He stepped closer, toward the curb. By the time his feet hit the street, Kate realized he was coming over, though not to talk to the man who’d hailed him. No, his stare had never left Kate’s face. She forced herself to move, hurrying down the sidewalk.
She peeked over her shoulder only once. A mixture of relief and disappointment flooded through her as she realized the man who’d hailed him had planted himself firmly in the path of the blond hunk. He couldn’t follow her even if he wanted to.
Did he want to? Doesn’t matter. She kept on walking.
A plop of rain landed on Kate’s shoulder. She experienced an instant of déjà vu, remembering walking the streets of Pleasantville on a rainy night when the raindrops had warred with her tears to wash away her makeup.
Seeking shelter, she turned toward the nearest doorway. Somehow, without realizing where her steps had carried her, she found herself standing outside McIntyre’s Tea Room. “Oh, no.”
The Tea Room, owned by Darren McIntyre’s mother, had been the worst spot for any Tremaine ten years ago. The old guard of Pleasantville—the Winfields and the other Lilac Hill set, considered this “their” territory. Kate’s mom and her friends had been more comfortable at the beauty parlor in the basement of Eileen Saginaw’s house, so it wasn’t until Kate had gotten friendly with Darren that she’d ever even been in the Tea Room.
“Still the same,” she mused, looking at the small, discreet sign in the window. Next door, though, Mr. McIntyre’s menswear shop was gone, closed, dark and empty.
Don’t, Kate. Just don’t. Casting one more quick look up the street, she saw the handsome stranger watching her from over the shoulder of his companion. He wouldn’t follow her, would he? Well, he certainly wouldn’t follow her into the Tea Room, a notoriously female establishment.
Knowing she must have some liking for self-torture, she walked up the wood steps to the awning-covered porch and reached for the doorknob. Once inside, she had to pause for a moment as sense memory kicked in and her mind identified the smells of her youth. Yeasty bread. Raspberry jam. Spiced teas. Some old lady perfume…White Shoulders? Lots of hair spray. Dried flowers.
She had to stop in the foyer to take it all in.
This place, at least, was hopping, every table full. She recognized some faces, though they’d aged. Physically, nothing had altered. From the white-linen tablecloths to the lilactinted wallpaper, the room looked the same as the last time she’d been in it. All it needed was a glowering, frowning-faced Mrs. McIntyre to flare her nostrils as if she smelled something bad whenever Kate walked in, to make her trip down memory lane complete.
No one paid a bit of attention as she stood watching. They were all, it appeared, engaged in a room-wide debate over some poor soul they kept calling shameless and shocking.
Things hadn’t changed here at all.
Knowing there was absolutely nothing in this place for her, Kate turned to leave. Before she could walk back out the door, however, she heard the only word that could have stopped her.
Tremaine.
2
AS HARRY BILLINGSLEY, the town’s ancient barber, engaged him in conversation, Jack watched every step the brunette took. She walked quickly, almost tripping once on an uneven brick, as if she wanted to escape the rain. He knew better. She wasn’t running from the rain. When she peeked over her shoulder at him, he knew she was avoiding him.
Something downright electric had happened a few moments ago when their stares had met across Magnolia Avenue. There’d been an instant connection, a shared intimacy though they were complete strangers. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Obviously she had been just as affected. Only instead of intriguing her, as it had him, their silent, thirty-second exchange had bothered her, scared her even. Her feet had turned cold and she’d run off.
No matter, he’d be able to find her again. The woman stood out here like a bloodred rose in a bouquet of daisies.
A few months ago he might not have let the charged stare across a deserted street affect him. His new attitude toward life, however, made finding the brunette and talking to her a must. No more letting opportunities slide. Now, when Jack Winfield saw a good thing, he was going to go after it. He somehow knew the stranger could be a very good thing indeed.
Jack tried to brush off Harry as politely as he could. “Yes, but I really have to go now. Maybe we can talk in July when I come back for a longer stay.”
Harry continued. “Your father made some mistakes. Stirred up a lot of gossip around here with his will and Edie Jones.”
Gossip. His least favorite word, and it was used as currency in this town. Jack had never listened to it and never would. So his father had left his maid a small bequest. Only in a town like this could that be considered gossip-worthy.
Watching as the dark-haired stranger in the sexy green blouse went into the Tea Room, he cringed. Of all the places she could have picked, why did she have to go into that hen’s nest?
“I’m sorry, I really have to go,” Jack said, finally simply walking away in the middle of Harry’s long-winded monologue. He didn’t care to hear about any old town scandals, especially not if they involved his father, the former mayor.
Following a stranger down a public street wasn’t Jack’s M.O. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever done it. But something about this stranger…this perfectly delightful stranger…made him certain he could follow her anywhere. He simply had to see her, up close. To determine if her face was really as delicate and perfect as it had appeared from across the street. If her eyes were possibly the same dark, rich brown as her long hair.
Shrugging, he walked to the entrance of the Tea Room and stood outside the door. For a second he wondered if old lady McIntyre would come out and shoo him away. She used to shout at all the boys who’d plant themselves on the stoop, hoping a customer with a take-out bag would hand over some free sweets.
Never happened, as far as he recalled. The snob set of Pleasantville was notoriously tight-fisted with their sweets.
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he proceeded to wait. “You’ve got to come out sooner or later.”
It took less time than he expected. Before he even realized what was happening, the door to the Tea Room opened and she barreled out, crashing straight into his arms.
Just as if she belonged there.
* * *
“OH, I’M SO SORRY!” Before Kate could step away from the person she’d crashed into, she quickly reached up to dash away some angry tears blurring her vision.
That these people could make her cry infuriated her. Somehow, though, anger and sharp hurt for her mother had combined to bring moisture to her eyes while she stood in the Tea Room listening to her family being torn apart yet again by a bunch of small-minded, small-town witches. It was either turn and hurry out or throw a big screaming hissy fit telling them all to jump on their broomsticks and fly straight to the devil.
She couldn’t have said which course of action her cousin Cassie would have chosen. But for Kate, who’d become quite adept at maintaining a cool and calm composure, it was think first, react second. Kate didn’t believe in hysterical fits—particularly not when she had tears in her eyes. She did, however, believe in well-thought-out retaliation. Someday.
Finally turning her attention to the person she’d nailed, she sucked in a breath. “You.”
Mr. Gorgeous. Jack. This is so not my day.
“Nice to meet you too,” he said with a sexy grin, as if they were exchanging handshakes instead of being practically wrapped around one another on the steps of the Tea Room.
He made no effort to move away, seeming content that her hand was on his shoulder, her belly pressed to his hip and her leg between both his thighs.
Of course, Kate didn’t move, either. Funny thing the sudden lethargy in her limbs. Particularly considering the sharp heat shooting from the tips of her breasts—which brushed against his shirt—down to her stomach. Lower.
“
Did I hurt you?” she whispered.
“Only my ego when you ran away from me a few minutes ago.”
Kate blinked, but remained still, somehow unable, or perhaps unwilling, to break their intimate contact. Her breaths grew deeper as she watched him stare at her. His gaze studied her long, dark hair, her face, her mouth. His eyes glittered and a smile played about his sensual lips, as if he liked what he saw.
As did she. Up close, he was even more devastating than he’d been from across the street. Tanned skin, square jaw, beautiful green eyes with lashes a cover model would envy. Her fingers tightened slightly into his cotton shirt.
Move, Kate. Put your hands in the air and step away from the hunk.
“Are you married?” he asked.
She shook her head. But before she could ask him why he wanted to know, before she could do anything—including disengaging their much-too-close-together bodies—he moved closer. Kate thought she heard him whisper the word, “Good,” just before he caught her mouth in a completely unexpected kiss.
Kiss? A gorgeous stranger was kissing her, in broad daylight, outside Mrs. McIntyre’s Tea Room?
That was as far as her thoughts took her before she shooed them away and focused on what was happening.
Yes, the kiss was unexpected. And unbelievably pleasurable.
She didn’t try to step back, didn’t shove him away and slap his face as she probably should have. Instead she let him kiss her, let this incredible stranger gently take her lips with his own. Soft and tender at first, then more heated as he slipped his hands lower to encircle her waist and pull her even tighter against his body. As if they weren’t already so close together a whisper couldn’t have come between them.
As the kiss went on, she briefly wondered if she’d fallen asleep, if she was still at the motel where she’d spent the previous night. Maybe she’d popped one too many nickels into the Magic Fingers and they’d gotten her all worked up so she was having an amazingly intense, erotic dream.
Kissing had never been this good in real life. Besides, no man this perfect could exist in this nightmare of a town.
So she could be dreaming, couldn’t she? And if it was merely a dream, couldn’t she, uh, kiss him back?
She softened her mouth and tilted her head. Feeling the flick of his tongue against the seam of her lips, she whimpered, continuing to tell herself that this couldn’t be happening. The beeping of a passing car horn and the musty damp-wood smell of the old porch on which they stood were merely realistic elements of her dream. These weren’t real lips now tugging gently at hers, tasting her, exploring her. She hadn’t fallen into the arms of a complete stranger…and stayed there quite happily.
Feeling a few drops of rain plop down from the striped awning over the Tea Room’s porch onto her face, she focused on their descent down her cheek. Cold water. Warm kiss. Gentle tongue. His clean, male scent. Hard chest pressing against hers. A thrilling bulge in his pants pressing firmly against her lower belly, which made her rise up on her tiptoes to line things up a little better. The sudden hot flood of moisture between her thighs. Definite car horn beeping. Nosy-faced old lady stepping around them to go down the steps to the sidewalk.
The clarity of detail assured her she was not dreaming.
Insanity. She didn’t care. His breath tasted minty as his mouth caressed hers, gently, then deeper. She moaned slightly, deep in her throat, no longer able to pretend this wasn’t real, knowing she had to either just go for it, part her lips and let their tongues tangle and mate, or else shove him down the steps.
Kate’s rational side said to shove. For once she told it to shut the hell up.
Her entire body hummed with energy. She lifted her leg, sliding it against his, delighting in the friction of her stocking against his trousers. As he moaned and pushed closer, she considered how simple a thing it would be to lift her leg to his hip, to let him pick her up until she encircled his waist with her thighs. To slide onto the wonderfully hard erection straining against the seam of his pants.
She wanted to. Desperately. If only there were no car engines, broad daylight…and the minor fact that he was a complete stranger.
He finally pulled away and smiled gently at her. She shook her head hard and gulped, noting the slowness of a passing car, the curious stare of a face in the window of the Rose Café across the street. Finally she took a wobbly step back. “You’re insane.”
He stepped forward. Following her. “No, I’m Jack.”
Kate shook her head, still bemused. “You kissed me.”
“I’m so glad you noticed.”
“You can’t go around kissing strangers on the street. How could you do that? Just…just…kiss me?”
He shrugged. “You said you weren’t married.”
“What if I were engaged? A novitiate? A lesbian?”
“Engaged isn’t married, so I’d say tough luck to the guy.” Grinning, he continued, “Novitiate would simply be a crime against mankind, definitely worth ignoring.” He glanced down at her trembling body, his stare lingering on the hard tips of her breasts, scraping so sensitively against her blouse. Then at her legs, which she had to clench together to try to stop the trembling. Not to mention the hot, musky smell of aroused woman.
“Lesbian isn’t even in the realm of possibility,” he finally said, his voice nearly a purr. “You want me pretty badly.”
Her jaw dropped. He tipped it up with the tip of his index finger. “Now, introductions. Remember? I’m Jack. It’s very nice to meet you. Who are you, and what in God’s name are you doing in Pleasantville?”
She ignored the question. “You followed me.”
He didn’t try to deny it. “Guilty.”
That stopped her. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Fate? Instinct?” Then he lowered his voice, almost whispering as he leaned even closer until his body almost touched hers from shoulder to knee. “Or maybe so I could see what color eyes my children are going to have?”
Kate opened her mouth, but couldn’t make a sound come out.
The man was unbelievable. Outrageous. Sexy. Charming and heart-stoppingly handsome.
And still standing much too close. So close she could see his pulse beating in his neck and the cords of muscle on his shoulders. His upper arms were thick beneath the tight navy cotton of his shirt, so different from the Chicago health club addicts she sometimes dated. As if he didn’t work out for his health, but because he was the kind of guy who just needed to pound something once in a while.
Her breath caught as she imagined his sweaty, hard body pounding something. Pounding into something. Into someone.
Focus!
“How do you know I don’t already have a live-in guy and three kids somewhere?” she finally asked, hearing the shakiness in her voice. She took another step back, needing air, needing space, needing control of her own mind, which seemed muddled and fuzzy as she examined the tanned V of skin revealed by his shirt. Had she really been kissed by him? Held in his arms? And, damn it, why hadn’t she thought to move her fingers to that V to tangle in the light matting of chest hair just below his throat? Cool it, Kate!
“Do you?”
Yes. Tell him yes. Then run like hell. “No.”
He smiled. “I didn’t think so. So, tell me your name, tell me your phone number, and let’s go to dinner.”
Dinner. Only a few hours till dinnertime and she hadn’t even made it to her mother’s house yet.
“No. I can’t.”
“You take my breath away, run right into me, ruin my pants and you won’t even tell me your name? Cruel.”
“Cruel. Yeah. Welcome to Pleasantville,” she muttered.
“Ah, I suspected you weren’t a native.”
Remembering his other comment she asked, “What’s wrong with your pants?” She glanced down, noting the rigid bulge in his crotch, and had to gulp. Yeah, she guessed their embrace had ruined the fit of his pants, anyway.
He obviously saw her stare and lifted a brow. Then he
turned, pointing ruefully at his taut backside hugged close in the expensive khaki trousers. Expensive, wet and dirty khaki trousers. Somehow, during their embrace, he must have leaned back against the soggy wood porch railing.
“You’re making it worse,” she noted, watching as he tried to brush off the dirt, but only succeeded in smearing the stains around.
“You could offer to help.”
Uh, right. Her hands. On his perfect male butt. Brushing against those lean hips. Trying not to squeeze his firm thighs. She swallowed hard. Glancing at him, she saw laughter in his eyes. Green eyes, dimples, thick blond hair, a body to stop traffic and what looked to be a good solid eight inches of hot and ready hard-on just waiting to be let loose.
On a public street. In broad daylight. In Pleasantville.
Sometimes life simply wasn’t fair.
“Sure, take off your pants and I’ll drop them off at Royal Dry Cleaners for you,” she finally managed to say, striving for nonchalance.
“That’d cause some eyes to pop, wouldn’t it?” he asked with a wicked grin. “You really want me to take them off now?”
She felt heat stain her cheeks. “I mean, you can…go somewhere and change.”
He chuckled. “I was teasing you. It’s not a problem. Besides, Royal closed several years ago. Pleasantville has no dry cleaner anymore.”
“A shame, given this town’s dirty laundry,” she muttered.
He gave her a curious look, but she certainly wasn’t going to elaborate.
“So, are you going to make it up to me?”
“I’m sorry if my running into you caused you to fall headfirst onto my lips and then back into the railing to ruin your pants,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Apology accepted,” he said succinctly, as if he’d had nothing to do with what had just happened.
She found herself almost grinning. Finally she admitted, “My name’s Kate.”
Bare Essentials Page 20
