NAUGHTY BUT NICE

by Jill Shalvis

  Well, she'd wanted fast, she'd wanted reckless. She'd wanted it over so she could get on with her life.

  Only as she blinked the stars above her into focus, as she felt Tag's warm, strong arms surround her, as she felt his mouth nuzzle at the spot beneath her ear, she thought maybe the joke was on her.

  Because she didn't feel finished with him yet. The thought made her shiver.

  With a sigh, Tag got up.

  "What—" The words ended on a gasp as he scooped her into his arms.

  "I want a bed," he said, then looked down into her eyes. "With you in it."

  "Do I have a choice?"

  "Sure. Yours or mine."

  * * *

  She chose hers. It was a matter of control, and in her own space, she thought she had it.

  A mistake, a crucial one. Because she was beginning to understand that with Tag, control was up for grabs. She didn't like it, would strategize about it in depth.

  Later.

  God, he had a mouth. A beautiful, glorious mouth that she couldn't get enough of. It would be humiliating, if he didn't apparently feel the same way. The drive to her house was punctuated by fumbling hands trying to feel more flesh. Stolen kisses. By the time they got there, they stumbled out of the car and made it just inside before he backed her up against the front door.

  "Here?" she whispered breathlessly.

  "Maybe. Yes." He sucked her lower lip into his mouth. "I can't get enough of you." In the next instant he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along hers as he rocked his hips to match her needy thrusts. "It's only been twenty minutes, how can I want you again like this?"

  "It's crazy," she agreed, her mouth busy taking tiny bites out of his neck. "We should just stop." Only half kidding, she pulled back. "Just walk away."

  "Hell, no." His voice was rough. So were his hands as he ran them up her arms, holding them over her head against the door. "You want me. Say it."

  "I never say it."

  His eyes glittered as he ran one hand down her body, skimming his fingers beneath the lace of her panties. And found her drenched. "You want me. Your body is saying it for you."

  Before she knew it he had her panties off and his pants open. Getting the last condom on was trickier, but he managed just fine. And then he was sinking into her wet heat, making the breath sob in her throat as he filled her as no one else ever had. "Tag…"

  "Wrap your legs around my waist. Yeah … there … there, like that." Using the door as leverage, he started to move inside her.

  Cassie could have sworn she saw stars again as he thrust into her. She couldn't understand the way she needed him more than her next breath, but she did. When he lifted his head to kiss her again, mating with her mouth the way he was with her body, she started to shudder. Within seconds he matched her, barely holding them upright as he found his own release.

  "Damn," he finally breathed, and put his mouth to her throat, nuzzling gently. "You okay?"

  She realized she was clinging to him, still humming, still pulsing, and not ready to let go. That horrified her enough to force herself to do exactly that.

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, she thought, he let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. "I guess there's no need to show you to my bed," she quipped, turning away.

  With a hand on her arm, he pulled her back, looked deep into her eyes, making her shiver, making her thighs quiver, making the knot tighten in her belly. "Guess again."

  * * *

  Much, much later, Tag opened his eyes and stared up at himself in the mirror above Cassie's bed. Flat on his back, he had Cassie facedown, sprawled over the top of him. He had a fistful of her very nice ass in one hand, the other stroking her hair.

  Next to the bed, on the floor, was the teddy bear he'd won for her at the carnival.

  She'd kept it. He wasn't sure what that meant or why it made him want her again.

  But moving seemed impossible. His bones had liquefied since they'd spent the past hour tasting every square inch of each other's bodies. "I consider myself pretty contemporary," he said, watching his hands dance over Cassie's gorgeous body. "But that mirror is rather … startling."

  She sat straight up and looked at him from sleepy eyes. "Yeah." She got out of the bed, pointedly looked at the clock, then strode naked across the room to the bathroom and shut the door.

  "Gee, Tag, think that was a hit?" he asked his reflection, who smirked.

  Oh, definitely, Cassie had gotten what she wanted out of him, and now she was ready for him to go. But was that because she truly was done with him? Or because she was uncomfortable with the intimacy that sleeping over entailed?

  With a sigh and a groan, he stood. His legs wobbled with the aftermath of great sex. Staggering a bit, he walked across the room and knocked on the bathroom door. "Cassie? You okay?"

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  Well … good question. He himself was feeling pretty damn fine. He leaned against the dresser and pondered this, idly running his gaze over an open book. A diary, it seemed, and before he could stop himself, he read the entry.

  1. Drive a fancy car, preferably sunshine-yellow because that's a good color for me.

  2. Get the sheriff—somehow, some way, but make it good.

  3. Live in the biggest house on Lilac Hill.

  4. Open a porn shop—Kate's idea, but it's a good one.

  5. Become someone. Note: this should have been number one.

  A quick glance at the date explained most of the above—she'd written it ten years ago. Still, far more disturbed than he would have liked to admit, he closed his eyes.

  The sound of the book slamming shut had his eyes whipping open again.

  "Learn anything?" Cassie asked, still naked. As if she didn't have a care in the world, she strutted that mouthwatering body to the closet, from which she extracted a shocking-pink silk robe and covered herself.

  "You've just about got your list handled," he noted, casual as she. "And I've got to give it to you, the yellow car is most definitely a good color for you."

  "And let's not forget the house on Lilac Hill."

  "Let's not. Interesting goals. But it's the second one that intrigues me most."

  "Ah, yes," she said with a little smile. "'Get the sheriff.'"

  "Well, you did that, didn't you?"

  She was good, but he knew her now, or he was beginning to, and he imagined he saw a flinch in those eyes.

  "Oh, yes," she agreed, cool as she pleased. "I definitely did him."

  Wasn't she amusing? "So now what?"

  "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to sleep pretty good."

  "Alone?"

  She turned away. "Always."

  Always. Didn't surprise him. What did was the hurt he felt. "Don't judge me by all the other men in your life, Cassie."

  She crossed her arms and arched a brow so high it vanished into her hair. "Meaning?"

  "Meaning we're not all scum."

  "I don't think you're scum."

  "But you don't think I'm good enough to share yourself with."

  "I shared."

  "Your body," he agreed. "There's more."

  "No."

  "You know, if you keep harboring your emotions like a miser, it's going to be a lonely life."

  "Good night, Sheriff."

  "That's it? No talking about it?" He heard his own anger and frustration but didn't care.

  "No talking about it."

  He nodded. Dressed. Walked to the bedroom door.

  "Lock up after me." When she didn't respond, he said, "Cassie."

  "Yeah, fine. I'll lock up after you."

  She waited until she heard the front door shut before she went down and bolted it. And only then did she let herself sink into a chair and cover her face.

  The damn list. He'd read it, believed she'd slept with him because of it, and the ironic thing was, she'd finally hurt him the way she'd wanted to in the beginning.

  But somehow, somewhere, things had changed. S
he didn't want him hurt, she just wanted him … to not hurt her.

  He didn't know the truth, didn't understand, and he never would.

  She couldn't tell him.

  How could she? How could she explain she'd made that list the night of her prom, when she'd been little more than a frightened teenager, coming home so destroyed, so determined to leave this town and to come back only for revenge?

  How could she tell him the catalyst for that entire event had been his own father?

  Simple.

  She couldn't.

  * * *

  It was a lifelong habit of Cassie's that when she felt troubled, she went looking for more. Trouble, that is.

  Nothing much had changed in that department. By ten o'clock the next morning she was on the lookout for a good diversion. Not easy to find in a small town, but she hadn't been a wild child for nothing.

  By noon she'd recruited Kate, who loved her idea for a "pre" show of the store. A private party, much along the lines of say … a Tupperware party.

  Except instead of kitchenware, they'd have it with naughty lingerie and toys.

  Always enthusiastic, Kate came up with a list of women to invite, which included—among others—Annie, Daisy and Diane. Cassie came up with … Stacie. She actually didn't expect Stacie to be interested, but by the next night, despite the hastily thrown together party, her neighbor came an hour early, flushed with excitement, waving her checkbook.

  Diane was right behind her, grinning from ear to ear. "Hey, babe, let us in."

  "You're … early," Cassie said, blocking their way. She couldn't let them in yet, she had a ton to do.

  "We came to help." Stacie craned her neck, trying to see around Cassie. "Come on, let us in."

  But she wasn't ready. And she didn't need help. She never needed help. Besides Kate would be here any second now, and—

  "Don't make us beg," Stacie said. "We want to help."

  "Ah, jeez. Okay."

  "You know, normally Will pales when I go shopping," Diane said about her husband as she gently pushed Cassie aside so they could enter the store. "But I told him I think you're selling naughty stuff and he got all excited. He actually told me to go for broke." The redheaded thirty-something grinned like a newlywed, making Cassie actually … yearn?

  That made no sense, she never coveted what other women had, especially when it came to marriage. Being stuck with the same man every night for the rest of her life, cooking his meals, folding his clothes?

  No, thank you.

  And yet … she couldn't help but wonder. What would it be like to have a man on your side, forever? For a moment she closed her eyes and tried to picture it. The image she came up with was a potbellied man with a cigar hanging out of his mouth and a remote control in his hand as he lay on the sofa shouting out orders for her to follow.

  Pass.

  Then the image faded and was replaced with the tall, dark, unbearably sexy Tag. No potbelly. No cigar. Nothing but hot eyes and a hot body, and a voice that assured her she was the only woman on the planet.

  Ha! As if that would ever happen. Not after the other night, when he'd misunderstood why she'd had sex with him. When she'd let him misunderstand.

  "Oh, Cassie…" Stacie grinned as she looked around. "This is wonderful."

  "Oh, yeah, it is," Diane said. And before Cassie knew it, all the work was done. In half the time.

  It allowed her mind to wander. Right to Tag. She'd been feeling a little raw ever since he'd left her bed, so she'd been careful to keep her car under the speed limit. She hadn't answered her phone. She'd hidden out in the store with the shades drawn while working.

  That Tag hadn't found a way past those barriers only made them all the more important.

  And now the shop was filling with women. Young, old, in between—including Mrs. Wilkens!—all curious about the famed Kate and Cassie, and even more curious about Bare Essentials.

  But it was the oddest thing … from the moment she'd opened the door to Diane and Stacie, to passing out wine and laughing as the women got a charge out of ordering the most outrageous things of their lives, Cassie never felt one ounce of animosity from any of them.

  Not a single one.

  Was it really possible Pleasantville had urbanized? Accepted change? Grown up? Well, at least some of it had.

  * * *

  "I think we were a hit," Kate said in disbelief hours later as they cleaned up. "Do you have any idea how much money we made tonight?"

  Cassie shook her head, still in shock. "They like us, Kate. They really like us."

  "Yeah. We're going to make it, aren't we?"

  Cassie looked into Kate's eyes and realized her cousin had been just as unsettled about being in town as she herself had been. "A Tremaine woman always lands on her feet. You know that."

  "Sometimes it's a long fall first."

  "You deserve this, Kate."

  "So do you. I love you, Cassie."

  Cassie hated getting sentimental, but she'd never been able to refuse Kate. "I love you, too."

  And later, when she left the shop long after Kate had, walking slowly to her car lost in thought, she was still marveling at the entire evening.

  Until a movement in the shadows on the other side of the parking lot made her glance over.

  Her heart stopped.

  Her everything stopped.

  She could have sworn she'd just seen Pete standing there against the building, staring at her from behind the cloud of his cigarette. But that was impossible. She'd called her agent just that morning and had been told Pete was thought to have gone to L.A. and was probably working under an alias.

  Still… She quickly slipped into her car, locked the doors, and took off out of the parking lot, craning her neck to see behind her, but she didn't see him again.

  Real or Memorex? She had no idea, and though she wasn't the hysterical type, she drove past her house and headed straight toward Kate's. Her cousin would gladly spare a couch, no problem.

  Yet she drove past Kate's, too.

  And ten minutes later found herself in front of one certain Sheriff Sean Taggart's house.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  Though it was well past midnight, Tag heard the car. He had an ear for such things, and even before his mind dispatched the information on the make and model, his body knew.

  He had a feeling his body would always know. She couldn't see him. On the hammock between two trees in the vast acreage of his front yard, his still nearly full beer balanced on his chest, Tag didn't turn his head to look, but just stayed where he was, studying the night passing him by.

  Cassie stayed where she was, too, running the Porsche for a long time, and with each moment that passed, Tag just concentrated on the beauty around him.

  He wanted her to go away.

  He wanted her to find him.

  And then she shut off the engine. Got out of her car. He heard the click-clicking of her heels as she sauntered up his walk toward his porch and wondered what she was wearing to go with those heels.

  A sexy little sundress designed to destroy his brain cells?

  Skintight, hip-hugging jeans riding so low he'd wonder about the laws of gravity?

  He wouldn't look. Why torture himself? It wasn't as if she'd let him have her again. Nope, she'd crossed him right off her list and out of her life.

  And he was so fine with that. Hell, he had a list of his own. And she was most definitely not even on it. She wasn't sweet, or even especially kind. She would never put his needs first.

  She wasn't ever going to love him, not the way he wanted to be loved.

  She knocked on his front door. No soft, timid knock for this woman. Despite the late hour and the fact there were no lights on in the house, she rapped her knuckles against the wood with authority.

  "What if I'd been sleeping?" he asked lazily, and let out a not-so-nice smile when she shrieked in surprise.

  "Tag … you scared me half to death," she
breathed, stepping off the porch, probably sinking her heels into his grass as she came toward him. "What are you doing out here?"

  "Well, now, that's my question to you." He didn't get up, didn't even look at her, just kept his head tipped back, staring at the night sky.

  "Yeah." She let out a breath, and in it he heard everything he'd heard in her voice. Nerves. Loneliness. Fear.

  And damn it, it was that last that got to him. With a sigh he left the hammock and took his first good look at her since that late, late night in her bedroom when she'd reminded him why he should have stayed away from her in the first place. She was wearing silky-looking pants that were indeed doing the gravity-defying, hip-hugging thing. A matching blouse with cutouts teased him with glimpses of her skin. She looked like a million bucks, and if he hadn't known about her humble beginnings, he'd never believe it.

  But it was the expression she wore that stabbed right through his resentment in a heartbeat. "What's the matter? Something's happened."

  "Oh." She lifted a shoulder. "I was just out for a drive."

  Uh-huh. "You're scared."

  "Are you kidding?" She let out a laugh and lifted her hair off her neck, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. "I just wanted a piece of the night. It seems cooler here at your house. Do you have anything to drink?"

  So they were going to play it that way. Fine. He handed her his still-cold beer. Lifting it in a toast, she tipped her head back and drank. Licking her lips, she looked him over, from his bare chest to his loose sweat bottoms, to his bare feet. "Having trouble sleeping?"

  Hell, yes. "No."

  "Miss me?"

  Hell, yes. "No."

  "Why, Sheriff, you lie nearly as good as I do." Setting down the drink, she reached out and ran a finger over his shoulder, down a pec. "Wonder if letting off a little steam might help the both of us."

  "Is that what you're doing?" he asked as her finger trailed down his bare belly and toyed with the string of his sweats. "Letting off steam?"

  "You have a problem with that?"

  His body sure as hell didn't. He'd gone hard at just the sound of her voice. "If that's all it is."

  "What else would it be?"