She felt like kissing the top of his baldhead, then waltzing across the ballroom. Yes! Good news at last. “Thank you.”
“Mayor,” a deep voice said from behind her.
She turned on her heels. A dry spell worked its way down her throat, thickening it, making it hard to breathe. With damp hair slicked back and dressed in a spotless black suit and crisp white shirt with a sexy bow tie, Jack made her mouth water. Smooth and dangerous. Sexy and intriguing.
His gaze met hers and it trailed down, analyzing the vintage Versace long gown she hadn’t had the heart to sell in LA. A high slit revealed her leg at every movement, grabbing attention since the rest of the dress was surprisingly modest.
“Jack.” The mayor’s smile broadened. “So nice of you to make it this time. I was just discussing our plans to improve local tourism with this charming young woman.”
Our plans? Mayor Wright could be small town, but he was a politician all right. She stretched to her full height, anxious to see Jack’s reaction. Damn it. His approval shouldn’t matter. It so should not.
“She gave me a great idea,” the mayor continued.
“Has she?” A spark flickered in Jack’s eyes, and it had the power to twist her insides. She lifted her chin and held his gaze as goose bumps rose on her arm. A vibrant, latent energy passed between her and Jack. For how much longer would they be able to suppress it?
A thread of pride surged through her. “I’ve told the Mayor about my plans for the B&B, and how his support to speed the process is much appreciated.”
“Interesting.” He took a sip of his champagne, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way his sexy lips touched the chilled glass. “I’m impressed.”
“Really? Well, I’m impressed you’re impressed.” Especially given the fact you didn’t believe I’d see things through.
A woman with a headset approached the mayor, and with a promise to call her soon, he left them alone.
“Well done, Lola,” Jack said.
“Are you cheering me on? Because that would make things easier. If we didn’t want different things,” she said. Then again, what would his support mean? Would he agree to her opening the B&B and selling her his share of the ranch later on when she could afford it?
“I’m man enough to compliment an opponent,” he said with a wink, but despite his uncharacteristic playfulness, she just knew what he meant… he wasn’t changing his mind. Crap. He took the glass to his lips again. She shuffled from foot to foot, unable to tear her gaze from his long fingers.
“I knocked on your door but you were already gone.” Jack gulped down the rest of his champagne and handed the flute to a passing uniformed waiter.
“Oh, yeah.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Earl fixed my truck. I needed to come here on my own.” Making an invisible pattern on the golden rug with her sky-high stilettos, she avoided his eyes.
“Are you upset about today?” His voice dropped an octave, and he popped his knuckles, like he was actually anticipating her reply.
What a loaded question. His challenging her added a boost to her goals. In a twisted way, he encouraged her to stick to her guns. “No.”
“Prove it.”
She raised her eyes to his, and he pointed his head in the direction of the dance floor. A band played the slow version of a popular country song. Considering his face for a second, the rugged features contrasting against his indigo eyes, the closed lipped smile offering her no more than a guess. Now she’d achieved her goal to talk to the mayor, she could let her hair down. But a voice deep inside warned her she wouldn’t relax if she danced with Jack.
Still, stubborn and raging against her common sense, she accepted his challenge, and was barely getting used to the prickling of her hand in his when they reached the dance floor.
He embraced her, and an invisible, heavy draft of warmth encircled them. His hand on her back, and with legs dangerously close to each other, he began moving first, setting a slow pace that matched the song’s melody.
She looked to her side at the couples dancing next to them. Then upward to the chandelier shining far from them, in the same room as a delicious buffet was set. She glanced everywhere, taking in anything—even the chocolate fountain or ice sculptured water fountain—because anything else was better than staring at Jack. Her new friend Jack.
The friend who pulled her closer, whose grip on her back turned into a caress, his fingers circling her searing skin. The friend with a hard-on twitching at her through the confines of his pants and her dress. Her pussy responded with urgency, throbbing a beat faster than her heart. No. This couldn’t be happening.
“Jack, we shouldn’t dance like this.” She cleared her throat, but didn’t manage to stop moving against him. “This isn’t appropriate now we’re friends.”
“What is it called again… friends with benefits.”
She waited for a snicker, or any trace of humor in the situation. His body stiffened, barely moving against hers yet persuading her to accept the unthinkable, audacious proposal. “It would never work,” she said, more to herself than to him.
Picking up the pace and continuing his smooth moves, his silent response didn’t bring her relief. He dipped his head down, and his hot breath fanned her shoulder. The touch, lighter than a brush, sent a thrill of excitement through her. Her nipples hardened, and she smothered a moan. Giving in… was crazy.
“You know… In the country, some dogs get rattlesnake vaccines.” He slid his finger down her back, going from her goose bumped skin to the silky fabric, the heat on his fingertip still burning her.
What could she say? He’d never been much of a smooth talker. I could walk away. With one swift movement, she’d get out of the cloud of arousal. Do I want to? Gathering all her strength, she lifted her head and her eyes searched for his.
Sexy, darkening blue eyes contemplated her. Entranced her. Seduced her. “There’s rattlesnake venom in the vaccine they take, to stimulate the dog’s immune system to produce antibodies. This way, if he’s bitten he’ll suffer less pain and have more chances of survival,” he said lazily, his eyes trailing her eyes and mouth. Promising and warning. “They do this to buy time.”
Her stomach clenched. “Duly noted, but what does it have to do with us?”
He curved his lips into a smile that would have any woman begging for mercy. Holy Louis Vuitton, was he gorgeous. “We didn’t work as a couple because we wanted more than we were able to give each other. We broke up but didn’t really extinguish the fire of the one thing that brought us together—kept us going long after we should have ended it. Sex.”
She licked her lips. Her heart tightened, and her breath caught in her throat. He was telling her the truth, but why wasn’t she relieved? “Jack—”
“We don’t have any illusion of rekindling the relationship now. In a few months’ time, we’ll divorce.”
Divorce. The word brought a sour aftertaste to her mouth. She’d been separated for years, and soon it would become official. He would have been a part of her past. She would be an independent divorcee, taking charge of her life. Kicking ass and taking names. “Why would I need to mess things up before our grand farewell?”
The message in his eyes intensified. “Some couples have rebound sex. We’d get it out of the way before.”
How pragmatic. “Like some sort of farewell fuck fest.”
“The antidote.”
“If I follow your analogy, what am I? The dog?” The nonchalance in her voice managed to hide the jumbled thoughts racing in her brain.
He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, provoking her to an almost unbearable level, “No, baby. You’ve always been the venom.”
When they’d screwed on the stairs, it’d been impulsive and no words about it were exchanged afterward. Now, razors stuck in her throat. Sharp and powerful, like the desire pooling between her legs. However, would talking first and going over what could happen if they had sex again make things better or worse?
She closed her eyes, and soaked in the sensation of leaning against him until their foreheads touched. “You’re dangling a hot fudge sundae in front of me on the first day of my diet, Jack. That’s what you’re doing.”
He kissed her cheek. A small, quick peck that upped the level of sexual awareness even more. “You don’t need a diet,” he said gruffly.
But did she need to indulge in this temptation? What would the consequences be to her hard won, slowly growing, independence? “What I need is to think before I act.” She disengaged from him, and lifted her hand to her warm cheek. He frowned, and was leaning closer again when she stopped him with her hand. “I have to freshen up. I’ll be right back,” she said, willing her wobbly legs to walk all the way to the restroom. A sense of pride surged into her. She could have made an impulsive decision, but she’d preferred to think about it first.
Truth was, she needed a Jack-free diet. But would sleeping with him be like a cheat day or would it lead her to a lifetime addiction?
Jack clasped the tumbler—switching to hard liquor had been the right choice to ease his anxiety. He glanced down at the amber contents, wishing that what was inside the glass had the answer to the question burning inside. Why did he propose they have no-strings sex?
You know why. Nothing made more sense other than addressing the urge, fixing the problem, and moving on. Sex was the only thing pulling them together, and it would be so much easier to say goodbye after that well had fully dried up.
She’d said it herself. They had as much in common as Champagne and Fritto pie. Even though he had a fat bank account, inside he was still a little boy abandoned by his mother—the boy with silly dreams to create a family of his own. A family he would never abandon. Meanwhile… leaving was in Lola’s agenda.
His wanting to have kids while he still could enjoy them had irked Lola after their marriage. She didn’t get him, and probably never would. But her understanding wasn’t what he needed.
“Jack.” He put his drink on a console table and nodded at the mayor.
“Mayor Wright.”
“What’s the story with the nice lady who spoke to me?”
Jack ran his hand down his face. He’d talked to the mayor at some social events, and Wright didn’t fall into the friend category. He’d made some donations to his campaign, as he had to his opponent. As a seasoned businessman, Jack knew the best way to deal with politicians was to donate every so often and not pursue any close friendships. “She’s my wife.” He doubted Wright would be interested in the details of his personal life.
The mayor patted his back. “Well, wow. I don’t remember hearing you got married. Congratulations.”
Jack waved him off, and glanced around them to make sure no one heard them. Bringing up his marital status in front of the upper crust of the entire county was not what he wanted. “That was a while ago. It’s a long story.”
Wright shook his head, apparently pleased with the news. “She should have told me she was your wife right away. I would have granted her the license sooner.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. The look in her eyes flashed in his mind, how satisfied and proud she’d been when she announced she nailed the task, just a few moments ago. “She wanted to solve the problem on her own,” he said.
Wright fixed his glasses. “Well, don’t worry. The moment I asked her about the ranch and she mentioned your name, I decided to help her.” He grinned, like he’d done Jack a goddamn favor.
“You didn’t have to,” he said. Was he saying it because he missed being one more obstacle in her way? Or because he had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting she could do it on her own? Jack reached for the scotch and downed a shot. Damn it. Listening to her had ruined his perception.
He didn’t want her to finish what she’d started—because a B&B would mean he would lose his home, the place where he grew up and loved. A side of him still knew he needed more time to consider her a winner in their deal. She’d overcome one obstacle, sure, and he was proud of her for trying. But, in the big scheme of things, she had a long path until she saw it through.
“That’s the least I could do. You’re a valuable member of our community. Now if you excuse me... I need to shake some hands.”
Chapter 9
Lola dabbed some cold water on one of the gold monogrammed hand towels from the wicker basket. A couple of elegant women joined her in the restroom and a few exited, the hustle-bustle a simple detail in her hectic night.
Disentangling herself from Jack had been the right thing to do. She pressed the towel on her neck and cheeks gently. Who was she kidding? An entire gallon of Icelandic water wouldn’t cool her ardor.
“Are you okay?” said a familiar voice behind her, and she raised her head to meet the reflection in the mirror. Mel leaned against the wall, hands crossed over her chest.
“Yes,” she lied and swung on her heels to face her… rival? No. Being catty to Mel was too daytime soap opera. “Hoyt didn’t tell me you’d be here as well.”
Mel wore a beautiful gold gown, which gave her lithe body a regal vibe. If Lola watched her carefully, she’d see the resemblance to Hoyt. They both shared the same high cheekbones and fiery eyes. “He mentioned he ran into you,” Mel said, letting out a sigh. Then, she rolled her eyes as if she just figured something out. “God. That’s so much like my brother.”
“What is?”
“He wanted me to see you and Jack. Together.”
Lola bit her inner cheek, and wished she could throat punch Hoyt just about now. Yes, he was a sneaky jerk. Or was he just too protective? Either way, she didn’t want to hurt Mel. “Listen, Mel, I’ve been meaning to talk to you but never found the right moment. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Jack, but…” The words trailed off. But I can guarantee we’re over? No. They were over as spouses. But, how could she omit the fact they still had a sexual pull he so pragmatically proposed to address? I can’t tell her. Any woman would be beyond hurt. God. How could she accept his fuckfest proposal, knowing if she slept with him, she’d be hurting someone else?
Maybe Mel picked up on her conundrum, for she waved her off. “Jack talked to me. We’re okay. We’re friends who tried to make more than that.”
Friends. A shudder ran down her spine. What was it with that word lately? Lola shook her head. Turned out, Mel was a lot nicer than she was. Resentment lodged in her throat. “I’m sorry about how we met. Now I feel even worse about avoiding you lately.”
Mel chuckled, and the contours of her striking face softened. She was gorgeous, generous, and uncomplicated. Why wouldn’t Jack make things work with someone like her? She’d be perfect for the kind of marriage he wanted. “I know, which is why I followed you into the restroom. You don’t have to. Jack and I tried to give it a shot.”
Lola cleared her throat. “And you weren’t hurt?”
“Jack and I want a lot of the same things. We both love this town, and want a family of our own. Because we’ve both been burned before, we thought it was best to keep volatile emotions out of the way.”
“So you didn’t… love him?”
Mel looked at herself in the mirror, as if coming to terms with her own truth, then faced Lola. Mel ran her fingers over her blonde tresses that cascaded around her face like a Pantene commercial. “I loved the idea of building something with him.”
Makes sense. Wasn’t it easier to walk into a relationship knowing what to expect? When she married Jack, she’d been infatuated. And the lust didn’t hold any of the ingredients needed to keep the marriage alive. “And why didn’t your idea work?”
Mel lifted her shoulders. “Because it turns out, he needs the emotions. Even if he hasn’t figured it out yet.”
He needs the emotions. The words rang in her ear like a musical instrument. Jack needed a whole lot more than emotions, and that’s why she couldn’t keep him as a husband. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to take on the challenge. Motherhood—being a parent—required commitment. And so f
ar she hadn’t been stellar in that department, but she hoped she’d change. For herself, not for any man. Not even for Jack.
Right now, essentially, she and Jack were still the same people despite her efforts to change and grow independent. If she went ahead and accepted his crazy proposal for a farewell fuckfest, she had to keep reality in mind. “How about you? Will you be okay?” she asked, wishing she could give her a hug or something. Anything. Maybe she could bring her a drink.
Mel walked up to her, with a genuine smile playing on her lips. “I’m fine. I’m not the delicate flower everyone makes me out to be.”
“You’re not.” Lola glanced at the beautiful blonde next to her. “I’m glad we had this talk. Thank you.”
Mel nodded. “You’re welcome.”
“I’d like to be friends with you one day, although to be honest, envy would be a problem. You have flawless skin and even with heels on I still feel like an old dusty ottoman next to Candace Swanepoel.”
“I’d like to be friends.” Mel blushed. “And you have my blessing to continue with Jack if that’s what you two are doing. Not like you ever needed it.”
Lola left the bathroom. Was having an affair with her husband on paper a sophisticated and modern arrangement? Or just plain stupid?
She sauntered into the ballroom again, and little currents of electricity sparked into her belly. When her eyes found him, pure fire blazed in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat thickened. Damn it.
He talked to someone, a much older gentleman, and smiled. For a moment, she enjoyed watching him, and how much more relaxed he seemed when interacting with someone else. Lola stepped toward him, and at every inch she closed between the two of them, the decision solidified. She still wanted him. Why deny herself the pleasure? In a few months, she would prove to him and, most of all, to herself, she could run the bed and breakfast. And she wasn’t going anywhere after that happened. She’d sign the divorce papers and he’d move out of the ranch.
The Cowboy’s Socialite Page 9
