Undressed

by Heather MacAllister

J.C.’s mouth met hers with confident intent, shifted in a series of erotic pulses—she was going to remember that trick—and settled at the perfect angle.

  The. Perfect. Angle.

  He was in complete control because she certainly wasn’t doing anything to help things along. Frankly, this guy needed no help, so she might as well enjoy the trip.

  Lia consciously relaxed enough to let him know she wasn’t going to lever herself away in outrage, but not enough to signal to him full steam ahead, either. A girl had to have some standards, even if they were negotiable standards.

  He rewarded her by taking her lower lip in his mouth and sucking gently as he ran his tongue back and forth against it.

  Every nerve in her lip woke up. “Helllllooooo,” they purred.

  She relaxed a little more, aware that she had slipped backward enough so that instead of being above him as she had been when he’d first kissed her, they were now on a nose-to-nose level.

  Her reward, as she expected, was an awakening of her upper lip.

  He lifted his mouth from hers and she felt a smidgen of panic that the kiss was over. Panic, because she might just beg for more and that was never good.

  “You taste like cookies and wine,” he murmured. “Sweet with a little sin mixed in.”

  Oh, she did like hearing him say that. Her eyes drifted shut as she allowed herself a few sinful thoughts.

  Nothing happened for a few beats.

  She opened her eyes. “You’re thinking of how you can work that into a song, aren’t you?”

  “Tryin’ real hard not to.” His eyes crinkled.

  “Try harder.”

  His mouth, his very talented mouth, creased in a slow grin as he settled her more firmly against him. “I think harder is the operative word.”

  Indeed.

  Lia sighed.

  He parted her newly sensitized lips with a series of openmouthed kisses that had her melting. Lia was not the melting type. Or so she’d thought. Maybe, just maybe, J.C. was the first man to find her melting point.

  She’d never been kissed like this before. Even worse, he made her afraid she’d never be kissed like this again.

  As her body continued melting until she resembled a puddle of discarded satin, Lia slid lower in his arms. Sort of, kind of, well, okay, melting against him so she had as much of her body in contact with his as possible. Any woman would. And probably had.

  Through slitted eyes, she saw J.C.’s face above hers, his eyes closed, totally in the moment.

  Lia always checked out the faces of the boys and men, er, boy-men as they kissed her. It was a habit and she wasn’t ever sure what she was looking for. Mostly, she saw guys pursuing goals, or actually, one goal. She knew they were thinking to themselves, “Chicks like kissing, so I’ve got to put up with it now so they’ll put out later.”

  Sometimes, she caught them watching her, gauging whether she was ready for second base. A sure mood killer.

  The expression she loathed was the one of painful concentration, as though the guy had memorized some kissing manual and was trying to remember the steps. Swirl clockwise, thrust, parry. Swirl counterclockwise, thrust, parry. Rinse. Repeat. Blech.

  But she had never seen the look of a man reveling in the kiss before. J.C. was clearly enjoying himself, but he wasn’t lost in the moment, not completely. He wasn’t lost because he wanted to remain aware of her feelings, specifically whether she was ready to stop or not.

  And she knew this because…?

  Because Lia Wainright was finally being kissed by a man, just the way she’d wanted to be.

  And she liked it. A lot. More than she should, because kissing was about more than technique, even superb technique. She just couldn’t remember what else right now.

  What would his face look like if he were totally lost in the moment? She’d never know because then she would have other things to think about besides his expression. Except she wouldn’t be thinking. She’d be feeling.

  And she shouldn’t be thinking now. Why couldn’t she lose herself in the moment instead of distracting herself by overanalyzing the kiss? Wondering where it was going instead of just enjoying it all on its own?

  Abruptly, Lia placed her hands—which she was sorry to note had only been gripping the chair arms—on either side of J.C.’s head and broke their kiss.

  His golden-tipped eyelashes swept upward.

  Lia Wainright looked this man right in his blue, blue eyes and smiled.

  And then she kissed him.

  For the next several minutes, Lia Wainright channeled her inner woman. It should have been effortless. It wasn’t, which said something about her that she’d examine later. Much later. For now, she quickly returned the awaken-the-lips favor and then went exploring, learning his taste, and what made him hum. Especially what made him hum because that’s what sent delicious vibrations over her tongue to bump merrily along the way to those parts of her that appreciated vibrations the most.

  Lia knew it was time to break the kiss when she became seriously interested in taking her tongue out of the equation and applying his humming directly to those parts of her.

  Not now. But, for the love of fudge-ripple ice cream, within the near future.

  So, trying to hide her reluctance, Lia retrieved her hands from where they’d been wandering along his leanly muscled arms. Slowly, she gentled her kisses, pleased when he responded in kind.

  They stared at one another and then Lia said, “J.C., it’s time to put your hard drive back into your machine.”

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lia stepped next door. She didn’t even have a face-saving pretext. “James?” She confronted J.C.’s sales-associate cousin. “Or do you prefer Jimmy?”

  “Oh.” James flushed a deep cherry pink that clashed with the coral shirt, tie and pocket square he wore to prove that men could wear pink.

  Lia liked James, but James was not the man to demonstrate any shade of pink whatsoever. But James and pink weren’t the point. His cousin was the point.

  James looked ready to bolt.

  Lia cut off his escape. “Yes, I have been talking to your cousin. Tell me about him. Hold nothing back.”

  Panic flashed in James’s eyes. “Is he bothering you?”

  Define bother, Lia felt like saying. “Not yet.”

  “Good.” James looked visibly relieved. “He’s visiting for a few days.”

  “And?”

  “And he’ll be gone soon?”

  Lia leveled a look at him. “James, is he sleeping in the back dressing room?”

  The panic returned and James went into full defense mode. “He wanted to. I told him he shouldn’t, but he likes the quiet. He says he can’t hear his music when he’s around people all the time.”

  Lia thought of the bits and pieces she’d heard through the wall. “Some music shouldn’t be heard.”

  “You don’t like his songs?” James shot her a surprised look. “’Cause women really like his stuff.”

  Trust me, James, it’s not the songs women like. “They have a certain charm. Are there…a lot of women?”

  James rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Thousands.”

  “Really.”

  “Yeah. That’s why he takes off and bums around the country all the time. He works odd jobs and writes music.”

  This was so much worse than Lia suspected. She was attracted to a talentless, mooching bum. Well, not talentless. He sure could kiss.

  “Should I tell him he can’t stay here anymore?”

  And there it was. Her opportunity to send the annoyingly distracting J.C. on his way.

  Lia hedged. “Does William know he’s living in the fitting rooms?”

  “He’s not living, and it’s just the one—”

  “James.”

  James looked across Tuxedo Park to the desk by the entrance where William discreetly oversaw the fittings. It was the same setup as the bridal salon. The desk was empty. As was the bridal salon’s. “William is…distracted just now.”
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  Yeah, Lia knew all about that kind of distraction. And speaking of…was that J.C. dressed in a morning coat? With a pink cravat and vest? Helping a client?

  At that moment, he threw back his head and laughed, the deep sound rippling across the store and washing up against her. “My man, it is a fact that a woman planning her wedding is a force of nature. Either embrace the elements, or take shelter.”

  Lia looked at James. James cleared his throat. “He wanted to try working as an associate. He’s actually very good.”

  Yes. Yes, he was. She squinted. “Is he wearing Bridal Blush?”

  “I believe so.”

  While the glory of a pink wedding excited the Brantley women, selling the idea to men already out of their comfort zone with the whole tux-and-morning-suit thing required skill. And perhaps a few beers from Rocky Falls’ own microbrewery.

  Lia heard a clink. J.C. and the client tapped their beer bottles together and tilted them upward as they drank in long swallows.

  It was 9:35 in the morning.

  “Beer. It’s what’s for breakfast,” Lia said.

  She stared, hoping the sight of J.C. chugging a breakfast beer would lessen his attraction.

  It did not.

  A couple of beefy guys and the groom’s twin emerged from the dressing room and reached for a beer. J.C. waved them off with samples of pink from the salon’s order book. He then proceeded to hold up fabric swatches next to their faces as the guys poked fun at themselves and the groom.

  “We substituted Morning Blush for Morning Frost,” Lia said idly.

  “That’s what he told me,” James replied.

  They both watched as J.C. arranged the men, eyeballed the pinks and made assignments. Then he gestured to the beers.

  Silk shan-tung, the man was a natural. Lia drew a shuddering breath she hoped James didn’t hear.

  He stared at his shoes. “So…?”

  “So enjoy your visit with your cousin.”

  “THAT’S ALL SHE SAID?” Jordan asked Jimmy after he’d had to watch Lia walk out of the tux place while he convinced three former University of Texas football players that they were going to wear pink.

  The trick, he’d discovered, was to tell them that the bride was also considering burgundy, which was way too close to maroon, which, with white, was the color of the Texas Aggies, their mortal foe.

  After they heard that and drank a couple of brewskis, all was well. Except Jordan didn’t drink much and never at this time of day.

  He needed a nap.

  “She didn’t demand that I kick you out.”

  Jordan smiled. “She didn’t, did she? What did you tell her about me?”

  “Just that you like to bum around the country and take odd jobs while you write music.”

  “Jimmy, my man.” Jordan laughed, thought about it some more and laughed again. “You didn’t tell her who I was, did you?”

  “What do you mean? She knows you’re my cousin.”

  “Right.” A man could always count on his family to keep his head from swelling too much. Before Jordan could ask anything else, a very young couple timidly approached the empty desk.

  “I got this one.” Jimmy started toward them and Jordan decided to let it go.

  He headed to the office—the place was a mirror image of the bridal salon—and recorded the orders. He didn’t mess with the computer system, but wrote the numbers down so Jimmy could enter them later and get the commission. After that, he walked into the same fitting room where he’d been sleeping to clear away bits of paper and pins left by the Brantley-Varnell groomsmen.

  Thoughtfully, Jordan stared at the padded bench, the mirror with the raised platform, the hooks in the walls and the tiny round tables with the cup holders where guys could set their beers.

  So. Lia hadn’t ratted him out.

  He was making progress.

  ♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥

  6

  THE NEW LAPTOP was delivered at lunchtime, not that Lia had eaten lunch. She had snacked on cookies, so now she felt sort of sick. But, Dan the man, it had been a crazy day. Lia kicked off her shoes and closed her eyes, too tired to order food.

  She hallucinated a hamburger. A lovely, greasy, beefy thing with onions and pickles. Maybe cheese. Maybe not. She inhaled and her stomach growled, prompting a low chuckle.

  Her eyes blinked open. “J.C.! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  “Couldn’t resist.” He set an open bag on the desk and handed her a drink. “I tried to guess if you were a Sprite, Diet Coke or Dr Pepper gal, but nothing seemed to fit. So I got you iced tea.”

  “You’re good.” Lia pushed the straw through the lid and took a long swallow. “Unsweetened. Perfect.”

  “Like you.”

  She gave him an exaggerated eye roll.

  Grinning, he cocked a hip on the edge of the desk and pulled a hamburger out of the bag. “Just practicing.”

  Any man who knew his way around a woman’s lips the way he did got plenty of practice. “Do lines like that actually work?” Lia accepted the hamburger he handed her.

  “If not with a gal, then in a song.” He reached into the bag, got a hamburger for himself and started unwrapping it.

  Lia eyed him. She’d been thinking about him—never a good sign. That had been one heck of a kiss last night, and kisses like that didn’t come her way so often that she wanted to throw out the baby with the bathwater, as it were. So he wasn’t her ideal match. Maybe he’d be a good reminder of why it was important to stick to one’s standards. Or not. “What do you do when you aren’t sleeping in dressing rooms and playing around with your guitar?”

  Before biting into his hamburger, he said, “I don’t always sleep in dressing rooms, but I’m always ‘playing around with my guitar.’”

  Which told her exactly nothing. “Fine. Be a man of mystery. Don’t tell me.”

  This clearly amused him. “Eat your burger before it gets cold.”

  She took an embarrassingly huge bite as J.C. said, “If I told you a lot of people actually pay good money to hear me sing my songs, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  Her mouth full of hamburger, Lia shook her head.

  “There you go, then.” He tilted his head and watched her inhale the hamburger.

  She might have felt a flutter or two, except that her stomach was busy with food.

  “Thanks.” Lia sighed and crumpled up the wrapping to put it in the bag. “Hey! There’s a French fry in here!” She ate it. “Evidence that at one time there were more.”

  J.C. was unrepentant. “I must have missed that one.”

  Lia laughed as he gathered up the trash and stood.

  Was he leaving already? Obviously. But…but he’d kissed her. Last night. In this very room.

  Lia had been thinking about it all day and now he was here and had fed her and they’d both eaten onions and…he was going to leave without kissing her again?

  “I know you’re itching to get busy on your new laptop.”

  Not. At. All.

  “Got a favor to ask. A young couple came in today to rent a suit. He’s in the army and is about to deploy and they decided to get married first. They don’t have any money. She’s just going to wear her church dress and carry flowers.”

  Lia knew what was coming. “Oh, J.C., I’ve heard so many hard-luck stories—”

  “This is different. They didn’t ask. I’m asking. I’m asking you to let her borrow one of the sample dresses. I know you’ve got some that have been discontinued.”

  “Which we sell once a year.” J.C. had been listening a lot.

  He gazed at her. “It’s an outdoor wedding on Sunday afternoon. Just a simple dress.”

  Typical man. There was no such thing as a simple wedding dress.

  He softened his voice. “Please.”

  It rumbled against her heartstrings. No fair. One word in that voice and who could deny him anything? Not Lia.

  “Okay,” she heard herself saying. Lending the sample
s was against the rules. So against the rules. Something about J.C. made her forget about rules. “And we don’t need to bother Elizabeth with this, either.”

  “Understood. Well, thanks, Lia.” His goodbye smile bordered on impersonal. It didn’t even have a dimple. How did he do that?

  “I’ll try to keep the sound down next door.” And he left. No kiss. No hug. No see ya later.

  And then came the embarrassing realization that he’d left that way on purpose. Last night’s kiss hadn’t done it for him the way it had for her.

  Ouch.

  At least he’d let her down easy and very smoothly. She could appreciate that. A clear signal that they were Not Going Down That Road.

  Which was what she wanted. Because it was best. Because, tragically, he wasn’t the right type for her.

  So instead of feeling relieved, why did she want to run after him and fling herself at him?

  Come on, Lia. You know getting involved with him would lead to a messy breakup later. Don’t put yourself through that. The man had no home, no money and no job. The only talent she’d discovered so far had been his kissing talent. Which was considerable. And he probably had plenty of women who were willing to overlook the no money, no home and no job issues.

  Because…because during that kiss, hadn’t she?

  Lia heard the front door close and J.C. lock it behind him.

  That was a close call.

  JORDAN COULDN’T QUITE figure out his fascination with Lia until he overheard one of her conversations with Elizabeth the next day. Lia was pulling dresses, as they called it, when Elizabeth asked her why she was showing the less expensive models when the bride’s budget was considerably more.

  “The mom’s body language tells me she can’t afford it,” Lia answered. “Styles that skip beading around the hem will cut the cost and still give the bride the look she wants.”

  “Hmm,” Elizabeth had said.

  “The mom will be thrilled and the bride will still be happy. Positive word of mouth means more brides in the shop,” Lia countered. “Besides, it gives me warm fuzzies.”

  “Well, it’s your commission,” was Elizabeth’s comment.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t spend all my warm fuzzies in one place.”