Her mother’s diagnosis with chronic heart disease had helped them realize what Madeline herself had learned that fateful day she’d lost Sharon—life was simply too short to waste. They’d sold their house and the doughnut shop and headed for the Texas coast.
“Mom’s making conch-shell necklaces and Dad’s catching giant redfish.” And Madeline had a full jewelry box and an overflowing freezer to prove it. “They’re really into this new phase of their lives.”
“That’s because it’s fun. Ben and I need more fun in our lives, but his schedule is so demanding and the store needs me practically twenty-four/seven.” She sighed, then smiled. “What about you, sweetie? I hear you’re working for one of those fancy cosmetic companies up in Dallas.”
“V.A.M.P. Cosmetics.” Madeline rummaged in her bag. “Here are some samples of our new berry-flavored lipsticks.”
Camille dabbed on the color and licked her lips. “My, my, but this tastes good. Whewee! My taste buds are in overload. I bet Ben will love it. He hates the brand I wear now. Says it tastes like wax.”
Marketing objective accomplished.
V.A.M.P. Cosmetics had grown from a small business to a major corporation by focusing on the sensual nature of their products. They had lotions that tingled when applied. Mascara that made even the skimpiest lashes look lush and sexy. Bath gel that smoothed over the skin like a lover’s silky touch. And lipsticks to spice up every kiss. Seduce your senses. That was V.A.M.P.’s creed.
“So is it true that you actually mix all this stuff up yourself?” Camille asked as she started to bag Maddie’s purchases.
“I sure do.”
“Amazing.”
“I suppose so.” Considering the only thing Madeline had mixed up way back when had been batches of muffins and glazed fritters in the kitchen of her dad’s shop.
“So what are you cooking up right now?” The woman’s eyes lit. “Is it a new lipstick? Why, I’m just a sucker for lipstick.”
“Actually, my next project will be for our skin-care line. I don’t know very many details yet—it’s still in the developmental stage—but when I get something mixed up, I’ll drop by a few samples.”
“Would you? Oh, I would love that!” Camille slid the mini lipsticks into her coat pocket and stifled a cough. “Excuse me, sweetie. I just can’t seem to get rid of this danged old croup.” She reached behind the counter for a glass of water. After taking a sip, she cleared her throat and smiled. “So what else can I get for you today?”
Madeline glanced past the woman to the condom display and pointed to an extralarge blue box. “I’ll take a pack of those.”
“Sweet and smart.” Camille winked and rang up the last item.
“More like afraid.” At Camille’s questioning glance, Madeline added, “We’re decorating for Cheryl’s bachelorette party. If I show up without the condoms, Janice will tar and feather me. She’s a little obsessive.”
After paying for her purchases, Madeline gathered up her bag of goodies and started for the front of the store. She’d made it two steps before her cell phone rang again. She shifted her bag to one arm and rummaged inside her purse for the blasted phone.
“Trojan,” Janice said the moment Madeline managed to say hello.
“Got ’em,” Madeline rounded the corner. “Would you please stop worry—hmmph!”
Her breath caught as she came up hard against a solid mass of warmth. Her heart stalled. Her phone took a dive for the floor. Her purse hit with a solid thunk. Her bag crashed and the contents scattered.
“I’m so sorry,” she started. “I didn’t see—”
You lodged behind the sudden lump that blocked her throat. Her head jerked up and she found herself standing chest to chest with Cadillac’s most notorious bad boy.
2
AUSTIN JERICHO’S EYES were even bluer than Maddie remembered. Deeper. More unnerving.
They pulled her in and sucked her under like a cool river on a hot summer’s day. Sensation washed over her body, skimming her ultrasensitive skin, sneaking into every hot spot until she felt completely submerged and temporarily paralyzed and…ahh.
“I thought I recognized you.” His voice, so rich and husky, slid into her ears and prickled the hair on the nape of her neck. Her attention shifted to his mouth.
He’d always had great lips. Slightly full on the bottom. Sensuous. Just right for kissing, or so she’d thought every time he’d folded himself into the desk opposite hers and opened his book for their daily algebra les—
“You recognized me?” she blurted as his words registered. “You recognized me?” Sure, they’d spent every afternoon together for most of their senior year, thanks to Marshalyn Simmons, the high-school librarian, who’d recruited Madeline to tutor Austin. But otherwise, he’d barely acknowledged her existence.
Except once.
Standing in the shadows outside the football stadium on a Friday night when the Cadillac Coyotes had been slaying the Hondo Hogs in a record-breaking game. The first and last football game Madeline Hale had ever attended.
She’d given up her usual Saturday night at the doughnut shop in favor of the chance to see Austin somewhere other than the school library. Not that it had been a date or anything like that. Just a chance meeting that she’d taken great pains to plan. They’d happened into each other near the concession stand.
She could still smell the fresh buttered popcorn and hear the roar of the crowd and feel the wild air emanating from the boy who’d walked up to her. He’d stared down into her eyes and she’d stared up into his, and they’d had nothing short of explosive chemistry.
For a few precious seconds.
But then the moment of truth had come and she’d learned one of life’s biggest lessons—geeky good girls like Maddie did not end up with cool bad boys like Austin. She wasn’t brave enough, bold enough, bad enough.
Then again, she wasn’t plain old Maddie anymore. She was Madeline Hale. Sophisticated. Worldly. Bad.
But with Austin so close and overwhelming and still sexy as hell, it was hard to remember that.
“When I spotted you through the window,” he told her, “I said to myself, ‘Why, that looks like Maddie Hale’ and sure enough—” he gestured to her “—here you are.”
“You saw me through the window? You saw me?” Even as the question passed her lips, she knew she should bite it back and think of something witty to say. But it was hard to think with his heat surrounding her.
And his scent filling her nostrils…the musky smell of horse and leather and warm male that made her drink in a deep breath.
And his smile right there, directed at her…
As if he read the thoughts racing through her mind, his lips parted, his grin widened and her heart stalled.
Yep, that smile could do enough damage all by itself. Add it to everything else wreaking havoc on her senses and she was a lost cause.
“You saw me,” she said again, as if repeating the truth would help it to sink in. “You saw me.”
“You look really good.”
“I look good?” She shook her head. Goober alert! “I mean, uh, yes, I do look rather good.” Conceited goober alert! “Um, so do you. Look good, that is. You look really good.”
“I look more wet than anything else. It’s hot enough to fry eggs outside.” He glanced down and plucked at his damp T-shirt. “But thanks anyway.”
“Even all dusty and sweaty you look really good,” she rushed on. “Especially all dusty and sweaty.”
He grinned again. “I could use something cold to drink. Say—” he looked at her as if an idea had just struck “—maybe we could grab a root beer float over at the fountain. I mean, if you’re not busy.”
“You want to have a float? With me?” Here comes the goober again. “I mean, of course you want to have a float with me. I like floats. I mean, I used to like floats. I stick to diet sodas now.”
“Diet soda?” He gave her a puzzled look as he studied her. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or an
ything when we collided, did you?”
“I…” Boy, he smelled good. And felt good. And looked good.
She found herself wishing that she’d worn her black slacks. Black was slimming and her thighs needed all the help they could get.
The thought drew her up short and she stiffened. “I’m okay.” She was, and she didn’t need black slacks to prove it. Mind over matter, she told herself, and her mind was much bigger than her matter, even if she’d barely managed to squeeze said matter into the size-ten jeans hugging her thighs. She was no longer fat. She was voluptuous. And proud of every inch. “I’m fine, really.”
“That’s good news.” He shifted his attention away from her then, thank goodness, and glanced around them.
Reality zapped her and she followed his gaze to the spilled contents of her bag. “That’s what I get for being in a hurry.” She dropped to her knees, grateful for a distraction from Austin and the all-important fact that he was standing just inches away from her.
She forced the notion aside and concentrated on gathering up her stuff. “They don’t make bags like they used to….” Her words faded as her attention snagged on the worn tips of his boots.
Boots were good. Totally nonsexual. They shouldn’t inspire lewd thoughts. Unless, of course, they drew to mind a vision of him so strong and powerful and naked, except for the boots….
Her nipples tingled. Her thighs trembled. And she felt dampness between her legs.
She drew a deep breath and reached for a canister of peanuts with one hand and a pack of batteries with the other.
“Good choice.”
“Thanks. You can recharge these if you want…” Her words faded as she realized he wasn’t talking about the pack of AA’s, but the box of Trojans he’d retrieved.
Embarrassment flooded her. “Those aren’t—” she started but then her eyes collided with his.
Hunger.
There was no mistaking the sudden flash in his deep blue stare. For several fast, furious heartbeats, she was seventeen all over again, staring at him over an open algebra book, wanting him and wishing that he wanted her the way he wanted the blueberry muffin she’d brought for him that day.
But this was no daydream. And there was no blueberry muffin. He was looking back at her now, and he wanted her just as much. It was right there in his eyes. In the way his gaze hooked on her lips…
“You always invest in such a big box?”
“They’re not—” she started before common sense kicked in and she bit her tongue. “Um, bigger is always better.”
A sexy grin tugged at his lips. “And here I thought size wasn’t a big issue with women.”
“Small is okay, but big is more economical. You get more bang for your buck.” Heat crept up her neck and she drew in a steady breath. “Especially with this brand. They give you three free.” Okay, she’d wandered into the land of goober again. Here she was discussing condoms with Austin Jericho.
“I’ve always bought the red pack myself, but maybe I’ll give these a try.”
“They’re much better.” As if she knew. “Better value and they’re, um—” she glanced at the colorful package “—lubricated.”
He nodded. “Lubrication’s good.”
“And they have spermicide. You’ve got to have that.”
“Absolutely.”
“So what were you saying about us having a—”
“I’ve really got to go,” he cut in, his expression abruptly closing as if he’d just remembered something vitally important. He stuffed the condoms into her bag and pushed to his feet.
Madeline gathered up the last of her stuff and stood. Had she heard him wrong? “But what about that diet cola?”
“Can’t stomach the stuff myself. Too much aftertaste.”
“You can have a float and I’ll have the diet cola.”
“I’d love to, darlin’, but I’ve got a sick horse waiting.” He retrieved a written prescription from his pocket. “The vet says I need some of Ben’s liniment.” He handed the sack to her. “Here you go. Nice to see you again, Maddie.”
“It’s Madeline. No one really calls me Maddie anymore.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes again as he watched her for a few fast, furious heartbeats. “Madeline,” he finally repeated, a frown on his face, as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “Take care.” And then he strode toward the pharmacy counter, leaving her to wonder what had just happened.
First off, he’d actually noticed her and—ring!
Her thoughts were dissolved by the shrill sound of her cell phone. Madeline tore her attention from Austin’s delectable backside and turned to her oversize purse.
“I’m walking out the door right now,” she told a frantic Janice when she finally managed to answer.
She swallowed a sudden thirst for diet cola, gathered up her purchases and headed out to her black Mustang waiting at the curb. The phone rang again as she climbed behind the wheel.
“Girl, we need ice,” Janice quipped.
“Ice,” Madeline said, and stabbed the off button.
She was barely able to ignore the urge to kill the power completely. She was irritated, not irresponsible. She knew Duane, her lab assistant, might need her.
A wave of anxiety went through her as she thought of the young man. She turned on the car, flicked the air conditioner on high and quickly punched in the familiar number.
Duane was a maverick—fresh and creative, and not much for following rules. That’s what made him so brilliant. He wasn’t afraid to try new things. To take chances. Unfortunately, fearlessness equaled carelessness sometimes.
Madeline stifled a nervous flutter. She’d taken time off before, albeit only a few days, and her lab had still been standing when she’d returned. Of course, her desk had been a little charred around the edges after Duane had ignored the no-food rule and chowed down on a chili dog while mixing up a new acidic skin peel just inches away. Unfortunately, the chili had contained several spices that, when mixed with some of the acid compounds, proved combustible.
“Are you okay?” she demanded when he picked up the phone after the tenth ring.
“I’m not even eating chili today. But, man oh man, I could use a good cup of coffee. And a peanut-butter sandwich.”
She did a mental evaluation of the ingredients of both, and tried to pinpoint any contrary elements. Nothing. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances. “Eat in the break room.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Actually—” she started.
He rushed on. “I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m a new man. Walking around without eyebrows for six months will do that to a guy.”
She thought about arguing the point, particularly since she’d found an empty coffee cup stuffed under the counter where she kept the petri dishes. But Duane was the type who had to learn on his own.
“Have you finished the trial tests for the new lotion?”
“Finished number five today. It’s good to go.”
“We need six before we make that determination.”
“I’ve had the same outcome for five. It’s not going to change. Trust me.”
“Did I tell you that I found a tattoo shop that does permanent eyebrows? Two hundred stabs of the needle and you won’t have to worry about growing yours back.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll do another test. What about you? Have you decided what we’re going to do to spice up this stuff? How about a flavored lotion?”
“That’s already been done.”
“We could do unusual flavors. Coffee. Peanut butter. Mmm.”
“We want to remind women of their sensuality, not what they had for lunch.”
“What about scented lotions?”
“That’s already been done.”
“We could do unusual scents.”
“If you say coffee and peanut butter, I’m firing you.”
“Hey, everybody loves the smell of a good cup of coffee, and peanut butter’s the universal bread spread.
”
“Just finish the preliminary tests on the basic compound and feed the data into the computer. I’ll plug in later and review everything.”
“So what’s the zinger then?”
“I’m working on it.”
“I hope so. I’m getting claustrophobic in this tiny lab. I need some space. My own desk. My very own coffeemaker—”
“Did I hear slurping?”
“That was my stomach grumbling. All this talk has me hungry. And thirsty.”
“Keep it in the lunchroom.”
“Don’t I always?”
Madeline hit the off button, dropped the phone into her purse and glanced up in time to see Austin Jericho stroll out of Skeeter’s. He crossed the street, his strides long and sure, and climbed into his pickup truck.
She still couldn’t believe it. Austin Jericho had actually noticed her. And he’d remembered her. And he’d been attracted to her.
Madeline smiled. Maybe being home wouldn’t be all that bad, after all.
SHE HAD TO FIND a hot man now.
A man was all that stood between Madeline and the fifty points she needed to prove to each of her old friends—as well as every other person at Cherry Blossom Junction—that she had, indeed, turned into the baddest babe in Texas.
Her focus shifted to the game card she’d just drawn.
If a bad girl is what you long to be,
Forthright and daring are always key.
Even the hottest man loves a bold miss,
So prove yourself and give him a kiss!
“What about him?” Every eye at the table turned to peer across the semicrowded dance floor.
“Girl, get out of here,” Janice shook her head. “Your roots are showing, Eileen.”
“What, like, is that supposed to mean?”
“That you’ve been married so long you’ve forgotten what hot means. We’re not talking sweaty.”
Eileen, a petite blonde, stiffened and straightened her baseball jersey that sported Team Mom in royal blue letters. “Well, when I, like, sweat, it usually means I’m hot.”
“Ignore her,” Janice told the other women. “She doesn’t get out much. So what about him?” Janice wiggled her eyebrows and pointed out a man currently two-stepping around the dance floor, a smiling redhead in his arms. “He certainly can fill out a pair of Wrangler jeans.”
The Sex Solution Page 2
