Heart of Dixie

by Tami Hoag

  Unimpressed, the mechanic grunted, his gaze riveted on Jake. “You’re stayin’ out to the Cottages?”

  “That’s right,” Jake said, his voice as soft as velvet, smile never wavering.

  “You give our Dixie a bad time and you’re gonna be one big mystery. You got that, boy?” Eldon leaned toward Jake and tapped the wrench on Jake’s breast-bone for emphasis, his beady little eyes squinting into nothingness. “Junior here’ll put you in so many places those prissy snots from California won’t never find enough of you to take back in a lunch bucket.”

  Junior snarled an agreement.

  Jake eyed them both indolently and chuckled, a low menacing sound that rumbled deep in his chest. One golden brow arched and he settled his hands at the waist of his jeans. “Oh, really?”

  “Eldon!” Dixie wailed. Rushing forward she snatched the tool away from him and smacked him on the arm with it. “For Pete’s sake! Jake is a guest. He didn’t come here to make trouble. Here he is trusting his brand-new Porsche with you and you have to go and act like something out of Deliverance. You ought to be ashamed.” She shot a glare up at Junior. “The both of you.”

  Junior stepped back, his stern face melting into a look of contrition. “Shoot, Dixie, we’re just looking out for you.”

  Dixie tilted her head and gave him a sweet smile that brought a hint of a blush to the big man’s cheeks. “I’m okay,” she said, affectionately rubbing his cheek with the wrench.

  Jake watched her reach up and playfully tug down the bill of Junior’s red Whippets cap. He could almost see her turn up the knob on that incredible charm of hers. Junior grinned shyly and shuffled his feet, and Jake felt another swell of that emotion that absolutely wasn’t jealousy. “2 D 4 luck J.” J for Junior? Did he care? Did it matter to him? Of course not.

  “So,” he said tightly as they walked out of the garage, just about choking on that emotion he refused to name. “You and Junior have something going on?”

  “Me and Junior?” Dixie laughed and made a face at him. “No. Junior’s not sweet on me. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  He flashed a grin that was little more than a baring of his teeth. “Oh, just that he was practically drooling all over you.”

  She laughed again. “Go on. He was not. Junior’s like a big brother to me.”

  “Big, drooling brother,” Jake muttered, temper seething, control slipping. He went around to the passenger side of the Bronco and yanked the door open.

  Dixie watched him with amazement. He was acting almost as if he were jealous. But of course he wasn’t, she tried to tell herself. Men like Jake Gannon didn’t get jealous over not-so-slender, irksome women they’d just met. It didn’t happen. Not ever. It was just plain foolishness to think this one might. But her fingertips pressed against her lips, bringing back the taste of him as he’d kissed her.

  “They really are top-notch mechanics, you know,” she said, partly to distract herself and partly to reward Jake for leaving the Porsche. “Eldon has hands like a surgeon, only his are greasy.”

  “What about Junior?” Jake said irritably, flattening and stacking junk food wrappers on the dash. “What has he got besides a brain the size of a pea?”

  “A degree in engineering from Georgia Tech,” Dixie said smoothly. “He does free-lance design work. Has accounts all over the South. Tinkering on cars is his hobby.”

  Jake rubbed a hand across his mouth and sighed. He let his head roll against the back of the seat, slanting Dixie a sheepish look that was so endearing it made her heart jump. “I deserved that, didn’t I?”

  Dixie chuckled, the light in her eyes softening. “Yep. You just about steal the prize when it comes to judging books by their cover.”

  “I’m the product of a very image conscious society,” he said, watching her closely.

  “I know,” she murmured, turning to gaze out the windshield. Boy, did she know. But it wasn’t Jake’s fault. Society in general had become obsessively image conscious. She blamed advertising and the Devon Staffords of the world for making people have unrealistic expectations.

  Pulling herself out of her reverie, she waved her hand in the direction of the garage. “That all back there was mostly an act, you know. They wouldn’t hurt a flea on a hound dog, either one of them.”

  “I wasn’t terribly concerned,” Jake said softly.

  “I know.” She shrugged and frowned prettily. “I just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t get the drop on them next time and put them into some kind of Marine choke hold.”

  Jake gave her a long, considering look. “First Fabiano warns me off, now these two. Saturday the guy at the hardware store followed me around with a staple gun, ready to nail me to the wall if I looked at you the wrong way. They’re awfully protective of you. Why is that?”

  She shrugged as if she were uncomfortable with either the idea or the question. “Shoot, I don’t know. It’s just their way, is all.”

  Jake hummed a little and leaned toward her, smiling slightly, trying to work out the puzzle that was Dixie. He knew one thing for certain—she was awfully cute when she was disgruntled. He knew something else, as well—he was falling more and more under her spell with each passing second, and fighting it less. He could actually feel himself tilting off balance, losing the firm footing he maintained in life.

  “I don’t think so,” he murmured. “I think it’s something about you, Dixie La Fontaine. You inspire men to take up arms for you.”

  His smile deepened, carving out the dimples in his cheeks. Dixie had to pull her eyes away or melt. She shook her head. “I don’t think Dixie La Fontaine ever inspired a man to do anything.”

  “Not true,” Jake whispered, brushing a knuckle over the softness of her cheek. “Not true, Dixie.”

  She inspired him to behave in ways that amazed him. Every time he got within two feet of her, every time she turned those big hazel eyes up at him, something happened to his equilibrium and he lost all sense of balance. He lost all sense, period. There was something about her, something magnetic. Even when she wasn’t trying there was an enchanting aura about her. And when she turned on the charm, as she had done minutes before with Junior, it was enough to knock a man off his feet.

  “There’s something about you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I like it. I like it very much.”

  Dixie stared into the hypnotic blue of his eyes, the air in her lungs thinning to nothingness. “If you tell me I’m swell,” she whispered, leaning toward him, “I’ll break your nose.”

  A teasing smile twitched the corners of his lips and mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Gee, Dixie, I think you’re swell.”

  “Ooooh!”

  Squinting in anger, she hauled back a fist to make good on her promise, but Jake caught it easily. He closed his big hand around her small one and pulled her into his arms in the blink of an eye. She channeled her anger into the kiss, meeting his mouth aggressively with her own.

  Lips slanted against lips, teeth clashed, tongues dueled. Her anger melted into sweet steam as the dark, intoxicating taste of him filled her senses. She quieted in his arms, giving in to the deliciousness of the kiss, of being held and being wanted. She felt tiny and fragile in his embrace, as delicate as blown glass, as tender as the first spring flower. She forgot they were parked behind Eldon’s garage, amid stacks of old retreads and castaway auto parts. She forgot they were in the cab of her truck, didn’t even notice that she was half-sitting on a discarded burger carton. Every ounce of her focus went into kissing Jake, savoring the taste of him, marveling at his mastery of the art of the kiss. Every scrap of her attention went into absorbing the moment, the pressure of his mouth, the feel of his fingertips tracing the contour of her breast. She lost track of who she was or who she had been.

  After what seemed like an eternity Jake raised his head. Just a fraction of an inch, just enough to smile into her eyes with sweetness and smug male triumph. He dragged his tongue across his lower lip and hummed. “Mmm…you taste good when
you’re steamed,” he whispered.

  Dixie’s heart did an impossible acrobatic trick in her chest. Desire coiled like a watch spring in the pit of her belly. Out of pure self-preservation she planted her free hand on his chest and tried to shove him away. He didn’t budge. He stayed where he was, showing her that he would do whatever he darn well pleased. Then he leaned back and reluctantly let go of her hand, but still held her captive with his gaze.

  “There’s something about you, Dixie,” he murmured. “Something I’ve never come up against before.”

  That look was in his eyes again, she noted—a mix of wonder and determination, as if she were a Chinese puzzle he had every intention of solving.

  “You’re something special,” he said.

  A little fissure of fear cracked the spell. Dixie denied the charge flatly, feeling rattled and uncertain, raw, as if all her nerve endings had suddenly been exposed.

  “No. No, I’m not. I’m just a woman, like every other woman,” she said, looking at him with traces of hurt and anger that worked their way up from an old bruise in her soul. “There’s nothing different about me. I put on my pantyhose one leg at at time, I get PMS something fierce, and I don’t appreciate having my feelings jerked around by men just passing through looking for a little vacation fun.”

  Jake gave her a long even look. “Is that what you think I am?” he asked quietly.

  “Aren’t you?” she said, her voice trembling with accusation.

  She cursed herself as she waited for him to defend himself or deny it. She didn’t even know why she had brought it up. What difference did it make what he was doing here? She could have just played along, knowing in her heart it was just for fun, just a game. She should have just enjoyed whatever he offered, but she wasn’t made that way and she was sick to death of pretending. She’d done enough pretending to last her a lifetime.

  She stared at Jake, waiting for his answer, knowing she had taken a harmless flirtation and turned it into something that would no doubt hurt her. She would have no one to blame but herself.

  “No.”

  The word cut through her self-recriminations and made her flinch. No. Heaven help her, that wasn’t at all what she had been expecting to hear. She probably looked as stunned as if he had pulled out a rubber mallet and smacked her between the eyes.

  “No?” she questioned dumbly.

  “No,” he said, sounding decisive and not a little offended.

  “Then what’s going on here, Jake?” she managed to ask.

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted, driving a hand through his hair, then rubbing the back of his neck. He looked vaguely puzzled. “It’s not something I planned.”

  A little smile played across Dixie’s mouth as she thought of how compulsive he was. Her gaze fell on the wrappers he’d arranged neatly on her dash. The poor orderly man. He would be thrown by anything he hadn’t put on an itinerary.

  “I’ll bet that just bugs the bejeepers out of you.”

  He smiled a slow, sexy, self-deprecating smile, and Dixie felt her heart spin around like a trick pony. “Not as much as I would have expected it to,” he granted, sounding surprised at himself, as if he were in the process of experiencing a great personal revelation. There was a look of near-wonder in his eyes. “Not enough to make me back off.”

  “Oh, my.” The words fluttered out of Dixie on a fragile breath. Now what was she supposed to do? Lord have mercy, she felt as if she’d opened Pandora’s box, but instead of terrible things coming out of it, Jake Gannon was, sexy and tempting. She didn’t think she would be able to make herself put him back.

  It had been so long since she’d indulged herself in romance. It had been forever since a man had shown that kind of an interest and not had an ulterior motive. She shivered at the thought of taking the plunge with Jake. Her heart fluttered in her breast. She was scared spitless. And excited. She didn’t know what to do. She’d told herself she wasn’t interested in a perfectionist like Jake, but that had been when she’d been convinced he wasn’t interested anyway. Knowing he was indeed interested changed everything.

  She cursed her capricious feelings. Didn’t she really have more resolve than that? Did she cling to her principles only as long as they weren’t challenged? She leaned over the wheel and fiddled with her keys in the ignition, her gaze darting from the windshield to Jake.

  “We’d better be getting back,” she mumbled at last. “I’ve got to take a snake to Sylvie’s bathtub drain.”

  Sylvie Lieberman had a natural flare for the dramatic. Once upon a time she had been a chorus girl on Broadway. That was where her Sid, God rest his soul, had first seen her. He’d hung around the stage door until she’d finally wandered out with other cast members, then followed her over to Sardi’s. Stricken with unprecedented shyness, he had been unable to bring himself to speak to her, but had followed her home, walking ten paces behind her all the way until she screamed for the police. Somewhere between booking and finger-printing, they had straightened out the misunderstanding and they’d been married a month later. That had ended Sylvie’s career in the theater. She had transferred her creative verve to her dinner parties.

  Dixie looked around the living room-dining room of Sylvie’s cottage with a smile and a warm spot in her heart. The theme of their group dinner this month was Cafe Internationale. Sylvie had spent the better part of the day decorating, draping the tables with red checked cloths, putting on display the bric-a-brac she had gathered during her world travels with Sid—African tribal masks, German beer steins, an Eiffel Tower paperweight, Staffordshire china spaniels, a small Chinese gong. Candles drooled wax down the sides of chianti bottles and yards of colorful Indian silk muted the lamplight. The centerpiece on the dining table was a Waterford vase holding a dozen miniature flags of various nations. Everyone had been instructed to bring a different course of the meal, using a recipe from a foreign cuisine.

  For the first time in days Dixie felt settled. She would be in the bosom of her closest friends here. An evening with them would give her a chance to relax, to push away the tumult of feelings Jake had stirred up in her. They would soothe her and she would come away with a renewed sense of perspective.

  Dwelling on that thought, she turned the corner into Sylvie’s kitchen and very nearly dropped her Black Forest cake to the floor. Leaning over the stove, testing the Chinese cabbage soup, was Jake.

  Sylvie spun toward her like a human tornado, a brilliant smile splitting her mouth and showing off her caps. She was swathed in a purple silk sari that fluttered with the speed of her movement.

  “My God, Dixie, it’s about time! I thought you would never get here!” she exclaimed, setting the cake on the counter. “It’s like waiting for that schmuck from the telephone company. He might come Tuesday, he might come Wednesday. Maybe in the morning, maybe not.” Not breaking her commentary, she latched on to Dixie’s arm and propelled her forward. “Look who I invited, Dixie. Jake! Doesn’t he look handsome tonight?”

  Handsome didn’t begin to cover it. Dixie stared at him, feeling strangely shy in the wake of what had happened between them that morning. Speechless for one of the few times in her life, she merely stared at him, taking in the crisply pressed dress shirt the color of café au lait, the neatly knotted paisley silk tie. Even the crease in his tan chinos was impeccable. The steam from the soup had brought out a flush of color across his high cheekbones. Handsome? Shoot, he looked good enough to sprinkle parsley on and eat.

  Sylvie elbowed her in the ribs, smile still firmly in place. “Tell me, is he to die for, or what?”

  Jake set the spoon down on the stove, a sexy half-smile tilting his mouth. “Now, Sylvie, all that flattery is going to go to my head,” he said dryly. “In fact, I feel distinctly woozy. Maybe Dixie would like to walk out on the porch with me for a breath of cool air.”

  “But…” Dixie motioned helplessly around the kitchen.

  Sylvie belted her one on the shoulder. “Go, go! You think I don’t know my way aroun
d a kitchen? My Sid, God rest his soul, always said I could give lessons to the finest chefs. I think you’re in a catatonic state, anyway, Dixie. What kind of help would you be? None. This kind of help I don’t need. Go outside. I’ll call you if a drain gets clogged.”

  “But—but—” Dixie stammered.

  Jake took her gently by the arm and led her out onto the wide porch with Adirondack chairs and wildly flowered cushions. He positioned her in front of one and leaned casually against a post, crossing his arms and ankles.

  “I thought I’d better rescue you before she knocked you out,” he said, smiling softly.

  Dixie didn’t say anything. She knotted her hands against her stomach and looked everywhere but at Jake. She had planned for tonight to be a respite from confusion. Instead, she felt as if she had been thrust into a maelstrom. She wanted time to sort through the tangled knot of thoughts and questions in her head, but time was not siding with her.

  “Sometimes lightning just strikes, you know.” Jake murmured, reading her mind. With lazy grace he pushed himself away from the post and closed the distance between them.

  “I know,” Dixie whispered. “I just wasn’t ready for it, is all.”

  She’d spent so much time in emotional isolation, healing old hurts, building new strength. She’d forgotten about this aspect of being a woman—attraction, courtship, the sparks and heat of desire. She wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

  “I didn’t come here to hurt you, Dixie,” Jake said. “I want you to believe that.”

  The poignant honesty in his blue eyes touched her in an odd way. She gave him a curious look and reached up to brush away a stray strand of golden hair that had fallen across his forehead.

  “I know that,” she said. “Don’t mind me ’cause I’m skittish. I just think you’re a little too good to be true, is all. Never had a man like you look at me twice.”

  “I have my doubts about that, but I can tell you I’ve looked. More than twice. I like what I see.”

  He still hadn’t quite figured it out, but she had him dazzled. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t tall and blond with the body of a health club goddess. She was Dixie, and she had thoroughly bewitched him.