, watching her. "If you're wondering, I haven't been with a woman for over six months." He smiled, rocking against her again. "As you can feel, I'm primed and ready."

"And not clingy," she added.

He chuckled. "You got that right, precious! I'm definitely not clingy." He backed off, motioned to an old pickup a few slots down. "Hop in the old truckster, and we'll be on our way."

"I'll follow you in my car." She didn't like his domineering tendencies, but she could put up with them for one night. The compensations were obvious—she slanted another look at the bulge in his pants, the spot between her legs hot. She missed the feel of him pressing against her. "Just remember, Will, I picked you. I'm in charge."

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