by Lisa Plumley
She peered through the open carriage house doors, searching the night for her friends. Luke was relieved she wasn’t driving herself, especially given the state she was in.
“You’re getting a head start, then.”
He inclined his head toward her drink. She seemed to interpret the gesture as a request for her to drain the whole thing in several impressive swallows. She plunked her empty glass on his workbench, exhaling in satisfaction like Barney on The Simpsons—after he’d quaffed a pint of Duff beer.
“You could say that. I figured I was justified in having a few pre-cocktail cocktails, what with Parker calling to tell me my job at Enchanté was kaput, and all.”
Luke stilled. “Something happened to your showgirl job? I thought they were holding it for you in case you came back.”
“They were. Were being the operative word.”
“But you’re the second-lead dancer.”
“Not anymore. I got cut.” Breezily, she waved off the news. “Whacked. Booted. Dumped. Whatever you want to call it. The upshot is, my contract wasn’t renewed. I won’t be dancing in Vegas again anytime soon.”
She shivered, suddenly looking vulnerable. Luke could have kicked himself. He should have known there was something more going on. In all the time he’d known Josie, she’d never guzzled anything stronger than an occasional beer.
He hauled her in his arms. “Damn, Josie. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She wiggled against him, determined—it seemed—not to accept his sympathy. “I’ve still got Blue Moon, right? If I didn’t have this place, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Luke froze. Her words settled in his gut like lead. She wouldn’t still have Blue Moon. Not for long.
“You could always dance with another show,” he said. “Another revue.”
She didn’t seem to notice he’d purposely avoided mentioning her dance school plans in Donovan’s Corner.
“Probably not. The timing’s bad.” She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “I missed most of the auditions while I was here baking cupcakes and getting my butt pinched.”
Concerned, Luke tilted her chin up. Her chipper delivery seemed seriously at odds with her crestfallen expression. No sign of tears…but that didn’t mean they weren’t in there somewhere. Drowning in pink liquor.
“Don’t tell me there’s no butt pinching at auditions,” he heard himself say with mock severity. “You could’ve been multitasking.”
It was a lame thing to say. But it brought a smile to her face, all the same.
“Very funny, wise guy. You’re just sorry you’re not the one who did the pinching.”
“Oh, yeah? It’s not too late. Come here.”
The instant his hand made contact with her derrière, she squirmed away, shrieking with laughter. She clattered across the carriage house floor, predictably agile in three-inch heels.
The realization only made him feel worse. Josie was made to strut her stuff—to dance like there was no tomorrow. Coming here had wrecked her past…and it wasn’t doing her future any favors, either. Thanks to him.
“Hey.” He grabbed her arm, gazing into her upturned, laughing face. “I’ve got to tell you something.”
“Oooh. Something big, bad, and serious, I’ll bet.”
He nodded, needing his somber demeanor to wipe the goofy grin off her face. Christ, this was hard. Now that the moment had come, Luke wanted nothing better than to pretend none of this was happening. But he couldn’t.
A man wasn’t a man if he couldn’t shoulder the hard times.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s serious.”
“Save it.” Oblivious to his struggle, Josie flung her arms to the side. She twirled in place, her dress glittering in the shop lights. “Tonight’s for cutting loose!”
“I mean it, Josie.” He was a jerk for telling her now, when she was least equipped to handle it. But given the circumstances, waiting any longer would be worse. “There’s something you need to know.”
“Don’t be a buzzkill. I’m going to make another cocktail.” Buoyant and graceful, she grabbed her glass. “You want one?”
“It’s about Blue Moon,” he persisted.
She frowned. At that moment, headlights swept the drive, illuminating the lower level of the carriage house with their glare. Luke held up his hand to shield his eyes, swearing beneath his breath. Her friends’ timing couldn’t have been worse.
A low-slung Jetta idled in the drive. Its engine chugged as though it was all it could manage to ferry around that much laughter, lipstick, and perfume. Dance music poured from a sound system that probably cost half as much as the car.
“Yoo-hoo! Josie!”
“Get out here, girl!”
“Step away from the hunk,” intoned a female voice.
Josie laughed. “Whoops, that’s my ride! Gotta go.”
Abandoning her cocktail glass, she skipped across the carriage house. She pressed her mouth to his. Her gaze met—and held—his with surprising coherence.
Fleetingly, Luke wondered about that. Had some of what he’d been trying to say sunk in?
“Thanks for being there for me. That means a lot,” she said. “Especially tonight.”
Before he could reply, Josie let out a crazy feminine whoop. She discoed her way to the car. Two breaths later, she jetted away in a flurry of laughter and gravel-spitting tires.
The only remaining sounds were crickets chirping. His fluorescent work light buzzing. And the harsh swearword Luke released next. It sounded a hell of a lot less peaceful than the first two sounds did.
Alone, he stepped to his worktable. He picked up Josie’s forgotten glass and turned it over in his hand. It felt cool, faintly sticky. One edge still bore the imprint of her pink lipstick. He thought of her shining face, thought of her lips against his…thought of the screwed-up mess that awaited them both.
Swearing, Luke smashed the tumbler against the carriage house wall. Then he grabbed TJ’s PDA-turned-cell-phone and headed upstairs.
Chapter Eighteen
Surrounded by a thumping beat, lots of barhopping bodies, and all her old friends, Josie did her best to let her hair down at Bubba’s. She talked. She laughed. She drank margaritas and danced with her friends…danced the way she had before she’d ever heard of Enchanté or chorus lines or showgirls—with flailing arms and gyrating hips and moves copied straight from MTV videos, just as she had at seventeen.
Nothing had changed in this part of Donovan’s Corner. Josie had been underage when she’d left town, officially too young to hang out in bars. But like every other teenager in the area, she’d spent her share of time at the place anyway, waiting for her parents to finish up a pair of post-work drinks or for her grandfather to wind up a game of darts.
It had been on Bubba’s pool table that Josie had first learned the game; in Bubba’s back room that she’d been dealt her virgin hand of poker. At the time, being admitted to Bubba’s smoky, beer-soaked atmosphere had made her feel worldly. Adult. Slightly bad.
And tonight? Tonight it still did. Which was perfect, because those were exactly the feelings she’d been looking for—especially bad. Bubba’s was the ideal launching pad for the rebellion she had in mind. After all, rebellion was what everyone expected of her anyway.
I always knew that girl was up to no good. Never was, never will be.
Beside her, her friend Brandi hoisted a Jack Daniels shot.
“To Josie!” she said.
“To Josie!” everyone echoed, raising their own drinks.
Josie drank, pounding her margarita glass on the table with gusto. She didn’t know why she’d waited so long to reconnect with everyone. She guessed that until now, a part of her had felt that coming home to Donovan’s Corner was only temporary. Now, despite her difficulties in starting up her dance school, she knew she was here for good.
On Monday, she’d renew her efforts to gain the town’s support. Heck, she’d redouble them, she promised herself. But tonight…. Tonight she int
ended to forget all her troubles.
“Another round?” her friend Kim asked.
“Absolutely!” Josie replied.
The band kicked into a new song. All Josie’s friends squealed in recognition. “Let’s dance!”
She headed for Bubba’s minuscule dance floor, her shoes peeling from the coating of sticky spilled beer she encountered with every step. Conscious of the gazes on her as she passed by, Josie smiled and chatted. She didn’t care who thought her dancing was too wild or her dress was too skimpy. Tonight she just wanted to feel like herself again.
Waving her arms overhead, she danced with Brandi and Kim and the rest of her friends, all in a group. They didn’t care who watched, didn’t care how many men tried to horn in on the fun. They only laughed and shimmied until a slow song started, then decamped to their table for another round.
Josie sipped her margarita, listening to Brandi and Kim rank a crew of flannel-shirted construction workers from one to ten. She sighed. Was this as scandalous as it got? Girl-on-girl dancing, man-ogling, and tequila? This didn’t do justice to I always knew that girl was up to no good.
Maybe for someone like Jenna this would constitute crazy bad-girl behavior. But for Josie? For Josie, it barely qualified. Especially given how scandalous she was supposed to be.
She remembered breaking the rules being a lot more fun than this. Remembered the thrill of dodging curfew, the excitement of staying out late, the slightly dangerous allure of knowing that anything could happen before sunrise.
Putting down her margarita, Josie scanned the bar. Now that the shock value of her risqué dress had worn off, her presence here wasn’t even raising eyebrows. She didn’t know why she’d struggled so hard to be respectable until now.
But there was no getting around it. Tonight she craved freedom. Needed it. Usually, this restless feeling sent her down the highway in her convertible, headed toward a new adventure. But now she was stuck. Stuck in Donovan’s Corner.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar shaggy-haired man edge through the crowded bar, a blond woman at his side. TJ and his date, Amber. Smiling, Josie waved to them.
That was when it hit her.
She was wasting her time with a who-cares? rebellion like hanging out at Bubba’s. She needed something bigger, badder, more outrageous. Something like….having a torrid fling with her tattooed, hard-bodied handyman.
Yeah. That was perfect. What was she waiting for?
Leaning toward her friend Tanya, the night’s designated driver, Josie cupped her hand around her mouth. “Can you give me a ride back to my place, please? I’m going to call it a night.”
There were murmurs of protest and plenty of good-bye hugs. But ten minutes later, Josie was on her way. Blue Moon awaited, and along with it…Luke.
He was awake when she got there—but just barely. Rumpled, shirtless, and barefoot, Luke answered her knock at his apartment door looking deliciously relaxed…and a little surprised to see her standing there. Josie dropped her purse and drew in a deep breath, eager to unleash a little pent-up rebellious energy with him. The sooner the better.
“What’s up?” he asked. “Back already?”
In the background, the TV cast flickering light on his sofa. Luke must have muted the sound, because all Josie could hear were crickets chirping outside, far away…and the pounding of her heart. Now that she was here, she felt a little nervous.
But nervous was for non-rebellious, non-showgirl types. Not her. She was brave and bad and on the verge of seducing her very own handyman hunk.
“I got bored with my big night out,” she said.
Coming here had been right. She knew it. She stepped inside, feeling assured by the masculinity and coziness all around her…and by the all-out scrumptiousness of the man before her.
Luke’s jeans hung low on his hips, displaying lots of bare skin and the perfect amount of chest hair. He smelled of soap and shaving cream. Apparently, her rough-and-ready mechanic had showered and shaved while she’d been gone.
That was convenient. No razor burn to mar her rebellion, her taste of freedom, her little bit of cutting loose before going back to respectability. Josie could hardly wait.
“That’s too bad.” Seeming vaguely confused, he glanced behind her at the empty threshold. “You were looking forward to your girls’ night.”
“I figure there’ll be compensations to cutting out early.” With a secret smile, Josie dropped her sandals beside her purse. Then she edged the door shut with her hip. She turned the dead bolt. “For instance…this.”
Luke was busy staring at the dead bolt in puzzlement when she grabbed him. Feeling wild and seductive and free, Josie pushed him against the closed door and kissed him. He tasted of toothpaste and freedom and everything she needed. This was even better than she’d imagined.
“And…this.”
Breathlessly, she pressed herself against him, letting her body say everything she’d never dared to. Like I want you. I need you. I’m crazy, crazy, crazy in love with you. And Josie felt crazy, too. She felt wild with hunger and need and all the yearning she’d tried to deny for so long.
She’d wanted Luke for years…forever.
“And…yes…this.”
She kissed him again, her tongue meeting his as she brought her hand to his fly. Luke jerked. He moaned into her mouth as she found the rigid length of him and stroked him through his jeans.
“Oh, God.” He broke off their kiss, his mouth open as he pressed his cheek to hers. “Josie…. What are you doing?”
“Everything I should have done a long time ago.” She leaned back and gazed into his eyes, wanting to show him exactly how much she meant it. “Everything I’ve wanted to do. Everything.”
Shaking his head, he caught her hands in his. He maneuvered them away from the door.
“You’re still drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
But as he released her and crossed the room, he sounded hopeful—hopeful that she did know exactly what she was doing. Josie smiled. At the least, Luke deserved credit for not letting a tipsy woman ravish him…for not taking advantage.
On the other hand, if she was still drunk, that little buzz had given her the courage to do this. The courage to finally let loose everything in her heart. She couldn’t be sorry.
“I don’t?” She gave him a teasing arch of her brow, then followed him to the sofa. She wrapped one arm around his middle to hold him close, then used her other hand to stroke him again, more boldly this time. “I don’t know what I’m doing?”
He closed his eyes, all his muscles taut. “Josie…stop.”
It would have been a more effective warning if he hadn’t sounded so raspy, so distracted…so sexy. She knew she was affecting him, and that knowledge was powerful stuff. Josie wanted more. More.
“But you feel so good,” she murmured. After another caress, she pushed him on the sofa, then straddled him. Her shimmery dress puddled around her thighs. “Why don’t I keep going for a while? You can decide if I know what I’m doing later, after you’ve had more experience to judge with.”
“This isn’t….” Luke swallowed, his throat working with the effort. His gaze, so intensely blue, lifted from her bare thighs to her face. Looking as though he were making a supreme sacrifice, he said, “We should talk first.”
That was funny. He sounded as though he could barely speak.
“Okay.” Dreamily, Josie trailed her hand up his broad chest, enjoying the rush of having so much pure masculine power at her fingertips. She stroked his tattoos. Kissed his neck. “Mmmm. You taste good, too. Why don’t I just keep touching you for a while? You can talk, and I’ll listen.”
Smiling to herself, she rubbed against him, then went on kissing his neck. Luke’s whole body went rigid. He moaned again, more loudly this time. It turned out that her big, tough handyman liked having his earlobes nibbled. Imagine that. Fortunately, Josie loved tasting every available inch of him. Every single delectable inch.
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br /> “You know, this dress is so thin,” she remarked, trying to sound offhanded. Given the yearning building inside her with every second, she doubted she succeeded. “It feels almost as if I’m not wearing anything at all…doesn’t it?”
To demonstrate, she pushed her breasts against him. Her nipples leaped to attention, sensitive and responsive. Enjoying the subtle drag of her breasts across his bare chest once more, she sucked in a breath. It was true. Her dress felt too whisper-thin to offer much resistance.
“Ah.” He curled his fingers into the sofa cushion, strong and male and determined—apparently—not to touch her in return. “You’re killing me.”
“You know what they say.” A kiss. “What a way to go.”
Luke gave her a wary look. “Are you sure you’re not still drunk?”
Considering that, she paused in the midst of nibbling his lower lip, then leaned back just far enough that she could test the fit of his jeans again. She encountered the hard, hot length of him. Yes. Her next caress came coupled with a look of wide-eyed innocence.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about before? Drinking?” she asked. “You did say you thought we should talk.”
“Uhhh…” He pulsed beneath her stroking hand.
“It’s all right. We can talk later.” Fighting the temptation to undo his fly and really make him moan, Josie brought both hands to his face instead. She framed his rugged features in her palms, savoring the sight of the man she loved. “Right now, I have other ideas. Because you know…anything can happen before sunrise.”
His eyes widened. Josie nearly laughed aloud with giddiness. This was more like it. This rebellion, this wickedness, this love. Victory was in her reach now. There was no turning back from here.
“For instance,” she said, offering him another kiss in encouragement, “at some time before sunrise, you could find yourself touching me. Like this.”
