Sweet Talkin' Lover

by Tracey Livesay

  “If you mean business attire, then yes. I don’t think my bosses at Endurance would approve of me showing up to work in yoga pants and a tank top.”

  He almost groaned aloud at the picture she presented. He’d approve.

  Very much so.

  “Since it turns out you’ll be here for longer than you anticipated, you may want to pick up some other clothes. You won’t be comfortable walking around like you’re expected in the board room any second.”

  Since she’d yet to easily agree to anything he said, he was surprised when she said, “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll talk to Gwen.”

  “No need. I’d be happy to take you.”

  “Does this town run itself? Don’t you have other things you need to attend to?”

  “You can keep saying it, but I’m not going anywhere. As long as you’re here, you’re the most important person in my world.”

  The levity with which he intended the words were lost when they hit the air. His statement hovered weighty and sentimental between them, and a large part of him feared their import and prescience. He rushed to save their previous camaraderie.

  “Plus, if you’re with the mayor, you get the mayor discount,” he said.

  She treated him to some side eye. “That’s not a real thing.”

  No, it wasn’t. “Of course it is.”

  He pulled up in front of Sinclair House and before he could shift the gear into park, she tossed a “Thanks for the ride” over her shoulder and hurried from the car.

  Damn, she was fast.

  The house practically glowed in the moonlight, the surrounding trees and shadows adding to its old-world appeal. He’d always loved it. When he was younger, and before Gwen had turned it into a bed-and-breakfast, he remembered walking through most of the public rooms during the town’s holiday candlelight tour.

  He caught up with Caila on the porch. “So, will you go with me?”

  She exhaled and released her hold on the screen door, letting it shut. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but let me save you the effort. You can’t influence my evaluation. If that’s your plan, you can keep your invitations. My report will be unbiased and based only on the facts.”

  Wyatt knew there was no such thing as an unbiased report, and he planned to do everything in his power to ensure his town and the plant were seen in the best light possible.

  “Just what are you accusing me of, Ms. Harris?” he asked, pressing a hand to his chest and laying it on thick with his Southern drawl. “I’m talkin’ about a lil’ shopping and enjoyin’ a wholesome football game. Spendin’ some time together. Any improper presumptions you’ve made says more about your intentions than mine.”

  She studied him, her face a blank mask, before her lips began to twitch, her eyes flashing beneath the porch lights. She pointed a finger at him. “You’re too charming for your own good.”

  “First, you said I was hot. Now you’re calling me charming. Are you sure you’re not the one trying to influence me?”

  Her bark of genuine amusement warmed him, and continued to thaw her, her posture relaxing, her face open, her grin wide. He’d been attracted to her from the moment he laid eyes on her, but damn . . . she’d never looked more beautiful.

  She shoved his shoulder. “You wish.”

  He grabbed her retreating hand. “Yeah, I do.”

  He stroked his thumb across her palm and her eyes widened. So did his.

  What was he doing?

  This was a bad idea. He was tempting fate. But on that quiet street, standing on the porch, with the air and fall scents swirling around them, they could’ve been the only two people in the world. He felt like he was back in high school, dropping his date off, wondering if he dared try for a kiss.

  He dared.

  He tugged gently on her hand, prepared to stop if he felt any resistance.

  There was none.

  She gazed up at him, her dark eyes soft, and his heart began to pound a frenzied beat in his chest. He knew all the reasons he shouldn’t do this, but none of them mattered. He wanted her with a blind irrationality that wasn’t helped by the blood in his brain conducting a mass exodus southward.

  “Wyatt,” she whispered and heat flooded him at the way she said his name. He yearned to hear it in all iterations: in a sigh as he feathered kisses along her jaw, on a gasp as he flicked and teased her nipples to hard buds, in a yell as she trembled and came apart in his arms.

  Her fingers squeezed his and he inhaled sharply, breathing in more of her heady scent. Mesmerized, he stared at her mouth. Watched as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Shivered as he imagined his tongue doing the same—

  The screen door screeched open.

  “I was just hanging out and I thought I heard—” Kevin Sinclair broke off, his eyes narrowing, a flush blooming on his round cheeks.

  Goddammit!

  One minute they were sharing personal body spaces and the next she’d practically long-jumped away from him. Frustration coiled in his belly, and he turned angry eyes on the intruder, who swallowed and took a step back.

  “Sorry, Mayor. I didn’t mean to disturb your conversation.”

  Fuck! Wyatt raked a hand through his hair. Now he was scaring his younger constituents. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was not the boy’s fault. If anything, Kevin had probably done him a favor.

  “No worries, Kevin,” he said, forcing a smile. “I haven’t seen you since this summer. You excited about starting classes in January?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kevin said, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Wyatt and Caila, who stood with her back to them on the other side of the porch. “Is everything okay?”

  “Kevin, what are you doing? Who are you talking to? Oh! Mayor Bradley. Ms. Harris,” Gwen said, appearing behind her son.

  Wyatt was amazed at the sudden shift in mood. The desire that had threatened to overwhelm him only moments before had abruptly vanished in the strained silence. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The desire was still there, hidden under layers and layers of awkwardness.

  Caila was the first to breach the uncomfortable moment. She nodded in his general direction as she made her way to the door. “Yes, well. Thank you, Mayor Bradley, for the ride home.”

  It had been Wyatt. Now they were back to Mayor Bradley.

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow after lunch and take you downtown.”

  She paused, and for the first time since their near kiss, she looked at him. “I told you, it’s not necessary.”

  “I know. Sooo . . . one?”

  Caila shook her head and looked skyward. “You know what? You win. One o’clock is fine. Can I go in now? There’s a hot shower calling my name. Good night, everyone.”

  She slipped into the house.

  Kevin looked like he’d been punched in the stomach.

  Wyatt coughed and hid a smile behind his fist. Poor sap. But he didn’t stand a chance. Caila. In a hot shower. Hell, he was having the same reaction. The only difference was he had the experience of more years to appear cool.

  Kevin blinked rapidly, then cleared his throat. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I was playing Fortnite with Gary and Sean, so . . .”

  He disappeared, leaving Wyatt and Gwen staring at each other in amusement.

  “I’m looking forward to the big game tomorrow night,” Gwen said. “We should beat Highland Point. They’ve sucked for years.”

  “You never want to lose your homecoming game, that’s why they always schedule a team they know they can beat.”

  “I see you’ve met Ms. Harris. She seems like a nice lady.” Gwen clasped her hands in front of her. “If only she wasn’t here to shut down the plant.”

  He felt an unexpected churning in his stomach. “Is that what she said?”

  “No, but everyone in town is buzzing.”

  “That they are.” He bounced a curled knuckle against his lower lip.

  “Chro-Make
has been a vibrant part of Bradleton for decades,” Gwen said, pressing her thumb and middle finger against her temple. “I never imagined a time when it wouldn’t be here.”

  Maybe that was the problem. They should have. For lots of reasons, they shouldn’t have expected the manufacturing plant to always be the backbone of their town’s economy. Businesses downsized or closed. Until now, they’d been mercifully spared. Shouldn’t his family have been looking ahead to the future? To find another way to ensure Bradleton’s fiscal health?

  “Was there anything else?”

  “I’m sure you have a lot to do, Mayor, so I won’t keep you. Good night.”

  Gwen waved and headed into the house, leaving Wyatt to wonder if he’d be able to get through the night without visions of Caila’s wet body running wild through his head.

  Chapter Nine

  The sun shone through the curtains in Caila’s room and spilled onto the window seat where she sat. She drew her bare legs to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her cheek on the tops of her knees.

  How had she allowed that to happen?

  Oh. Right.

  It had started when she’d called her boss after that disastrous meeting at the factory.

  “What is it?” Kendra’s tone had been brisk, as if she’d only had a second to deal with this issue before moving on to the numerous others on her itinerary.

  “Chro-Make is in turnaround.”

  Silence. Then—

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly. And the man who deals with the financial side of the business is on vacation.”

  “This is unbelievable!”

  “They’re working with a sparse staff and I don’t have access to the information I need.”

  “Of course.” Kendra sighed. “And anything helpful you did gather during turnaround could be attributed to the low attendance.”

  “Right.”

  “How much longer will this take?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Two weeks? That’s a hell of a complication!”

  “I know. The timing is extremely inconvenient. I have a call in to the travel office. I told them I can fly out this evening, so I should be back in the office no later than tomorrow afternoon.”

  “The office? You’re not coming back here.”

  “But there’s nothing for me to do in Bradleton until the finance guy returns.”

  “Well, there’s nothing for you here, either.”

  An icy blast of dread rendered her immobile. “Kendra, I thought you said—”

  “I haven’t changed my mind. You’re not fired. But the only thing you can do to help your cause is to return with a report that will give us the ammunition we need to break Flair’s contract with Chro-Make.”

  “It’s two weeks! What do I do in the meantime?”

  “Something is going on with you. Take this time to figure out what it is.”

  She tried to laugh it off. “Kendra, I’m fine.”

  “You may be, but there are people doing their level best to make it look as if you aren’t.”

  Caila frowned. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. They’re careful to exclude my people. But they’re talking. You’re on the board’s radar for the promotion. Don’t give them any reasons to vote against you.”

  “This is crazy! I had a few drinks at an event and participated in an impromptu karaoke concert. I haven’t acted more out of line than any other executive! Two years ago, Colin McHugh got drunk at the holiday party and ended up pissing on everyone’s coat in the coat check closet because he mistakenly thought it was the bathroom. And he’s still here.”

  “You’re right. He’s still here. In his same job. He didn’t get fired, but he hasn’t been promoted. And he never will. Is that what you want?”

  “No.”

  “Then take my advice. Work on your issues. Because if you do manage to get back on track, you’ve cashed in your second chance card. I won’t tolerate another lapse in your job performance. I can’t. No matter how much I personally wish otherwise.”

  Appalled by the turn her life had taken, and not sure what to do next, she’d walked aimlessly around the town before ending up at a bar. Looking back on it now, it probably wasn’t her best idea, considering a few too many drinks contributed to how she’d ended up in Bradleton.

  She hadn’t gotten drunk. Thankfully. But what was her excuse? How did she explain her behavior?

  She’d almost kissed the mayor of Bradleton. Almost. And yet her body still strummed as if they had actually done it . . . and more. She couldn’t seem to block out the memory of the heat from his hard body so close to hers, the brush of his thumb against her skin, the dark shadow of his lashes on his cheekbones as his eyes closed and he leaned forward—

  She shook her head. Nothing had gone right since Pop-Pop’s death. She’d lost her focus at work and had almost lost her job. She’d been sent to Bradleton with one goal: Gather information for a report.

  That’s it.

  And now, because of that same lack of discipline, she was on the verge of ruining the second chance she’d been given. What was she doing? There were too many entries in the “con” column for her to justify getting involved with this man or even daydreaming about doing it. No matter how much she wanted to. The smart move was to keep her distance.

  She was here to do her job.

  At least she was trying.

  She picked up her phone to call Ava for some advice, the ringback tone trilling twice before she remembered the three-hour time difference instead of the usual two. She hung up immediately, deciding not to leave a message. She should be able to figure this out on her own.

  Wyatt and Nate Olshansky had made it clear she wouldn’t get the reports she needed for a couple of weeks. Kendra hadn’t said where Caila needed to work on these so-called issues. Caila didn’t need to stay in Bradleton the entire time. It was probably best if she didn’t. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about constantly testing her faulty willpower against her strong attraction to Wyatt. She should cancel their plans for later in the day and leave. Nothing was keeping her here.

  The fact that she experienced a pang of disappointment was strong evidence in favor of putting some distance between them.

  No matter what she decided, she would go crazy if she remained in this room. Exiting, she headed to the kitchen, a beautiful mixture of old-fashioned appeal and modern conveniences. The golden yellow walls, gleaming hardwood floors, and warm incandescent lighting created an atmosphere that invited people to relax and stay for a while. She wandered over to the refrigerator—cleverly refaced with a wooden surround that matched the floors—intending to retrieve a bottled water.

  There, sitting on the shelf, was a platter loaded with an assortment of cheesecake bars. Her mouth watered.

  “Good morning! Or rather, good afternoon,” Gwen said, coming into the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

  Caila spun around. “You scared me.”

  Gwen’s gaze fell to Caila’s hand. Caila looked down, shocked to see a pumpkin cheesecake brownie bar clutched in her fingers.

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend . . . it looked good, but I swear I wasn’t—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Everything I make is for our guests.” Gwen gingerly removed the treat from Caila’s grasp. “Let me get you a plate.”

  “I really shouldn’t.”

  Gwen didn’t even bother with a response, a hint of a smile curving her lips. She went to the antique glazed cabinet and began getting out dishes and utensils.

  Caila shuffled over to the center island and sank onto the country-style wooden barstool, placing her cell phone facedown beside her on the granite countertop.

  I really shouldn’t.

  Who was she kidding? Considering her frame of mind, that dessert had been destined to meet her belly from the moment she’d seen it in the refrigerator. She’d need to get her ass in gear and run several miles soon to counteract the effect
s.

  Gwen handed her a napkin and plate with the pumpkin treat she’d initially tried to abscond with, then placed the entire platter on the counter. Caramel dripped off the apple crisp bars, and the cheesecake swirling on top of the pumpkin brownies was an appetizingly visual feast.

  “Can I join you?” Gwen asked.

  “Please do.”

  Gwen sat next to her and selected the apple bar. Caila took a bite of the pumpkin dessert and the flavors exploded on her tongue. The sweetness of the pumpkin and chocolate were tempered by the tartness of the cream cheese.

  Caila rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “This is amazing! You made this?”

  “I did. It’s an old family recipe.”

  “You do the recipe and your family proud. It’s delicious.”

  “Thank you.” Gwen exhaled heavily and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I want to apologize for my behavior on Wednesday.”

  Caila licked cream cheese from her thumb, still engrossed in the dessert. “What do you mean?”

  “When you first got here. I was surprised and I handled it badly. I wasn’t very professional.”

  True. But from Gwen’s perspective, Caila had arrived a day early, with no notice.

  “I was nervous. Everyone in town knows your recommendation could effectively close the plant. It’s all anyone talks about. We depend on that plant. Generations of families have worked there. Almost everybody who lives here is directly affected by it. Hell, I worked there for a while after Kevin was born.”

  “I imagine that brings a town together,” Caila said.

  “It does. And for that reason, I’d wanted to do my part to make a good impression.” Gwen slid a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “It sounds stupid, but I thought if I made a wrong move or angered you somehow, you’d take it out on the town.”

  The woman’s candidness and obvious apprehension worked to unfurl the knots in Caila’s belly, and she smiled her first real smile of the day. “Don’t worry about it. If anything, this dessert totally makes up for it!”

  “I wasn’t worried about me. I mean, I am concerned about what will happen to Bradleton if Chro-Make closes, but it occurred to me that this must be difficult for you, too. It probably feels like the whole town is against you. And while I can’t say that isn’t true, I want you to know I understand that you’re only doing your job.”