by Liz Talley
That made him laugh, and the man looked good laughing. His eyes crinkled behind the lens of his glasses, and his bright teeth flashed against his tan skin.
He said nothing more, merely turned his attention to the stage where a slim woman with dark hair, a lithe body and a helluva voice worked the microphone. The crowd cheered as the band shifted into a new song that showcased the singer’s raspy voice.
“She’s good,” Eva said.
“Yeah, that’s Morgan Cost.”
“No kidding! She was married to Jake’s sister’s ex-husband.”
“I didn’t know she married Cal,” Jamison said, clapping along to the song. “I mean I knew he ran off to California with her a few years back. Anyway, Morgan released a record last month, and it’s getting good airplay on country music stations. There was even an article in the Baton Rouge Advocate last week.”
“Huh,” Eva said, impressed by the woman’s voice but little else. Morgan had run off with Abigail Orgeron’s husband in the middle of a party they’d been throwing. Jake’s sister had been left with a daughter, a huge mortgage on a bed-and-breakfast and a scandal. In Eva’s eyes, Morgan would always have that black mark against her, no matter how talented she was.
She hadn’t known Jake back then, but he still got steamed when someone brought up the topic of Calhoun Orgeron. Eva didn’t like the man much, either, especially since he’d already hit on her at church earlier that year when he’d dragged his butt back to Magnolia Bend after Morgan had dumped him.
“Well, she’s definitely a good singer. I’ll give her that, I guess,” Eva said, joining Jamison on the clapping.
Hours later, after eating jambalaya, drinking another cold Abita beer and sharing a sno-ball with Jamison, who obviously didn’t mind swapping spit in that manner, Eva stepped onto the porch of the cute bungalow she’d bought in the Laurel Creek subdivision. Jamison trailed behind her, still giving off the breezy yacht-club vibe. The man’s pants weren’t even creased, and no sweat ringed the undersides of his shirtsleeves.
Eva pulled at the filmy material of her romper. The silly thing, bought in a moment of insanity, was plastered against her chest, advertising the wares a little too well. She found her house key and stuck it in the door. “Thanks for inviting me, Jamison. It was fun.”
“It was. I’m glad you went with me.”
“Would you like to come inside for a drink? Or to use the bathroom?”
Why had she asked that? Just because the beer had done a number on her didn’t mean he had to go to the bathroom, too. Jeez, she sucked at dating.
Jamison grinned. “You’re asking me in to pee?”
Eva never blushed, but she felt close to it in that moment. “Sorry, I know you have a bit of a drive home. That was stupid.”
“Nah, it was cute,” he said with another blinding smile. “I really should go, but I hope we can do this again.”
With Charlie about to come live with her, things felt uncertain in her life. But taking in her brother didn’t mean she had to quit being who she was. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Good. So maybe… Tuesday night? They’re showing Bringing Up Baby at the Grand. Want to share some popcorn with me?”
Eva shook her head. “I have some things going on early in the week, but maybe by Friday I can get away.”
“Well, that movie won’t be showing, but I bet we can find something to do,” he said. Any other guy would have made the last statement sound sexual, but not Jamison. He sincerely meant they’d find something to do. That thought almost made Eva giggle.
“That sounds great,” she said, twisting the key.
“It’s a date, then,” Jamison said, moving toward her.
Okay, so now he’d kiss her. She turned toward him, but he merely gave her a quick squeeze of her shoulders. “See ya then. Thanks.”
Then he was gone, moving quickly down the steps toward the new Mercedes he’d parked in her driveway.
Eva watched him before giving him a quick wave as he climbed inside the car.
Maybe Jamison was gay, but she didn’t think so. But what man turned away from a kiss—twice? She didn’t know many who would, but perhaps it was one of those rules for dating that he professed to have. Maybe kisses on the first date weren’t allowed no matter what. Or maybe he wasn’t into her. Maybe he was—
“Hey.”
Eva jumped, dropping her keys. “Jake, you scared me to death.”
Jake grinned like the devil he was. “You look alive to me…and I must say, damn nice in that short thing you’re wearing.”
Eva bent over to grab the keys she’d dropped, holding a hand to her bodice so the fabric didn’t gape and show her boobs to the man she’d always wanted to show her boobs to. “Um, thank you.”
“Guess ol’ Jamie didn’t appreciate it, huh? No good-night kiss.”
“It’s not night,” Eva said, twisting the doorknob and pushing into the blessed coolness of her house. She didn’t bother asking Jake to come in—she knew he’d do so anyway. The only thing she cared about was going to the bathroom.
He closed the door. “But it was a date, right?”
“I guess,” she said, dumping her cross-body purse onto the piano bench, setting her keys atop the instrument. “You want a beer?”
“I always want a beer,” he said, checking out the picture of Eva’s mother, which she’d hung above the flowery club chair in the living space. It had been taken when her mother had graduated high school and was the way Eva liked to remember her mother—as a laughing girl. Not as the emotional wreck she was now.
Eva pulled off her sandals and padded barefoot through her small kitchen and into the bathroom, which she made quick use of. She then pulled two beers from the fridge, popped the tops and walked back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. “How was the sale?”
“What?”
“The rummage sale. Did they raise a lot of money?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” He walked over and grabbed the beer she held out before dropping onto the couch beside her.
Eva didn’t want him to sit next to her. Any other time it would have been fine, but at the moment a kiss sat between them. She’d spent all of last night and half of this morning berating herself for being a damn idiot.
She’d kissed a man who’d been trying to give her a noogie. Who did that? Especially when she’d been so successful in holding back her feelings for him for the past three years. But, like a valve bursting on a pipe, she’d gone and spewed forth the desire she had for him. It was another problem piled onto a plate that felt suspiciously full at present.
“So we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?” he asked.
“No. We’re not.”
He studied her for a few minutes as she pretended to be impassive. Finally, he reached out and picked up the TV remote control. “So you want to watch Ohio State and Notre Dame?”
“Do what?”
“Play football.” His voice was incredulous.
“Not really, but sure.”
Jake put the game on. A couple of announcers were discussing the OSU quarterback’s injury and how with one turn of an ankle, his college career was over.
Yeah, tell her about it. One innocent little misread and things could turn upside down fast.
About mid-beer, Jake looked over at her. “So you wanna talk about why you had to talk to my mom?”
“No.”
“Eva, this is ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous. It’s none of your business.”
He actually looked miffed. Turning his attention back to the TV, he finished his beer and sat the empty bottle on the coffee table littered with health magazines and one copy of Parenting, which she’d snagged at the grocery store yesterday.
Charlie coming to live with her scared Eva silly. She knew nothing about living with a boy. Her half brother, Chris, had already been eight years old when she emerged on the scene, and since he lived with his mom, her father’s first wife, in Bell
e Chase, Eva rarely saw him. And by the time she could actually interact with Chris during his visits on random weekends, he was too busy for a snot-nosed girl. Not that Eva dealt with sinus issues or anything.
As a teen, she’d rarely babysat. And when her father had married his third wife, Claren, Eva had been in her twenties. The odd time they’d brought Charlie over to visit, she’d been at a loss for how to change a diaper or even how to entertain him. The only time her career put her into contact with kids was when she conducted a field trip tour of the fire station.
Mother material she was not.
She tucked her feet under her, careful not to touch any part of Jake’s naked leg. Unlike Jamison’s very put-together style, Jake wore athletic shorts, a T-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off, and his thick hair looked as if he’d raked his hands through it a million times that day. A five o’clock shadow finished off the gruff, sexy image. Polished wasn’t Jake’s vibe. Rumpled sex god was more like it.
“I guess I should go,” he said. Jake looked uncomfortable, something he never seemed to be. And it was her fault. She’d screwed up, and now she was acting as if things were different. If she wanted to erase the kiss and its repercussions, she had to go back to being herself.
“You don’t have to. The game’s nearly over, and I think Georgia plays South Carolina next. I could order pizza from Gumbeaux’s.”
See? Everything was normal. Just like always. They’d watch TV, share a pizza and never, ever talk about the kiss.
Ever.
“Sounds good but I don’t like this vibe between us. You’re acting weird after the ki—”
“Uh-uh. Don’t say it. Please. It never happened.”
But it did. She knew it. He knew it. But maybe—
“Fine. It didn’t happen. Erased.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. So pizza?”
“Yeah. Get extra olives on my half,” he said, toeing off his sneakers and propping his socked feet on her coffee table. As if he was her brother. As if he’d already forgotten.
Gotta love the single-mindedness of a dude.
Perfect.
“I know what you like.” Eva uncurled and padded toward the kitchen to grab her phone and the number for Gumbeaux’s. After ordering Jake’s extra hamburger, extra olives pizza, she slipped off to her room to change into a T-shirt and some shorts she’d made from an old pair of sweatpants. She even took out her contacts, washed her face and put on her glasses.
She returned to the living room and held out her hand.
Jake moved his head around to catch a play.
“Money.”
He looked up. “For…”
“Pizza. No freeloading.”
Jake reached for his wallet, pulling the pocket inside out and leaving it that way. Yeah, Jake wasn’t anything near Jamison French…other than being good-looking as the devil himself. He handed her a couple bills. “That’s too much,” she said, shoving a ten back at him.
“Keep it.”
“No, this isn’t a date. We go halfsies.”
“I’m drinking your beer. Keep it.”
Eva shrugged and tucked the money into her wallet, plopping onto the wing-backed chair far away from Jake. He watched the game until a commercial came on, and then he turned to her. He wrinkled his nose. “Why’d you change?”
“Because it’s just you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t have to stay gussied up.”
“But you did for Jamison?”
He sounded almost jealous. Weird. “Of course. It was a date. Don’t you take a shower, brush your teeth and douse yourself in cologne when you go on a date?”
“I don’t douse myself.”
Eva laughed. “Well, I guess it’s better than smelling like gym socks.”
Jake faked outrage. “I hope you know my gym socks smell like a summer’s day.”
“Exactly. Ripe.”
A short while later the doorbell rang and Eva answered, taking the piping-hot pizzas and inhaling the deliciousness. Seconds later she grabbed paper plates and set the boxes on the coffee table, lifting the lids. Jake dug in, pulling out several pieces, dangling the stringy cheese into his mouth before taking the first bite.
“Ah, now that’s some good pizza,” he said, chewing and making an orgasmic face. Or at least that’s how she envisioned his orgasmic face. Yeah. She’d fantasized, in the small darkness of her room, snug beneath her down comforter, her mind going where she normally wouldn’t let it in the brightness of the day. “Come sit by me, Eva.”
He’d patted the couch next to him, offering her a nonwolfish smile.
“Why?” she asked, pulling out a slice of the classic pepperoni with extra cheese pizza that was her favorite.
“Because it’s stupid for you to sit in that uncomfortable chair over there. Your couch is squishy and comfy, and I won’t bite you…even after the event that shall not be named.”
Eva realized she was being silly. This was Jake. And even though he said he’d forgotten the kiss they’d shared…and even if he’d already brought it up as a shall not be named happening, she couldn’t see the TV all that well from the scratchy chair she’d inherited from her grandmother.
She got up and slumped down on the cushion next to him, chewing her pizza thoughtfully as the Notre Dame quarterback ran the ball into the end zone for a touchdown. “I don’t want to refer to that thing yesterday as anything. You said you’d forget it.”
For a few seconds Jake chewed. Finally, he said, “What if I don’t want to forget it?”
Eva’s belly flopped and it had nothing to do with the pizza. “Why wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t expect it, but it was interesting.”
She sat her half-eaten pizza on the plate, rubbing her fingers against the paper towel she’d placed in her lap. “Interesting? No, it was insane. I don’t know why…ugh, you know, this is why I didn’t want to discuss it. Why I wanted to forget about it. Makes everything so weird between us.”
Jake tossed his empty plate on top of the pizza box. “Yes, it does, but still, I have questions that need answering.”
Eva sat up. “It was a dumb kiss. I don’t know why I did it. Just drop it.” Of course she knew why she’d kissed him. She’d dreamed about it for three years, yearning for his body against her, almost desperate to take one little taste of Jake.
But he didn’t have to know that.
“No,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin.
“No?”
“See, thing is, that was a crappy kiss. How can I let you walk around thinking that subpar kiss was indicative of what I’m capable of? That would be…a travesty.” He reached over and dragged her into his lap, turning her so she tipped à la Scarlett O’Hara into his arms.
“Jake,” she said, struggling against him even as something way deep down inside her screamed “hell, yeah.”
His eyes held devilment, humor and something deeper. Almost tender. He lowered his head, rubbing his soft lips against hers. She immediately stilled at the sweetness, the hand she pushed at his chest turning to knot his T-shirt.
He lifted his head and crooked an eyebrow. “That comparable?”
Eva didn’t have words so she nodded.
“Not good enough,” he said, dipping his head again, settling his lips against hers with gentle but insistent pressure.
Open to me.
His tongue traced the top of her bottom lip as his free hand slid up to her face, thumb tracing her jaw. Eva let go of his T-shirt and moved her hand to wrap around his neck. She opened her mouth and Jake delivered, his tongue sliding against hers.
He tasted like pizza—warm, yeasty and so damn good. Desire unwound in her belly like a hose slipping from the fire engine, spiraling low in her pelvis. That sweet, achy throb pulsed as he shifted her in his arms, his kiss softening before becoming demanding. Finally, after several seconds of kissing the daylights out of her, he used his teeth to nip a
t her lower lip, tugging it before lifting his head.
Their eyes met, their breaths mingled.
Jake gave her a triumphant smile.
Then he tipped her up, setting her in her original spot. He grabbed his beer and took a swig, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “There.”
Eva knew her eyes were as wide as the pepperoni pieces on the pizza slice she’d abandoned. “What the hell was that?”
Jake opened the box and set another two slices on his plate. “That was correcting what happened yesterday.”
Eva pulled the plate from his hands.
“Hey,” he said.
“You can’t just kiss me like that and then pretend it wasn’t anything more than blowing your nose.”
“It was way better than blowing my nose, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe. I’m not one of your bimbos. I’m not the sort of girl you can casually tip into your lap and maul, you arrogant, self-centered…ass.”
“Eva,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Now, don’t go getting mad. It was merely payback. You kissed me. I kissed you. Now we’re even.”
“Even?” she repeated, her hands still shaking even as the desire shriveled up like the fern his sister had given her as a housewarming gift. “You are insane.”
Jake laughed. “Maybe so, but at least you won’t walk around town thinking I’m bad at kissing. I mean, if we’re gonna kiss, we might as well do it right. That’s all I was thinking.”
She pressed her hand against her lips and then slugged him.
“Ouch,” he said, ducking her next swing.
“Get out,” she said, feeling overly dramatic, but not caring enough to stop or calm herself.
Jake thought the kiss was no big deal. Of course he did. He went around having sex if the wind blew right—a kiss might as well be a handshake to him.
But it wasn’t to her. That kiss hadn’t been anything like the chaste, embarrassing thing she’d given him yesterday. No, that kiss had been toe-curling, panty-dropping, pure ecstasy, and it had awoken a hunger that hadn’t even poked its head out of its cage yesterday.
Full-on, body-quaking desire.
Absolute, bone-jarring lust.
Something she couldn’t hide with a man like Jake.
