Carnal Harvest Read Free

lid of her laptop with a gasp as heat rushed into her cheeks. Brent Andersen didn’t need to know that one of the smokin’ hot men in her ménage was a military version of him. Or that the other bore a strong resemblance to his friend Joe.
    “Be right down, Brent!” she called, pushing away from her desk. A quick glance in the mirror told her she looked about like she usually did—like a middle-aged farm 13

    Robin L. Rotham
    wife. Cursing the dry air, she smoothed her flyaway blonde pageboy with her palms and then felt kind of guilty for primping.
    Hey, you’d do the same if the UPS guy was down there!
    Yeah, but your heart wouldn’t be thumping like this.
    She tugged at her sweater anyway, wishing she’d picked a baggier one. The pale green V-neck hugged every hill and valley, which would have been a plus if it was just Hake around. He thought she was beautiful even when she had to switch to her winter jeans. Pitching hay and carrying all those pails of feed to the bunks twice a day since his accident had ensured that she still fit in her skinny summer jeans, but nothing short of plastic surgery could completely eradicate her muffin top.
    Get over yourself, silly! Brent and Joe were probably just stopping in to say goodbye—they couldn’t care less whether she appeared downstairs in a tiara and formal gown or curlers and a muumuu.
    That didn’t keep her from turning around and checking out her own backside in the full-length mirror behind the door. Just to make sure there were no indecent holes in this pair of jeans, of course. Now that she and Hake had been alone on the farm for a couple of years, she’d gotten a little less concerned with appearances. She used to shower and dress first thing every morning while Ryan was growing up, but now she tended to stay in her pajamas unless she was going somewhere. Well, except during harvest, when hired hands had a way of stopping in when she least expected them.
    Otherwise, no one but Hake saw her, so what was the point of changing clothes?
    She twisted slightly to the side, loving the way her new bra shaped her smallish breasts. She’d finally broken down and bought a water bra a few weeks ago, and wow, had it made a difference. Hake had noticed, too, but he hadn’t been in the mood to do anything about it yet.
    The way he eyed her at lunch, she’d thought that might be about to change, but she’d thought wrong. All he did was push away from the table and head for the shower, saying he had business to attend to. Darn it. Her toys had been fun when they 14

    Carnal Harvest
    were just supplements to an already spectacular sex life, but now that they’d been her mainstays for so many months, they were getting old fast. She missed feeling Hake’s big, hard hands all over her body and his big, hard cock between her legs. If he didn’t come back to life soon, she was going to have to mothball her laptop. It was just too frustrating to get all revved up writing erotica and have nowhere to go with all the pent-up sexual energy.
    Sighing, she turned off the faux-Tiffany floor lamp and went downstairs. Even though they’d eaten less than an hour ago, her stomach growled at the tantalizing aroma of pot roast drifting from the slow cooker.
    Turning the corner into the living room, she came to an abrupt halt and her jaw dropped. “Hake?”
    He sat in one of the ladder-back dining chairs, his dark brown hair still damp, his bad leg stretched out in front of him. Brent and Joe, apparently freshly showered themselves, crouched beside him. It looked like they were securing his hands to the armrests with…her dishtowels?
    “What’s going on?” she asked warily.
    Hake’s smile was reassuring. “Just say ‘Ride ‘em, cowboy’, honey.”
    His words drove all the air from her lungs, and her eyes flew to Brent, who tightened the last knot and stood up.
    Laying a hand on Hake’s shoulder, he gave her a stern look and said, “This here’s a holdup, ma’am. Just do what