by Calista Fox
Why put off ‘til tomorrow the woman he could be doing tonight?
Jack groaned as he fired up the truck. It revved like his internal engine. Being saintly didn’t come easy to him. Women took one look at him and either did or didn’t. It wasn’t difficult to spot which ones were first-string starters and which ones were benchwarmers.
But Manhattan had him all spun up. Contradicting and confusing himself. Making him think yes, and then minutes later, no.
He’d never invested this much mental contemplation into his course of action. There was something about this woman that made him want to make the right choice from the get-go. Because he sensed she wasn’t one to grant a second chance if he blew it.
Backing the truck out of its designated parking spot, he said, “Cottage off Wilder Lake Lane, right.” It wasn’t a question, since he already knew their destination.
He spared a glance her way and everything inside him went tight and uncomfortable. He was seriously aroused. So easily. His gaze slid over her body as the smell of her wafted through the cab. A light, breezy fragrance that reminded him of lilacs in spring. The scent filled his nose and infiltrated every nook and cranny inside him, stimulating his senses even more.
“Correct,” she said, distracted by the seatbelt she attempted to latch. A tricky maneuver given the way her body seemed to squirm and vibrate in the seat as though she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.
His doing, he hoped. Reaching one hand toward her, he helped her insert Tab A into Slot B. He couldn’t help but think about doing that very thing on a much grander scale. Especially when the simplest of touches—like his hand on hers—made him want to explore every inch of her body. And not just with his fingers.
Damn, this was going to be one hell of a drive. Likely followed by a world-record-setting cold shower.
Jack hit the open road, keeping his eyes straight ahead. To distract himself from a dilemma he’d never faced before—should he or shouldn’t he?—he said, “You oughta call and cancel the taxi, darlin’. Tell Mrs. Simpson I appreciate the cherry pie she brought by on Tuesday.”
Manhattan retrieved her phone from the small leather bag she carried and hit a speed dial number. “Hello, again,” she said. “I just called for a cab at Wade’s Saloon. I’ve got a ride home now, so there’s no need to pick me up.” A brief pause, then she added, “Oh um… That’s a good question.”
Shooting a look Jack’s way, she eyed him a moment, then hit what he guessed to be the mute button on her phone and asked, “Who are you, anyway?”
He grinned. “Thought we were aiming for mysterious and enigmatic this evening,” he said in a nonchalant tone.
She smirked at him—that playful expression that made his gut clench in a purely primal way. “Did you seriously just use the word ‘enigmatic’?”
“I did. But you can tell Mrs. Simpson you’re with Jack.”
“Jack,” she repeated his name.
He resisted the urge to close his eyes and ask her to whisper it softly. Her voice, her sassy smile and the smell of her kept him hard. Thank God the cab of the truck was dark.
Unmuting the phone, but keeping her eyes on him, she said, “Yes, Mrs. Simpson. I’m still here. I’m with Jack…Wade. Correct?”
He nodded.
She conveyed Jack’s gratitude for the culinary treat, then listened for a few seconds. A soft laugh followed. “I’ll be sure to mention it. Goodnight, now.”
“What’d she say?” Jack asked as she disconnected the call.
“She’s bringing an apple pie by in the morning. With strudel in the crust.”
He whistled under his breath. “My favorite.”
“Recently divorced or eternal bachelor?”
“Never married,” he said and was damn proud of that fact. “But don’t get any ideas about an unkempt bachelor who only gets fed by the local housewives. I can cook.”
“Oh?” she challenged with a jerk of her eyebrow, which he caught as he slid glances her way.
“Yeah,” he countered. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night and I’ll prove it.”
As she considered his proposal, Jack made the turnoff that led to the winding, tree-lined Wilder Lake Lane where they both now resided. Hell, maybe having her as a tenant wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He could certainly keep a better eye on her, make sure anyone who might have missed his borderline dog-marking move at the bar kept their distance.
Not waiting for her to acquiesce to his dinner date suggestion, thereby making it a foregone conclusion they’d be dining together tomorrow night, he said, “So you’re one up on me. Actually, more than that.”
“Not really,” she countered. “You know I prefer wine and that three shots of tequila and one beer are more than I can handle in an hour and a half. Or however long I was at your bar. I’m in Texas purely on a whim, don’t know a soul. Well, aside from you,” she added with another soft smile. “Think that puts you in the lead.”
He shrugged in a noncommittal way.
“Liza Brooks,” she introduced herself with notable panache. Adding a lilting accent to the “i”.
Interesting.
“Nice to meet you, Liza.” He grinned at her. A flash of headlights caught his peripheral vision and he returned his attention to the road. The lights piercing the darkness made Jack swear under his breath. “What the hell,” he muttered to himself, “are you doing out here?”
“Excuse me?”
Jack shook his head as a sedan approached in the opposing lane. There were no street lamps to illuminate the road, and the tall pine trees almost eclipsed the moonlight, but Jack recognized the vehicle as his own headlights flashed over it.
“Everything okay?” Liza asked as he scowled.
“Just busybodies,” he grumbled as he gave a three-fingered wave to his uncle, the Reverend Bain, as the car passed. The rest of his hand remained wrapped around the steering wheel. “People should mind their own business.”
Unfortunately, Jack was reminded again that Liza’s association with him would define which camp she resided in with the townsfolk. Unless he could somehow keep her in neutral territory. She shouldn’t have to take sides with the saints or the sinners. Nothing in Wilder was her doing or her concern, really. She was just visiting, wasn’t she? Nothing permanent.
Hell, according to his property manager, they’d modified the rental agreement to a four-week term instead of the six months Jack had initially specified when he’d decided to put the place up for rent. Not that he was complaining. Four weeks of rent helped to keep Josh on the payroll until Jack could figure out his next move.
What the morality sanction was doing to his profits, however, wasn’t something he wanted to think about at the moment. A mile or so down the road, he turned onto a tree-lined dirt path that led to a large white farmhouse illuminated by porch lights and, further down, a matching cottage nestled on the shores of Wilder Lake. He pulled the truck alongside a flashy red convertible Mercedes and whistled under his breath.
“Fancy wheels.”
“A gift,” she said. Then frowned. “Damn, I’d forgotten about that.”
His brow lifted. “What?”
“Oh,” she said, obviously catching herself by surprise. “Nothing, I just… It will only make sense to me. Whatever. No worries.” She waved a slender, manicured hand in the air. “All in the past.”
She stared straight ahead, though, looking at the car and scowling as she crossed her bare arms over her extremely enticing chest. She sat beside him quietly for a few moments. Not necessarily waiting for him to get out and open the door—though that’s what he intended to do. No, she was trying to settle herself. Something had unnerved her. The Mercedes?
She gnawed her lower lip. It looked to be a purely absent-minded gesture. In the shimmer of golden moonlight, he could see the confusion swirling in her eyes. As though she was debating her plan of action.
Oh hell. Was she nervous to get out of the truck because she’d have to make up her min
d about whether she would or wouldn’t with a man she’d just met at a bar?
Jack unhooked his seatbelt, then reached for the latch on hers. Her gaze snapped to his and, in a heartbeat, the cab of the truck became a much more intimate space. The foot-and-a-half separating them felt as though it’d been reduced to mere centimeters.
Jack’s eyes roved her body again and he heard her breath catch. When his gaze reconnected with hers, she seemed to stop breathing altogether.
When he spoke, his tone was low and friendly. “What are you running from, Liza?”
Unexpectedly, a fat tear welled in one eye, but she blinked it away so fast he might have imagined it. Until she said, “I haven’t cried since my father’s funeral. I won’t start tonight. Don’t worry.”
He merely shrugged. Women’s tears didn’t faze him. He’d seen his fair share. Some were his doing. Most were other’s. He had big enough shoulders to deal with it.
“I haven’t done anything illegal, I assure you,” she said with a soft, yet edgy laugh.
Didn’t take a degree in psychology to get the gist of the problem. “Something you have to distance yourself from in order to let go of?”
Boyfriend, no doubt. Jack hoped it was that simple, that she wasn’t in need of hiding out from anyone. Hopefully, it was nothing more than a bad split she needed to move away from in order to free herself from the binds.
“A few somethings,” she admitted. Her gaze locked with his. He couldn’t help but try to search for answers in the deep green pools. He found none. But there was a hint of sadness. And something else that looked disturbingly similar to remorse. What could that be about?
Jack mentally shook his head. Maybe he was just reading too much into all of this. “Everybody’s got their demons, darlin’.”
She nodded, not saying a word.
Jack climbed out of the cab and rounded the truck to her side. He opened the door for her as she escaped the restraints of the seatbelt. Apparently attempting to make as graceful an exit as her entrance had been, she slid over the edge of the seat. Unfortunately, she miscalculated and missed the rung entirely, thereby dropping directly to the ground. Her tall heels hit the soft earth and drove deep, sticking into the lush grass like tent spikes.
She fell into Jack’s arms and he was quick to react, swallowing her up in a loose embrace.
“Gotcha,” he whispered, his voice a bit dark and husky on the quiet night air.
Having Manhattan’s soft curves meld to his hard muscles forced Jack to face that inevitable debate once more this evening.
Will we or won’t we?
Chapter Three
“Good catch,” Liza whispered in a breathless tone as Jack’s arms tightened around her waist. “Probably would’ve snapped an ankle if I’d toppled over.” She tried to be flip, but the only thing flipping was her stomach.
Her voice was as unsteady as she was on her stilettos. Little tremors of excitement rocked her body, the vibrations making her tremble from head to toe. She certainly couldn’t blame the shaking on the weather, because it was hotter than a Manhattan sidewalk in mid-July. Even this late in the evening.
Giving a purely half-assed shove, she tried to move away from the Devil. Just a bit, needing some physical distance for mental clarity. Her hands lingered on his chest, though, where she’d placed them. They weren’t just hanging out there to keep her steady. Once she’d touched the scorching-hot cowboy, she wasn’t in a hurry to stop touching him.
“Does it ever cool down around here?”
He grinned at her, as though he knew she was trying to change the subject, draw his attention from the quaking of her body that had nothing to do with the climate and everything to do with him. And the lust he sparked.
“Seems unlikely at this point.” The wicked flash in his eyes told her he wasn’t talking about the weather. But he did add, “You’ll like October.”
A long way off… Would she even be here come October?
As Liza ruminated over this, Jack suddenly scooped her up in his strong arms, effectively pulling her bare feet right out of the spiked heels, which remained deeply embedded in the soft earth.
“Oh!” she gasped in surprise. “You could’ve given me a heads up on that one.”
“Not my usual style, but I keep thinking you’re gonna hurt yourself in those shoes.”
“Considerate of you.” She grinned contently as she all too willingly wrapped her arms around the cowboy’s thick neck. He carried her easily up the pathway, moving in a panther-like way that was fluid, yet purposeful. Everything about this sexy stranger appealed to her. Even the way he walked.
Snuggled close to his chest, she breathed in the dark, masculine scent of him. Damn, he smelled good. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she inhaled deeply one more time.
“Nice cologne,” she whispered in his ear.
He let out a low groan.
“City girls too heavy for you?” she teased.
He laughed. It was low and tight, but not in a you’re-straining-my-back sort of way. More like a “you’re testing my restraint” type of way.
“You’re light as a feather, darlin’,” he said.
“You must have sisters. Someone taught you well.”
He didn’t respond and she found that curious. Another piece of the Jack Wade puzzle to file away and think about another day. When she was sober. Not just from the tequila, but from the intoxicating scent and feel of the tall, dark cowboy.
She remained cozied up to him as he reached the three steps that led to the cute little porch with the glossy, dove-gray painted floor planks and the crisp, white-washed railing. The buckets of vibrantly colored flowers were a nice touch and their scent permeated the warm air. But the rich floral aroma was no match for the heat and delicious smell radiating from Jack.
The pulsing and throbbing in her cunt had not subsided since they’d left the saloon and now that she was in his arms, the erotic sensation was even more intense. She considered how close her lips were to his skin, how easy it would be to lean the tiniest bit forward and brush her mouth across his neck. She wanted to taste him. Everywhere. She wanted to run her tongue over the rigid muscles of his chest. Flick a nipple until it was as hard as hers. She wanted to move further south and pull his erect cock into her mouth, sucking and licking until he had to have her. Was desperate to be inside her.
A sigh of longing fell from her lips. The tip of her nose grazed his jaw as he ascended the steps and the electricity from that touch alone was enough to make her bound and determined to continue this seduction.
Regardless of who was actually in charge of it.
“You’re not making it easy for me to be chivalrous,” he said in a tight voice. “Those little sounds you make are driving me crazy.”
“When did I say I wanted you to be chivalrous?”
He groaned. “Trying to keep you out of trouble, darlin’.”
She laughed softly. “Don’t try so hard.” She was enjoying this too much. In fact, she seriously could’ve stayed in his arms all night—was sort of settled into doing just that. Unfortunately, as he stood in front of the ornate door with its beautiful, crystal-cut center, he put a small crimp in her plans.
“Mind unlocking the door, darlin’?”
Bummer.
She had to shift a little in his arms so she could retrieve the key ring from her purse. It wasn’t easy to maneuver, but Liza was determined to get the door open without fully relinquishing her hold on Jack. Because damn if she hadn’t truly found the happiest place on earth, right here in his arms. She liked this cozy cocoon and wasn’t looking to unravel from it any sooner than she had to. Hell, if he wanted to carry her directly into the bedroom and drop her on the bed, she was fully amenable to that. As long as he joined her in it, of course.
Successfully reaching the deadbolt without having to get out of the strong arms that held her close to his hunky body and giving the key a twist in the hole, she was able to depress the chrome lever and let them in. A
s he stepped inside the cottage, she flipped the light switch on the wall, taking in her cute new rental.
There was no formal foyer to speak of. The door opened to a room split in half by décor. To the right was the living room. A fireplace was centered on the wall where the door was also located. To the left was a small dining area. Windows adorned the side walls, one of which filled the room with silvery moonlight. Further back, two steps led up to an open, elevated kitchen. A cherry-wood banister with decorative black wrought-iron spindles divided the seating area at the counter from the living room.
Across from the kitchen were two doors. One leading to the bathroom. The other leading to…the bedroom. Her eyes immediately latched on to that part of the cottage and she bit back a smile.
Sure, she’d botched this pick-up at the bar. Yet by some bizarre stroke of luck that was completely uncommon for her, the sexy saloon owner had ended up exactly where she wanted him. Well…almost. He just needed to take a few more long strides forward until they reached the bedroom.
“I should go back for your shoes now,” Jack said as he stared down at her. Despite his words, he didn’t make a move to set her on her feet.
Nor did he make a move toward the bedroom. Was she seriously going to have to be the one to initiate this tryst? Her mouth twisted as she considered this. Finally, she moved in his arms. He took that as the signal to put her down. Another crossed message she’d inadvertently delivered tonight.
As her bare feet softly hit the polished hardwood floor, she clutched his thick biceps with her free hand. Not so much to keep her upright. More so just to retain the intimate contact between them. And because she really did like touching him.
“Care for a drink?” she asked.
He grinned at her. Cocky. Devilish. That hint of wicked making everything inside her liquefy.
“That’d be nice.” He stepped away, seemingly reluctantly, and then disappeared out the door.
Liza took a moment to steady herself for the tenth or so time since she’d met the Devil in Blue Jeans. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could still smell him, as though she were still cradled in his arms, nuzzled close to his neck. A bold, masculine scent that made her tingle from head to toe.
