“Even tall, dark, and yummy? Give me a break. If you don’t want him, can I have him? I swear, I need ice just looking at him. That man is hot.” Dot fanned herself with her hand and continued to stare in the direction of the bar.
“You can still do men and not get involved,” Rita said seriously. “You can’t give up sex entirely.”
Rita had a point there. Joella stole a surreptitious glance at the bar. Tall, dark, and dangerous had turned his back on her. That got under her skin a little. He’d got her all hot and bothered for nothing? If he thought she would come on to him, he needed to find another girl to play games with.
“He’s not my kind,” she said decisively. “I want an accountant this time around. A steady man with a steady job.”
Both Dot and Rita laughed until they nearly fell off their chairs. Jo figured it was high time to cut off their alcohol intake if one lousy daiquiri had them this giddy.
“Not her kind,” Dot spluttered, drawing letters in the air. “He’s got Jo’s Kind spelled out right across his forehead.”
“Arial, all caps, and bold,” Rita agreed with secretarial humor. Rita had moved down the mountain to find office work and wore her new-found sophistication in blond highlights and bright blue contacts.
Jo kind of liked the image of branding the cowboy, but she bit back a grin rather than let her friends know it. “I mean it,” she asserted. “He’s too good looking to be anything but married.” That was as good an excuse as any for his turning his back on her. “I’m not messing with any more lying, cheating lowlifes. I’m buying my own ticket out of town this time around. Men are off my radar.”
“They’re not all Randy,” Dot objected. “You’ve had a long dry spell since he left. It’s time to jump back in the ring.”
“Jump back in bed, you mean,” Joella corrected. “Didn’t your mama warn you about sex with men you don’t know?”
But warnings and common sense didn’t apply when her hormones were humming, and just looking at broad shoulders in a sexy cowboy shirt and a tight ass in designer jeans had her squirming in her seat. Her friends were right. Upright businessmen were not her style.
But she’d sworn off lying, cheating men who promised fame and fortune. As her mama always said, she had ambition far beyond her means. That didn’t mean she was giving up making something of herself. She was just wise enough now not to expect a man to get her where she wanted to go.
“Anyway, I have to get up early tomorrow. The Stardust’s new owner is coming, and I want to impress him with my promptness.”
“He’ll probably have a family to run the place, and you’ll be out on your rear,” Rita said with a pessimistic wave of her hand. “Go for the joy now.”
Joella set her mouth in a firm line. “I can’t get fired. Mama’s unemployment runs out next month. I want to try that singing server idea out on him.” Her gnawing ambition again, but she had so many ideas. “Charlie wouldn’t let me change anything, but a new owner might listen. The place is a dump. A few ferns, some pretty paint, and an espresso machine could turn the café right around.”
“We live in Hicksville, Joella,” Dot reminded her. The purple stripe in her long black braid showed her opinion of their rural home’s values. “No one drinks espresso, and they’ve all heard you sing at church. Forget it. Go after the gold.” She sighed and admired the same sight Jo had been studying.
“I’m not doing sex without commitment these days,” Jo said airily.
Rita hooted. “You’re scared, admit it. He’s out of your league.”
“Is not. I may not have your brains or Dot’s artistic talent, but I know men. I just don’t want one,” she added hastily when Rita opened her mouth to argue.
Dot gave a disparaging pffttt. “Chicken, squawk, squawk. You gonna let wimpy Randy burn you?”
Hell, no. In the immortal expression of Granny Clampett: Thems was fightin’ words. With a glare, Jo scraped her chair back and stood up.
Rita and Dot cheered. “You go, girl! Strike a blow for jilted women everywhere.”
Jo tugged her spandex shirt into place and plastered on her whitened-teeth smile. So, maybe she needed to test her skills again. One itty bitty dance couldn’t hurt.
***
Dirk laughed and slid Flint another cold one. “Melinda soured you, did she? A man can’t go forever without getting some. You’ll fester up and bust.”
“That might be preferable to living in hell,” Flint growled, taking a swig of beer and resisting checking the table of young things again.
A powdery scent that raised images of bubble baths and candlelight enveloped him, and a soft drawl purred near his ear. “I hear tell hell is a tropical paradise compared to one of our winters.”
Leaning over the bar, Flint nearly choked on his drink. He could feel her all over his skin without a touch. The stacked height of her hair brushed his cheek, and he had an insane urge to turn and bury his nose in all that glorious softness. He bet it would drift to her shoulders in a single tug.
“Way-ellll,” he drawled right back, not looking at her, “you can fry on a beach in paradise as well as anywhere, I suppose.”
She chuckled and reached past him for the daiquiri Dirk had prepared for her without asking. “Who’s your surly friend, Deadeye? You don’t need air-conditioning if you stock the place with icebergs.”
“Joella, meet Flint. Maybe the two of you could compare notes on absent partners.”
“You’re so funny, Dirk,” she said without rancor.
Flint was concentrating hard on ignoring all those flirty curves and nearly jumped at the brush of slender fingers wrapping around his biceps.
“Come along, Mr. Flint. They’re playing my song.”
Actually, the band was playing one of his songs, but he wasn’t the type to show off. Mostly. The Mr. hurt though. He didn’t want to be old enough to be a mister.
Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to let off a little steam with a bar babe who knew the score, Flint obligingly applied his hand to the small of her back and urged her toward the dance floor. It wasn’t as if she would report him to his kids in the morning, or to the good citizens of Northfork. Knowing RJ’s taste in women, she might be the one who could provide the answers he was seeking. “Happy to oblige, Miss Joella,” he said, bending close to her ear so she could hear over the music.
She shot him a laughing glance that buoyed his spirits to record highs. He liked being reminded that he wasn’t entirely over the hill yet.
He let her weave the way through the tables so he could admire the sway of her nicely rounded jeans. It had been too damned long since he’d allowed himself the pleasure of looking at another woman. Life owed him this dance.
Slipping into the mass of bodies, she raised her arms above her head and started swaying her hips before he’d caught up with her. Her gold earrings and necklace sparkled against the tanned column of her throat. She wore some kind of shimmery red top that clung to high, full curves and revealed a line of trim brown waist above her low riders.
It was a damned wonder he could move at all after that.
What happens next?
More information
Copyright & Credits
Copyright © 2007 Rice Enterprises Inc.
Online edition copyright © 2012 Patricia Rice
Originally published 2007 by Ivy Books, The Ballantine Publishing Group
Cover copyright © 2012 Mandala
Cupcakes photo by Katja Seaton
Sweet Home Carolina is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Book View Café
February 7, 2012
Copyright © 2007 Rice Enterprises Inc.
ISBN: 978 1 61138 149 8
Book View Café eBooks
Book View Café is a professional authors’ cooperative offering DRM-free ebooks in multiple formats to r
eaders around the world. With authors in a variety of genres including mystery, romance, fantasy, and science fiction, Book View Café has something for everyone.
Book View Café is good for readers because you can enjoy high-quality DRM-free ebooks from your favorite authors at a reasonable price.
Book View Café is good for writers because 95% of the profits goes directly to the book’s author.
Book View Café authors include Nebula and Hugo Award winners (Ursula K. Le Guin, Vonda N. McIntyre, Linda Nagata), NY Times bestsellers and notable book authors (Patricia Rice, Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff, and Sarah Zettel), Campbell winner (Seanan McGuire), and Philip K. Dick award winner (CL Anderson).
www.BookViewCafe.com
Sweet Home Carolina Page 32
