by Laura Simcox
“Need a hand?”
With a sharp intake of breath, Ivy pulled her hands to her chest, and she jerked her eyes up. Marcus stood in the kitchen, just inside the open back door, a bottle of wine dangling between his gloved fingers.
She closed her eyes for a second and breathed out. Then she glared at him. “Thanks. How did you know I needed someone to scare the shit out of me at this very moment?”
“You’re welcome. The back door was open, and I could see that you were, uh, having a moment, so I decided to help you.” Marcus chuckled as he closed the back door, set the wine on her kitchen counter, and peeled off his gloves.
She eyed him as he removed his coat and her gaze settled on the silver belt buckle, which rested above a very well-fitting crotch. Wow. Quickly, she dragged her eyes from the bulge upward to his black button-down shirt. He wore a white T-shirt underneath and the random thought crossed her mind that she loved it. It was kind of old-fashioned and…courteous. So many men didn’t wear T-shirts and their chest hair was all gross and visible under their shirts. His chest, though. The memory of curling her palms against it as he hauled her against him… She glanced away. Back toward his fly. Shit. She jerked her gaze up to his face.
“You approve?” he asked.
She shrugged, twisting her mouth to the side to hide the goofy, embarrassed grin that threatened just below the surface.
“Dinner is in my car. I’ll go get it, and then I’ll help you,” he said, still laughing as he ducked back out the door.
Gritting her teeth, she got up from the floor and swept her hands down the brand-new sweater she’d put on not a half an hour ago. Ground coffee cascaded from the front of it and bounced off her suede boots. Which were also new. Just like her lace bra and panties. She rolled her eyes. What had she been thinking, anyway? That she’d squeeze him for information and then squeeze him for real?
Calm the fuck down, Ivy. Get a grip.
Yeah, she wanted to get a grip, all right. On the front of his jeans. A nervous laugh burst out of her mouth, and she glanced toward the back door. The dome light of his car was bright and she watched him rummage in the backseat for a moment. Her gaze skimmed over the neat hairline at the back of his neck. As he reached forward his shoulders bunched.
Good God. He was gorgeous. And just like the last time he’d been in her kitchen, the day she’d rented this house, she wanted him. Really, really bad. And he’d known it, too, leading to an explosion of kissing and touching. But that couldn’t happen this time, even if that’s why he thought he was here.
She needed some answers. Answers that hadn’t been available in the record of deeds office in city hall. She strongly suspected that Marcus didn’t know any more than she did, which was the fact that the land he’d said he was buying had been sold to some company called Mustang Investments. The purchase was also the day that she’d rented this house. The day that Marcus had argued with Herman…
The car door slammed, and she turned quickly toward the counter, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the holder. She tore off a handful and was running the wad under the water when he walked back into the house and shut the door. The scent of chicken and dumplings broke through the strong coffee smell and she smiled to herself.
“Just a sec.” She wiped the table and grabbed a dish towel to dry it.
“Your grandma made it,” he said, tossing down a potholder and setting a large, familiar ceramic dish on top.
“Of course she did.” Ivy stepped around the coffee and reached for a broom next to the back door. As she did, Marcus turned and his arm bumped hers.
“Sorry.” He smiled, but he didn’t step away.
“I need the—”
“I’ll sweep.” He grabbed the broom and turned around. His gaze flicked over her breasts and then came to rest on the hammer that sat by the sink. “Just out of curiosity, what were you doing?”
“Chipping ice out of the freezer. It was really therapeutic until I pulverized my finger.”
“I see,” he said. He gave her a slow smile. A dangerous smile.
She crossed her arms. “Anyway. I’m going to change clothes, so…” She jerked her thumb toward the living room and wheeled around, closing her eyes for a second. Fuck. She made herself walk slowly through the living room and then dashed into her bedroom, shut the door, and plopped down on the bed.
With a frustrated groan she yanked down the zippers of her coffee-dusted boots and kicked them off. The sweater came next, flying over her head to land near the closet door. She looked down at her jeans. Water had spilled on them when she’d been wetting the paper towels and coffee was ground into one knee. Off they came with a sigh. Truth be told, they were on the tight side, anyway.
Her gaze darted across the rack of clothes in her closet. Most of it was work stuff. She didn’t want to go back in there in a mayor uniform. She flicked through the sweaters. No. No. Too conservative. Too faded. Too boring. There. She grabbed a lavender V-neck and threw it on. It was kind of low cut, but if she sat up straight, she’d be fine.
“Ivy?” Marcus called from the kitchen.
“Be right there!”
She yanked open a dresser drawer and shuffled through her jeans. Too blue. Too old. Those were her mom’s. Yikes. How did they get in there?
She spied a pair near the back with the tags still on. Gritting her teeth, she yanked the tag away and stepped into them, jumping a little to get them zipped. Shit. Too tight.
The wall phone in the kitchen rang. Double shit. The mayor couldn’t ignore a phone call at eight o’clock on a Friday night. There was probably something wrong. She opened the bedroom door and ran back into the kitchen to answer it. “This is Ivy,” she said breathlessly.
“Hey, babe.”
Her back slumped against the wall. “What do you want, Preston?” She felt Marcus’s eyes on her, and she glanced up. He stood on the clean floor next to the table, which was set with plates and silverware. Two wine glasses stood, filled and waiting.
Preston sighed. “You don’t have to be so snippy, Ivy. Jeez.”
“I’m busy. What work-related thing can I help you with before I sit down to dinner, which is ready?”
“Who’s there?” Preston had that petulant, suspicious tone in his voice that she was beginning to loathe.
“Don’t worry about that. Just talk.” She twirled the old-fashioned phone cord around her fingers and looked back at Marcus. He was grinning. She tried not to smile back, but she did anyway.
But then that smile was wiped right off her face with Preston’s next words. “There’s something fishy going on with Marcus Weaver. I heard the end of his little phone call in the park on Wednesday, and I got to thinking. What would he need land for? So I checked the records office this morning and saw that Herman had filed a deed. For some company called Mustang Investments.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t think Marcus is in Celebration just to invest in the downtown, Ivy.”
Damn.
She turned back to the wall and grimaced. “Thanks for the information. I really need to go.”
Preston let out an irritated gasp. “That’s it? That’s your reaction?”
“Yep.” She squeezed the phone cord. “See you on Monday.” She hung up.
Well, now she really had to talk to Marcus. No more staring at his mouth. No more lusty thoughts. She walked over to the table to sit, but before she could grab a chair, he pulled it out for her.
“You look great, Ivy,” he murmured.
“Thanks.” She waited until he sat down and then reached for her wine glass and took a gulp. “Tell me about Mustang Investments.”
He paused, his glass halfway to his firm lips. “What do you want to know?”
She stared at him. “Everything.”
He set down the glass and rubbed his jaw. His eyes became shuttered, and he started to smile.
“No.” She pointed a finger at him. “No bullshit. We have a deal, and I have every right to ask what the hell is going on. And you can sta
rt by telling me about the land. And why you chose not to tell me you don’t have it.”
The smile fell from his face, and he lifted his glass, draining it. His chest rose and fell with a sigh. And then he looked at her. “Fine. Before I came to Celebration, I set up that land deal with Herman. Though it turns out that he’s more of a complete asshole than I’d thought. The day I went to sign the papers, he sold it to someone else instead.” He glanced at the wall and a muscle jerked in his cheek.
“Mustang Investments, right?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Is that what Preston called about?”
“Yes. But I already knew that. He just doesn’t know that I knew. And we’ve got to figure something out before he starts blabbing shit all around town.”
Marcus closed his eyes and groaned.
“Here. Eat.” Ivy pulled the lid from Gramma’s pot and lifted a serving spoon. She put a steaming portion onto his plate and served herself. “So let me guess, for the past week you’ve been trying to find more land.”
He sighed and picked up a fork. “I tried that for about two days. There isn’t anything else that’s suitable. There’s not much available, and what there is doesn’t meet the requirements for a Megamart. Not enough room for the parking lot.”
Ivy took a bite and nodded. “Okay. So what are you going to do? Let it go?”
He frowned. “Of course not. I’ve been saving to build my own store for years. I’ll find a way.”
Well, damn. “What if you can’t?”
“I will,” he retorted.
She shook her head. “Don’t take it out on me. You’re the one who pretended like everything was under control. Did it even occur to you to tell me the truth?”
“Well, I didn’t lie to you.” He stood up and grabbed the wine bottle from the counter to refill his glass.
“Technically, no. You didn’t. But you’ve tried to manipulate me. Don’t think I’m not aware of that. Isn’t that why you’ve put the moves on me? Which didn’t work, by the way.”
He sat down, his legs splayed to the side. He put an elbow on the table and rested his chin on the back of his hand. His eyes glittered. “Now who’s lying?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swallowed a mouthful of wine. “So what do you suggest we do about Preston?”
“Ignore him. Everyone else does.”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “Do you want people to start gossiping before the town council meeting next week? Before you reveal the Megamart?”
“Before we reveal it,” he corrected. “I don’t really care. If it were up to me, the Megamart would have been public information from the start.”
“What?” She threw her fork down. “You told me you wanted to put it off a week. And now I know it’s because you didn’t have the land.”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was pissed at Herman. And it’s hard to admit, but I panicked a bit.”
“You panicked? Cool-as-a-cucumber Marcus? I find that hard to believe.”
“I don’t always have an agenda, Ivy.” He took another sip of wine and licked the corner of his mouth.
She couldn’t help it. She looked. And under her gaze, his lips parted slightly and crooked upward in a satisfied smile. Her heart sped up. “Yes, you do have an agenda. You’re greedy.”
“No, sweetheart. I’m picky.” He leaned over the table. “And you’re afraid,” he whispered.
So that’s what he thought, did he? She wasn’t scared of him. And she’d prove it.
Folding her napkin, she got up and walked around the table, stopping just in front of his spread apart legs. She waited as he stared at her, his eyes traveling from her knees, to her hips, to her waist, and then to her breasts. His mouth opened wider. And he looked at her neck. Her lips. And when he met her eyes, a slow breath came out. But he didn’t move.
She took a small step forward. And then another. The heat of his thighs warmed her legs and she leaned in, well aware that her bra was exposed under the deep vee of her sweater. She placed her hands on his shoulders and bent her head to place a slow kiss to the side of his neck.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she whispered.
She kissed again, tasting his skin, and then up over his strong jawline, her mouth dragging against the faint stubble. When she reached his mouth, his arms wrapped around her waist. Just as she gasped, he angled his face and plunged his tongue into her mouth with a groan. Her legs buckled, and she grabbed at his shoulders, allowing him to hook his hand under the back of her knee and hitch her up.
She settled squarely on his lap, her thighs wrapped around his. She pushed closer, deepening the kiss, and his hands burned a path over her waist and underneath her sweater. She felt her bra jerk up in the front and her breasts bounce free. His mouth tore away from hers and disappeared under the sweater.
His lips closed over a nipple, and she arched her back, shocked by the liquid heat that raced through her. My God. She’d fantasized about this so many times. But it was happening so fast, too fast. And as her sweater slid up and over her arms, she squeezed his shoulders and resisted.
“Stop,” she gasped.
He let go of her nipple slowly. “Really?” His voice was muffled under the sweater.
“Yeah.” She shifted on his thighs, sucking in a breath as her crotch brushed over his rock-hard bulge.
He pulled his head out and looked at her with glazed eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Hell, no. But there’s still so much up in the air. I would feel icky afterward. I just know it.”
“I would make you feel…icky?” He leaned back in the chair, letting his hands drop from her waist.
Shit. She slid off his lap and stood up. “No. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that…I don’t know.” She paused. “There’s too much up in the air.”
“You said that already.” He folded his arms.
“Well, it’s true! And it doesn’t mean I’m scared. Or that I don’t want to…you know.”
He gave her a false smile. “So what you’re saying is that you want to ignore what’s between us until it’s convenient for you. Is that it, Mayor?”
“What I’m saying is that I don’t want to sleep with you and have it be interpreted as some type of payment for supporting your plans.” She stared at him, aching to be back in his arms, but knowing she couldn’t let herself go there.
“Is that what you think?” he asked.
“I don’t want to think it, but it’s a possibility.”
He stood up and faced her. “No it’s not. I told myself a thousand times to stay away from you. But I don’t want to. And it has nothing to do with Megamart.”
She gazed up at him. “I’d like to think—”
“Don’t think.” He lifted a hand and caressed the side of her face, and his thumb brushed over her tender bottom lip, sweeping back and forth.
Just as she was thinking about allowing her tongue to creep forward, the phone on the wall jangled loudly.
“What the fuck?” she muttered, stepping away from Marcus’s warmth. She snatched the receiver from its cradle. “This is Ivy.” She paused. “What now, Preston?”
Marcus slid behind her and snaked his arms around her waist. She tipped her head to the side, cradling the phone in her shoulder, and reached down to pry his hands away. They didn’t move. When he breathed into her hair, a shiver went down her spine. She clapped her hand over the receiver, twisting in his arms. “Stop,” she said, trying not to laugh.
He shook his head, and she noticed the mischievous gleam in his eyes. Shit. She twisted again until she was almost facing him and his left hand slid over her rib cage to settle on top of a breast.
“You’re holding my boob.” She gave into the laughter, letting her head sink onto his shoulder for a second.
He shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t put my hand there. You did.”
“Bullshit,” she said between giggles, pushing his fingers away. “I’m on the phone. Just
go…eat your dinner or something.”
Marcus sighed and wandered back toward the table, but she could still feel his gaze on her.
She’d just ignore him. Right. Like she’d even heard a word Preston had said and he was still talking.
“Preston. Preston! Stop. Now rewind and tell me at about half that speed.” She paused.
“What do you mean, a lease was signed? The announcement hasn’t even gone into the paper yet. How did we get a new business to sign up that fast?” She stood there, trying not to glance back at Marcus while Preston’s voice droned on.
“Well. Okay then. I guess I have to thank you for taking some initiative. Huh? Yeah, I’ll keep my promise to be the first customer, why wouldn’t I?” Ivy said into the receiver. Abruptly, she sucked in a breath.
“What? Oh. My. God. What were you thinking, Preston?” She let out a groan. “Just…just… Never mind.” She slammed the receiver back on to the wall.
Marcus frowned. “Problem?”
Ivy whirled around. “Hell yeah, there’s a problem. The first new business to take advantage of the challenge is a tattoo parlor.” Eyes wide, she slumped against the wall.
Marcus’s eyebrows flew up. “You cornered yourself into getting a tat? I’m going to laugh right now. Just so you know.”
“Thanks for the support,” Ivy said in a stony voice.
“Anything for you, Madam Mayor.” He chuckled.
“Bite me.”
His chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
His shoulders shook. “You sound exactly like your grandmother.”
“Okay, I know that. Ha-ha.” She cocked her head to the side. “I also know that you and my grandmother are best buds now. She told me so.”
Marcus wiped his eyes. “What?”
“Oh, don’t try to play innocent. She told me about your Pick ’n Shop escapade.”
Marcus groaned. “Colleen snaked me into playing a game of Switch, and your mom caught me within five minutes. After that, she made me hold her giant coupon book. And roll the cart. And man the calculator.”
