“Excuse me, would you like to dance?” The soft female voice caressed his ears, giving him a prime excuse to abandon the rest of his cake.
“Why, I sure would—” The words stalled when he turned to find himself staring into Maddie’s greener-than-green eyes.
“Why, it’s little Maddie Hale,” Miss Marshalyn exclaimed. “How nice!”
“Madeline,” she corrected. “And it’s nice to see you, too, Miss Marshalyn.” She smiled at Austin. “I think they’re playing our song.”
The same slow, sweet waltz that had poured from the speakers at Cherry Blossom Junction filled the small hall, and a surge of heat went through him.
“Go on.” Miss Marshalyn nudged him. “You shouldn’t keep a lady waiting. Particularly the lady who helped you ace your algebra final. Besides, I see your younger brother is in sore need of some guidance right now.”
Before Austin could protest, she made a beeline for Houston, who stood in the far corner talking to a very tall brunette wearing a very skimpy dress.
“Why, that Missy Donovan gets around more than Bud the mailman,” Miss Marshalyn’s voice carried over her shoulder. “She’s the last sort of woman that boy should be wasting his time with….”
“She gives good advice,” Maddie said, once Miss Marshalyn was out of earshot. “If I were you, I’d take it. Come on and dance.”
He eyed her up and down. “You’re not a lady anymore.”
“Really?” Damned if she didn’t look excited at the prospect.
His gaze narrowed. “A lady doesn’t ask a man to kiss her after just one dance.”
“It wasn’t one dance. It was half a dance, and I didn’t ask you to kiss me. I told you to kiss me.”
“What is it with you?”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head, plopped his cake plate on the table and ushered her off to a far corner of the room. He hauled her behind a large potted palm draped in white tulle and turned on her. “You’re a completely different person.”
Her face brightened. “You really think so?”
“You used to be so…nice.”
“Nice girls finish last.”
“At least they finish.” His jaw clenched. “Do you know how dangerous it is to go around kissing strange men?”
“You’re not strange.” Her eyes danced. “Then again, maybe you are. There aren’t too many normal, red-blooded men who would turn down a kiss with a willing woman.”
“Is that so?”
“Which tells me that maybe you’ve shifted your focus from totally hot women to totally hot—”
“I like women,” he cut in. “I like them just fine.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, I’ve got priorities, and kissing isn’t one of them. I intend to settle down.”
“With who?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
She stared at him as if he’d grown an extra eye in the middle of his forehead. “It must be something in the water.”
“What do you mean?”
“Uncle Spur’s set on settling down, too, and intent on finding himself a wife in the next two days.”
“For a man to think he can find a wife in two days is crazy.”
“Finally the voice of reason.”
“He needs at least two weeks, which is how long I’ve got until Miss Marshalyn’s going-away party.”
She gave him a look of bewilderment and disbelief and then shook her head resignedly. “So how about a dance in the meantime?”
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?”
“If memory serves me, you wanted to kiss me during that dance. Hell, the dancing was probably just a front to move in for the kill.”
“Actually, the dancing was for real. It was part of Who’s the Baddest Babe?—this game we played last night at the bachelorette party. I had to pick a hot man, dance with him and kiss him in order to get fifty points. I lost because of you.”
And the game’s over now, Madeline told herself. She’d lost to Sarah and paid the price by picking up Uncle Spur. She had nothing more to gain by pursuing Austin Jericho.
Except the kiss that should have been hers over twelve years ago when they’d stood near the concession stand. Before she’d chickened out, denied the love note she’d written to him and watched him walk away with Big Boobs Barbara.
“If you lost, then why did you ask me to dance just now?” His eyes gleamed with challenge and something else. Something dark and delicious and forbidden to good girls the world over.
“Because I don’t lose. I never lose. Forty-eight chemistry competitions, and I won every one. Last night was a gross injustice and—”
His mouth caught the rest of her words as he pressed his lips to hers. Suddenly she was living the kiss she’d wanted so desperately last night.
It started out hard and hot and insistent, his mouth plundering hers, taking her breath away.
His deep, musky scent filled her nostrils. His body heat drew her closer. Her nipples tightened and an ache started between her legs. And she couldn’t help herself. She leaned into him, molding herself to his hard frame despite the crowd of people that stood just on the other side of the potted palm. The laughter and music faded until she only heard the pounding of her heart, and there was just the two of them and the kiss.
One that quickly morphed into something softer and more persuasive when she wrapped her arms around his neck and angled her head to give him better access. His arms slid around her waist, drawing her even closer. His tongue swept her bottom lip and dipped inside, stroking and coaxing and drawing a raw moan from deep in her throat.
It was a kiss like no other, and just when she was really getting into it, he drew back.
He stared down at her, his breathing hard, his blue eyes dark and unreadable, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. The look faded quickly, however, into a hard, glittering light.
“You asked for a kiss—there you go. Objective achieved.”
If that had still been her objective.
It wasn’t, she realized as she stood there, her lips tingling and her nipples aching and her body on fire. She was no longer the same awkward seventeen-year-old who’d stared across the desk at the cutest boy in high school and fantasized about feeling his lips on her own.
She was all grown-up now, and her fantasies went way beyond a chaste kiss. Even more, she didn’t shy away when it came to something she wanted, be it the next job promotion or a new, trendy sofa or a man. Even this man.
Especially this man.
Because he was everything she’d ever wanted in a man and she’d left town without ever touching or tasting him. Because she’d been scared of rejection. A fact that had haunted her all these years.
Well, no more.
When she rolled out of Cadillac this time, she would have no regrets. She would face her fear and turn her hottest fantasy into a reality.
“Not quite ‘objective achieved’.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Just once I want to know what it would feel like.” She licked her lips and stared into his eyes. “You and me and sex. Some down-and-dirty, hot-and-heavy sex.”
5
MADELINE PULLED up in front of the two-story white farmhouse with the wraparound porch, killed the engine and barely ignored the urge to whack her forehead against the steering wheel.
Instead, she drew in a deep breath and tried to calm her pounding heart.
Pounding, even though it had been over an hour since she’d propositioned Austin Jericho.
She truly wanted one night of hot, breath-stealing, mind-blowing sex with him to prove she truly had evolved into a fearless female who lived life rather than dreamed about it.
But wanting it and actually saying it were two very different things.
That explained her frantic heartbeat
.
That, and the fact that she had a hankering for a colossal piece of wedding cake that no amount of carrot sticks dripping in fat-free dressing could begin to curb. Add to that the fact that she was stuck back in her hometown for the next two weeks with a dog who shed and an obnoxious uncle. Talk about stress.
On top of everything, the aforementioned obnoxious uncle was now MIA.
She still couldn’t believe it. One minute she’d spotted him scarfing up pigs-in-a-blanket and sweet-talking Gertrude Meyers who’d made the pigs, and then—poof!—he was gone.
She’d searched for him, questioning everyone at the reception and all she’d managed to discover was that Gertrude had listened to his proposition and then promptly smacked him on the nose with an unwrapped weenie.
That was the last anyone had seen of him.
“Please let there be a message,” she murmured as she struggled from behind the wheel—not an easy feat for a woman wearing yards of bright coral taffeta and tulle. She gathered the skirt and started for the door.
With any luck, he’d called and left word that he was over at the bingo hall or midnight bowling over at Cadillac Alley.
If not…
She forced the negative thought aside, squared her shoulders and mounted the porch steps. She was proactive. A doer, not a dreamer or a worrier. While the evening hadn’t gone exactly as planned—she’d lost Uncle Spur and been turned down by Austin—she would make the best of it. She would find the obnoxious old man and seduce one stubborn cowboy right out of his Wranglers and into her bed.
Her mind made up, she spent the next five minutes checking the answering machine and casing the house. Upstairs, she peeked in to make sure his luggage was still there. Bingo. She bypassed Sharon’s old room and picked up her steps, eager to dispel the sudden emptiness that spread through her.
Worry soon followed as she finished her search and came up empty-handed. Her mind raced and she envisioned the old man lying in a ditch somewhere, possibly hurt and mangled and—
Think positive.
Think Austin.
She could still see the hungry light in his eyes, feel the tension in his muscles as he’d held her during the dance.
He was being more stubborn than her lucky burner back at the lab. It was so old and corroded that she had a heck of a time lighting it, but she always managed. It was just a matter of turning up the heat and being persistent.
That’s exactly what she had to do with Austin. Turn up the heat between them and tempt him beyond reason. Until his resistance melted away and he burned as fiercely for her as she did for him.
Downstairs, she penned a quick note for Uncle Spur that said “Stay put.” She grabbed her purse, walked back outside and turned to pin the note on the door.
Of course, she wasn’t exactly sure how to light Austin’s fire. She’d used all of the usual seductive tricks last night. She’d been bold and forthright, and made it obvious she was no longer the same chubby hometown girl who’d stammered and blushed and hidden behind homemade flower-print dresses and jumbo blueberry muffins. She’d worn a daring top and a tight skirt and told him about her life in Houston. She’d smiled and licked her lips and plastered herself against him just the way she’d seen women do at the clubs in Houston. The few clubs she’d actually been to, that is. Despite her best efforts, he’d still walked away.
“This is going to be much harder than I thought,” a deep, crackling voice sounded just to her left.
“You’re telling me—Uncle Spur!” Her gaze swiveled to the dark shadow that sat on the porch swing and her hand faltered on the note. Spur’s balding head glittered, reflecting a ray of moonlight and illuminating his weathered face. The smoke from his cigar curled in the air.
Relief washed through her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Didn’t see you look here. This is where I’ve been sitting for the last half hour. Saw you whiz right past me like a giant orange pumpkin with legs.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You had your mind set on something and I didn’t want to distract you.”
“I had my mind set on you.” She pinned him with an accusing stare. “I looked everywhere at the reception.”
“I ain’t at the reception.”
“But you were at the reception. You were chasing Gertrude.”
“I wasn’t chasing anybody. That woman wanted me.”
“She slapped you with a weenie.”
“Purely accidental. She was playing hard to get. She wanted me, but I ain’t one for games, and I sure as hell cain’t survive on a few measly weenies wrapped in biscuit mix. I need some real food, and that woman can only do finger food. Had to break her heart and move on to greener pastures. Emmaline Waller.” He let out a low whistle. “Now there’s a filly who can cook. Won the corn-bread cook-off last year over in Austin County.”
“Emmaline Waller? The lady who owns the fruit stand next to Skeeter’s Drugstore?”
“That’s the one. Has a walking cane shaped like a giant banana. Right nice lady even if she ain’t much of a looker. Anyhow, I was going into the men’s room on account of that dadblamed weenie squirted juice and stained my favorite Sunday shirt. Emmaline offered to help get the stain out, and I knew right then and there that she was The One. Proposed to her between the sink and the urinals. I told her I had a two-hundred-square-foot kitchen with every major appliance and a year’s supply of Viagra, and if she played her cards right, she might be the lucky lady who gets to try both.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“That’s what she said right before she whacked me on the head with that dadblamed banana.” He eyed her. “You ought to try a few bananas. They might help shrink them hips of yours.” He squinted his eyes. “Then again, from the look of ’em, it’ll take a lot more than a piece of fruit. More like an act of God.”
“I can see why Emmaline whacked you.”
He frowned. “She’s crazy is all, but I ain’t gonna be discouraged. First thing tomorrow, I’m headed down to the diner.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The senior ladies do Sunday breakfast there afore church. While she’s out of the running—too dangerous—there should be plenty others to choose from.”
“But you fly home tomorrow morning.”
“No sirree. I ain’t going home empty-handed.” He stood and walked toward the front door. “Don’t just stand there. I need my beauty sleep.” He waited while she unlocked the door before preceding her inside. “But first I need my nightly buttermilk.” He headed to the kitchen.
Madeline flicked the light switch back on and a warm yellow glow pushed back the shadows in the living room.
Cheryl Louise and her new husband had opted to move in here rather than find a place of their own, and so all the furniture still sat in the exact spot Madeline remembered from all those afternoons spent studying here with Sharon.
Recliner near the TV. Sofa sitting in front of the double bay windows overlooking the front yard. Dining room off to the left, complete with a china hutch overflowing with rose-patterned dinnerware. Of course, Cheryl Louise’s family had never owned a dog and so the massive amount of dog hair coating the sofa and rug, the fabric recliner, even the coffee table, were new to the house.
Otherwise, everything was exactly the same.
Even Sharon’s room.
Not that she’d been inside. But the closed door still sported the same Madonna poster, along with a handmade Keep Out sign in bright pink bubble-shaped letters. She and Sharon had posted the sign after being interrupted while watching a rerun of Dukes of Hazzard. The show and the star, handsome Bo Duke, had needed their utmost concentration.
Madeline drew in a deep breath, suddenly feeling restless. Thinking solved nothing. She refused to think about the past. She had to live for the moment. Sharon’s death had taught her that.
“I don’t know about you, Maddie, but I want to do something with my life. I want to go places and see things and be somebody.”
Growing up, Madeline had never really felt the same urge that had monopolized her friend’s thoughts and conversations.
Correction—Madeline had never acknowledged the urge. While she’d dreamed of bigger and better things, she’d never imagined them as real possibilities. They’d been dreams. Pie-in-the-sky, unattainable fantasies of a small-time girl in a small-time world. In real life, she’d never considered a future beyond Cadillac and her family’s business. Sure, she was smart. But she’d meant to use her intelligence to help Sweet & Simple grow and prosper. She’d never thought beyond mixing up a new muffin flavor, or perfecting a quadruple-chocolate-chunk brownie.
That had been her future. To be the Betty Crocker of Cadillac, Texas.
Until Sharon’s death.
When Madeline had stood beside the grave, she hadn’t seen the flowers or the shiny casket being lowered into the ground. Instead, she’d seen the next day, and the next, and all the days after that, and she hadn’t felt the usual enthusiasm.
Instead, she’d felt the urge to move. To go. Here, there, everywhere until she’d seen and done so much that her small town and her past paled in comparison.
And that’s just what she’d been doing.
And that’s what she would continue to do just as soon as she finished her two-week sentence in Cadillac. She’d go back to the big city and straight up the corporate ladder. Make a name for herself in the high-profile cosmetics industry. Become the chief scientist for the fastest-growing company in the business.
Meanwhile, she had a date with a vacuum cleaner.
She’d just pulled the machine into the living room to suck up dog hair when Twinkles bounded in from the kitchen. The animal came at her, tongue wagging.
“How come he doesn’t do this to you?” she asked Uncle Spur, who’d walked in from the kitchen, a half-empty glass of buttermilk in his hand.
“Gave him a whack with my Reader’s Digest a few years back at Christmastime. He ain’t liked me since. I’ll just leave you two alone,” Uncle Spur said as he started up the stairs. “Make sure to keep it down. I get downright ornery if I don’t get my sleep.”
The Sex Solution Page 6
