Sweet Talking Man

by Liz Talley

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Well, you’ve been here for six months. What have you been doing?”

  “Uh, moving in, teaching, giving the town time to trust me a little before giving up secrets.”

  “You think there are secrets?” Abigail’s forehead did that little wrinkle thing again.

  “There are always secrets in small Southern towns.”

  Abigail laughed. “You’ve seen too many movies. We’re no different than any other people in any other city.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Leif said, lifting the cheese tray so he could move closer to Abigail. She sucked in her breath a little, her hands pressing against her jeans.

  “So we’re a little closed off and even backward.”

  “That’s not what I meant. This a cool little town with some interesting characters, but everyone has secrets. Human nature.”

  “I guess,” she said, jumping a bit when he lifted her hand.

  “And, Abigail…”

  Her gaze rose to his. “Huh?”

  “You have nothing to do with searching for my father. You’re a delicious side benefit.” He lowered his lips to skim across the sensitive flesh of her wrist.

  “Why do you do that?” she asked.

  “What? Kiss your hand?”

  “Yeah, like you stepped out of the nineteenth century. Do you carry a handkerchief, too?”

  Leif tugged her to him. She lost her balance and toppled into his lap.

  “I don’t carry one, but I do like the turn of your wrist,” he said, running a finger over the delicate skin. She shivered, which shot satisfaction into his belly. “So very elegant.”

  Abigail looked at his finger trailing over her pulse. “I never thought my wrist was elegant.”

  He flipped her hand and bestowed a kiss on the back of it. “All of you is very elegant. Like a Degas. You remind me of one of his dancers.”

  Abigail swallowed. “I was a dancer once.”

  Leif brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, marveling at the dramatic streak of white amid the darkness. Abigail’s breath came faster and he felt her body amp. Her forearm rested on his thigh, her knees bumping his shins. He loved the way she smelled—light and floral and clean like a meadow or some other poetic thing. “I could tell when we danced earlier. You move so easily, so sweetly against me.”

  Abigail watched his mouth as he murmured tender things to her. “You sure know how to make a woman feel good about herself.”

  “You’re a woman who should never feel bad about herself,” he said, curving a hand behind her neck, bringing her mouth to his. “Never, ever.”

  Slowly he covered her mouth with his, savoring the fullness of her lips for a second. She leaned into him, surrendering.

  “So sweet,” he murmured before lightly touching his tongue to her lower lip. She inhaled deeply and moved her hand to his jaw as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, teasing her with his tongue. Carefully, he wound his other arm about her waist, anchoring her to him.

  And then he merely enjoyed kissing Abigail.

  She tasted delicious—like passion and goodness rolled into one. She was pretty talented at kissing, so he enjoyed the feel of her body against his, the promise in her tongue meeting his. Their dance had begun long ago, but Abigail had just now settled into the rhythm, allowing the passionate creature beneath the buttoned-up cardigan to peek its head out.

  After a few seconds he broke the kiss.

  “What did you do that for?” Abigail murmured, brushing his jaw with that elegant hand he so liked. “Not complaining. I really enjoy kissing you.”

  “Oh, babe, I liked it, too, but we can’t have dessert before we’ve eaten.” He dropped a kiss on her nose and sprang to his feet.

  She fell against the cushion. “What?”

  “I’m going to get those dogs. You fill our glasses.” He indicated the chill bucket behind her before giving her an impudent wink and stepping inside.

  Yes, romancing Abigail was better than he expected.

  *

  ABIGAIL TURNED TOWARD the silver bucket and lifted the bottle from the icy depths, filling both their glasses. She could feel the wine warm her stomach, giving her that wooziness she needed.

  Or maybe she was woozy from Leif’s kiss.

  Briefly she touched her lips.

  Dang, he was a good kisser. Her pulse had galloped with that whole wrist-kissing thing, and by the time his lips touched hers, she could have combusted into flames right there on the man’s patio.

  You’re just horny.

  Yeah. Okay. So her inner voice wasn’t wrong. It had been a long time since a man had kissed her, since a man had touched her so tenderly. A hot pink vibrator was no substitute for the feel of a man beneath her hands. She’d missed that human touch—the smell of man, the abrasion of five-o’clock shadow against her cheek, the mingling of breaths.

  So what if she did let herself indulge in Leif?

  She was a grown-ass woman with needs.

  Hadn’t she sacrificed everything to raise a daughter, keep a roof over their heads, struggling to make ends meet? Hadn’t she spent late nights sewing Renaissance-faire costumes and early mornings hauling Birdie to the soccer field? Hadn’t she been on the pew every Sunday to hear her daddy preach and spent countless nights in the hospital while her mother recovered from breast cancer? Heck, she’d even helped to plan Cal’s parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary party…one her ex didn’t bother to attend.

  So why not take a little something for herself?

  A little lust-slaking with the tight-assed, lickable Leif could be just what she needed.

  Didn’t she deserve a taste of Leif?

  Don’t think.

  “Here we are,” he said, coming through the sliding glass door holding a tray. “I brought mustard but I couldn’t find ketchup.”

  She chuckled at the thought of having him with either of those condiments, and then tried to rip her mind from a naked Leif and her doing naughty things to him.

  Hot-dog wieners.

  Right.

  “I love mustard.”

  Leif sat the tray between them, lifting the cheese plate to make room. “And look, marshmallows for dessert.”

  “Vegan marshmallows?”

  “We like good things, too.” He grinned, lifting a whole-grain bun. “I made the hot-dog buns.”

  Abigail looked at the bun. “I can’t believe you. You’re like the perfect man, aren’t you? Except I don’t think a woman can really catch hold of you.”

  He cocked his head, a curious smile on his face. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, poor Marcie didn’t catch you. How many women have you outrun? Someone told me three.” she said it flippantly but inside her stomach knotted. “Love ’em and leave ’em” Leif. She’d bet twenty dollars that could be his moniker.

  “Ah, back to the whole lothario thing.”

  “I was teasing. Sort of.”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe I’m not so good at staying put. Relationships make me itchy no matter how much I want to be the guy who stays forever.”

  Abigail’s stomach pitched, the knot growing heavier. This was exactly what she’d told Shelby.

  But wasn’t that the point?

  Leif was for funsies, not forever. He’d probably leave Magnolia Bend once he found out who his father was.

  Parameters were good.

  Parameters would keep her heart safe.

  She could date Leif, even sleep with him if it happened, but a serious relationship was off the table.

  “I can see how being an artist, a sort of wandering soul, might make it hard to settle down.”

  Leif placed an odd-looking wiener on a long metal stick and handed it to her. He did the same, placing his stick over the fire pit. Abigail followed suit, wondering if a tofu dog would even roast. “Maybe. The thing is, I don’t want to spend my life like some gypsy. Growing up, I liked being part of the commune community. It felt safe. But
as I hit my late teens, I got this urge to see something beyond the hills of Colorado. I got some oat-sowing out of my system, but even after living it up, underneath the surface I had an unsettled feeling. It wasn’t until after my mother uttered those words about my father that I knew what was wrong, what was missing inside me.”

  “So what happens if you find this man?”

  Leif shrugged. “I don’t know. There are too many what-ifs. All I know is I have to try. For my mother. For me.”

  “I guess you’ll deal with the what-ifs as they come,” Abigail said, squirting enough mustard on her bun to mask what she was certain would be a horrid gastronomic failure in grilling. She balanced the hot dog over the flames, turning it, noting that it was darkening. Abigail withdrew her wiener and slid it onto the mustardy bun. She took a halfhearted nibble.

  “Not bad, right?” he said, taking a bite.

  “It’s actually good,” Abigail said, grabbing her wine and washing down the bite.

  For a few minutes, they ate in companionable silence, the firelight flickering in the intimate darkness, casting patterns onto the patio. The smell of the incense, now burned out, still lingered, lending an exotic flavor to a Louisiana winter night.

  “Tell me about being a dancer,” he said when they’d shoved aside their empty plates.

  Abigail wiped her hands on a napkin. “Well, I majored in theater and dance in college. Such a silly major but I had dreams of being onstage—I wanted to do Broadway.”

  “But you didn’t make it there…or anywhere?”

  “You’re not going to sing the song, are you?”

  Leif chuckled. “I’m a horrible singer, so no.”

  “I didn’t quite make it there. Right after graduation as I contemplated what to pack for the Big Apple, Cal proposed to me.”

  “Wasn’t letting you get away, was he?”

  She stilled as Leif’s comment sunk in. She’d never thought about Cal using a big diamond and a boyish smile to convince her she belonged beside him…not waiting tables in Manhattan, praying for a part in the chorus of some off-Broadway musical. Cal had strategically prevented her from living out her dream. Jesus, she’d never realized that until now. “I guess that’s true. Still, it wasn’t a practical career choice. I stayed here and opened up a dance studio.”

  “Oh, working with kids?”

  “I loved it. Sharing my love of dance was really rewarding.”

  “So how come you now run a bed-and-breakfast?”

  “’Cause it worked out that way,” she murmured. “You know, I don’t want to talk about me and my failures. Too many to discuss tonight.”

  “Want another hot dog?”

  “No.”

  “Marshmallow?”

  “Maybe later,” she said, finishing off her wine as she stared out at the lotus flowers glowing along the lap pool. “I can’t believe you swim naked out here.”

  As soon as her private musing became a public proclamation, she regretted opening her mouth.

  “You want to try it?”

  She snapped her gaze to his. “What?”

  “Skinny-dipping.”

  “It’s fifty-one degrees and the end of January.”

  Leif shrugged. “Swimming weather in Colorado.”

  “It’s not in Louisiana.”

  “The pool is heated. I’ve stopped swimming since the mornings are cold, but it’s not bad tonight. We can go in and then get warm by the fire.”

  “No,” Abigail said, shaking her head. “I don’t have a suit.”

  Leif’s eyes danced with delight. “I said skinny-dipping. Haven’t you ever been skinny-dipping?”

  No.

  “Uh, I don’t think—”

  “Yeah, I know what you don’t think. Keep your undies on if you’re modest, but don’t skip the opportunity to have a little—”

  “Fun?” she finished for him. “Don’t tell me you think swimming in January is fun.”

  Leif stood and pulled off his shirt.

  Damn.

  Abigail tried to look away but couldn’t. Mostly because his hands were now at the buttons of his jeans. Oh, good gravy. He was doing it. He was sliding those jeans down pretty spectacular-looking thighs. Denim pooled at his feet.

  “Come on, Abi. We’ll make out in the pool after our swim.” He winked at her, kicked his jeans free and stood before her clad only in thin boxer briefs that molded to—

  Abigail sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out her mouth as she watched him walk toward the pool.

  She looked at his crumpled jeans and then at his retreating form. His blond hair brushed the tops of those wide, tanned shoulders. A lean waist introduced a spectacular ass. So spectacular that he should model underwear. His legs were muscled and only lightly sprinkled with golden hair that caught in the flickering lanterns.

  An aching hunger bloomed in her belly.

  Delicious.

  Abigail reached for her collar, wrenching apart the two halves of her shirt.

  Pop, pop, pop, pop.

  One by one the snaps gave way. She shimmied out of her shirt, tossed it onto Leif’s jeans, stood and shucked out of her jeans. The chill caused her to break out in goose bumps and her nipples to pucker through the pretty lace.

  Wait.

  She wore expensive underwear that chlorine could damage. She’d worn them only one other time and hated to damage the silk.

  “Oh, yeah,” Leif called, a slight splash sounding behind her. “The water is warm. Come on, chicken.”

  Chicken?

  Chicken, her ass.

  She reached behind and unhooked the clasp of her bra, glad that her breasts were taut with the cold. Then she hooked her fingers under the waistband, sliding her panties down. She hadn’t had time for a bikini wax, but she hadn’t let herself go, either.

  Slowly she let the silk fall from her fingers and stepped out of the last vestige of protection.

  Then she turned and tried to saunter toward the lap pool, but it was hard because it was cold. Walking slinky like a sexy siren probably worked best in warmer weather.

  Leif stood at one end, lotus candles doused, his gaze stuck to her.

  “Wow,” he breathed, his gaze eating her up as she made her way to the handrail and started down the steps toward him. Her fingers trembled and she couldn’t believe she’d shucked her duds…in a guy’s backyard…on a first date.

  Who in the hell was she?

  “Like Venus,” Leif said, extending his hand, desire aflame in his blue eyes. “But, sweet lady, I promised this was only a date. How am I going to keep my hands off you?”

  Abigail laughed and to her ears she sounded like the sexy siren who would have sauntered had it been summer. “Who said you had to keep your hands off?”

  She stepped into his embrace, immediately noting the erection brushing her stomach.

  Liquid fire poured into her as she lifted her arms around his neck.

  “Damn,” he breathed. “You really are something, Abigail.”

  She smiled at him before she kissed him senseless.

  Tonight this was how she rolled.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LEIF LOOKED AT the naked woman in his arms and couldn’t believe his damn conscience had taken this particular moment to kick in.

  He couldn’t give Ms. Already Popped My Buttons what she wanted without violating the promise he’d made hours ago on the patio of Laurel Woods. He’d promised a date with romance. That meant a little flirting, a little kissing and maybe a popped button or two in order to get to that lovely neck.

  Yet here she stood in her birthday suit, driving his resolve into the gutter…along with his mind.

  Because she was so effin’ sexy he wanted to do bad things to her.

  “So?” She looked at him with an expression so vulnerable it made his heart ping. “Are you going to show me how big boys skinny-dip?”

  Leif smiled. “I’m not sure you really want to do this, Abi.”

  “I thought you wanted to have fu
n. Didn’t you tell me earlier to let go of all the things I had to do? To do nothing…or to do you?”

  Yeah, but he hadn’t thought she’d take him so literally. When Abigail let go, she meant business. He should have expected as much. He’d watched her over the past few months and knew that anything Abigail did, she gave it her all. And now she had finally let her guard down. She’d taken a risk to strip out of her clothes and join him in the pool. Though he’d teased and cajoled her, he hadn’t thought she’d actually do it. He’d thought she’d watch and maybe get a little turned on. Or at the very least, keep her underwear on, but Abigail was balls-out. She’d surprised him. “Yeah, I wanted you to have fun, but I’m afraid you might regret this in the light of day.”

  Abigail snorted. “I’m friends with regret. Such good friends that we sometimes braid each other’s hair and compare horror stories. Regret is not something I’m afraid of.”

  “But I couldn’t stand it if you hated me for pushing you to be naughty. I get the feeling you—”

  Abigail trailed a hand over his shoulder, her gaze on the scar from a dirt-biking accident in his teens. “I’m a big girl, Leif. I know what I’m doing…unless you don’t want me…”

  He pulled her tighter to him, intentionally letting her feel how hard her slick, gorgeous body had made him. “As you can feel, wanting is not the problem. I just—”

  “You won’t hurt me. This is about sex, not love. For the next few hours I want to forget about all the crap in my life and just be the woman you make love to. Is that so wrong? To want to be wanted?”

  Leif kissed her softly. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “So?”

  He lifted her slightly and twirled her around. The stars spun and he allowed himself to lay his reservations aside. Abigail had ordered up what she needed. He wasn’t about to hurt her by throwing it in her face. Besides, he’d wanted inside her pants ever since she’d spun that haughty ass around on his sidewalk over a month ago. And now he held her…very much out of those pants.