Matt Shepard walked up to Spice with all the grim determination of a man approaching a firing squad. Squiring Monica Landers out for dinner and conversation would be boring as hell but it was for the best. A little boredom would take the edge off his frustration. It'd been three months since he'd gotten laid; a record for him. To say he was tense was an understatement.

Working overtime to finish contracts and free Will up for his honeymoon had put a severe crimp in his social life. It was the least he could do as his brother's best man. Now he and Monica, April's maid of honor, had the bachelor party and bridal shower to plan. As far as he was concerned, a keg of beer and a stripper in Red's back room would suffice for the guys, but he had a feeling the mystery woman he was taking on this duty date wouldn't agree. It still didn't make sense to him that the wallflower he'd barely noticed in high school would own Spice, a shop that specialized in marital aids and slinky lingerie.

Sunset glittered off the plate glass window, showing off the lacy lingerie on display. Personally, he preferred bare skin to satin and lace, less to get in the way of his goal. It was the way he preferred his hook-ups these days; short and hot, with no strings attached. He wasn't walking into that minefield again.

An overhead bell tinkled as he opened the door. He forced himself to go inside. He'd never set foot in the place before, mainly because his kid sister Courtney worked here as a designer, much to his displeasure. Ms. Landers would insist on being picked up here, he only hoped she wouldn't prove as obstinate when planning the pre-wedding festivities. At least her shop was empty at closing time. In fact, he didn't see his date anywhere. Not that he expected to recognize her. She was three years older than him, and they'd never moved in the same social circles. He'd been into sports, fast cars, and girls. To the best of his recollection, she'd been into the library and home economics.

He approached the counter, his sex-starved gaze lingering as it passed over the sexy delights—lingerie, massage oils, and a wide array of sex toys. His eyes widened while his manhood stirred in reaction; the stimulation was enough to jump-start him into a hard-on. The swing on display in the corner caught his eye; it was just like the one in April's barn, a place he'd steered clear of. He quickly looked away. Thinking about his brother's possible love life wasn't something he'd do. Ignoring the toys and lubes, Matt's gaze strayed to the lingerie hanging on a rack nearby. Soft, shimmering in a rainbow of colors, tempting him to reach out and touch to see if they were as soft as they looked, it almost made him change his mind about preferring his lovers nude.

A quick footfall made Matt spin around in time to see a woman rush out of the back room carrying a big box. This had to be his date. What had April called her...Modest Monica? Matt stood there transfixed by her intensity as she moved at breakneck speed in stiletto heels. She was beautiful, with tip-tilted green eyes. Honest to Pete, they were as green as the clovers growing wild in his paddock. He stared at her, entranced, having never seen anything quite like their color before. Her mouth was generous and sensual, ripe for kissing; her chestnut brown hair swept up in a twist. It left her swanlike neck bare tempting him to lean in and taste her sexy nape.

Her perfume, something light and floral, tantalized him, and he indulged in a deep whiff. She was dressed in a formfitting red dress with a row of small pearl buttons down the front. It enhanced her full curves; and it sent a jolt directly to his groin. He'd been celibate too damned long. His gaze drifted down her long bare legs to her feet arched in impossibly high heels.

"Whoa," Monica said with a gasp, spotting the quiet man standing in her shop at the last second before she collided with him, almost choking on the strawberry hard candy she was sucking on. Coughing, all she could do was stare at him as her heart skipped a beat. Wow! Perfect. He was positively the yummiest man she'd ever set eyes on, and he was staring at her with the steamiest look in his baby blue eyes. Tall, with dirty blond hair, and a dirtier smile on his handsomer-than-sin face, he brought out all her repressed desires.

Dressed in a butter-soft leather jacket and faded jeans, he looked like he'd just stepped off the pages of one of her favorite erotic romances. The Sundance Kid in the flesh. This had to be Will's kid brother Matt. Now she understood why April had urged her to add him to her manhunt list. Too bad he was too wild to be manhunt material. She stumbled, wobbling as her heels sank into the carpeting, and the box she was carrying toppled.

Sundance grabbed the box with one of his big hands and her bare arm with the other. Monica let out a startled gasp at the heat of that seemingly innocent contact. His hands were big, work-roughened, and warm. His fingertips sensually rubbing her arm, he looked deep into her eyes, making her shiver. It was as if he could read her errant thoughts, her desires. "Yummy," she murmured.

"What?" he asked.

"You," she said studying him. He broke into a startled grin that turned him from yummy to devastating.

"Thanks. I think you're pretty scrumptious, too. Care to take a nibble?" he asked, leaning forward to kiss her.

Monica watched his irises contract as he came closer, blotting everything else out, and felt mesmerized. Her breath caught in her throat as his hot mouth slanted over hers, and her body turned to pudding. Her knees actually wobbled and she fell against him, their bodies colliding, setting off sparks inside her. He was brawny, easily supporting her weight as his hungry mouth devoured hers. Monica gasped her nipples tingling, jutting out at him through the sheer fabric of her satin bra and rayon dress. She couldn't stop her tongue from snaking out to taste his lower lip, making him groan in response, but confirming her conclusion that he was definitely edible before pulling away. He let her go with a primal growl.

She stepped back, her face flaming, and tried not to fall under his macho spell, but found it an impossible task. She couldn't deny that he set her sex-starved hormones humming. Her gaze focused on Sweet Surrender, the couples' role-play bondage kit hanging on the shelf behind him. Hell yeah, he could handcuff her to the bedposts any time as he had his way with her. Rejecting her errant thoughts, she jerked away, the box slipped through his fingers, and landed on the floor. Dozens of items spilled out littering the carpet at their feet. "My bunnies," she wailed as he tromped on one with in his size thirteen cowboy boots. "Please don't step on them."

Her bunnies? Matt looked down at the vibrators strewn across the floor and felt his cock throb, while his mouth watered. He could still taste her; she tasted like strawberries. He wasn't sure what foolishness had made him claim her mouth; but he wasn't sorry he'd done it. In a rainbow of different colors, the vibrators bore the label The Jack Rabbit. He gazed at the red one lying across the toe of his cowboy boot and actually felt his heart race. Good gravy.

Suddenly his date seemed like heaven in three-inch red high heels. He looked back up at her, intrigued, and couldn't help gazing at the generous swell of her breasts for a long beat before focusing on her laughing eyes. She met his gaze with a knowing glint. She knew he was ogling her tits, but it didn't stop his hungry gaze from devouring every luscious inch of her body. When she'd pressed against him, he'd felt her stiff nipples, and now he couldn't help focusing on them, beaded against her red dress. They were two ripe berries waiting for his attention, probably tasted like strawberries, and he was happy to oblige.

"Well, I guess we broke the ice and settled the yummy question once and for all, didn't we, Matthew?"

Her melodious voice only made him harder as he looked back up at her eyes. "That's Matt, darlin'. And what's the decision?" He watched her nibble her lower lip, and felt his pulse race. He had a better use for those luscious lips. Her sultry gaze swept over him focusing for a long minute on his crotch. Oh yeah, she was checking him out. It made his cock strain against his zipper to get at her. He wanted her with an intensity that surprised him, and it went way beyond craving a piece of ass. It was weird, but he felt an instant connection.

"I'll tell you later. It's a good thing for you it's restocking night, or you'd have missed me. Now if you can keep those cowboy boots off the merchandise I'll get on with it." She crouched down to pick up her vibrators.

"Huh?" Her teasing, semi-scolding tone caught him off -guard. Matt crouched down to do the same, wincing as his tight jeans compressed his burgeoning erection. He helped her scoop them up, then stood and picked up the box despite her protest. He wasn't going to let her break her neck again. "Where do you want them?"

"I need to hang them on the wall display before I count down the till."

"I'll do it while you finish up." Matt insisted, almost surprised at himself. Any excuse to stay near her and extend the sensual buzz, he was suddenly a sucker for erotic punishment. He couldn't help it; he found her irresistible. She wasn't a girl, but a grown woman who knew her own mind, a definite challenge.

"Okay," she said after a moment. "I'll ring out then go get my bag so we can slip out the back."

Matt hung the vibrators on the display racks, ultra aware of her movements, and the hot glances she kept shooting his way as she closed out the register. Their gazes met and she actually blushed. Matt groaned under his breath as she scurried off into the backroom. She didn't have to act like she was afraid he was going to jump her bones. Maybe he'd misread her interest, the thought made him depressed. He went back to work, restocking her vibrators. He sure as hell had never handled one before. They were veined and semi-lifelike, if you didn't count the day-glow color, and they had another small protuberance. Intrigued, he found himself reading the package spiel—The Jack Rabbit Elite features a triple-tongued clitoral tickler and a realistic six-inch shaft for her pleasure. He let out a groan, and stopped reading before he did himself permanent damage. Some guys might find it intimidating; he didn't. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about all the sexual possibilities it presented if he used it on her. Hell, this whole store gave him ideas. Maybe she was right to keep her distance. He'd been celibate too long. What was taking her so long?

* * * *

Monica Landers stood in the back room, eyes closed, breathing hard, her whole body trembling in reaction. He was handling her bunnies like he was amused by them, not threatened, as most men would be. Something about a woman's sex toy wielded by a confident male made her weak in the knees. Matt Shepard was positively the hottest man she'd ever set eyes on, much less kissed. It was enough to make her drool.

More than his good looks attracted her; there was a sensual essence to the man, it told her he knew how a woman craved to be touched. Heck-fire, she wouldn't even need her vibrator with him around. Her nipples were still tingling points, her pussy growing dewy with need.

She'd been very selective since her divorce—maybe too selective if a hunk's kiss had her trembling on the brink of orgasm—but being badly burned could do that to a woman's confidence. April's upcoming nuptials had been like a slap to the side to the head, vividly reminding her that her biological clock was ticking. And while she rejoiced in April's happiness, she couldn't help being a wee bit envious. It was high time she found a reliable mate, so she'd gone about it in her usual methodical way; she'd decided to go on a manhunt. Luckily, the other bridesmaids were in the same boat so they'd joined forces.

Together, they'd compiled lists of prospective mates with April acting as an advisor. With her success in actually bagging Will, she was a fount of informative manhunt tips. Only problem was, April had been dead wrong about Matt, yummy yes, manhunt material no. He was a well-known player. Hadn't he just stolen a kiss without permission? The fact that she'd gleefully kissed him back, she chose to ignore. It was a good thing she'd resisted April's urging to put Matt Shepard on her list. Her raging hormones would probably win out over her head if he were on it. He'd do her like a stud, but leave her empty and wanting more, she couldn't risk it. Letting out a cleansing breath, she succeeded in stamping down the remnants of her lingering physical reaction. With her pulse slowing to near normal, she picked up her tote bag, and then went back out to face Matt.

He'd finished hanging up the vibrators and had moved on to browse through one of her favorite lingerie displays. He was examining an emerald green silk teddy she'd personally designed. She watched him stroke it, his big workman's hands gently running over the silk, and bit back a sigh as she imagined him stroking her inside the slinky garment.

Something about him brought out all her forbidden desires. She couldn't help focusing on the prominent bulge in his jeans. Oh yeah, he had what it took to satisfy a woman. No bunnies needed with him around. He'd dressed with care in what looked like new jeans, boots, and a western shirt, and it touched her that he'd gone to so much trouble. "Ready?" she asked.

He turned to look at her and his smile widened. "Always."

There were two ways to take that and she studiously went for the clean one. Given half a chance, she'd tumble into his arms like a ripe plum but it wasn't going to happen. He didn't fit the bill. Heading for the back door, she couldn't help walking faster as he fell into step behind her. Her knees shook as his scent wrapped around her, something musky, and all man.

Dizzy with sensory overload, her knees quivered and her high heels wobbled on the carpeting. Matt reached out to steady her, wrapping one of his big work-roughened hands around her bare arm. She gasped, the tantalizing contact making her burn, her body overheating again. Ripe for the picking, she found him hard to resist, but she couldn't pick him if she wanted to find Mr. Right. She wanted it all this time, a husband, kids, stability; and the hunk clinging to her arm didn't add up to husband material. "Thanks," she said, pulling away.

"My pleasure, darlin'."

She loved the way he called her darlin'. The way his honeyed voice washed over her body, made her face flush, as she turned to lock the shop's back door behind them.

"This way to my truck," he said, steering her toward a black pickup.

Monica let him seat her, thinking about pulling out and taking her Volvo instead. But how would that look? Something told her he'd take it as a challenge. It'd probably be like waving a red cape before a charging bull. She smiled at the image because it fit him, and smoothed her dress out on her legs, tugging it down to cover her bared thighs. Clicking her seatbelt closed, she inched toward the door. He got in and slanted a sly grin at her, like he knew what she was feeling. He probably did, something told her he could read women very well.

"I don't bite."

"I don't believe that for a minute," she shot back at him with a wry smile, as the temperature around her shot up. She had a feeling it had more to do with Matt than the balmy evening air. "I believe you said you made reservations at Finnegan's Supper Club."

"Right, darlin', unless you'd rather just chuck it all and go to Red's."

The cheerfully voiced suggestion told her all she needed to know. He might be fun to toy with but he was too wild to be husband material. "No, thanks." She took her duty as April's maid of honor seriously, even if he didn't value his role as best man as much.

"Right you are, we've got cupid's work to do, don't we, darlin'?" He gunned the engine. "Hold tight and we'll be there in two shakes."

"Cupid's work?" she parroted back, startled by the sensitive phrase coming out of his made to kiss mouth. Maybe he'd gotten it off a Hallmark card. She slanted an assessing gaze his way. The final bright rays of the setting sun highlighted his handsome face, turned his hair to honey and frosted the plains of his powerfully toned body with gold. He had the kind of silhouette made for a woman's delight. He worked with his hands, and they were work-roughened and big, she knew from brief personal contact. She watched them thrust the keys into the ignition as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world and, at the moment, it was. She couldn't help being powerfully sexually aware of him.

He was looking her over just as curiously. The very air seemed filled with passionate promise, one she shouldn't keep if she was serious about finding Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now. Still he was alluring, his broad shoulders seemed to almost brush hers in the pickup's cab. She watched his long, thick fingers on the steering wheel and couldn't keep from thinking about them caressing her, slipping inside her as he kissed her until she couldn't think straight. Her lips tingled as she focused on his.

He grinned at her. "I'm not all beer and pool, darlin'. I want to make sure that this one's a keeper."

"April is." She instantly shot to her friend's defense, but his tone hadn't been accusatory, just cautionary. It made her wonder why. What made him so gun-shy about women?

"Calm down, I didn't mean it that way. I don't doubt it for a minute that they're made for each other. Kind of nice, those two finding each other."

"Magical," she said with a nod. At least they agreed on one point. Maybe they would mesh, perhaps he should be on her manhunt list.

"Not that I think every guy should be married," he said under his breath.

She let out a sigh, mentally scratching his name off the list. "It made me think," Monica said, pretending she hadn't heard him.

"About what?" he asked.

"Getting married," she said and instantly felt him tense beside her. That cooled his ardor, darn it. Maybe it was for the best.

"You're engaged?" His gaze shot to her bare left hand. "You aren't wearing a ring."

She glanced at her left hand, that was true. The white line from her wedding band had faded away two years ago. "No. I'm not engaged."

"Engaged to be engaged then?" he asked in a curious tone.

"No. I don't even have a lover." She felt his interest pick up when she said the L word and decided to give him a cold shower and cool it permanently for her own good. "I'm on a manhunt to find a husband." She was both relieved and heartsick when he didn't say anything in response. It was for the best, so why did she still feel like seeing him naked?

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