She swallowed and shoveled in another bite.
Wallpaper was outdated, but she wanted to keep the same historic feel. The mahogany molding that trimmed the arched doorways and rimmed the walls where they met the ceiling looked tired and worn, but a fresh coat of varnish would make it look bright with character again.
The roofing supplies she could probably cover with what was left in her bank account. The outside of the inn still needed to be scraped and painted, and she hadn’t bought the paint yet. The plumbing and electrical might also be a problem. Maybe she could find someone to do it on credit until the inn opened, because she wasn’t about to ask anyone to do the work for free.
Sounded like a solid plan.
And then Talmadge could go. Of course he still hadn’t discussed how he planned for them to pull off building a rec center, but maybe he intended to come back to Red River more frequently to see that project through.
A seed of hope sprouted in her heart, but she plucked it right out by the root. Didn’t matter how many times he came back to Red River. He wouldn’t stay. And she wasn’t leaving. Not when she was so close to her dream. And especially not for a man who hadn’t offered her anything beyond a guarantee that her inn would pass inspection and the gazebo would be ready for the festival before he left town.
Her eyes slid shut in appreciation as the generous mouthful of butter pecan slid down her throat.
Thanks to Talmadge, most everyone in town was behind her, except the Wilkinsons and their pew-warming band of friends. Even so, she was tired of trying to prove herself. What had it gotten her? She was closing in on thirty years old and had already walked Red River’s chalk line so tight that it would probably keep her single for the rest of her life. Or, at the very least, extremely sexually frustrated.
Sadly, she’d throw all of her hard work and clean living away to be with Talmadge if it wouldn’t mean getting her heart trampled on like a stampede of cattle going to slaughter. She sensed the danger the same way those poor cattle did.
Owning a business in Red River was risky. Heck, as much as she loved it here, life in this little town was risky.
A thought zinged to life and took shape in her mind. She couldn’t stop the broad smile that spread across her lips.
Why not have a little fun now? By herself, since she was likely to be alone most of her life anyway. Unless by some miracle another straight, single guy who wasn’t secretly a serial killer moved to town. And yeah, she wouldn’t hold her breath on that one.
Miranda jumped from the couch, darted toward her rooms, dropping the ice cream in the kitchen as she scurried past, and emerged a minute later with an iPod, a speaker dock, a hairbrush, and wearing a pair of socks and Talmadge’s white dress shirt, which simmered against her skin because of his woodsy, musky scent.
The only thing she’d gleaned from her mother’s years of hanging out in honky-tonks and biker bars—a taste for old rock and roll—often came in handy when she needed to cheer herself up.
She shuffled through her iPod until she got to one of her favorite retro songs and popped the device into the speaker dock. With a flip of both wrists, she flicked the collar of Talmadge’s shirt up. The front flapped open, revealing her matching yellow polka-dot and lace bra and panties. She turned the speaker volume to the highest level and hit Play, then ran into the hall.
When Bob Seger banged out the first chords of “Old Time Rock and Roll” on the piano, Miranda took the hairbrush firmly in hand.
This inn was a risky business indeed. And Cruz was her last name, even if it was spelled a little different.
With a running start, she slid into the arched doorway between the dining room and parlor. And then good ol’ Bobby started hammering at his keyboard while belting out something about old records and being by himself.
Miranda spun around and danced to the music, mouthing the words into her hairbrush while Mr. Seger’s whiskey voice and piano skills filled the inn. She danced over to the fireplace and planted her feet firmly apart while Bobby scorned discos, and she tossed the brush to the side and grabbed the poker.
With a shimmy that would’ve made Tom Cruise proud, she jumped onto the couch and bent her knees, playing the air guitar like she was channeling Eddie Van Halen. Bobby’s fans cheered through the speaker, and Miranda decided to go for it. She jumped off the sofa and did the half splits in the air. When she landed and twisted to the music, her soul definitely felt more soothed than it had in the parking lot at Joe’s with a half-naked man pushing her away.
Pfft. Who needed a man when she had Bobby?
She wiggled her butt to the music and moonwalked backward, the socks making her slide across the wood floor like it was glass.
Someone clapped once. Then twice. Then again. And it wasn’t one of good ol’ Bobby’s fans on the recording.
Miranda spun around, and the poker clattered to the floor.
Talmadge’s long, hard body lounged against the arched doorframe, her purse dangling from one of his hands. A wide, dazzling smile graced his perfect face and made his eyes twinkle.
Oh. My. God. He’d just witnessed her doing something no one else had ever seen. Except Jamie. And he was still blackmailing her with it, the little ratfink sibling that he was.
“What are you doing here?” she yelled, her heart and her pride dropping to her toes.
The song lilted to its inevitable end, and they stood in silence staring at each other. Him smiling like the smart-ass he was. Her probably looking as horrified as she felt. And as ridiculous.
He held up her purse. “You forgot this.”
“You should’ve called!” She pressed her fingers to her eyes for a second.
“I tried.” Talmadge pulled his cell out of his back pocket and dialed a number. Her purse started to vibrate and Bob Seger began wailing the same tune from the depths of her handbag.
Miranda closed her eyes, cursing her mother for the years she’d spent playing old rock albums. Why not Brahms or “The Wheels on the Bus” like any normal mother would do?
“Then you should’ve knocked. Or buzzed. Or something! You’re breaking and entering.” Her mother would really love Talmadge.
“Tried that too. The music was so loud you probably didn’t hear it, and I thought something might be wrong because, well, the music was so loud.” He tried to give her a deadpan expression, but the twinkle in his eyes still made him look like a smart-ass.
His gaze turned all smoky as it took a nice long trip down the front of her open shirt, lingered on her panties, and then caressed back up to her mouth.
She pulled the shirt closed at her breasts.
“You’re wearing my shirt.” His voice was gravelly.
“I’ll give it back. Let me go change,” she whispered. Unfortunately, he was between her and her room. She had no choice but to walk past him.
His eyes smoothed along her bare legs as she approached. When she tried to step around him, his arm snaked around her middle to stop her. “Keep it. It looks better on you than it does on me.” He licked his lips, and an electric shock gripped her below the belly button. He tugged her gently until her front grazed his. And holy lip-smacking moly, no switch in the world could turn off the electrical current that jolted through every nerve ending in her body when she felt the firmness under the front of his jeans.
“Talmadge, you can’t keep doing this to me.” Her tone wasn’t desperate. It was disheartened and unsated. Okay, maybe just a tad desperate. “You show up every seven years or so—”
“I’ve been back a few times more than that, Miranda. You avoided me.”
“You lure me in with your killer smile—”
“I’ve never killed anyone, not with a smile or anything else.” The corner of his mouth quirked up.
“You flirt just enough to get me to fall for you—”
His smile widened. “You’ve fallen for me?”
“Can I finish, please?” Huh. That sounded vaguely familiar. No idea why. At least none that she would
admit to at this moment in time.
The sensual purr of his voice smoothed down her neck and pulled at her nipples. “Not until you hear me out.” He settled against the wall and dropped her purse to pull her closer. “I’ve never regretted being with you seven years ago. My only regret was not seeing where it might lead.”
She started to speak up, but he put a finger to her lips and tutted. “I should’ve come back for you.”
She pulled her lip between her teeth, and his eyes turned almost purple with lust.
None of that changed the fact that Talmadge had gone back to his life in Washington then, and he had to do the same now.
“But—”
“Uh-uh.” He shushed her again. “You’ve never been like your mother, which is why I didn’t want to get it on in my grandfather’s beat-up truck behind Joe’s. I wouldn’t do that to you, Miranda. Especially not with the Red River Rag stalking us.”
“Oh, Talmadge.” She leaned her forehead against his chest. “It’s just that you smell so good, and I love the way you look at me with those sleepy eyes and long lashes, and I’ve been letting myself get drawn in by your sexy smile and your brilliant plan and your skilled lips and your big hammer . . .”
He laughed, his hand sliding down her back to her ass.
Her cheeks turned so hot, she let go of her shirt and put both hands over her cheeks to cool them. He took full advantage and slipped one hand inside the gaping shirt. It brushed across her stomach and settled around her hip. Every inch of her skin from burning cheeks to curling toes exploded into tingling pebbles.
His other hand slipped inside the shirt and slid over her ribcage. Brilliant move.
Her girly parts burst into flames.
He did it again, and her eyes slid shut. When a soft gasp escaped through her lips, he pulled her into him and buried his face in her hair. And oh good God in heaven, the man was rock hard. All over. But especially where it counted most.
She shouldn’t. It might be too late to save her reputation after the near X-rated show she’d started in Joe’s and almost finished in the parking lot, but it wasn’t too late to save her heart.
Or was it?
“I want something with you, Miranda. I don’t know how or what right now. I just know that you’re important to me.” He whispered against her ear and slipped his fingers under the elastic of her panties.
Oh good Lord, she’d agree to just about anything with him touching her and whispering such delicious words in her ear. Was he asking her for something more permanent? Something with a future?
“I . . . I . . . don’t know, Talmadge,” she all but whimpered. His sweet words were too vague, and she’d seen her mother stake too much on vague promises.
He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and worked it with his tongue. Sank his hand all the way inside her panties to cup her ass and press her flush against his magnificent package.
She almost orgasmed right there.
She needed to think this through. But thinking was a little difficult at the moment with his tongue and lips and hands and package making her brain malfunction like she’d been sniffing one of the cans of varnish sitting on the back porch.
He brushed her hair back and suckled kisses down her neck to her shoulder, hitting that perfect spot where they connected. His callused fingers massaged the tender skin at the small of her back. “We’ll figure something out.” His warm, wet breath made a shudder race through her.
“What I said earlier, about picking you because you wouldn’t tell anybody, that wasn’t the only reason. I wanted you to be my first because you’re the only man I’ve ever . . .”
A strange thud beat against her chest. For a second she wanted to say he was the only man she’d ever loved.
The purple in his eyes flared, and he seemed to hold his breath.
“Why me, Miranda?” He sank his teeth gently into the soft flesh of her neck with just the slightest pressure. Her mind blanked, and her knees turned soft.
The full force of her weight was completely in his hands and against his hard body.
“Hmm?” she asked, her head tilting back to give his hungry mouth a better taste.
He pulled his hand from her backside and found the spot between her thighs that was screaming for his attention. The silk material between his fingers and her flesh created just enough friction to drive her to the brink. He increased the pressure with each stroke, and she angled her knee out to give him better access. He suckled the nook of her neck where his teeth had just been. “Why not someone else? Tell me.”
She sobered. Drew back just enough so that their noses brushed and their heartbeats mingled. Her head tilted back, she stared deep into his silver-blue eyes, the color and the emotion there mesmerizing her into a near-trance.
She gave him a deep, soft kiss. One that she hoped communicated every bit of emotion she was feeling right then. Then she said, “Because you were the guy who would never expect me to get it on in your truck, even when I wanted to.”
On her tippy toes, she pressed her lips to his again, giving him more of the tenderness that she felt all the way to her soul.
Miranda’s sweet kiss against his hungry mouth communicated a clear message. She was his. And he wasn’t going to let her go again. He engulfed her in his arms, molding her softness against him. It was time to finish what they’d started seven years ago. What they’d been circling around since he’d been back in Red River.
Even with him leaning against the doorframe, he was still a head taller than her, so he dipped his knees to trail greedy kisses across her cheek to her ear. Her breath whispered across his neck and made his skin prickle with need. The warmth of her leaning against him flooded through his limbs and made his pulse sing like Bob Seger.
At the thought of her performance, a smile started on his lips, encircled his heart, and spread all the way to his . . .
She pressed her hips into his, and the heat in that particular area turned to a raging storm of desire. He caressed one palm down her back and over her bottom to cradle the soft flesh in the palm of his hand. The soft, feminine contours of her full breasts pressed into his chest, her thighs brushed against his, the length of her pulsing body molded and melted into his, and a deep, satisfied sigh escaped him as she settled into his embrace.
He took her mouth with his. Gentle, but firm enough to control the kiss.
Jesus, even her lips were a perfect contrast to his. Their plump softness, a wicked pleasure like the feel of expensive and forbidden animal fur against bare skin.
Delicious and decadent.
With a flick of his tongue against her lips, they parted for him. He slipped through to find hers.
Her hands slipped inside his jacket and glided over his bare flesh. Ah, the spoils of giving the lady his shirt. Her hands weren’t as soft as most women he knew, because Miranda was used to manual labor, but still softer than his. They slid over his torso, leaving a trail of blazing desire in their wake. His muscles twitched and hardened as she explored his chest and then dropped her hands to his stomach and waist, like she was committing every inch to memory.
Like it would never happen again, so she wanted to make the most of it while she could.
His heart squeezed, and he deepened the kiss. Threaded his fingers into her hair and cradled her against him to show her this wasn’t just casual sex for him. It meant something. It meant more than she could probably imagine.
Her mouth against his, their bodies flush, it was so sensual, so luxurious that he didn’t want it to end. He ran his hand up her length and felt a shiver of delight pass through her. He smiled against her mouth and framed her face with both hands to kiss her as deeply and affectionately as he knew how.
She whimpered out her approval and slid a foot up the side of his leg.
He broke the kiss. “Damn, woman. Do you know what you do to me?”
She pressed a soft kiss to his neck and nuzzled her nose just below his ear. “Let’s go to my room.”
He
shook his head. “No.”
She tensed and pulled back to look at him, her expression communicating her fear of rejection.
He ran gentle fingertips across the line of her silky smooth jaw to soothe her doubts. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, but the delicate feel of her against his fingertips sure as hell soothed him. “We’re going to the honeymoon suite.”
Her features relaxed, and a stir of sexual energy seemed to surge through her and jump from her pulsing body into his. With a swift movement, he ran both hands down her arms to her ass and lifted her off the ground.
She squeaked and laced her arms around his neck.
“Put your legs around me,” he said and pushed off the doorframe to straighten.
Both of her ankles clamped to his backside. He carried her up the stairs. Tried to consume her with a kiss so hot and searing that the spot between her legs pulsed against his belly just above his jeans, and he wanted to be inside her so badly it hurt. A minor problem, because he was about to shuck his pants and make love to her all night. Maybe let her sleep for a few hours, then wake her up just before dawn to do the same thing all over again.
The crazy thing about making love to a woman who had just finished playing the air guitar was that he wanted it to be just as fast and just as furious as her performance.
He doubted he’d ever again see anything cuter or sexier than Miranda sailing through the air in the half-splits with a poker in her hands. But no. The same woman who’d entertained him with a moonwalk dressed in nothing but a bra that didn’t quite match the panties because of the red cranberry stain, a pair of socks scrunched at the ankles, and his shirt, unbuttoned and flapping as she’d gyrated around the room, had also confessed why she’d allowed him to be her first lover.
After such a bold unveiling of her heart, he didn’t want this time to be just a tumble in the sack or a quickie against the wall. Not that he would mind that in the future. But not tonight. Tonight was the beginning of something new with Miranda. They could work something out. What, he wasn’t exactly sure yet.
It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) Page 20
