Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select)

by Shannon Leigh

  They still buttoned. Thank God. Her rear wasn’t that big.

  Giving her reflection a cursory glance in the mirror over the dresser, she unhooked her bra and tossed it into the closet.

  Which T-shirt? Did it matter?

  The doorbell sounded a second time.

  She pulled a faded blue one from the pile and shoved the rest of the mess onto the floor on the other side of the bed where it wouldn’t be seen.

  Just in case. In case they needed the bed.

  Stopping in front of the mirror, she tousled her hair, put some shine on her lips, and added a smile. And vowed to keep the talking to a minimum. They needed sex to break the ice. Talking could come later.

  She rushed to the front door, kicking off her sandals as she reached for the knob. Jake had already backtracked to his truck when she came out onto the porch. “Hey, sorry about that. I was out back and didn’t hear the bell.”

  He turned at the sound of her voice and his stride broke. His eyes narrowed as he took her in. Lila’s chest swelled with the intensity of his gaze and she thrust her breasts forward with a subtle arch of her back.

  “Where’s Barbara?” His voice tightened. She noticed the growing bulge in his jeans. She felt her own response to his appraisal slide deliciously between her thighs.

  “Doctor’s appointment in Temple. Steve Ann took her.”

  He said nothing, but returned to his truck, grabbing the toolbox from the back. He climbed the porch and avoided her gaze. She noticed his white-knuckle grip on the handle.

  Her control slipped. Brushing her off wouldn’t be an option this time. She stepped in front of his advancing body and was almost singed by the heat rolling off him. He stopped short of colliding with her chest.

  Dammit. “Glad to see you, too.” She smiled, hoping to ease the tension and add some play to this experience. “Come in and I’ll fix some iced tea.”

  His eyes shone like hard emeralds and she felt them pierce her here and there. Tension edged the corners of his full mouth. He swiped a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

  At least she got a reaction out of him. Not to mention how her body bent and bowed to get closer to his.

  “I have to be back at the job site. I don’t have time for tea.”

  He reached behind her for the handle to the glass door and Lila stepped into him as she turned, her breast and hardened nipple grazing his inner elbow.

  A current of electric awareness shot through her. A lovely zing she hadn’t felt in forever.

  Jake’s sharp intake of breath indicated he didn’t feel as immune as he seemed. The tiny clue bolstered her resolve and she followed him into the house.

  Jake stormed into the bathroom, slamming his toolbox on the countertop.

  What the hell did she think she was doing? If she had any idea what he wanted to do with her body right now, she’d run the other way.

  He’d been relieved when no one answered the door, providing him the perfect excuse to send a workman out later to fix the commode. But then she’d stepped out onto the porch looking like the old Lila. Her golden hair, loose and hanging in disarray around her shoulders. The rounded form of her breasts, outlined under the thin cotton of her shirt, and her tan thighs made his hands itch. He ached to open those thighs and lose himself between their soft, satiny skin. To drive into her until he had no sense of self, but only a sense of them. Together.

  She glided in the bathroom behind him, bringing her soft scent into the tiny room, filling his nostrils with the remembered smell.

  Much more of this and he would toss all of his resolutions he’d fought to make and sustain right out the window.

  He concentrated on the contents of his toolbox to no effect. He’d forgotten what he needed to fix a toilet.

  “You sure you don’t want anything to drink?” Her voice, husky and very close to his ear, kicked his blood pressure up a notch. He caught her gaze in the mirror over the sink as she stood next to him.

  “Maybe I will have some tea.” Anything to get her out of there. He wanted to hold her and press her back against the tile wall, devour the warm scented skin of her neck, and slide off her shorts. And then he would fill her. Slowly. An inch at a time.

  “Sure.” She disappeared down the hall and he breathed in relief, assessing his reflection. His fists were clenched against the sink, the knuckles white with strain.

  He needed to get a hold of himself. Rekindling a relationship with his wife, even a sexual one, was not to their benefit. It would simply make things messy, more complicated, and highly dangerous. He didn’t need to go through another breakup with her.

  And they would.

  Hunched over the tank, he saw her out of the corner of his eye when she sauntered in, holding two icy glasses. Setting his on the counter, she claimed a seat on the edge of the tub, her back resting against the shower wall. From his viewpoint, he saw way too much leg for his comfort. Her clinging denim shorts ended right below the juncture of her thighs. He had an overwhelming urge to slip a hand inside her shorts, against the mound of hot flesh there, dipping his finger inside to test the heat. To feel the silky slide of wetness and know she was ready for him.

  He turned his head away until he stared at white porcelain. “Don’t you have things to do? I don’t need a supervisor.” His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears.

  “Nope. I thought I’d keep you company. Talk to you about this little project I want to do.”

  He concentrated on the mechanics of the tank, ignoring the sultry invitation in her voice. “The Goodwins’ old place. Yeah, I heard about it. Bad idea.” He meant to end the conversation. If he could stop her from talking, it would make his job a helluva lot easier. Then he could make his getaway.

  “Bad idea? You don’t even know what I want to do.” The tiniest bit of irritation trickled into her tone.

  That was his Lila, hackles raised, ready to do battle, to fight an injustice. “It’s not like Dallas. There aren’t ready buyers willing to lay down a few hundred grand to restore some old commercial building and set up shop,” he told her.

  She didn’t respond. He didn’t need to turn and see the quiet anger brimming just under the skin. He felt it. And Christ almighty if it didn’t turn him on more.

  “Does it have to be this way between us? Why can’t we talk to each other like normal people?” A hand glided up his back to his shoulder, making the muscles in his stomach clench with the effort to ignore the pleasure.

  Her touch scorched him. Control slipped fast. He had to move out of her reach, before he turned and buried himself in her neck.

  He stood, throwing his wrench into the red metal toolbox, and avoided meeting her eyes. “I’ll come back later to fix the rest. It should work for now.”

  He fastened the clasps on the box with a firm snap and made to leave, but a tiny hand curled around his side and rested just above the zipper on his jeans.

  His cock throbbed in his pants and the thrumming echoed in the blood coursing throughout his body.

  The fissure in his control cracked wide open and he pushed his tools away, turning with lightning speed to face his wife. Her face softened and her lips parted. His resolve to avoid further emotional entanglement with Lila dissolved under the beauty of her face, flushed with passion.

  He grabbed her around the waist, raising her feet off the floor until their lips met. He found acceptance and invitation without preamble in the contours of her warm mouth.

  God, how long had it been? And why did he wait so long?

  He crushed her against the wall, and her legs rose and curled around his hips.

  She tasted like sherbet, tangy and sweet like summertime, familiar. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted all of her. Right now.

  Jake moved his hungry mouth over her chin and down her neck. She cried out as he nipped the tender skin behind an ear, and the sound struck a chord within him. He growled low in his throat, the response ragged and raw like a man denied sustenance too long.
He suckled on the smooth skin below her jaw and drank from the hollows of her collarbone.

  His Lila. His wife. Forever and always.

  Her hands dug deep into his hair, pulling him closer. He needed to feel her naked, have her skin warm against his chest. The comfort of familiarity and the joy of rediscovery flamed his desire to a roaring bonfire.

  He leaned back, pulling the tail of her shirt up over her breasts. He caught her hands in one of his, holding her captive against the wall while he reveled in the sight of her. He’d memorized every curve, every hollow on her frame after they were first married, and he wanted to reacquaint himself intimately with each one again.

  Beautiful breasts, framed by strappy tan lines, enticed him to lower his head and sample the ruby nipples. Her narrow waist flared to welcoming hips, which rocked against his erection.

  “Jake…” Her voice interrupted his perusal.

  “Let me look at you, Lila—it’s been so long.” He heard the need in his own voice and wondered if she heard it, too.

  She quieted, shivering when his hand slid up her rib cage, cradling a breast, reacquainting himself with the feel. He grazed the nipple with the back of his knuckles, watching her sharp intake of breath push the mound harder against his hand.

  He lowered his mouth and took the peak inside, rolling the bud back and forth against the heat of his tongue. The sensation filled his mind with longing, forcing the thoughts of repercussions and recriminations further away, behind a locked door. Those could be dealt with later, much later.

  “God, Jake. Please…” She was always impatient, wanting the feel of him inside her, rocking her higher and higher. He bit the bud gently and Lila pushed forward, grinding against him.

  “Don’t stop,” she said.

  He wove a wet trail with his tongue to the other breast, showering the twin globe with the same lazy, excruciatingly slow treatment.

  His pleasure came from her response, and with each successive moan, she pushed him closer to the edge, making it more difficult for him to contain his own need. But contain it he would, driving her gratification higher.

  When he finally lifted his head, he could see her panting. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession.

  Jesus. They were dangerous together like this. He didn’t think their sexual attraction could flare up again so fast and so hot, but he’d been wrong. He’d lied to himself all these years, thinking it couldn’t be as good as he remembered.

  And it wasn’t. It was far better. He had to stop. Now.

  He released her wrists and pulled the shirt hem back down around her waist.

  He read the confusion and then the accusation in her eyes. Why couldn’t the moment last a little while longer?

  But they couldn’t be together. He didn’t know how many days he had. No one knew if he was truly “cured,” not even the best specialists. Remission meant the cancer could come back at any time, and if it did, it would be worse the second time around.

  No, he didn’t have the luxury of time to love this woman the way she deserved to be loved. She needed to move on, forget about him. Find somebody else to grow old with, somebody healthy.

  He pulled away, instantly regretting the loss of her body wrapped around his. He adjusted his jeans, trying to give his painful erection and full balls some breathing room. When he looked up into her face, he could see it coming. She tried to hold it in, but the turbulent emotion built behind the calm expression. Her lips trembled and her eyes shone with suppressed grief.

  He hated himself more at that moment than at any other time in his life. And what he was about to say next turned his stomach.

  “Thanks, Lila. But I don’t have time for the distraction, though wonderful, I’m sure. I’ve got jobs to complete.”

  He backed up, avoiding his reflection in the mirror.

  God, he was a hateful, cruel bastard.

  His wife sat on the bathroom counter of her granny’s house, resplendent in her arousal. And he was going to just walk away. Like a jackass.

  She was a helluva lot better off without him.

  Grabbing his toolbox and his heart off the floor, Jake retreated from the bathroom. And his wife. Leaving her as crushed and defeated as the day she rolled out of his life ten years ago.

  He recalled that day with startling clarity.

  The aluminum of the webbed lawn chair squeaked under Lila’s butt as she shifted, lifting the backs of her thighs to catch the cooler breeze of twilight. Ordinarily she wouldn’t be sweating so much, even in the early July Texas heat, but the hard set of Jake’s jaw as he sat in the chair next to her made her sick with anxiety. The kind of anxiety that made a woman afraid and reluctant to face her own husband even though she knew the night wouldn’t get any easier the longer it wore on.

  And if she just had the guts to tell him she was leaving, get it out in the open and over with, she could banish the queasiness of regret and guilt and get on with the bleak and tarnished future of being divorced so young.

  Maybe if she forced him. “You just gonna sit there?”

  Jake’s response was to lower his head a degree and stare at the St. Augustine grass of Granny’s backyard.

  Even in this, their final discussion, Lila had to be the one to push, to bring it to a painful close. “I’m leaving in the morning. Granny’s taking me to the airport in Austin. I’m not taking anything ’cept my clothes, so you can have the stuff in the apartment.”

  The muscle in Jake’s jaw jumped. Lila glanced away to the massive trunk of the pecan tree before she cried. She’d cried enough tears lately to fill a swimming pool.

  “You can tell your parents why I’m going. I don’t suspect they care to hear anything from me right now.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  His quiet voice surprised her and she turned back, hoping to find something in his face that would tell her she was wanted. Needed. Loved. Except he wasn’t looking at her, but at his calloused hands clasped tightly between his knees.

  She loved those hands, strong and warm and capable. Always capable of holding her, loving her, reassuring her. Until six months ago.

  Lila waited for him to explain. He didn’t. She should be used to his withdrawal by now. His doctor said it was normal, that eventually, Jake would recover his old sense of self. But he hadn’t. And with his abdication of life went his love for her.

  “Wrong about your parents? I doubt it. They’ve never really liked me.” And they sure the hell didn’t think she was good enough for their only son now.

  “Is that why they bought you the Mustang?”

  The old anger burned like a fresh bee sting, bottling up arguments in her throat, but Lila held them back, for once keeping her tongue checked and her feelings to herself. Maybe if she’d done that from the start, she wouldn’t be on the verge of hightailing it to Dallas to sponge off Granny’s sister, Tilly. But she’d trusted her emotions, trusted Jake’s, too, and it had earned her a one-way ticket out of Hannington.

  “The Mustang is yours. I left the keys on the kitchen counter.” She stood, rubbing the web marks on the backs of her legs, wishing that with a few vigorous swipes, her heart would be as untouched.

  Lila looked at Jake hard, imprinting his familiar profile on her mind, all the while knowing she was stupid for allowing even the tiniest swell of hope. The knowledge didn’t stop her from waiting, holding her breath, silently counting to ten and then twenty.

  Nothing. Not a single word, or scrap of emotion she could cling to. Just icy distance.

  “I’m selling the Mustang and moving home with my parents. I’ll send your half of the apartment deposit when I get it.”

  Exhausted beyond her years, Lila gave in. “Fine. You can get the information from Granny.”

  And then she turned her back on Jake Winter, her best friend, the boy she’d dated through high school, the man she married and cared for through his diagnosis with Hodgkin’s disease, and now separated, all before the age of twenty.

  Lesson Number Nine �
�

  Men feel proudest when they find the right solution to a problem. Let your man not only offer solutions, but sometimes fix the problem with one of his suggestions.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Goddammit, Jake. You really want to do this?”

  No. Although Howard Armstrong left him no choice. He couldn’t stand around and let the arrogant bastard malign Lila. Too many people felt comfortable doing that and then orchestrating Jake’s life while they were at it.

  Personally, it pissed him off.

  “It makes sense if you think about,” he told Howard, who reclined in his high-back leather office chair. “She’s willing to take the structure off the city’s books and dump a load of cash into it. So let her. It’ll be back on the tax rolls and you can collect the city’s portion.”

  Howard sat with his fingers steepled on his lips, looking like the master of his domain. Unfortunately for the mayor, the extent of his authority was about as big as the town’s annual Central Texas State Fair. A once-a -year event attracting a few thousand people.

  Disappointment and a dose of resentment drew his broad features down into a heavy frown. He didn’t like losing his rec center to Lila. His wide, bushy brows almost met and provided an intimidating cover for his mud-colored eyes. Eyes trained on Lila.

  There wasn’t a damn thing Howard could do about the situation.

  Lila had him beat.

  “Surely raw land off the town square would cost the city less to develop for the recreation center,” she offered.

  She had the mayor’s number, and Jake would have to make a point to watch her back. If any two people could make her life rough in the small town, the Armstrongs were it. Howard and Janie were formable and plain mean sometimes.

  “Don’t lecture me about real estate, little lady. I know my job. And part of it is helping to improve the quality of life for our citizens. That building has been a blight for too long and frankly, we’d be better off without it. But that’s not going to happen now that you’ve come running in from the big city to save us from our naive and backcountry ways. Is it?”