The wheels began to turn in his head at a rate faster than he could process them. He was in a position to make her dreams come true. And she could forget about leaving town for a year. He couldn’t let her go away. He was foolishly falling in love, and she belonged here—not just in this town, a permanent part of his quiet community, but as a stable, constant fixture in his own life. She had feelings for him, and he’d do everything he could to cultivate them, make them bloom until every time she was away from him, she’d miss him and feel the urgency to return home, to his side.
Fletcher crouched by her chair, turning her face to look down at him. Her expression was drowsy, lethargic, as he set the brush on the table. “I want you to stay, too, darlin’.”
“Good. Because I could get addicted to you, Fletcher.” She laughed. “I don’t even know your first name.” Her eyes suddenly focused on him, bright and trusting.
Damn.
Was that the wind being knocked out of him? he wondered. She thought Fletcher was his last name, rather than his middle. “My first name is George,” he said, unable to believe he could croak it out when breathing was at a minimum. He watched her face for a spark of recognition, the letters bearing his signature just a glance away. Thankfully, her expression didn’t change, and he was able to suck precious oxygen into his starved lungs.
“I’ll stick to calling you Fletcher.”
“Thanks. My father is George. No one calls me that.” He needed to distract her or she’d wonder at the guilt that began to creep into his bones and was going to emanate from his pores any minute.
He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled her head down to his.
He diverted her attention in a most delicious, sensuous way, and her reaction was more than he’d hoped for: with a moan, she reciprocated his kiss with pure, carnal passion.
She gasped at his ferocious hunger, giving it back in equal measure. Her hand cupped his jaw, her nails scratched at the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave when he got up this morning. He’d left his mark on her earlier with his carelessness. “I’ll shave next time,” he whispered against her lips.
Tess moaned, tipping her head up, her fingers weaving through his hair as she urged his lips to her throat. “Don’t you dare,” she warned breathlessly. “I like it so much, Fletcher.”
Lost in her excitement, her scent flooding his nostrils, he alternately suckled and nuzzled her soft, heated skin.
His knees dropped to the floor, and he swiveled her in the chair to face him, opening her robe below the belt, spreading her lush thighs, and pulling her to the edge of her seat. Her hands yanked his T-shirt up his chest, encumbered by his arms as his hands dug into her curvy hips.
Her fingers skimmed over his flesh, tangling in the hair she could reach under his shirt, and her touch sent waves of pleasure through him.
He purposely insinuated himself in the vee of her thighs, his hard stomach rubbing against her most intimate place. His head lowered, and he nudged open her robe, his tongue laving the exposed area above her tank top. She moaned, arching in the chair, offering her breast to his rapacious lips, and he took it, cloth and all, into his mouth. He sucked hard at the turgid nipple, and her shriek of pleasure sent a shudder of need through him, to his neglected erection. His hands slid along her bare thighs, and he ached to have his mouth all over her, his cock buried to the hilt inside her.
She ran her fingers through his hair, then tightened and pulled at it—not enough to cause even a stipple of pain, but with a savagery that he willingly obeyed. She wanted his mouth, demanded it greedily, and she lowered her head, sealing her lips to his.
He let her set the pace, but as she devoured his mouth and thrust her tongue past his teeth, tangling and sliding along his, Fletcher didn’t think he’d be able to hold back for very long.
Their lips separated and they stared at each other as each drew ragged breaths, both shocked and amazed that they were right back where they started.
But her thighs rode high on his hips, and he could feel her pulsing heat against his stomach through the wet panel of her panties. He was going insane! “God, I want to taste you, Tess,” he whispered, his voice rough in the quiet of the room.
“Oh, yes!” she gasped breathlessly, arching her back, just as caught up in the excitement as he was.
A crash of thunder broke the magic of the moment. She jumped like a scared cat, a startled shriek following the rumble of the storm that neither had even noticed was upon them. The one brewing between them had captured their attention. He watched her as she focused on the room, stunned that the lights were the only illumination now.
It was an interruption Fletcher silently cursed, but was grudgingly grateful for. They needed to slow things down. Every time they touched, things went a little further than before. Feeling her heated wetness pressed tantalizingly to his stomach, and staring at the damp spot of her tank top over her still-taut nipple was definitely too far. He wanted so badly to get even closer to her, but his conscience kept nagging at him. He was keeping information from her, things she needed to know and should have been told before they ever got this far. A tumble in the sack wasn’t worth the price he’d pay if she found out after he bedded her. Not when his heart would suffer.
He tugged her close again, pressing her sweet, swollen breasts to his chest, and just held her to him. “Tess—”
“It’s all right, Fletcher. We’re going too fast, I know. Not to mention that the rain is coming down, and all over the house, it’s coming in.”
Thankfully, she’d veered off the subject of sex. “I never did get to the roof, did I?”
She smiled against his cheek, and leaned back to look at him. “Nope. And I’m not sorry. Although, the thought of you all hot and sweaty up there, working in the hot sun, did make me squirm a little.”
Fletcher groaned. Damn, but she had a way of making him forget his common sense.
“Unfortunately, since we didn’t shore up any leaks, I have to go put buckets down or I’ll have even more water damage than I already do.”
“I’ll help—”
“No need. I know where to place them all. I think I moved in during the rainy season down here.” She grinned. “Besides, your clothes are dry. I don’t want to be a tease, Fletcher, and I do like you so much, but ...” Her voice trailed off.
“Does this thing between us feel as right to you as it does to me?” he asked.
She worried her lip as she pushed her chair back and stood up, looking down at him, her soft palm caressing his cheek. “I rely on my instincts for everything. I’ve had to, or I’d have gotten hurt a time or two over the years. I know when something is wrong. So unless this southern heat has shorted out my inner radar, I’m right to trust you. Simple as that. And, hopeless romantic that I am, I’m gonna side with the latter. That’s why I haven’t put the brakes on until now.”
Fletcher knew he was a low-down snake to let her believe she could trust him. It didn’t escape him that he was on his knees. He deserved it. He should be begging her to forgive him for the lies he’d told. Lies by omission were still lies, and he hated himself for deceiving her.
He was more selfish than he thought. He could make her dreams come true. But pride was a large part of her makeup. If she’d wanted money, she’d have asked Coop, or sold out her dreams and taken a recording contract. No, she wanted to do it on her own terms. He respected her for it, and his heart beat a little faster with pride for her convictions. When he told her that he was the man she’d been doggedly pursuing these past months, she was going to feel betrayed, duped even. It was a chance he had to take now that he was neck-deep. After he made sure she had the option to stay put if she wanted. He didn’t want her going to Vegas any more than she did. Maybe she’d forgive him one day.
“Darlin’, I think there’s a way to get what you want without sacrificing yourself and moving away.”
“Really? Fantastic.” Tess’s eyes lit with interest, but the glow on her face from their fervent
coupling flushed her skin, giving her a radiant hue. “Let me go put these buckets down, and you can tell me about it.”
She grabbed a stack of pails by the door, backing into the living room, and lining one up. A slow, steady drip began as the winds picked up and howled around the house. She smiled at him indulgently. “It’s okay, I’m used to it. I’ll just go center these upstairs, throw some clothes on, and I’ll be down in a minute.” With a swish of that glorious hair, she was gone.
Fletcher pulled his T-shirt down, scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and took a number of deep, cleansing breaths.
Going to the dryer, he fished his clothes from it and put them back on. The room had cooled significantly with the arrival of the summer storm, but the damn dryer had made the rivets on his jeans like a branding iron, burning his skin. He hissed at the contact, and carefully adjusted himself, the lingering effects of his erection making it difficult to zip up his jeans. As long as he was in nothing but those sweats, constantly reminded of how he got that way, his utmost attention wouldn’t be on worming his way out of the hole he’d dug for himself. The same hole that he was going to throw Coop in when he got his hands on him. Fletcher wasn’t the only one who was guilty of lying by omission.
He grabbed up the phone and dialed The Last Call, knowing Coop would be there. He lived in the apartment above the bar, but when he finally rolled out of bed, he was downstairs working. And Fletcher was going to get the information he needed, but his old friend was going to get a healthy dose of his annoyance, too.
When Coop picked up, Fletcher didn’t give him a chance to say a word after the initial “Hello.” He had him look up a phone number off the Rolodex in the office, and as soon as he’d jotted it down on one of the letters in front of him, Fletcher rained curses down on his interfering friend. And all the while, Coop chuckled in his ear.
“You’re going to hell for this, Cooper Jones,” Fletcher vowed. Coop’s belly laugh and whoops into the phone brought a reluctant grin to his face. “You swore on a stack of Bibles you wouldn’t screw with my love life again.”
His friend calmed enough to say, “That was before I knew that the two of you needed each other. She let something slip on the phone when she called me from New York.”
“What was that?”
“Never mind. You’ll figure it out for yourselves. Sounds to me like you should be thanking me.”
“Not yet, buddy. I’m sitting here staring at the same letters I sent to her in New York. I ’bout had a heart attack, staring at my own signature.”
“How much does she know?”
“Nothing yet. I don’t want to see the look on her face when she finds out that the ‘F’ in G. F. Graham stands for Fletcher.”
“How do you think she’ll take it?”
“That’s the twenty-thousand-dollar question, my friend. I don’t know how she’ll react to the news.”
“I do,” came a voice behind him.
Fletcher spun around. Tess stood on the bottom step of the back staircase, her honey-colored eyes wide in shock, but the fury that was gathering strength, as sure as that storm outside, told him all he needed to know. She’d heard everything. “Shit.”
Five
Fletcher entered The Last Call forty minutes later, soaking wet, his disposition as black as the turbulent clouds covering the skies of Justice.
Coop looked up as he passed the bar. “Hey, buddy, what the hell happened? You said ‘shit,’ and the line went dead.”
Fletcher cursed under his breath as he stomped down the hall, opening the door to the office with so much force, it hit the wall, his hand stopping it before it smashed him in the face when it bounced back. “It hit the fan, that’s what happened!” he shouted down the hall, then slammed the door shut behind him.
He crossed to the desk and slumped down into the chair. Leaning back, he tipped his head up toward the ceiling, then covered his face with his hands. “Damn, what a mess,” he whispered.
The door opened and Coop stood in the entry. “She knows, then.” It wasn’t a question.
Fletcher sighed, bringing the chair upright and dropping his forearms to the surface of the desk. He looked at his friend. “Oh yeah, she knows, all right. Hell, half of Justice probably knows what a bastard I am. That Yank has quite a repertoire of colorful curses.” One brow rose, as he remembered just a few of the ones she spit at him when he’d hung up on Coop.
“Did she tell you to drop dead?”
Fletcher’s lip curled. “No, she didn’t go that far. But she did give me directions to a very hot place, though. And I ain’t talking Florida, my friend. In fact, she told me that you can come with me.”
Fletcher gnashed his teeth, recalling that look of betrayal and doubt he saw on her face. He hated it. Her fury quickly followed, but he’d take that any day compared to the lost, bewildered look. Her instincts, the one thing she’d relied on to guide her through life, had failed her, and he actually witnessed the fear dull the sharp, confident brightness in her eyes. He’d shaken the stability of her world, and he might not forgive himself for it. His heart hurt for doing that to her.
“Me? I can go to hell?” Coop’s brows lowered. “Why am I in trouble?”
Fletcher drew his attention back to his friend. He didn’t buy his innocent act for a minute. “Because you’re the guiltiest of any of us. You kept us both in the dark, and we’re pissed at you. That’s something she and I are at least in agreement on.”
“And you’ll both thank me when you work this out and live happily ever after,” Coop replied, nonplussed that two important people in his life wanted to skin him alive.
“So you said on the phone.” Fletcher tipped his head. “And yet, if she leaves town, we’ll never know, will we?”
Cooper started out the door. “She won’t leave.” His confidence was solid. But he turned, pointing at his friend. “Do the right thing and she’ll never want to leave you.”
Fletcher’s temples ached with a dull throb as a headache threatened to become a full-blown migraine. He rubbed the pressure points. “And how do you suggest I do that, oh wise one?”
“That’s easy.” Coop shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the sarcasm. “Make her dreams come true.”
The muscle in Fletcher’s jaw flexed, his patience wearing dangerously thin as he growled through clenched teeth, “That’s what I was trying to do when I called you! You remember, Coop ... it was just before I got caught red-handed in the lies we both told?”
“Yeah, I know. But do it anyway. And your biggest mistake was admitting to an indiscretion without making sure the coast was clear.”
“I’ll tell that little tidbit of information to the next woman you get involved with,” Fletcher said dryly. “But you’re wrong, pal. My biggest mistake was not being honest with Tess in the first place. That’s why I can be pissed at you, but I can’t blame you. This is my own damn fault.”
“What can I do to help?”
His gaze rose slowly to Coop, his eyes narrowing. He grinned cynically. “Now, that I can put to you in Tess’s own words, my friend—get out.” He pulled the phone across the desk and picked up the receiver. “I’ll handle things myself from here on in.”
Coop chuckled, closing the door behind him, yelling through it as he retreated down the hall, “I’ll be out front if ya need me!”
“I won’t!” Fletcher answered just as loud, flipping through the Rolodex until he found what he was looking for.
Tess paced up and down the kitchen, wearing a path in the already worn floorboards as she tried to hold on to her anger. She had every right to, and yet, what Fletcher had done to make up for his lying, scheming ways had her waffling between seething rage and thrilling elation.
When she’d walked down those stairs and heard Fletcher on the phone, she wasn’t really paying attention—not until he mentioned the papers she’d left on the table. Then knots began to twist so tight in her belly that she’d had to breathe through her mouth to take in air. Fletcher w
as Mayor Graham. She’d been played like a violin! Or a fiddle, as it were, she thought wryly now. Played by Cooper, whom she’d come to trust in the last few months, and Fletcher himself, the man who’d ignored her repeated attempts to contact him and resolve the issue of her inheritance. That part was still unclear.
Of course, it wasn’t as if she’d given him the chance to explain. The shame she felt that she was falling in—“No! I’m not in love with that lying bastard!” she shouted, then stopped in the middle of the room as tears welled in her eyes, wondering whom she was trying to convince.
Since she hadn’t been dressed when she came down and surprised Fletcher, she went up after he left and showered, trying to cool her anger, but it hadn’t worked. She put on shorts and a T-shirt, not really caring how she looked, just needing something to do so she could block out the hurt. She almost whimpered when she brushed her hair after pulling it out of her collar, remembering how it hung, smooth and untangled, down her back when Fletcher had taken such care when he brushed it. No man had ever made her feel so content with such a simple gesture as Fletcher did.
She felt the tingle up her spine again, but valiantly shook off the sensations. Damn that man!
She’d gone back to the kitchen and dialed the number Fletcher had jotted down on one of those blasted letters.
Her heart sank, filling with remorse when she learned whom he was going to contact, had contacted, in fact, probably only an hour or so after she’d thrown him out of her house, telling him just what he could do with it.
Tess glanced at the clock. It was five P.M. AND AS OF TWO HOURS AGO, SHE’D HIRED HERSELF AN AGENT, AND NOT EVEN FORTY MINUTES AFTER SHE’D MADE THE INITIAL CONTACT WITH HIM, TOM CASTINGUAY RANG TESS BACK WITH A CONTRACT FOR NOT ONE BUT TWO OF HER SONGS. THE ADVANCE WAS AN AMAZING AMOUNT, AND SHE’D DONE INCREDIBLY WELL BY INDUSTRY STANDARDS FOR THE ROYALTIES ON BOTH PIECES OF MUSIC. SHE’D BEEN TRYING TO CONTACT THAT GUY FOR MONTHS! AND HE HADN’T GOTTEN BACK TO HER, EITHER. TESS SNICKERED, ROLLING HER EYES. BIRDS OF A FEATHER, SHE THOUGHT.
Bad Boys In Black Tie Page 21
