Mating Game

by Maynard, Janice

  She shook her head, trying to reclaim some shred of dignity. “Thanks, but I’ll get something in town.”

  She grabbed her keys and purse, followed him out of the house, and locked the front door. His dusty white pickup truck was parked beside her rental. Before he climbed into the cab, she put her hand on his arm for a quick second to stop him.

  He lifted a quizzical eyebrow, jingling his keys in his right hand. “Changed your mind about that pizza?”

  She shook her head, feeling herself blush again like a silly teenager. “No. I just wanted to say thank you. I’m embarrassed that I blubbered all over a perfect stranger.”

  That high-wattage smile returned. “Aw, shucks, Nola. I’m not perfect.” He chuckled out loud. The sound sneaked inside her chest and made her heart race. Good Lord, this man was potent stuff.

  He reached out and rubbed a thumb across her cheekbone.

  Her eyes went wide, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Just a little bit of mascara, Red. But you’re still one hell of a beautiful woman.”

  The late-afternoon sunshine bathed them in a soft glow. The sounds of mooing cows and singing birds and noisy lawn mowers faded into silence. The world stood still.

  Tanner watched her, waiting for a sign, perhaps, that he hadn’t misread her mood.

  She took a half step forward. Up close, he smelled of healthy male sweat and Irish Spring soap. Who knew such a combination would trigger all sorts of pheromones?

  He made her feel dainty and feminine and wonderfully vulnerable in the best possible way. She took a deep breath and laid a hand on his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her fingertips. Strong, steady, dependable. He was warm and big and virile, and she knew in that instant that she had to add him to her list. Why the hell not?

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t jump into bed with every man I meet.”

  He must have heard the truculence in her voice, but he responded mildly. “I never thought you did.”

  “And there’s no guarantee that I will with you.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Duly noted.”

  “You’re here only to fix my house.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The way he said it made her want to climb his bones right on the spot.

  But she satisfied herself with a kiss. It was all up to her.

  She went up on her tiptoes, barely reaching his chin. He didn’t say a word. He merely put his hands on her waist and lifted her with ease, setting her gently on the hood of his truck. That damn eyebrow of his went up again in a clear challenge.

  She rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. Staring at his firm, full lips made her light-headed. She wondered for a vague moment if Marc had turned her into a nymphomaniac.

  But it was probably the urge to land a husband in less than three weeks that was making her fixate on erotic matters. Such a task was bound to drive a woman a little crazy.

  She leaned into him, confident that he wouldn’t let her fall. Her lips found his and settled in to learn the contours of his sexy mouth. He tasted like butterscotch candy. That was oddly disarming. Feeling brave and more than a little turned on, she let her tongue slide between his lips and explore.

  She’d awakened the tiger.

  He made a noise deep in his throat and dragged her closer, one big hand supporting her head as he devoured her lips in a hungry kiss. It was heaven. In recent days she’d become accustomed to Marc’s smooth technique, his slow, teasing build to the big event.

  But Tanner Nash skipped right from foreplay to total immersion. She whimpered when he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, but she returned the favor. When bent his head to nibble the upper slope of her breasts, she tunneled her fingers in his hair and stroked his ears. Sweat trickled down her cleavage, and she wasn’t sure if it was the Georgia heat and humidity, or the way Tanner surrounded her, enveloped her, dragged her into the fantasy of him and her . . . together, setting the woods on fire.

  It might have been minutes or days before he released her. She rubbed a shaking hand across her mouth and adjusted her blouse. “Well, I . . .” Her words trailed off as her throat closed up.

  Tanner kissed her forehead. “I’ve never kissed a redhead before. You pack quite a punch, Miss Nola Grainger.”

  She was flattered in spite of the fact that he was probably feeding her a line he’d used a million times. A guy with his level of sexuality didn’t come by that expertise overnight. He knew women.

  Again, she pondered the differences between Marc and Tanner Nash. They were both sexy, confident men. But that was where the similarities ended. Marc thrived on the new and different. She was pretty sure Tanner was interested only in sex. His way. All day or all night.

  It was a darned effective scheme to seduce a woman. Kama Sutra be damned. Missionary sex with Tanner Nash might well be the most intense experience of her life. If she had the guts to go for it.

  But everything in its time. Yesterday she had said goodbye to her familiar life, traveled hundreds of miles, faced the reality of grief, and come to grips with the fact that the house she loved was in bad shape.

  She was in way over her head emotionally, and she needed time to step back and cool her jets before she did something she would regret.

  She looked up at him. “Would you help me down, please?”

  He cooperated immediately, lifting her off her perch and setting her carefully on her feet. His expression was guarded. What was he thinking?

  She stepped toward her car and lifted a hand. “I have to go,” she said bluntly. “I’ll see you later.”

  Four

  Billy Inman was Nola’s biggest regret. She’d lost her virginity to him in his daddy’s barn the summer after her junior year in high school. Their love had been tender and sweet, and although the sex was clumsy and awkward, Nola had thrived in the glow of his youthful adoration.

  Even then, she wasn’t naive about sex. She’d insisted he wear condoms every time, and there had been no accidents. They had made love on and off during their last year in high school, but privacy was hard to come by.

  Billy and Nola, along with a group of friends, had been headed off to college in the fall. But tragedy had struck Billy’s father late in the summer when the older man was terribly injured in a tractor accident. His resulting disability meant that poor Billy had to give up his college dreams and stay home to run the family’s farm-supply business.

  Nola had been heartbroken to leave without him. They had enrolled at the same university and had been giddy about the prospect of spending four years together. But it wasn’t meant to be.

  They managed one last, rushed sexual encounter in her bedroom while her grandmother was at a bridge club meeting. And then they were separated.

  Nola had believed she and Billy would stay in touch. She would see him when she went home to visit and they could write letters and call each other. But the reality had been far different. As soon as she left the town limits of Resnick, Billy cut off all contact with her. He didn’t answer her calls. He didn’t respond to her letters.

  It was as if she ceased to exist for him. Which seemed to confirm her grandmother’s tired old mantra, Boys only want one thing from a girl, and when they get it, you’re old news.

  It had been hard for Nola to accept, but soon, once she was caught up in the excitement of her freshman year, her teenage angst got pushed to the background, temporarily smothered in the rush of new friends, new experiences, and new challenges.

  The first time Nola had gone home, it was Thanksgiving break. Being on familiar ground renewed her feelings of hurt and confusion about Billy. She called his house, eager to see him, and left a message with his mother. Billy never called back.

  She stopped by his house twice and was told by his mother that he wasn’t home . . . even though his car was in the driveway. She even mailed Billy a letter. But to no avail.

  Nola was young, but not stupid. For some unknown reason, Billy was through with her. It was her first adult disappointment, and
it colored the relationships she had from then on. She became a bit more skeptical, more cautious, more guarded. She’d learned to connect with men on her own terms, and keep something of herself back.

  In fact, until Marc, her sexual partners (not that there were many) had danced to her tune and respected her boundaries.

  But her grandmother’s will changed everything. With such a short time for Nola to claim her inheritance, it now seemed expedient and smart to consider a man she already knew. A man who shared her history, her roots. The man who fit that description was Billy Inman.

  But of course, the big unknown was whether or not Billy still retained any affection for her. She thought the idea made sense, but Billy might think she was loony tunes. And from his point of view, maybe she was. There was no reason at all to think a man who had shunned her so effectively in the past would be willing to marry her. But she was going to give it a shot, nevertheless.

  She wouldn’t have to worry that Billy would be interested in her inheritance. His farm-supply business had a monopoly in a three-county area, and the Inmans were doing quite well.

  Nola knew Billy’s cooperation was far from certain, but she had to try. There were few secrets in Resnick. During Nola’s infrequent visits home, she’d kept up with the local grapevine. She knew that Billy had been briefly married and quickly divorced in his early twenties. She knew he was still single. He lived with his disabled father and his frail mother, for their benefit, not his. Even after all this time, when she chatted with shopkeepers and old acquaintances, everyone in town seemed determined to convince her that Billy was a decent, caring, God-fearing man. As though she’d been the one to dump him and not vice versa.

  Maybe, just maybe, she could find out what had happened all those years ago, and thus reconnect with her first love. She yearned for that emotional connection she had once shared with Billy. No other man in her life since had come close to giving her that.

  Her errands in town didn’t take long. Despite what she had told Tanner, her primary reason for heading into Resnick was to see Billy. She had hoped for a casual chat to start things off, but she had underestimated the crowd in his store. All of Billy’s four clerks were busy waiting on customers, as was Billy himself.

  Her heart hammered in her chest. Her stomach twisted in knots. It had been a long time since she had been this close to him. When she was in town over the years, she had occasionally caught glimpses of him on the street, in his car. . . .

  But it had been an eternity since they had spoken more than a monosyllabic, stilted greeting to each other.

  Nola lingered in a crowded aisle, head bent, not wanting to be observed before she was ready. She had plenty of time to study Billy while she waited. His youthful looks had ripened into masculine assurance. He had retained his athletic physique, long, lean body, flat belly, narrow shoulders. He’d been headed to college on a baseball scholarship. What a waste.

  His brown hair was medium length, a barbershop cut—no fancy salon styles for this man. His hairline was beginning to recede the tiniest bit, but his new maturity suited him. His eyes were brown, like hers, and she remembered dreaming that the two of them would one day produce a trio of pretty, rosy-cheeked, brown-eyed babies.

  Though she had tried to get past it, the anger over what he had done to her still lingered. He had crushed her with his deliberate indifference. And if ignoring her that first Thanksgiving wasn’t bad enough, he’d made sure—when she was home for Christmas break—that she saw him with another girl. It was a horrendous holiday, and she’d returned to school in January feeling as though she didn’t understand boys, or men, at all.

  She came back to the present with a shiver of apprehension. It was almost twenty minutes before he spotted her. She saw him freeze, his expression wary, and then his shoulders drew back and his jaw went rock hard. He did not look happy to see her.

  That hurt more than she expected. Clearly, he didn’t share her fond, happy memories of their puppy love. Though in truth, it had been much more than that. For a time, Nola imagined the two of them would end up married. And Billy, back then, had seemed to share her certainty.

  His unguarded reaction to seeing her made her realize how naive she had been in recent days. Under the duress of the will’s demands, Nola had been grasping at straws.

  Maybe the tragedy in his family had changed him, made him bitter. Perhaps he had been jealous that Nola had been the one to move on without him. It made sense, but it saddened her.

  He forced her to come to him. She was fairly certain that if she hadn’t moved in his direction, he would simply have walked away without acknowledging her. She approached the counter, which stood between them like a no-man’s-land, and she managed a smile, despite the knot in her stomach.

  “Hi, Billy,” she said softly. “It’s Nola.”

  “I know who you are.” The tone of his voice reinforced her theory that he was hanging on to some bitterness. His lip didn’t curl, but it was a close thing.

  She swallowed and tucked her damp palms into the pockets of her jean shorts. “I guess you heard about Grandmother.”

  For a moment his face was less severe, making him look like the boy she remembered. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  It was the kind of thing one stranger said to another. His forced politeness cut deep. This man had been privy to her every thought and wish and dream at one time. They had been intimate in every way . . . emotionally and physically. She bit her lip. “I was hoping we could get together and talk . . . maybe over dinner.”

  He cast a pointed glance around the crowded store. “I’m busy. And I have to work late.” He didn’t dress it up with regret or any other social convention.

  But she had come too far and was under too much of a time constraint to accept defeat. “What about dinner tomorrow?”

  Clearly, he read the challenge in her gaze, and just as clearly, he must have realized she wasn’t going to give up.

  He stared down at the floor for a moment, sighed deeply, and then raised his head. His eyes were filled with turmoil, and for the first time she saw hurt. But it didn’t make sense. He’d been the one to give her the cold shoulder.

  His posture was easy to read. He wanted her gone. “Fine,” he said tersely. “When and where?”

  Ouch. No old romantic feelings there. She shrugged. “You used to like Gershwin’s.” It was the only decent special-occasion restaurant for miles around. They’d eaten there on prom night, and one other time he’d taken her for her birthday. But it was expensive and a thirty-five-mile drive away.

  He’d gone white beneath his tan, and he radiated some intense emotion. “Is that really necessary?”

  She screwed up her courage and stepped closer, actually reaching across the counter to take his hand. “Haven’t you ever wondered,” she asked softly, “if there’s anything still there? I’ve missed you, Billy.”

  He jerked his hand away. “It’s Bill now,” he said gruffly.

  His rebuttal was harsh and pointed, but she couldn’t afford to let it dissuade her from her mission. “What if I meet you here at five thirty? My house is not exactly on the way, and it would save us time.” And that way you wouldn’t have to drive me home.

  She was pulling out all the stops, flinging herself against his studied disinterest, and chancing the real possibility that she might get bloodied in the process. He gazed in relief at the customer bearing down on them. “Fine,” he said impatiently. “Whatever you want. I need to get back to work.”

  And just like that, he abandoned her to her memories and her hopeful plans.

  Nola was too distressed to deal with Tanner that evening. When she returned from town, she put away the groceries, and then wrote a brief note to her new houseguest. His room would be at the far left end of the corridor from hers. She raided her grandmother’s lavender-scented linen cabinet, put fresh sheets on Tanner’s bed, and left him a stack of towels.

  There was a bathroom across the hall that
would be all his. She wasn’t about to share hers. . . .

  She taped the note to the front door, locked up the house, and, after a quick shower, holed up in her bedroom. She was too embarrassed to face Tanner tonight. Maybe in the light of day she’d be able to speak to him again without crying or blushing or attacking him. This afternoon hadn’t been her finest moment.

  When she was propped up in her bed with a notepad and her favorite pen, she began a list.

  Photograph the house.

  It had occurred to her that it would be interesting to document Lochhaven in its current condition before all the renovations were completed. And along the way, she could record the various stages of progress. Next . . .

  Practice explaining situation to B. Inman.

  Really, that should be number one on the list. Finding her groom had to be her utmost priority.

  Learn more about Tanner Nash in order to rank him on the husband list.

  If there was any possibility that he might be “the one,” she had to follow up on it.

  Get cable guy out here ASAP.

  She’d already contacted the provider, but she planned to follow up in the morning and underscore her urgency. She couldn’t live without Internet. Marc had sent her a dozen text messages already, and with online access, she’d be able to send him long, chatty e-mails about how things were going. Even though he wasn’t a serious contender for spouse, she had grown very fond of him, and she missed his naughty humor. And if she were honest with herself, she was lonely.

  Her eyes grew heavy, and she finally put the paper and pen aside. She was just scooting down beneath the covers when she recognized the sound of Tanner’s truck pulling up in the driveway. Her windows were open, and a pleasant spring breeze stirred the sheer lace curtains. Tomorrow a blackberry winter cold front was supposed to come through, so they’d probably be forced to use the heat again briefly. But tonight was a lovely reminder that summer was soon to come.