• • •
Elliot hid his smile as he trailed behind Lila down Aisle Eight of the Jefferson County Piggly Wiggly.
The Rexall was closed, and since it was the only place to get an ice cream in the small, un-franchised town, they had to improvise. This was a first for him. Not the improvising part, but the shopping for groceries in a tuxedo part. He had to admit, it was kind of fun.
He felt a little like a teenager on prom night. All dressed up, beautiful girl at his side. Secret hopes of getting lucky. Except he wasn’t a teenager, and the beautiful girl at his side wasn’t a brace-faced sixteen-year-old, but all woman. As for getting lucky …
Well, the night was still young.
“Do you want whipped cream?”
“Yeah, baby,” he drawled in his best Austin Powers imitation.
Lila rolled her eyes. “They’re fixin’ to close. I’ll get the syrup. You get the ice cream, and I’ll meet you at the front.” Her formal gown sparkled and twinkled under the florescent lighting, a direct juxtaposition with the red plastic hand basket she carried.
A beautiful woman, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup. This could shape up to be quite an evening.
“That way.” She pointed behind her without even turning around, then strode down Aisle Six out of his sight.
They hadn’t talked about taking the ice cream back to her apartment, and instinct told Elliot if he was going to have a chance with her at all, then they needed to remain on neutral ground. And he wanted a chance with her—very much so. Sure it had been a while and lately he had grown a bit jaded, but Lila was like a cool breeze in July, a fresh glass of lemonade after a day on the river, the first crisp day of autumn. He wanted her. He wanted a chance with her. He wanted to see if she was as different as his heart told him she was. If maybe they would be different from having known each other. Better. Maybe even the best they could be.
A young female voice came over the P.A. and announced that the friendly neighborhood Piggly Wiggly would be closing in ten minutes, and all shoppers needed to get their final selections and take them to the front for a speedy checkout.
He hustled down the refrigerated aisle picking out different ice cream flavors—chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and butter pecan. Then on to the next for bowls, spoons, napkins, and a plastic tablecloth. Then two aisles over for sprinkles, whipped cream, and M&Ms and those tiny colored marshmallows. God, he hadn’t had those in forever. He’d loved them as a child. Somehow Lila was bringing out the kid in him. Or at the very least the randy teenager.
He skidded around the corner and headed for the checkout, his arms full of his selections. Lila was standing at the number four checkout, her arms blessedly empty, but the red basket at her feet was overflowing.
She started to smile when she saw him, then she masked her expression. She raised a perfectly arched brow when she eyed what he’d collected. “What, no cherries?”
A beautiful woman, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and maraschino cherries? This might very well be the evening of his dreams.
“You didn’t get the cherries?” he asked.
“It was on your half of the list.”
“I distinctly remember telling you to get the cherries. And the bananas.”
“Nuh-uh.”
He set his armful of groceries on the frayed conveyor belt as the young checkout girl eyed them both with barely concealed interest. “But you remembered the pork rinds.”
“I’m starving.”
“You didn’t eat anything at the party?” he asked as he pulled them out of the basket and set them and a hot two liter of Dr. Pepper in line to be scanned.
Lila made a face. “Crab cakes and caviar? Nobody likes caviar. I don’t care what they say, it’s a status symbol. If you’re rich enough to eat something you don’t like because you’ve paid a fortune for it, then it means you’ve made it.”
Elliot shook his head. “Fine, get the pork rinds, but get the spicy kind. I like those better.”
“Get your own pork rinds.”
“You get your own cherries.”
“And a bag of ice.”
“And cups.”
“We’ll be right back.” Lila flashed the young girl her Miss Tennessee smile and headed toward the canned fruit aisle.
“But we close in two minutes,” the chubby cashier whined. She was enjoying their banter, but not at the expense of a little overtime.
“We’ll be back in a minute and a half,” he promised.
“Don’t forget the bananas,” Lila called, and Elliot felt himself slipping into love with the most beautiful woman in the world.
He felt more than like a kid as he raced through the store, jacket tails flying as he gathered the rest of the things they would need. He could hear Lila somewhere in the store, her heels snapping against the waxed tiles as she too hurried to beat the clock. Her laughter floated in the air, tickled his awareness, and floated away again.
They met back at the front in three minutes, laughing and breathless.
The checkout girl wasn’t happy with having to stay over and Elliot, jovial mood and all, slipped her a hundred for her trouble. Then she smiled and offered to take their groceries to the car. He declined, oh-so ready to be alone with Lila.
They stopped only long enough to snatch the ice from the outside freezer and stow everything in the trunk before hopping in the car once again. Okay, so two people over six foot couldn’t hop into a low slung sports car, but they folded themselves inside and started off with no particular direction in mind.
“You wanna go down to the river?”
Lila shook her head. “Too far. The ice cream will melt. How about the park?”
“Isn’t it on the other side of town?”
“Yeah.”
Okay, so it was a small town, but just then they passed a sign warning them of a twenty-five mile an hour speed limit when school was in session. Jefferson County Elementary.
Lila shot him a look that seemed a little on the lecherous side, but he couldn’t be positive. It was, after all, pretty dark inside the car. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Probably not. Because he was thinking … well, needless to say the school board would not have approved. “It’s perfect?” He didn’t mean for his words to sound so much like a question, because in truth, the playground would be perfect for their impromptu ice cream picnic.
Dark, secluded, relatively speaking, and most likely—if there was a God in heaven who loved Elliot like his receptionist kept telling him there was—it would be deserted as well.
They unpacked the trunk as quickly as possible. Lila spread the plastic tablecloth across the steel bottom of the old merry-go-round as Elliot carried their bags of goodies.
The florescent buzz from the security light and the halogen glow from the Jag’s headlights were their only illumination as they scooped up the ice cream and topped it with all their goodies. Chocolate syrup, butterscotch, whipped cream, bananas, and Lila’s precious cherries.
“Nuts,” she said taking a huge bite.
Elliot scooped up another bite of his hodge-podge sundae and asked before he shoveled it in, “Beg pardon?”
“You should have gotten nuts.”
“The nuts were my responsibility?”
“Of course. Make sure we have them next time.”
Next time? He liked the sound of that. A lot.
They continued to eat, the frogs croaking, the katydids chirping, and somewhere off in the distance a whippoorwill called out. It was the best damned ice cream he’d ever eaten. But it had nothing to do with the taste and everything to do with the woman he was sharing it with.
Lila was a myriad of contradictions, a paradox of all that he knew of beautiful women. Her gown must have cost a fortune and yet she had folded it up underneath her as she sat, perched on an old school merry-go-round like that was exactly where it was supposed to be worn. She hadn’t once complained about what the humidity was doing to her hair. Not once had she rep
aired her makeup.
“Tell me about being a plastic surgeon.”
He shrugged, wishing she had asked him anything else. What was he supposed to say? That it seemed superficial? That when he signed all those papers for his student loans he was okay with going ear-deep in debt because he was going to help people? That he was going to change the world?
“I—” He stopped, then shook his head, fishing another bite out of his bowl. His ice cream was almost gone and everything left was pretty much a runny, sticky mess, but he needed his mouth full so he didn’t say anything stupid like …
“I thought it would be different, you know?”
Lila shook her pretty head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t. You thought what would be different than what?”
“Everything.” He heaved a big sigh, but it felt good admitting that maybe his career choice wasn’t the best one he could have made. “I thought I would be helping people.”
“But you are.”
“Not like I want to be.”
She set her empty bowl aside and waited for him to continue.
It took him a few minutes to gather his thoughts, figure out a way to explain what he hadn’t let himself really feel since he’d graduated.
“Once, during my residency, there was this girl.” He had to stop. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about her for years. Yet her face still haunted him, made him think of all the wrong paths he had taken. “She was about six. A burn victim.”
Lila didn’t say a word, but he heard her small intake of breath as if she could sense the severity through Elliot’s words alone.
“I wanted to help her. I wanted to give her back her face, give her hope and beauty. But when I graduated … ” He shook his head. “I got sucked into a practice. The money was good. The money is good, but I want to do more. I want to help little girls like that. Little boys. Anyone who truly needs my help. Not for vanity, but for existence. That’s what I wanted to do all along, but somehow I lost sight of all that.”
“Then get it back.”
“What?”
“Get it back. Leave the practice.” She shrugged. “You could move to Memphis. Get on staff at Baptist Memorial or La Bonheur. Any hospital would be crazy not to take a doctor like you.”
“How can you say that? You barely know me. I could be a hacksaw for all you know.”
“You’re not.” She stared into his eyes, those turquoise depths seeing straight to his core.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, it is.”
She was right. A great weight felt as if it had been lifted off his shoulders. Off his soul. And he had Lila to thank.
He leaned closer to her. Needing to be closer to her regardless of what his brain knew was best. He should get up and walk away. Take her home. Forget he’d ever met her.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered into the air between them, drawing nearer and nearer until they were almost touching. Almost, but not quite.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
“But first I have to know one thing.” He could feel her sweet breath on his lips, tempting him regardless of her answer.
“What’s that?”
“What color of nail polish are you wearing?”
Her brows drew together in a perplexed little frown, but she answered. “I have no idea. Your aunt picked it out.”
“That’s what I was hoping you would say.” Then his mouth closed over hers.
• • •
Elliot’s kiss was slow and sweet as if they had all night, and Lila reveled in it. It wasn’t devouring, but exploring, taking in all of her as she had known he would do. They touched nowhere but their mouths, and yet he had a hold on her like no other man.
She should push him away, remind him that she was going to marry Malcolm. But instead she parted her lips with a sigh, and he took advantage, his tongue slipping past the barrier of her teeth to claim her as his own.
Lila leaned toward him, able to feel the heat of him, but not the man himself. She scooted closer and whimpered again as she felt his hands cup her face and hold her in place for his marauding tongue. She wanted to be close to him, closer than close. She wanted them plastered together like they’d been when they were dancing.
But his kiss continued to be controlled, the passion kept in check as his mouth moved over hers in a lazy fashion, directly at odds with her growing desire.
Never before had she wanted a man like she wanted this one, this doctor from Mississippi who drove a matchbox car and wanted to help burn victims. Never before had she allowed herself to want someone like this.
She moved closer to Elliot needing to touch him like she needed the air she breathed.
“Elliot.” His name was a whispered plea on her lips, desperate sounding, needy, and yet she felt no shame.
“Tell me,” he rasped, and for the first time since they started, Lila realized that he was as affected by their kiss as she was. “Tell me what you want.”
“I need for you to touch me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. Here.”
She took his hand into her own and placed it on her breast so near to where her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
His thumb found the nipple, and it grew rigid beneath his touch, as hard as the silver beads that adorned her gown. Back and forth. Back and forth, his thumb moved as his lips continued exploration of her mouth.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. And more. And more. She wanted it all.
“Please,” she gasped when he pulled his mouth from hers and trailed hot little nibbles and kisses across her cheek then to the sensitive curve where her jaw became her neck.
His only response was the soft hiss as he released the zipper of her dress. The bejeweled spaghetti straps sagged down her arms as the front of her bodice fell nearly to her waist, exposing her to those unreadable whiskey-colored eyes.
He pulled away, his gaze drinking her nakedness.
“For an underwear model, you sure don’t believe in the product.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The cut of her dress dictated a full Spanx or nothing at all to minimize the lines. She’d chosen nothing at all.
But maybe she wasn’t supposed to answer. Before she could even collect her thoughts, Elliot lowered his head, and Lila melted. Desire pooled hot and heavy between her legs. She whimpered again, a feral sound, and clutched his head to her breast as he laved her sensitive flesh. Over and over, he kissed and teased, bringing her to a fevered pitch of desire. Then he nipped her lightly, and she almost came. Right there. On a merry-go-round. With her dress still in place—well, mostly—and not one touch to the part of her that wanted it—needed it—the most.
“You’re not in love with him, Lila.”
She muttered a sound—somewhere between a gasp and a no—as Elliot moved to the other breast, performing his miracles there while Lila squirmed for his touch, reached for the satisfaction that only he could give her.
“Because if you loved him, you wouldn’t struggle for breath whenever I do this.”
He placed his hand on her hip, such an innocent touch, and yet Lila did indeed have to remind herself to breathe.
In, out.
In, out.
But that was too similar a pattern to other actions she’d rather be engaged in and somehow breathing didn’t seem quite as important to her as it had before.
He removed his hand, and Lila nearly cried out from the injustice of it all. The need. Overwhelming need to belong to him.
“Look at me and tell me you love him, and I’ll take you home right now.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but the words seemed trapped between her brain and her heart.
She did love Malcolm. He was warm and special and caring and like the big brother she never had. But she wasn’t in love with him. Some would say it was a matter of semantics, but to Lila it was everything.
But given half a chance, she
could fall in love with Elliot. That wasn’t what she wanted. Not at all.
She took too long to answer. Elliot slammed a mask down over his features, his mouth a hard, thin line.
“Don’t answer that, because I won’t believe you. You’re too smart to love a man who doesn’t love you back. No matter what you think.”
Lila didn’t take offense to his words. Malcolm loved her. Maybe not with a blinding passion, but that wasn’t the kind of love she wanted. That was the kind of marriage her parents had. Blinding passion and crazy love was good for some things, but as far as she was concerned, it sure wasn’t the way to a secure marriage and happy family.
And the things it was good for? A night of ecstasy with a handsome man. She should feel ashamed at the thought. After all, she was practically engaged, but she wanted that passion. Even if it wasn’t stable enough to build upon. Every girl deserved one night of unbridled passion. And her night would be with Elliot Douglas.
“You’re wrong. I do love Malcolm.”
She didn’t think it was possible, but his features seemed to grow even harder, changing from sandstone to granite.
He pushed away from her to stand, his erection tenting the front of his trousers. “Tell me you really love him, and I’ll take you home right now,” he repeated.
“Oh, I want you to take me home.” She rose to stand next to him, but she didn’t bother to cover herself, just clasped the dress at the waist to keep it from pooling around her ankles. There was only so much the man could take.
“I see.” His voice was as hard as his jaw. Steel and granite, what a lethal combination.
“And when we get there,” she purred. “I want you to stay.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Tell me again,” Elliot asked as he broke every posted speed limit trying to get back to Lila’s apartment as fast as humanly possible. It seemed like it had taken forever for them to gather up what remained of their ice cream picnic and stow it in the trunk.
“I love Malcolm, but I’m not in love with Malcolm.”
He could live with that. Hell, he was ecstatic about that.
“And why am I taking you home?”
Southern Hospitality (Hot Southern Nights) Page 20
