“Are you talkin’ dirty to me?”
She suddenly focused her attention on her coffee mug, aware that every part of her anatomy even vaguely related to male-female functions had just gone on alert; her nipples felt hard against the lace of her bra. She held up the heavy pottery mug, studying it and trying to think of a way to change the subject. She felt Jake’s eyes on her.
“I love anything that’s made by hand,” she ventured.
He guffawed.
“Look!” she exclaimed, squaring her shoulders and affecting a placid face as she continued to hold the mug aloft, “My Statue of Liberty impression.”
They both laughed, the tension broken.
“Tough Stuff, I can’t remember when I’ve had such a good time,” he told her. He took the empty mug from her and set it down. His blue eyes captured the soft light of an old lamp perched on the kitchen counter nearby. Vivian thought of a vivid blue ocean, an ocean that drew her hypnotically, an ocean where drowning would be a sweet adventure. Jake raised one broad hand and touched her cheek gently.
“You make me laugh at myself,” he murmured. His fingers stroked her cheekbone with a feather-light touch, then moved down her jaw. She looked at him transfixed, and her hands trembled as she put them in her lap. “You make me fight back, Viv. You make me feel mad and confused and crazy and happy. You make me feel better than I have in a long, long time.”
“I can cook,” she replied blankly. Vivian barely knew what she was saying. His forefinger grazed her mouth and she kissed it, then his thumb, then his palm, her lips damp and agile as she sampled his callused skin. Their eyes remained locked. He placed his fingertips against her neck, stroking her pulse. His thumb rested lightly on the corner of her mouth, drawing tiny circles.
“Why, that’s real nice to know,” he quipped softly, seductively.
“I make great cannelloni,” she continued with languid tones. “I . . . I have a collection of Tony Bennett albums. I work out with weights three times a week at the YMCA. I love the Ice Age movies. I sleep late on the weekends . . .”
Her next words were lost, caught in a moan as he leaned forward, his chair creaking, and kissed her deeply. She tilted her head at one angle and then another, making exciting little discoveries about his taste and feel as their tongues curled in and out, playing a sensual game of tag.
Vivian drew back and smiled at him warily, catching her breath. “I’m not much for casual hook-ups.”
“Me, neither.”
“Jake . . .” Another kiss stopped her. When he finally let her draw a shaky breath, she continued. “You’re trouble.”
“Yep.” He pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap. With a gruff sound, he pressed his mouth against her neck. Vivian nearly burst with pleasure as he fervently kissed the tender skin under her jaw.
She nuzzled the side of his head and hugged him. They were both trembling.
He began to chuckle, and rested his forehead against her shoulder. He patted her back with one broad hand.
She gripped his shoulder, and when he looked up she gave him a serious once-over that went beyond joking. Vivian urged quietly, “Tell the truth. How many women are regular visitors here at your corn crib?”
Jake gave her a wicked grin. “If I told you I love the jealous glint in your eyes, would you hit me?”
“Right in the teeth.”
He planted a loud, smacking kiss on the straight line of her lips.
“The last time I even came close to having female company of the sort you mean was back in the fall,” he related solemnly. “An old girlfriend drove down from Tennessee to help me move in here. She took one look at this place and got back in her pickup truck and left.”
It was Vivian’s turn to laugh. She saw defensive pride flow into his handsome face, flattening his brows into a frown. She shook her head before it became more intense.
“Jake, I’m laughing because I’m in shock, that’s all.”
“Oh.” A sheepish smile replaced his grim expression. He waved a nonchalant hand, and his voice became comically nostalgic. “She was a right bossy heifer, but good-hearted. I’ve known her since we were in grade school. Once when we were about, oh, eight years old, she caught me at the playground and pulled my pants down. I learned to do an Olympic sprint with my dungarees around my ankles that day.”
“Stop, stop,” Vivian commanded, thumping his shoulders and laughing. She settled her arms cozily around his neck, and he bounced her once on his knee. His laughter joined hers. “Was that typical of your romances in Tuna Creek? Come on, confess.”
His rumbling laughter faded like distant spring thunder. Now his eyes were pensive.
“I never dated a woman I couldn’t live without.” He shrugged. “One told me I was gettin’ set in my ways and wouldn’t ever find anybody.” His voice dropped “I guess I got pretty borin’ in the years after my wife left. I sort of withdrew.”
“Wife?” Her smile faded.
“I got married right out of college. Three years later she packed up and left for Nashville. She wanted to be a singer.”
“Did she make it?”
“Yeah, she did pretty well. She sings backup for some big names, does commercials, that sort of thing. She remarried, had kids. I’m proud of her.”
Vivian frowned. “Do you find good things to say about everybody?”
“Try it. It keeps your blood pressure down. When somebody hurts you real bad, find a way to forgive. It cleans your soul. We were just kids when we got married. Looking back on it, I think what we had together just bottomed out.”
They heard the mournful howl of a dog coming from a back bedroom. Vivian climbed off his lap before he could hold her still. She was still processing the wife story.
Jake sighed and stood up. “Phoebe probably pushed Chester off the bed.”
She busied herself grabbing her coat. “I’ll leave you to your threesome. Well, your foursome, if you count Roberto.”
“I don’t sleep with my dogs. They got their own bed. They hog the covers.”
He took her hand. Vivian avoided the inquiring blue gaze he beamed down on her. “Will you go out with me this weekend, Viv? I’ll buy pizza and take you to a movie.”
“I’m flying down to Florida in the morning to spend the weekend with my brother, Frank, and his family.”
He looked crestfallen. “What about one night next week, Viv?”
“I’m a member of the mayor’s committee on midtown crime. I have meetings every night through Thursday.”
“Well, at least I know you’re not faking me out. That’s the most boring excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“Why don’t you give me a call next week sometime,” she allowed, “and we’ll see.”
“Viv, tell me the truth.” He looked straight into her eyes. “Are you givin’ me the heave-ho?”
“I’m giving you my schedule. If I were giving you the heave-ho, I’d be a lot more direct, dude.”
“Okay, then.” He lifted her like a delicate china doll and planted a happy kiss on her startled mouth, then set her down. Vivian wobbled with shaky knees to the door that led to the stair landing above the courtyard, and he slid her blue coat onto her arms.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to do that, Jake.”
“Yes, I do. What kind of men are you used to, who let you go traipsin’ around city streets by yourself after a date?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“By whacking thugs with a shoulder bag full of law books?” he teased, following her as she went down the outside stairs to the courtyard.
“My street name is Sistah B. Bad.”
They shared a laugh.
“You know, that fellow I caught said his partner skipped town.” Jake’s voice turned d
eadly serious.
“Good. I don’t want you playing policeman any more. Those guys are sociopaths. You could get killed.”
“Huh. If that second guy ever shows his face around here again, I’ll be the ruthless one.”
Vivian stopped, threw her arms around Jake’s neck, and hugged him so tightly that he coughed. She pulled away quickly, ducked her head to hide the tears in her eyes, and walked on.
This time she didn’t pull away when he tucked his big hand firmly under her elbow as they went down the concrete steps to the sidewalk. They stopped in front of her tiny silver hybrid. He chortled. “This must fit real good on your kitchen counter. I bet you plug it in right next to the charger for your cell phone.”
She snorted as she retrieved the keys from her purse, and Jake immediately took them from her hand. She looked up at him in mild rebuke. He didn’t say a word as he unlocked and then opened her door. He politely returned her keys.
She arched a brow. “You think all this mannerly crap will make me kiss you again?”
He put his hands on his lean hips. “Yeah.”
“You’re right.” She slid her arms around his neck. He drew her into his arms, bent his head over hers, and bestowed a long, intimate kiss on her parted lips. She kissed him back hungrily, and her body edged closer to his.
They held each other for a long moment, in which Vivian analyzed her tangled emotions and found equal measures of love at first sight and fear that he was too good to be true. “G’night,” she said breathlessly, and pushed him away.
As she slid behind the wheel of her car, her eyes never left Jake’s face.
“Y’all come back now, you hear?” he said with a grand drawl, grinning crookedly.
She gave him a pensive half smile that made no promises.
VIVIAN’S OFFICE WAS small and cramped, overflowing with law books and memorabilia from three years as a public defender and two years as a judge. She cleared a valley in the mountains of paperwork and began tugging at the plastic shell around her standard lunch—a vending machine package of peanut-butter crackers. She sighed with fatigue, having had enough burglary, prostitution and assault cases to last a whole week—and it was only Monday. A hearty knock interrupted her wrestling efforts to open her lunch.
“Come in, and bring a shovel,” she ordered loudly. She put a corner of the little package between her short, strong teeth and gave a sharp jerk. The door opened and Jake stepped inside, a wicker basket in his arms. Her package ripped open, and crackers flew everywhere.
“Nice to see you, too,” he said happily. “Have a nice weekend in Florida?” He kicked the door shut with the heel of his work boot. Vivian distractedly rounded up crackers, thinking that he looked, if possible, even more attractive than ever. His reddish hair was windblown, and his sheepskin coat sat on his wide shoulders as though it were tailor-made. Despite herself, she felt giddy and flustered.
“Look at my lunch!” she protested weakly. “Get that cracker from under the bookcase over there!”
“That’s not lunch, that’s parrot food.” He settled the basked on the edge of her cluttered desk. “Look here. I thought I’d surprise you. If I’m acting like a stalker, kick me out. Blame Barney Washington—he’s the one who got me through security up here to your office. He’s a big ol’ romantic, that man.”
“Jake, I don’t do lunch dates . . .”
“This isn’t a date. See, I’m not stayin’. I’m just deliverin’.”
He quickly set out plastic containers and a single plate. She scowled and spluttered, waving her hands. “What . . . you can’t leave all this food here . . . where are you . . . you’re not really leaving . . .”
“Yep. Me and Roberto got a meeting with a plumber. Trying to get all the commodes running.” He grinned and tipped an invisible hat to her as he backed out of her office.
“Come back, you can’t just stuff me and disappear,” she yelled. As those words left her mouth she froze. Titters rose from the desks outside her office.
Jake ducked his head around the door frame. “No need to holler. I’ll be back later, if you insist.”
She narrowed her eyes and hissed at him.
He grinned and left.
AN HOUR LATER she drifted back to court for the afternoon session, drowsy from the effects of fried chicken, homemade biscuits, baked apples with honey, potato salad and pecan pie. Thank heavens this robe is so big, she thought languidly.
“You all right?” Tom asked curiously, as she plopped down at her desk. Callender leaned behind Vivian’s back.
“She had a lunchtime visitor,” Vivian heard the court secretary whisper. “He brought her a picnic.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. Did he promise to take her to the fair and walk her home from church on Sunday?”
“Gimme the first case, you cretins,” Vivian demanded.
“There he is,” Cal whispered loudly.
Tom chuckled. “Well, if it isn’t Forrest Gump.”
Vivian, who’d been absently staring at the docket in front of her, jerked her head up in time to see Jake ease into the courtroom and settle comfortably onto a back bench. He tipped his head to her.
“Her Honor’s got a boyfriend,” Tom chanted softly, and Vivian felt her full stomach take a nervous dip.
“And you’re about to have a gavel up your . . . nose.” She glared at him then pivoted to sear Cal with a look, too. Smiling, they retreated.
Chapter Five
ICY RAIN TURNED Atlanta slate-gray outside Vivian’s office window. Inside the office, Cal’s tears turned Vivian’s already bleak mood the same color.
“I love him, Vivian, and he’s killing me,” Cal said softly, holding her hands over her stricken face. “I can’t believe he bought a forty-thousand-dollar motorcycle. He promised he wouldn’t buy one until we get our bills in order.”
“Tell him vattene, baby.” Vivian sliced the air with her hand. “Which is what my Italian grandmother used to say. It means, ‘So long.’”
“Viv, you don’t, you can’t understand. When you love someone . . .”
“I haven’t always been a dried-up old bag with no romance in my soul.”
“I didn’t mean that you’re heartless. You’re just so self-sufficient. You have a thick shell.”
“Like a turtle,” Vivian told her dryly. “How charming.”
“I can’t leave him. Divorce is against everything I’ve ever thought marriage should be.”
“So is lying, cheating and bankruptcy. You’re being a doormat. If he knows he can walk on you, he’ll keep doing it. Men. Bah.”
“Is that why you haven’t seen Jake Coltrane in a week? You think he considers you an easy touch?”
“I’ve been busy, that’s all.”
“Vivian, he’s the sweetest man on the face of this earth,” she whispered brokenly. “Don’t let him get away.”
Vivian inhaled with ragged effort. “I know,” she admitted just as tearfully. “And he scares me to death. I feel like a squirrel in the middle of traffic. I don’t know which way to run.”
They were still sniffling when Tom came in. “Isn’t there something in your job description about waiting to be asked before you clump into somebody’s office?” Vivian demanded in a cranky tone.
“Don’t beat me, your majesty, I’ve brought you some new peasants to work in Forrest Gump’s fields.”
“I’m going to get you for this,” Vivian promised tautly as she and Cal followed him out the door.
“Hey. It’s winter, and the shelters are full. And wait’ll you see these three, they’ll rip your heart out.”
I don’t need any more heart ripping, she thought.
SHE SAW JAKE before he saw her. Shivering in the drizzle that misted her face and dampened her long coat, Vivian gazed through the iron gate and wat
ched him step out of the doorway of one of the upstairs apartments, a heavy tool belt slung over his big shoulder. He pulled the apartment door shut and locked it. Her heart did gymnastics. This man was born to tempt a woman.
Oh, it’s good to look at him again, Vivian thought fervently. He wore old gray sweat pants that sculpted themselves to his rangy legs and hard butt. The thick, khaki sweater that covered what appeared to be several layers of flannel shirts made his long torso look even broader than she remembered. She strained for a glimpse of his wind-burned face in profile.
He twisted around and caught sight of her.
“Viv!” he yelled.
The tool belt landed with a thud at his feet. He leaped to the head of the wrought-iron staircase and came down it three steps at a time. Vivian gasped in surprise at the unexpected reception and lost her composure. She backed away from the gate unsteadily, jerking her gloved hands out of her coat pockets. She held her hands in front of her in a slow-down gesture, to no avail.
He covered the courtyard in a half dozen touchdown strides and grabbed the locked gate with both hands, smiling through it at her.
“Viv,” he said warmly. The pure delight at seeing her poured into his rich baritone. She nearly melted.
“I came to see you . . . there’s some business.” He was hurriedly undoing the padlock, and she eyed him nervously. “I need your help.”
The lock opened, the gate opened, then he snatched her into his arms.
“Coltrane!” she sputtered, as he swung her around full circle. Vivian’s arms had no choice but to go around his neck and hold on for dear life. He stopped, his arms snug around her, and tilted his head back. His smile faded into a serious perusal of her face that sent fingers of sensation down her spine.
“I’m here on business,” she said firmly, her voice carefully neutral. “Now please put me down. It’s nice to see you again, too.”
He continued to hold her and to look up at her. The mist wet his ruddy face and formed tiny droplets on his brows and his lashes; it flattened his hair a little and gave him an unkempt, vulnerable look that was too tempting for her emotional good.
Just a Little Bit Guilty Page 5
