“There you go.”
“Uh, thanks”, she managed feebly. Shoving the gloss in her purse, she scrambled to find the door handle with quaking hands.
“Let me walk you to the—”
“No! I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” With the passenger door finally open, she carefully climbed down. “Thanks again…” Shoving the heavy door she pivoted, allowing Randall’s headlights to guide her up the weed-filled path to her front porch. Once inside she let go of the breath she’d been holding, leaning her back against the front door until her wobbly knees could support her weight.
She’d mull over the details of tonight in the morning, when the sun’s splendor focused light on what’d almost happened moments ago in Randall’s truck. She didn’t want to think about it right now. Right now she wanted her flannel pajamas and a big bowl of Cap’n Crunch. And then a good night’s sleep in her lonely king-size bed.
Chapter 10
A pounding headache and a throbbing hard-on greeted Randall the moment his weary eyes opened. Neither was an unusual occurrence, really. But the pretty brunette with eyes like the midnight sky who’d starred in his lascivious dream had certainly been a first. Lana had seeped into his unconscious mind with her plump pink lips, spellbinding curves, and fuck-me boots. Closing his eyes, he briefly replayed the vivid fantasy in his mind again.
“I want you, Randall Burns.”
Lana suddenly appeared before him, fingers twirling the ends of her long brown hair. His eyes lowered to her breasts, barely contained in a blue lace bra, down the contours of her stomach, to the shimmering rhinestone dangling from her navel.
God, help him. He was a sucker for pierced navels.
His eyes continued south, caressing the sweet curve of her feminine hips, adorned with matching panties. Honey clung to her inner thighs, glistening in the dim light. His mouth watered—eager for a taste.
She seemed to move in slow motion, her boots lazily clicking against the floor as she ambled toward him.
Tap… Tap… Tap…
His cock twitched. Ah, hell… those cowgirl boots were his undoing.
“Do you want me, too?” Her words were breathy, raw, glazed with desire.
Randall licked his lips. “God, yes.”
“How bad?”
“Really bad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Lana straddled his lap, running her red-painted fingertips up the solid wall of his chest. The sweet scent of her arousal was intoxicating, flooding his body with endorphins.
“Well, now that you have me, what are you going to do?”
Randall smirked as his fingers tugged the delicate lace blanketing her round breasts. “This…” His mouth covered her hard pink nipple, extracting a faint moan from her luscious lips as his tongue continued to tease.
“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop…”
Randall groaned, scrubbing his palm down his face.
This was a complication he didn’t need: X-rated visions of a woman he couldn’t have. Lana was Jimmy’s wife, for heaven’s sake. What kind of man lusted over his dead best friend’s woman?
Rolling out of bed, he trudged into the kitchen and reached for the bottle of whiskey beside the fridge. Foregoing a glass, he drew the bottle to his lips, swallowing a few healthy gulps of his favorite poison. It was a hangover remedy he’d stumbled upon during his stay in Steinhatchee. In fact, it’d worked so well, he hadn’t purchased a bottle of Advil since early spring.
He took another swig from the bottle, finding solace in the fiery amber fluid as it slid down his throat. Then bracing his hands along the counter’s edge he lowered his aching head, trying to make sense of the unfathomable.
It wasn’t that she was unattractive—hell, Lana was the best kind of beautiful. She had a pure heart, an angelic aura about her, combined with a girl-next-door exterior. Her allure wasn’t intimidating, but rather, approachable.
Last night she’d looked so carefree on the dance floor. And idling in his truck in her driveway she’d looked… fucking delicious.
Randall blew a puff of air from his lungs, wishing the action would expunge the vivid fantasies from his body. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to stop thinking about Lana. Forget about the way she’d felt pressed against him last night on the dance floor. Obliterate the memory of those deep blue eyes staring back at him.
He couldn’t have Lana Phillips.
Not now. Not ever.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty lil’ thing.” Lana sat next to Kendall, holding baby Tenley in her arms. “How’d the labor go?”
“Well, this being my first, I don’t really have anything to compare it to”, Kendall began. “But according to Dr. Gillard and the nurses, it was about as good as one could hope for. I had virtually no pain once the epidural was in place.”
“She barely broke a sweat”, Ty commented as he entered the room.
Lana raised her gaze from the tiny bundle in her arms to the man standing to her right. Ty’s expression was that of a proud husband, proud father. “You two sure do make pretty babies. What on earth are you going to do when she’s fifteen?”
“I don’t even want to go there—I’m still workin’ on getting through the first week!” Ty explained.
“Well, enjoy every minute of her while she’s young; they grow up too fast. Connor’s turning six in March. I honestly don’t know where the time went!”
“Is he still at your momma’s?” Kendall inquired.
Lana nodded. “I’m headed that way after I leave here.”
“Olivia said she’d managed to talk you in to going to The Saloon last night. How was it?”
“It was… weird at first, you know? Jimmy and I spent so many Saturday nights there… Anyhow, Randall sensed my hesitation, practically dragged me onto the dance floor and… well, I think that helped chase the awkwardness away.” For a while, anyway; the discomfort had returned later on in his truck.
“Speaking of Randall, have you heard from him yet this morning?” Kendall questioned. “I’ve left several messages, but he hasn’t returned them yet.”
“No, I—”
“I wouldn’t expect to hear from him till at least noon”, Ty shared. “Especially if he was out late last night drinkin’.”
“You’re right”, Kendall softly agreed. “It’s just… It’s just… I miss my best friend!” Tears traveled down her face as a sob broke free. “I guess I j-just figured he would’ve visited by now.”
“Your wish is my command”, Randall announced as he stepped into the room, bearing a small bouquet of pink roses and a to-go order of onion rings. His eyes quickly averted to Lana, holding who he assumed was Tenley, then back to Kendall. “Don’t cry, Babe”, he soothingly appeased, moving further into the room.
Kendall swiped at her eyes, then threw her arms around Randall’s neck when he was within reach. “I was w-worried you weren’t going to show.”
“C’mon, now—you actually think I’d purposely steer clear of you on one of the happiest days of your life?”
Pulling away, Kendall shrugged. “Deep down I knew you wouldn’t, but when I didn’t hear ba—are those onion rings?”
“You are so predictable”, he teased.
“Yeah, I suppose. Sorry”, she uttered as she gestured toward her tears, “I’m a little hormonal at the moment.”
Lana felt a bit uncomfortable sitting there holding Tenley, like she was intruding on a very private conversation between two people with oodles of history. “I should probably get going; my parents are expecting me for lunch.” Carefully, she transferred Tenley back into her mother’s arms and stood.
“Not a casserole, I hope”, Randall chuckled.
“Sandwiches”, she confirmed, meeting his gray gaze from across the hospital bed. “Pretty hard to screw that up—at least, I hope.” Lana turned her attention back to Kendall. “Congratulations, again. She’s absolutely precious.”
“Thanks, I think she’s pretty adorable
, too—but then again, I’m sort of biased.”
“I’ll walk you out”, Ty offered as he placed his hand on the small of Lana’s back.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that—I’m quite capable of finding my way back to the elevator. Stay here with your new family.”
Ty waved off her suggestion. “I’m headin’ to the cafeteria, anyway. Besides, it’ll give them time to catch up”, he explained as he reached to open the door.
She was moments away from stepping into the hall, when the sound of Randall’s voice halted her feet. “Tell Connor I’ll stop over later today to play catch.”
Lana looked over her shoulder, attempting to gage whether that was secret code for I-think-we-should-talk-about-what-almost-happened-last-night. But unfortunately his mundane expression gave nothing away. “Um, okay. I will.”
Lana lay restless on her back that evening, staring at the ceiling fan blades as they slowly whirled. She’d been lying there for nearly two hours, plenty of time for her eyes to adjust to the darkened room. Plenty of time to reflect.
Guilt gnawed at her conscience. She’d had an astonishingly good time last night, laughing, dancing, drinking. She’d felt… alive. A glimmer of hope had trickled into her heart, allowing her to take her first real, deep breath since the end of May.
What did that say about her, exactly?
Selfish: that’s what she was—her husband was buried in the Apalachicola Cemetery while she’d been twirling on the dance floor. And then, of course, there was that awkward moment in Randall’s truck—that incredibly intense moment when his mouth was centimeters away from caressing her lips…
Lana shivered as she recalled the memory. Of all the times for her libido to rekindle, it’d chosen that moment. With that man.
Turning onto her side, she vigorously fluffed her pillow, then nestled her head against the cotton sham. She’d spent a better part of the day combing over the details of their almost-kiss, trying to figure out if the allure had been one-sided. Because there was no sense in denying there’d been a small part that’d wanted him to kiss her.
Yeah. What was she supposed to do with that admission?
She wasn’t quite sure.
Clearly, she’d spun too many times on the dance floor and had become too friendly with Jose Cuervo.
As promised, Randall had stopped by just before dinner. He and Connor tossed the football back and forth in the backyard while she’d pretended to read a magazine on the patio. She’d carefully watched Randall for any signs of discomfort or remorse—if there were any, she hadn’t seen them.
Neither had spoken about what’d almost happened last night in the cab of his truck. Maybe she was worrying over nothing. He’d had an awful lot to drink last night, too; maybe he didn’t even remember their near-kiss.
And if he didn’t remember, then she clearly needed to forget.
Lana allowed her heavy lids to close, drawing the comforter over her shoulders for warmth. Thank goodness he’d probably been too drunk to remember.
Thank goodness for Jose Cuervo.
Chapter 11
“Looks like it’s going to be a late one tonight.”
Lana’s eyes veered from her computer monitor to Mayor Cliffburg, hovering next to her with a worried expression. “Why? What’s going on?”
The mayor braced one hand on her desk, the other on the back of her chair. His blue and yellow striped tie caressed her forearm, causing her to flinch slightly.
“Just got a call from the company we ordered our fireworks from for the New Year’s Eve bonfire. Seems their warehouse was burglarized early this morning.”
“Let me guess: they can’t fulfill our order.”
The mayor shook his head. “We need to put our heads together; find a replacement company—and quickly. We’ve got less than a week to make this happen.”
“Yeah, of course… I’ll make some calls.”
“Great”, he sighed as he pushed away. “Buzz me if you get any leads.”
Mayor Cliffburg disappeared into his office, leaving Lana alone with two monstrous dilemmas: finding a company with enough inventory to supply fireworks before the bonfire next week, and locating a last minute babysitter to pick Connor up from day camp and remain with him until the riddle that’d been tossed at her moments ago was solved.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, she made note of the time: half past four. Connor had to be picked up from day camp by five—or else she risked having to pay a hefty late fee. She couldn’t afford that; she’d barely scraped enough money together to place him in the special two week program to begin with.
It was times like these she wished she would’ve saved her vacation days, instead of wasting them crouched into a fetal position grieving after Jimmy’s accident. In the end it hadn’t changed anything. Jimmy was still gone. She could’ve used the five-hundred dollars she’d spent on the two-week Christ-mas Break program on gas and hotel accommodations, establishing a new holiday tradition with her son far from Butler Island, far from curious onlookers and last-minute pyrotechnic emergencies.
Panic, thick and thriving, mounted inside her chest.
What was she going to do? Lana ran her fingers through her light brown hair, wracking her brain for a solution. Because after all the heartache she’d endured this year, she figured a miracle was long overdue.
Then suddenly it occurred to her. Reaching for her phone, she dialed Randall’s number, relieved when she heard his voice come over the line.
“Hello.”
“I have to work late! My parents are in the Keys—Kendall’s busy with a newborn—Olivia’s still in Denver—and I’m freaking out, because—”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Lana”, he soothed. “Take a deep breath and relax, okay?”
Lana sucked in a cleansing liter of air, releasing the breath through her pursed lips.
“Better?”
Lana’s head bobbed up and down several times.
“Are you still there?”
Crud. Had she actually nodded as though he could see her? “Sorry. Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Okay. Tell me what you need, Sweetheart.”
Lana twirled the phone cord around her finger, feeling a sense of calmness suddenly wash over her. “I… I need a favor. A big one… Connor has to be picked up from day camp in”—she glanced at the wall clock again—“twenty-five minutes. I’m stuck here at work dealing with a major setback in the New Year’s Eve celebration. I don’t know how long I’m going to be…” Switching the handset to her other ear, she sighed. “I hate to ask, but—”
“It’s not a problem, Lana. Really. I’ll pick up Connor. We’ll hang out at the marina for a bit, maybe grab a pizza or something, and then head back to your place. I still have a key.”
Lana closed her eyes. “Thank you so much”, she whispered. “I’ll be home just as soon as I can.”
Hours later Lana sat at her desk, her phone wedged between her right shoulder and ear, waiting for the customer service rep from the latest pyrotechnic company to return to the line. She’d been put on hold roughly ten minutes ago by the kind gentleman. Apparently there’d been a ferocious storm in Atlanta where the company was located, temporarily zapping their computer system. He’d gone to the warehouse to check inventory the old fashioned way with his eyeballs.
Lana peered through the large picture window to her left, the normally serene view of the small courtyard now swallowed by opaque darkness. Crickets serenaded as she mindlessly tapped the top of her pen against a yellow legal pad. She would’ve picked the polish from her nails if she had any left, but unfortunately the last remnants of frosted-pink enamel had disappeared a half hour ago.
“Any luck?” The mayor inquired, appearing from his office.
Lana shook her head from side-to-side. “You?”
He moved to stand beside her, leaning his backside against the edge of her desk. “Nope, looks like we may be lighting sparklers this year.”
“Yes, I’m here”, she spoke
into the phone when the gentleman returned to the line. She then displayed the universal hand gesture to Mayor Cliffburg to indicate she’d be with him in a moment. “Uh-huh… They canceled? How many are we talkin’?”
With his secretary distracted, the mayor pushed off the desk, using the rare opportunity to look his fill without shame. Lana Phillips had been his secretary for nearly seven years.
And for seven long years he’d wanted her.
Truthfully it was her looks that’d landed her the position. One glimpse of her sinfully sweet smile and the gibberish printed on her one-page resumé had no longer mattered.
But he’d been wrong about her. The woman was courteously resolute when it came to her job: The perfect blend of aggressiveness and grace; an angel with an ambitious agenda; the will of a lioness with a heart of a cuddly kitten.
She had people eating out of the palm of her hand—himself included.
“…Well, we usually aim for double that amount for a fraction of the cost”, Lana explained as she spoke into the handset. “But since you’re the first person I’ve spoken to today with inventory left, I guess we can’t afford to be picky.”
Hmm, this sounded promising.
The Mayor tore his attention away from the lavender bra strap peeking out of her sleeveless sweater and carefully listened to her end of the conversation.
“…Well, Henry, we need those fireworks just as much as your company needs to quickly unload the inventory so you won’t have to eat the cost. Make us a deal we can’t refuse and it’s a win/win situation for everyone…”
Mayor Cliffburg stroked his chin with his fingertips, marveling at her bold, yet dignified approach. She was charming the pants off the man on the other end of the line—no surprise there. In fact, if she pushed hard enough, they’d probably get the damn fireworks for free.”
Rescue Me (Butler Island) Page 8
