Sweet Talking Man

by Liz Talley

  “I have plenty of niceness in my life,” she said, moving back, latching onto common sense as a drowning sailor might a flotation device. She felt overcome with desire, as if she’d drunk love punch rather than water during the meeting.

  “Then maybe it’s not nice that you need,” he said, stepping forward. He wasn’t letting her retreat. “Maybe you need something else.”

  Desire beat down common sense. Common sense was so overrated anyway. Hadn’t she done the commonsense thing for a long time? And what had it gotten her?

  Lonely nights, an empty bed, no fulfillment.

  So maybe…

  Abigail darted a glance to her left and then to her right. No one was around.

  “What do you think I need?” she asked, lifting her gaze to his.

  Those eyes. She could dive into the blue depths. They were full of teasing, warmth and crazy sexiness. Those eyes made her want to forget about propriety. To forget he was too cool, too young, too different from her. Those eyes made her want to sin.

  “I think you need a little naughty in your life, Abi.”

  She gave a short laugh. “So a guy who just last month got cake in the face from a woman wearing a Vera Wang wedding dress is giving me advice about being…irresponsible? Okay.”

  “I didn’t say irresponsible,” he said, his hand grasping her hip and tugging her toward him. “I said naughty.”

  At his touch her body lit like a match on sandpaper. Full-on blaze. She put her hand on his chest, noting the firmness. This guy worked out. Had muscles. Even had one of those six-packs that models sported. Yeah, she’d noticed that when she saw him doing his crazy sword dance outside.

  “Maybe you should show me the difference.”

  “I should,” he said, his gaze on her lips as his head lowered.

  Yes. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him. Because deep down underneath all her reservations was a wild need to have him touch her.

  And why should she not kiss him?

  No good reason.

  She grabbed the front of Leif’s shirt, slid a hand around his neck, tugged his head down and kissed him hard. Like she meant it. Like she had control of her own damn life.

  But the moment her lips touched his, everything changed.

  The world widened, then narrowed.

  Abigail softened, hyperaware of her fingers pulling his hair out of the leather strap. Aware of his scent, a clean yet sultry smell. And his lips so warm. He tasted like whiskey.

  Leif Lively tasted like pleasure.

  Abigail pulled back, breaking the kiss.

  “Well, all right,” Leif said, giving her a little smile.

  She blinked, scrabbling with the fact she’d kissed Leif. She hadn’t waited on him. She’d taken what she wanted and it was good.

  A horn blew.

  Abigail jumped as headlight beams swept over where she and Leif stood, her hand still on his chest, his hand still on her hip. She stepped away. “Good Lord, we’re in the middle of town.”

  Leif ignored the headlights moving toward them. “You weren’t thinking and maybe that’s something you need to do more often.”

  “You sure like to hand out advice, don’t you?” She stepped out of the headlights realizing she didn’t know what on God’s green earth she needed.

  A psychiatrist, probably.

  Leif merely lifted an eyebrow. A very sexy eyebrow.

  Damn it. Why did he have to be so good-looking? And so nice? And so eager to make her do naughty things? And why had they been interrupted? She had wanted that kiss to go on and on, so she could take the memory home.

  The horn sounded again.

  “Crap on a cracker. Stop honking at me,” Abigail called out, flipping the driver—whom she assumed was Cal—the bird. And that’s when Violet Joyner’s head popped out of the driver’s-side window.

  “Abigail Orgeron, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  “Oh, my God!” Abigail slapped a hand over her mouth.

  The Baptist preacher’s wife jabbed a finger toward her. “I waited all this time to tell you the Milners’ cat climbed inside your open car window. And that’s how I’m repaid?”

  Violet pulled away with a small screech of her tires.

  Leif started laughing. “You just flipped off the Baptist preacher’s wife.”

  “Oh, my God,” Abigail repeated, dread sinking inside her. What had she just done? Violet was a huge gossip. What if she’d seen Abigail kiss Leif?

  “Come on. That was funny,” Leif said, laughter still in his voice.

  “That was not funny. That was horrible. I can’t believe I just up and—”

  “Flipped someone off? Kissed a man? Took a chance?” Leif lifted her chin. “Come on. It was a little funny.”

  Abigail felt her lips twitch. She shouldn’t smile. It was wrong, but even so, laughter bubbled inside her. “It was a little funny.”

  And then the laughter escaped. “The look on her face. That was…so… Oh, God. I wonder if anyone has ever flipped her off before?”

  “Probably not to her face, but trust me. Yes, they have.” Leif tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re pretty when you laugh. You should laugh every second of every day.”

  Abigail stopped laughing.

  “Let me take you out,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I want to drink wine, make you laugh and make up for that awful kiss we just had.”

  Awful kiss?

  If that was awful, what was his definition of spectacular?

  “That’s probably not a good idea. You’re my child’s teacher. Heck, you’re my teacher. Things are complicated in my life right now. Cal is—” She didn’t really know what to say about the way her ex-husband had waltzed into her life, ready to pick up where he’d left everything. Ready to be the family man he’d forgotten to be.

  “Just a date. We don’t even have to kiss. Unless you want to. I personally like the kissing thing, but I can restrain myself. But the laughter thing has to stay.”

  Abigail stood there, the moonlight making Leif look so…yummy. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “It’s not a good idea—it’s a great idea. I’m thinking about a picnic.”

  “It’s the end of January.”

  “I know. We’ll have it in front of the fire pit. Marshmallows, hot cocoa and my famous tofu hot dogs.”

  She made a face.

  “Okay, screw the tofu dogs. I’ll think of something else.”

  “So when?” She was actually entertaining the notion. And why not? She was an adult who could spend time with another adult…and maybe share a few kisses.

  “Saturday?”

  “Can’t. I have a full house.”

  “Monday, then.”

  Four days away.

  Leif stepped close to pick a piece of lint off her sweater. She inhaled his scent, hoping like hell she didn’t resemble her mother’s dog, who took every opportunity to shove his nose in everyone’s crotches. “If you say yes, you can type up an agenda.”

  “For a date?” She snorted, trying to stop her stomach from flipping at his nearness. “That is tempting.”

  “Fine. Throw in the label maker.”

  “Why would we need that?”

  “I’ll let you label my body parts,” he drawled, his voice still teasing as he stepped even closer. Her breasts almost brushed against his chest.

  “Sounds perverted.”

  “I like perverted.”

  “You would,” she said, her mouth twitching into a smile for the second time. Smiling was becoming a habit around him.

  “So?”

  “If you let me bring my label maker, I’ll do it.”

  “I knew you were kinky.”

  Abigail laughed and this time he was the one to stop her…with his lips. It was a nice kiss, sweet and full of promise.

  He kept it rated PG, and when he pulled back he said, “The only requirement is you wear something with buttons.”
<
br />   “Beg your pardon?”

  “A blouse or dress with buttons.”

  “Why?” She’d never had a man request that she wear something particular. “I need to practice something.” He dropped his hands from her waist and picked up her right hand, bussing a kiss on it just like an old-fashioned suitor. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled toward his car, whistling “That’s Amore.”

  Abigail shook her head and climbed into her car, wondering how he’d bamboozled her into going on a date, wondering if she had time to get a pedicure, a new pair of jeans and a bikini wax.

  No, strike the bikini wax.

  Not going to happen.

  Besides, an earthy guy like Leif would probably prefer her au naturel.

  Oh, dear Gussy. She was thinking about her pubic hair. Had she lost her ever-lovin’ mind? She wasn’t going to have sex with him. They were going to eat tofu dogs.

  But still, she might want to get a new bra. One with lace and pretty satin bows.

  As she pulled away from the curb, she heard a meow.

  Oh, right. The Milners’ cat.

  *

  ABIGAIL GLANCED AT BIRDIE, who had finished up the supper dishes before pulling out her binder to work on math. It was Friday night, but Birdie had always been the kind of student who couldn’t rest until her weekend assignments were complete. Friday had gone smoothly for Abigail, even after a sleepless night pondering the previous night’s events.

  Yeah, the woman who was rarely indecisive waffled about following through with the date. This strange thing they had between them had her spinning…and unable to rest. She kept flipping toward going, then flopping toward calling it off.

  The whole thing boiled down to her fear of getting hurt again. Leif could call it “just a date” but she’d never felt pulled toward a guy the way she felt pulled toward Leif. At least not since Cal.

  It made her feel naked.

  But she’d never been a chicken, running away from difficult things. So maybe—

  “Mom,” Birdie said. Abigail banked her indecision and looked up from the praline scones she’d been placing on the cooling rack.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you still love Daddy?”

  Oh, God. She knew this would come, but she couldn’t lie to Birdie.

  “No, I don’t. Well, at least not in the way a woman loves a man. I do care for him because he was my first love and he gave me you.” Good answer.

  “Can you fall in love again?” Birdie examined the nub of her pencil, not making eye contact. “Cassidy’s mom and dad got divorced and then they got remarried. So I guess it can happen.”

  “Sure,” Abigail said, walking to the drawer to grab the plastic wrap, reminding herself this was natural. Birdie wanted a family. Every kid wanted an intact family. “But it’s unlikely. When people fall out of love and divorce, there’s usually something wrong…or something between them that can’t be mended.”

  “Oh,” her daughter said with a frown. “But it could happen, right?”

  Abigail shrugged. “It could.”

  “Okay,” Birdie said, biting her tongue and tackling the fractions scattered across her work sheet.

  Crap.

  Abigail understood why her daughter wanted Cal at Laurel Woods. They’d been happy here once, but that was long ago. Before Cal went dog-assed crazy and drove away leaving both her and Birdie crying and confused. Abigail had hurt for a long time and Cal’s setting her aside for another woman, a woman who was only three years out of being a girl, had done irreparable damage to her esteem. Even though five years had passed, she still doubted herself when it came to relationships. Was she pretty enough? Smart enough? Talented enough in bed? On the outside she was strong, an ox pushing and pulling against life. On the inside, she was a naked baby bird content to stay in her nest.

  Which was why Leif scared her to death. Whatever it was they had between them had tentacles. As soon as she pulled one loose, another latched on. Part of her wanted to let go and succumb, part of her wanted to punch desire in the face and run from it.

  But one thing was certain—Cal had no place in her life other than being Birdie’s father.

  Abigail went to the fridge and pulled out the milk. Pouring a glass, she sat next to Birdie.

  “Hey,” Abigail said, snitching a cookie and taking a big slug of milk before sliding the glass toward her daughter. “You want some?”

  Birdie shook her head. “I’m trying to do my homework.”

  That meant don’t talk to me.

  “Hey,” Abigail said again.

  “What?”

  “Your dad and I are over. You know that, right?”

  “Whatever. I’m busy, Mom.”

  Abigail sighed. “It’s great your father is in your life again, but he won’t be coming home to Laurel Woods.”

  “Why not? He didn’t leave me. He left you.” Birdie lifted her gaze, anger reflected in her green eyes. Same old story. Birdie had implied many times that Cal’s leaving was her mother’s fault. It was how Birdie dealt with the fact Cal actually left both of them. If Birdie had mattered enough, if Cal hadn’t been such a selfish bastard, then he wouldn’t have left…not even if it meant missing his last shot at fame.

  “Okay,” Abigail said with a measured breath. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me.”

  Birdie gave her a flat stare.

  “It’s about Mr. Lively.”

  “What about him?”

  “You didn’t quite tell me the truth about spying on him, did you?”

  Her daughter’s face paled, green eyes widening.

  ‘Look, I know you’re curious about the opposite sex.”

  “Oh, my God, Mom.”

  “We haven’t really had the talk we need to have about, uh, sex,” Abigail said, stumbling over that word. She wasn’t ready, but Birdie spying on Leif took away any options. “Being nude isn’t bad, but it’s private. It’s not something you put on display. Just like we talked about girls at school wearing short skirts or tops that show their cleavage.”

  “Please stop, Mom. Please.”

  “You need to know what is right and what is wrong. Mr. Lively thought he was alone and you violated his privacy without his consent.”

  “I didn’t mean to. Not at first, and I already know this. So just stop. I said I was sorry and that was humiliating enough.”

  Abigail opened her mouth to respond but a knock sounded at the kitchen door. Abigail prayed it wasn’t Cal. This conversation was the wrong one for him to interrupt.

  The door opened and her brother Jake stuck his head in. “I smell scones.”

  “You have a good nose,” Abigail said, trying not to look aggravated. She rarely saw her baby brother anymore. “What are you doing here? It’s Friday night. No hot date?”

  Jake stepped inside and shut the door. “What? Two sexy women like you all alone and I’m supposed to go elsewhere?”

  Birdie gave him a relieved look. “Thank God you’re here.”

  Jake cast Abigail an amused look. “Let me guess, you were about to drop down and give her twenty?”

  Abigail gave them both a frosty look. “How did you know I was making scones?”

  “A little birdie told me.”

  Birdie snorted. “He called earlier.”

  Abigail looked at Jake, who wore tight faded jeans, cowboy boots and, if her nose were to be believed, a little too much cologne. He had a sleek smile, compact body and overt charm that drove the ladies of Magnolia Bend and its surrounding parishes wild. He looked like a walking ad for sex, something she could see even if she’d once changed his diaper. “You know, if you could find a woman to cook for you, you could settle down.”

  He’d already scooped up a scone and devoured it in three bites. “Mfff.”

  Abigail retrieved the milk and a glass, shoving them toward him.

  “Thanks,” he said after he’d w
ashed down the scone. “Delicious. Can I have another?”

  Abigail nodded. “I have only two couples staying tonight so you can take a few with you.”

  “Aw, you’re my favorite sister.”

  “I’m your only sister.”

  He grinned. “Exactly.”

  Abigail never minded her brothers dropping by. Of course, John worked so hard in the sugarcane fields, it was rare to see him, but maybe with Shelby in his life, Abigail would see him more. Her older brother, Matt, was the principal of St. George’s so she saw him at school. He’d recently separated from his wife and Abigail worried about him. That was a sister’s job, wasn’t it? Or maybe it was just her. Worrying could easily become a career.

  “So how are things at the station?” she asked, wiping the counters. Jake popped up on the island. Abigail gave him the evil eye so he slid off, pulling out a chair across from Birdie, who had gone back to her work sheet.

  “Good. An opening for captain is coming up. The only competition I have is Eva.”

  Jake had spent four years at Louisiana State University studying prelaw, but after a car accident involving his best friend, he changed his direction and went to school to become a firefighter. He’d been certified to be an EMT last year, though he remained full-time at the fire station. The man had become intensely committed to saving lives…and becoming a honky-tonk legend.

  “Great opportunity, but don’t discount Eva. She looks gentle but she’s like a praying mantis. You may wake up without a head.”

  Jake made a face. “They only kill their mates, not the person up for a promotion against them.”

  Eva Monroe was the only female firefighter in the parish and also one of Jake’s closest friends. “Speaking of which, is she still dating that guy? Uh—”

  “That’s over,” Jake said, dabbing up crumbs with his pinky finger and popping them into his mouth. “I’m not here for idle chitchat.”

  Abigail glanced up and Jake jerked a thumb toward Birdie.

  “Oh.” Abigail dropped the dishcloth. “Hey, Birdie, I need to talk to Uncle Jake for a minute. Can you go finish your homework in your room?”