Love & Rockets

by Maggie Wells

  “Okay, I’m going. Sheesh, you’re pretty bossy for a kid, you know?” Jake said into his phone.

  Darla couldn’t restrain her smile. Grace was on point with her portion of the plan.

  “You know NASA will probably post some really great shots on their website,” he said as he let the access door swing shut behind him. “No, right. Those aren’t taken here.”

  His steps slowed when he spotted the blanket dotted with covered plates, then stopped dead when she stepped out from behind the telescope. Dark eyes locked on her. She saw his knuckles turn white as he gripped the phone pressed to his ear. He wet his lips. “You set me up, kiddo?” He didn’t take his eyes off her as he listened to whatever Gracie was saying. “Yeah. Yeah, she does.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Are you at Connie’s?” He nodded. “Okay, well, do your homework. Brush your teeth. Oh, and check the NASA site for pictures,” he added before ending the call.

  Darla gave him a shaky smile as he shoved the phone into his pocket. “Sneaky isn’t her strong suit, but she’s pretty persuasive.”

  He glanced down at the camera in his hand. “She got me up here.”

  “And I owe her a trip to the mall.” She winced, then shot him a coy look. “Probably not going to be cheap.”

  His forehead creased. “She doesn’t seem like the mall type.”

  She smiled at his naiveté. “All women are the mall type. Some are simply more avid shoppers.”

  He darted a glance at the picnic, then let his gaze rove over her from the tips of her polished toes to her expertly shaped eyebrows. “A part of me wants to ask what you’re doing here. Seems like one of those things that seems obvious, but feels a little like a trap.”

  “A trap?”

  “Like I’m gonna make assumptions and come out looking stupid.”

  Darla took the two biggest steps her dress would allow, effectively closing the gap between them. She caught sight of the moon reflected in the lenses of his glasses, then looked past it into eyes as dark as the night sky. She wanted to tell him she loved him. To promise she’d be more open to letting him into her life. Tell him his mother was expecting her and Grace for Sunday dinner. But she didn’t do any of those things. She couldn’t. Not until they’d jettisoned some of the baggage from their past.

  Taking his free hand in both of hers, she held his gaze. “If you need to know his name, I’ll tell you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll tell you who Gracie’s father is, but Jake, think carefully before you answer. Once I do, I can’t take back what I did and you can’t ever un-know it.” Nerves danced in her stomach and her throat tightened. “Do you really need to know? Does it matter that much to you?” She squeezed his big, warm hand, then laced her fingers through his. “I can’t change the choices I made back then. And I wouldn’t,” she added in a rush. “Look what I got.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But I’ve thought a lot about what we talked about the other night and I think I figured it out.”

  “Figured what out?”

  Darla drew his hand to her chest, nestling their clasped fingers between her breasts, right over her heart. “She didn’t tell you until after she’d had the abortion, did she?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Darla took the opportunity to pull his hand to her lips and press fervent kiss to the back.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his skin. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “No,” he said in a whisper.

  She nodded, lowering their hands once more. “And I never told him.”

  “The difference is, he could know his daughter.” Jake’s voice was hoarse with emotion. The jagged edges of his own pain cut right through her, but she forced herself to hold steady.

  “Honey, don’t you think if he wanted to, he could have done the math? My pregnancy was no secret. Don’t you think if he even entertained the possibility, he would have asked?” She gave him a lopsided smile. “They kicked me out, but as far as I know, he and his wife socialize with my parents regularly.”

  “Your parents are ash-holes.”

  A laugh bubbled out of her. Not so much because of the sentiment as the language. The term was one of Gracie’s first borderline swears. “You’re supposed to call them volcanoes, then bust out the ash-hole bit after someone asks what you mean.”

  “But you knew what I meant.”

  “Yeah. I did. Do.” She fought the urge to look away. Her days of feeling ashamed of her past were quickly becoming a thing of the past. “If you want to know his name, I’ll tell you, but I’d rather not. I can’t think of one bit of good that can come out of telling you. It’s not going to change anything.”

  Darla watched his face as he digested her offer, all the while praying he wouldn’t ask.

  “I understand, and I totally get why his not knowing would bother you, but, Jake, totally not the same situation as what you went through.”

  “Right,” he answered with a nod. “No, it’s not.” He stared up at the stars, quiet as he considered her offer and all its implication. “No, you’re right.” He turned to look her in the eye. “Knowing isn’t going to change how I feel about you or Gracie, and you say it could hurt other people…No. I don’t need to know.”

  “There is something you should know, though.”

  “What?”

  “I think your mom knows something happened with you.”

  “What?” Jake stiffened, then extricated his hand from hers. “How? How would you know?”

  Darla smiled and swept a hand toward the candlelit picnic spread. “Who do you think masterminded this whole ‘grand gesture’ thing?”

  The man looked as if she’d clubbed him over the head with his big, fat telescope. “My mom?”

  She chuckled, grasped his elbow, and steered him toward the blanket. But the minute she stepped onto the edge, she realized she had no graceful way of sinking onto it without playing peek-a-boob or giving him a shot of the pretty lace panties she’d bought but never worn for him. Feeling awkward and hoping to distract him from any possible flashing, she motioned for him to go first.

  Thankfully, he held up the camera in his hand. “Gimme a sec. I’ll put this on here so I don’t lose track of it.”

  While he took a minute to attach the camera to the telescope, she quickly dropped to her knees then swung her legs around, yanking the low-cut bodice into place as she situated. Luckily, Jake took the time to adjust the scope’s trajectory.

  “Do you mind if I snap a couple of pictures?”

  Her head came up and her hands stilled. “Of the moon?”

  A smile twitched the corners of his mouth as he bent to make a few more adjustments. “I’d take some of you, but I won’t need them.”

  “You won’t?”

  “Pretty sure this dress will be permanently etched on my brain.” He pressed the button to trigger the camera’s shutter. “Tell me my mother didn’t pick it out for you.”

  “Uh….”

  He laughed as he backed away from the telescope. Turning his full attention to her, he shrugged. “You’d think I’d be past needing my mom to set me up.”

  “I dread the day Grace stops needing me.”

  Jake dropped down onto the opposite side of the blanket, then kept on going. He stretched out long on his back and laced his fingers together behind his head, his gaze locked on the moon.

  Darla smiled, charmed by the ease and fluidity of his motions. This was a man who clearly spent a lot of time sprawled out on his roof staring at the sky above. Swinging her legs out in front of her, she lay back until the enormous orb loomed over her.

  “I don’t need to know his name,” he said as soon as she settled.

  Darla turned to look at him. “No?”

  He shook his head, but continued to stare up at the glowing white orb. “But there is one thing I do need to know,” he said quietly.

  “I love you.”
<
br />   Jake nodded and reached for her hand without tearing his eyes from the sky. The moment her fingers slid into place between his, he blew out a sigh. “Before you say anything else, I want you to know I intend to send Gracie to Space Camp whether she earns the scholarship or not.”

  She quirked a brow at him. “Oh, you do, huh?”

  He turned to look her in the eye then nodded again. “Yep. And I’m going with her.”

  “Oh.” Darla wet her lips, then gave a little shrug. “Think they give family discounts?”

  “Are you proposing to me?”

  She fixed him with an earnest gaze. “I kind of promised your mom and Gracie I’d make an honest man out of you.” Heedless of the scant material of her dress, she rolled up and scrambled for the beach towel-covered lump anchoring one corner of the blanket. Uncovering the Styrofoam and construction paper model of Saturn Grace had made for the Young Scientists gala, she held it out to him.

  He smiled up at her, a wicked gleam in his night-sky eyes. “Are you going to ask politely?”

  Laughing, she ducked her head before conceding defeat. “Please, Jake,” she whispered, looking up at him from under her lashes. “Say you’ll marry me. I beg you.”

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to give in.”

  She smiled and nodded, then she hit him with the line Gracie assured her would seal the deal. “Say yes, and you’ll never want for ammonia.”

  “Yes,” he replied with gratifying promptness.

  “Gracie says she thinks this will fit, but if you want something different, I hear Pluto’s looking for an upgrade.”

  Jake took the model from her and carefully set the ringed planet aside before pulling her into his arms again. “Nah, this works.” He drew her down onto the blanket once more, then kissed her. Soft, deep, and so sweetly shivered. “We have the moon.”

  His breath was a warm caress against her damp lips. She wanted more. Of him. Of everything. All the things she never thought she needed. “I’m greedy.” She searched his eyes, basking in the warmth and love reflected there. “I want the stars, too.”

  Jake lowered his mouth to hers again. “That’s my girl,” he whispered between kisses. “Now, say it again.”

  “Please, Jake?”

  He chuckled as he kissed his way down her throat. “No, the other thing.”

  “I love you?”

  He paused, his lips lingering over her hammering heart. “That didn’t sound convincing at all.”

  “I love you, Jake.” This time she said those words with conviction. She arched her back as he nuzzled the valley between her breasts. “Oh, my stars, I love you.”

  THE END

  Don’t miss other books in Maggie Well’s Coastal Heat series!

  Flip This Love

  Nothing draws a magnate like a steel magnolia…

  Harley Cade is back in town—and the former bad boy is downright irresistible now that he’s donned a hard hat and set to work restoring the South's finest homes to their former grandeur. While wealth may have gained Harley entry into high society, it’s going to take a lot more than a fat bank account to win the lovely Laney Tarrington.

  Laney isn't open to giving the self-made magnate a second chance—no matter how much she needs him. With her family fortune gone, Laney finally has to stand on her own two feet. The last person she’d ever lean on is Harley, the man who left her behind with nothing more than memories of the passion they once shared….

  With the attraction still burning hot between them, Harley isn’t above seduction—or secretly buying Laney’s bankrupted family’s estate. After all, he no longer has to prove himself to anyone, least of all the daughter of Mobile, Alabama’s most prestigious family. But will pride keep Harley from gaining the biggest prize of all—a place in Laney’s heart?

  Visit Maggie Wells at

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31636

  Chapter 1

  “That’s it. Suck, sugar.”

  The husky timbre of Harley’s voice sent shivers down Laney’s spine. One warm hand slid from her shoulder to her back. The tips of his fingers dug into the valley of her spine. His hand could nearly span her waist. Her nipples puckered when he slipped that roving hand into her hair. Oh, how she wished she’d worn it up. She loved the feel of him. Loved being skin to skin with him. She almost wept with relief when he wrapped his big, broad palm around her nape. Heat seeped into the taut muscles of her neck. A thin stream of hot moisture escaped from the corner of her mouth and trickled down her chin.

  “Oh, yeah. Suck harder.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words to her. God help her, she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She was weak, a quivering mass of happy, hurt, and oh-please-touch-me-again. But she needed to toughen up. She had to be on her guard. The man was as insidious as the kudzu that crept into her mother’s flower garden.

  Laney pulled the spent crawfish shell from her mouth and dropped it onto the butcher paper in front of her. Fingers tangled in her hair and tugged lightly; a tiny lightning bolt of white-hot desire streaked straight through her. She looked up in time to see Harley flash old Mrs. Hillbury a dimpling smile and commandeer the folding chair beside hers.

  “Evenin’, Delaney.”

  Scrambling to assemble her thoughts, Laney turned away from Harley’s choir-boy-gone-bad grin and searched the crowd. She sure could use a swallow of the cold beers her friend Brooke had gone to fetch for them, but her trusty pal was nowhere to be seen. Of course. Laney was on her own. She ought to be used to it by now. She should be a professional when it came to rebuffing this man’s advances. She only needed to tap into the sass. No better way to keep a man dancing on the string than to let him think he had half a chance. But only half.

  The first time Harley Cade asked her out, Laney Tarrington laughed in his face. Then she locked herself in the ladies’ room and did a happy dance. The second time, she mocked him mercilessly. To his face. Perverse thing he was, Harley seemed to enjoy her abuse. So much so that she lay awake into the wee small hours plotting ways to entice him.

  The third time he asked her out, Harley gave up any pretense of acting like a gentleman. He leaned in close, and right there, in the middle of the Saints Preserve Us fundraiser for their alma mater, St. Patrick’s Academy, in a voice barely above a whisper, he told her all the things he wanted to do to her. With her. For her.

  In graphic detail. In language most Southern men would never consider using with a lady.

  She almost cracked. How the hell could any red-blooded American woman resist him? The man was built like some kind of old-time mafia muscle and sported a pair of dimples deep enough to bury a body.

  But she had resisted.

  She resisted the fourth, fifth, and sixth times, too. The seventh time got her. Lucky number seven. Oh, God, had it been lucky. She took him back to the tiny apartment she kept in her parents’ carriage house and let him have his wicked way with her. Unyielding as she might have been at first, Laney had to admit the man lived up to the hype.

  And then the son of a bitch up and left town the next day.

  If he thought he could waltz back into town and pick up where they left off… She waved the possibility away like she was batting at a pesky mosquito. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He blinked, all boyish innocence trapped in a bar bouncer’s body. “Why, I live here, sugar.” The dimples winked as he scooted his chair closer. “Did ya miss me?”

  Laney hoped the shiver his molasses-thick baritone unleashed wasn’t visible to the naked eye. The moment the thought crystallized, she blinked, trying to strike the word ‘naked’ from her internal dictionary. She definitely needed to dispatch the too-tempting man beside her.

  Hell, she’d spent most her life putting men in their place. It was child’s play for her. At least, it should have been. A smart mouth combined with a cool stare had long been her number one, never-fail defense mechanism. It wor
ked like a charm. Except with Harley. For some reason, it always took a little extra moxie to dispense with this particular man.

  Arching one eyebrow, she turned enough to catch sight of his eye. Big mistake. Those eyes were the smooth, clear green of old fashioned Coca-Cola bottles. Looking into them made her mouth run dry. She wanted a long, deep drink of this man. Damn good thing her own mama had drilled the art of self-denial into her almost from the cradle.

  She could overpower this unseemly desire. She only needed to put her mind to it. And get her heart to stop thumping like a drum line. All the aforementioned physical reactions coalesced into one big pot of want, and judging by the knowing glint in his eyes, she wasn’t hiding a damn thing from him. She knew exactly how to wipe the smile from his face. Pursing her lips, she gave her head a slow, pitying shake.

  “Well, they will let anyone into these things, won’t they?”

  “It’s a fundraiser, so yes. Anyone with plenty of money in the bank.” His smile widened even as his beautiful eyes narrowed. “So how did you get in, Miss Laney? They decide they needed a little window dressing?”

  The jab felt like a slap but she didn’t look away. The Mercy Hospital Mardi Gras fundraiser was one of the most exclusive social events in Mobile. Exclusive and expensive. Many a Gulf Shore wannabe dreamed of receiving a gilt-edged invitation to sit in a drafty tent and eat boiled mudbugs, but not many wormed their way in. Most of those had come from solid, upper-middle class families with strong ties to the Mobile business community.

  Only one of them boasted about growing up in a one-bedroom apartment in the Southern Comfort housing project. Then again, few of those upwardly-mobile Mobilians had achieved the success Harley Cade had before he turned twenty-five.

  “My mother was on the board.” Her fingers tightened on the edge of the table even as she tossed him the tidbit of information. Laney tried not to think about it too much. Comparing how far the man next to her had climbed to her own family’s financial fall made her stomach churn. Pressing a hand to her belly to quell the unease, she twisted in her seat, searching the crowd for Brooke and the damn bottle of Bud she so desperately needed.