Loving Lola

by Lena Matthews

  Praise for the writing of Lena Matthews

  Redemption: Logan’s Temptation, with Liz Andrews

  Suppressed longings and explosive emotions abound in this powerful story about first love and second chances. Brimming with intriguing characters, sexy delights and a fun, small-town atmosphere, Logan's Temptation is a contemporary treat for the senses.

  -- Lacey Savage, author of Take on Me (Loose Id)

  Ms. Matthews and Ms. Andrews have written a tale of where a man from the wrong side of the tracks seeks reconciliation with his past, and small-town intrigue gets personal. Logan Crane also gets personal with the town librarian, Evie Gray, for proof that good girls have fantasies too! The ending left me wanting to know more, so I can't wait for the next in this gripping series.

  -- Lena Austin, author of Sex World 1: Assassin (Loose Id)

  Lurking behind the doors of this quiet town is intrigue … and sex … hot, sizzling sex. Just when you reached what appears to be a happily ever after ending, you're zapped with a surprise. The story isn't over ... Lena Matthews and Liz Andrews’ deceptively demure librarian and the prodigal bad boy are combustible in this tightly written novella. Looking forward to opening up some more doors.

  -- Jeanne Barrack, author of Amber Inferno (coming soon from Loose Id)

  If you like sexy alpha males, you'll love Logan's Temptation. This book is sizzling. Liz Andrews and Lena Matthews have a hit on their hands. I'm already anxiously awaiting the next book. This romantic suspense will keep you spellbound til the end and wanting more.

  -- Jeigh Lynn, author of Latin Moon (Loose Id)

  Redemption: Logan’s Temptation is now available from Loose Id.

  LOVING LOLA

  Lena Matthews

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For explicit sexual content and graphic language.

  Loving Lola

  Lena Matthews

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © May 2005 by Lena Matthews

  Excerpt of Teacher’s Pet copyright February 2005 by Marilyn Lee

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-122-9

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Ansley Velarde

  Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin

  Dedication

  To Lue Anne, because a rose by any other name ....

  Chapter One

  It was hot. It was sticky. And worse, she was stuck serving weenies to grumpy five- and six-year-olds. Whoever said God didn’t have a sense of humor had obviously never met Viola Chiasson. Not only was she stuck in her family’s hot dog booth on the Fourth of July, she was also going to be forced to do KP duty when the fireworks were over. Life wasn’t fair, and she knew it.

  The pungent smell of mustard filled the air as a soft, warm breeze flittered across her damp, mocha-tinged skin. Lifting her shoulder-length dark brown hair off her nape, Lola twisted it up with a clip, sighing in relief as her body immediately began to cool down. She should have known better than to wear jeans and a T-shirt in the muggy Louisiana weather, but she had hoped for the best. Boy, had she hoped wrong.

  “Follow ’long with me on this,” Lola instructed, turning her back to the crowd rushing by, facing her best friend and fellow Fourth of July boothie, Rylee Nelson.

  Rylee just chuckled and continued to fill the soda machine with ice. After fourteen years of friendship, Lola had been through her share of off-the-wall theories, and Rylee had been the sounding board for every single one.

  “Uhh, this is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘okay.’”

  Stepping down off the ladder, Rylee turned to Lola and placed her hands on her slim hips. “Sorry, podna. Okay.”

  “That’s better.” Lola smiled, wiggling her arched brows. “I think I’ve found a correlation between myself and the hot dogs. I think it’s God’s way of telling me it’s time to move.”

  Rylee rolled her eyes. “This, I’ve got to hear.”

  “Yes, you do.” Pointing to the hot dogs spinning on the wheel, Lola launched into her spiel. “My life, much like the reprocessed cylinders of meat rotating in the warmer, is going absolutely nowhere. I’m a twenty-six-year-old college graduate, still working in my family’s deli.”

  Holding up her hand to stop Rylee, who had just opened her mouth, she continued. “Sure, it’s behind the scenes now, but it is in the same small town that we both pledged to get out of as children. That plan went down the proverbial drain, with the diet that I had planned to start this month. Which is exactly where my life is going, I might add.”

  “Well, then, you need a new plan.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.” It wasn’t that Torrance was that bad of a place to live; it was just ordinary and dull. It was actually quite possible to see seventy-five percent of the population before sunset. “So, like the hot dogs, if I don’t make a break for it soon, I’m going to be gobbled up by one of the locals and be stuck here forever.”

  “You could be gobbled up by a tourist and end up on the other side of the country,” Rylee pointed out.

  “That is true.”

  For some strange reason, her town had its share of tourism. It didn’t make sense to Lola, who had grown up in Torrance, but people actually wanted to visit and take a ride on their bayou, and shop in their tiny stores. Holidays like today were big days for tourists, which explained why she was outside shoving sticks of meat between buns, instead of kicking back under her air conditioner with a hot man trying to shove his meat between her buns. A man like ... no, she wasn’t even going to think his name.

  Tugging on her damp shirt, Lola glanced at her friend and gave an inward groan of despair. If she didn’t love Rylee so much, she could seriously hate her. Rylee, by anyone’s standards, was beautiful. Her Creole heritage was abundantly apparent in her African-American features. She had a slim, athletic body, a nice, healthy figure, and smooth café au lait skin, which always seemed blemish free.

  And, as usual, Rylee looked casual yet pretty in jean shorts and a peach tank top that complimented her lovely brown skin. She looked as if she had just stepped out of a cool shower, refreshed and relaxed. While Lola, on the other hand, looked like a drowned, fat rat. She could actually feel the sweat seeping down her back, causing her shirt to stick to her large frame. “How is it possible that we’re both working out here in this sweltering heat, yet I’m the only one who looks like a victim of a hit-and-run?”

  “I’m not covered from head to toe,” Rylee offered, shrugging her shoulders.

  Clothing was an ongoing argument between the two of them. Rylee wanted Lola to we
ar more form-fitting clothes. Lola just wanted to wear as much as possible to cover as much as possible. No matter how many times they went over it, Lola knew that Rylee would never understand. How could she? She was thin and beautiful, while Lola had been battling the bulge long before she could spell bulge.

  It was just another one of those things that wasn’t fair. Rylee could eat a starving Ethiopian under the table, while Lola could have a salad with no dressing, no croutons, no flavor, and swell up like a beached whale. She was long past the time where she stepped on scales. Lola didn’t need an electronic smart-ass to tell her that she was overweight. She had a mirror and a mother for that.

  And it was one thing to be chunky -- chunky she could live with -- but she was chunky and tall. It just didn’t make for a good combination. If it weren’t for her large breasts and J. Lo butt, she would have jumped into the bayou a long time ago.

  Hopping up onto the counter, Lola shook her head at her friend. Even though she didn’t want to get into it with Rylee about her choice of attire, Lola had to admit that she was about to expire from the heat. “You might have a point.”

  “You think?”

  Digging around in the picnic basket Rylee had brought for the fireworks, Lola snagged a sliced dill pickle out of a plastic sandwich bag and crunched into it. “If I see one more tacky tourist with laissez les bons temps rouler on their shirt, I’m going to cut my freaking eyes out. If it was up to me, I’d let the good times roll my ass right on out of here.” She groaned, so tired of the slogan and cheap beads that outsiders seemed to pick up like candy.

  Slapping her hand lightly, Rylee pulled the basket away from her and drawled in her slow Southern manner, “Get out of that. It’s for later. I hate to be the one to remind you, podna, but you earn your livelihood on those ‘tacky tourists.’”

  Lola grimaced. “Thanks for reminding me. I’m doomed to smother dogs and slush jambalaya all my life.”

  Snorting, Rylee moved the basket to the back of the booth. “Is this the same motivational speech you give all your coworkers?”

  Lola couldn’t help but smile. Rylee’s positive attitude always rubbed off on her, even when she didn’t want it to.

  “I would tell you to shut up, but I’m too afraid you’ll leave and I’ll be stuck here for three hours all by my little ole helpless self.”

  “Well, those are two words I never thought to hear applied to you,” said a deep, amused voice from behind them. “Little and helpless.”

  Without having to turn around, Lola knew exactly who it was. No one else on earth got on her nerves or under her skin as quickly as he did. Frowning, she tilted her head to the side. “Do you hear something? It sounds like an annoying little buzz.”

  Marcus leaned forward over the counter until he was right next to her and said softly, with the most engaging drawl, “Can you hear me now, Viola?”

  One of the only advantages of living in a small town was knowing your lifelong nemesis’s pet peeve. And as usual, her nemesis managed to say the one thing that drove her up the wall. Viola. It had been her Achilles’ heel since grade school, and Marcus was the master of aiming for it. He knew the one thing in this world Lola hated more than anything else was to be to be called by her given name. So, of course, it was the one thing he loved to do. She would have thought that after eighteen years of teasing it would have gotten old, but he still teased, and she still got upset. But today ... today she wasn’t going to let him get to her. Gritting her teeth, Lola refused to rise to the bait.

  “You are such a pain in my ass.” Lola forced herself not to say more, trying to avoid one of their legendary brawls.

  “Not as much as I’d liked to be, chére,” he drawled, hopping over the counter and winking at her.

  As sweet as sugar, Lola replied, “No day, no way, cher.”

  Marcus’s deep-chocolate eyes twinkled in delight at her scowl. He was an attractive man on any given day, but when he smiled, he put angels to shame. With wavy jet-black hair cut close to his scalp, and eyes so dark and deep you could lose yourself in his chocolate gaze, Marcus seemed to be carved out of ebony. Years of working with his hands and living by the bayou had given him a permanent tan on top of his already bronzed skin, along with a well-defined body that years at the gym could never create. With all of this, combined with a chiseled jaw and strong cheekbones, Marcus favored the sexy cover models that graced Lola’s favorite steamy novels. He was a handsome man who never failed to cause Lola’s pulse to race.

  Theirs was a love/hate relationship, and Lola loved to hate him, for sure, but she also secretly would have loved to have him, at least once. To ride his powerful body, to feel it pound into hers was what sweet dreams were made of. Marcus had a way of sneaking into her most private thoughts when she was least expecting him, and forcing his image into her head when she least wanted him to. He was in her thoughts more often than she cared to admit, and in her fantasies more than she’d ever admit. To be completely honest, Marcus was her sexual dream man. He was tall, handsome as sin, and built for pleasure; Lola had imagined him rubbing his dark hands over her full body and kissing her all over, starting with her aching nipples and leading to wherever his heart desired. He made her wet with just a look, and she couldn’t come at all without picturing his face. Even when she was making love with other men, Lola found that she couldn’t get off with out imagining him. Marcus was trouble, all right, and completely wrong for her.

  “You know, stand a woman up once and she’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

  “To be fair, podna, it was the winter ball,” Rylee piped in, an instigator from way back.

  “It was also the tenth grade,” Marcus reminded her, never losing eye contact with Lola. Marcus brought Lola’s hand off the counter and pressed it to his luscious lips. “Can’t I be forgiven?”

  Lola snatched her hand back and rubbed her tingling skin, trying to remove all traces of his touch from her hand. Marcus had a way of making her feel emotions and desires for him that she didn’t want to feel, and, from the way he looked at her, Lola bet he knew it -- but she would be damned if she admitted it. She might crave his touch, might even dream of him at night, but it would be over her cold, dead body that she’d tell him. Marcus was too full of himself as it was.

  “Where y’ at?” Rylee asked Marcus, breaking up the silence that had filled the small booth.

  “I’m just fine, chére.” Marcus turned to her with an easy, flowing smile. “How ’bout you?”

  “Just keeping my girl, here, company.”

  “Community service, eh?” he teased, turning back to Lola. “Saving all the good people of Torrance from my bebette?”

  “I’m not your little anything, let alone your little monster.”

  “Not from lack of trying on my part, chére, not from lack of trying.” Marcus moved to brush an errant hair from her face, but Lola moved her head quickly out of his way. She didn’t want him to touch her. She didn’t like the way her body betrayed her when he was near. It was like he called to a part of her that no other man ever had. He had a hold over her that she hadn’t been able to shake free of, even after all these years.

  “Is there anything I can get you, sir?

  Marcus’s eyes heated up as his gaze roamed her body, and, unfortunately, her body responded accordingly. Lola tried to move a bit so her shirt would move away from her breasts and her hardening nipples. The last thing she wanted was for Marcus to see his effect on her.

  “I think my hunger runs a bit deeper than a mere hot dog, chére. Don’t you have anything else you might be willing to offer me? Something a tad bit ...” He looked at her breasts. “... bigger?”

  “Bigger? I thought you liked things on the small side. Speaking of which, what hopelessly malnourished, emaciated girl did you bring with you today?” Lola asked, glancing around him.

  “Now, now, Vi --” Marcus threw up his hands in surrender as Lola narrowed her eyes and made to advance toward him. “Lola, not every girl can be as bless
ed as you.”

  “Blessed?” She snorted.

  “You know, ’tit rouge,” he teased, looking down at her full breasts. “Some men like a little lagniappe with their women.”

  A little something extra, ha! Lola had to fight to keep the smile from coming to her lips. Marcus was a charmer. Despite her desire to avoid him, he always seemed to weasel under her radar. Although she knew she’d regret it, Lola couldn’t help but ask, “And which do you prefer?”

  “Don’t you know, chére?” he asked, drawing on the Southern charm that had been instilled in him since birth. His accent was like honey, thick and smooth, and it called to Lola like a cold glass of water on a hot summer day.

  There was nothing more lovely to Marcus than seeing a gentle smile on Lola’s lips. He had been teasing and taunting her for the better part of his life and had been lucky enough to witness her smile many times. Teasing her was like breathing to him. And a day without seeing her was like a day without the sun, hard to imagine and difficult to get through. There was a time when she was just a chubby little pest he loved to tease, but somewhere along the line she had blossomed into a beautiful, curvaceous woman he couldn’t stop thinking of.

  It was hard to stop the teasing; it was the thing they seemed to do best. But now it was like a frustrating version of foreplay, which seemed to last longer and longer. He had finally realized that the only way he was going to work her out of his system was to work himself under her.

  Just looking at Lola made him hard. Her big, full breasts seemed to be made just for him alone, and Marcus could imagine spending several worthwhile hours locked between the twin beauties. And her ass -- good Lord, that ass was worth dying for. It had to be a black thang, because he loved a woman with a little junk in her trunk, and Lola fit that description to a T. His palms itched to reach out and caress her plump cheeks, but Marcus was willing to bet Lola would knock him on his ass if he even made a move toward her. She would think he was teasing, when in all reality he wanted nothing more than to worship her lovely body.