Running with a Sweet Talker (Brides on the Run Book 2)

by Jami Albright

  “That’s not what I’m doing, Jack.” They’d made it to the front desk. “Just get me my own room, please.”

  “Welcome to Birmingham Place, the pride of Alabama. May I help you?” the pretty blonde woman behind the counter asked. Her name tag read Regina.

  “Yes,” Jack said. “Tell me something, Regina. If a man does something nice for you, do you feel the need to pay him back?”

  She cocked her head. “You mean like a gift?”

  “Sure, or any nice thing he might do out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “No, I don’t think I would.”

  Jack flipped his hand toward the beauty behind the desk. “See.”

  “However,” Regina cut in, “if the nice thing was a loan, like he was helping me with a problem, I would feel the need to repay him. Like last month, Bill Morrow helped me move into my new apartment and I felt like I needed to repay him in some way, so I made dinner for him. Does that help?”

  Luanne reached out and took Regina’s hand. “You’ve been very helpful.” Then she flipped out her notebook. “Can you tell me how much a king room is?”

  Regina tapped the keys on the computer. “One hundred and fifty a night.”

  Luanne jotted that number down. “Thanks, we’ll take two—”

  “We’ll take your nicest two-room suite,” Jack said.

  “Oh…um, let me check if it’s available. We only have one.” More key clacking. “Yes, it’s unoccupied. It’s more expensive, though.” She nibbled her ruby-red lip.

  Jack pulled his wallet from his pocket and slid his black credit card across to her. “That’s fine. Price is no object.” He grinned down at Luanne. She wanted to slap the smug smile from his face. “Isn’t that right, Luanne? You’re good for it, aren’t you?”

  She was going to kill him. Dammit, this was going to be a long night.

  Jack let the hot water pound onto his head and tried to calm down. He had no idea why Luanne wanting to repay him made him so angry. It just did. The woman was maddening, and gorgeous, and even travel-worn and exhausted she made his blood boil. He groaned and leaned his forehead against the tile wall. He may have made a critical error putting her in the same suite with him. Just the thought of her naked and showering in the other room had his blood pounding in his veins.

  Way to go, Jack. Now you can spend the next twelve hours with a hard-on.

  Then again, maybe not. He slid his hand down his body, but stopped. Somehow it felt wrong to use her like that. Resigned to an evening of sexual frustration, he turned off the water, dried himself, and then wrapped the towel around his waist.

  There was a knock at his bedroom door. He opened it to find her freshly showered and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Beautiful and sexy as hell.

  Her gaze dropped to where the towel was connected. When she looked back at him her cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated.

  Interesting.

  “Um…hey, are we going out to eat or ordering in?”

  He stretched his arm up the door jamb and leaned into it. If she wanted to look, then let her look. He almost took a victory lap when her eyes roamed down his chest and a baby sigh slipped from her lips. “I don’t really care. What would you prefer?”

  She didn’t say anything, but her stare nearly burned the towel from his body. If she didn’t stop, the problem he’d had in the shower was going to raise its head again. Literally. “Luanne?”

  She blinked. “Huh? What?”

  “What do you want to do about dinner?”

  She rolled her hands into the hem of her shirt and pulled it away from her body. Was she hiding taut, tight, tantalizing nipples? A man could hope.

  “I think I’d rather stay in. I don’t want to have to get ready, plus my clothing options are limited.”

  “Okay, room service it is.” He walked into the living room. “Have you seen the menu anywhere?” He went to the desk and flipped through a leather-bound notebook. “Here it is. Mmm, I think I’ll have a steak. What would you like?”

  “I…um…that sounds good.”

  “What would you like to drink? Coffee, tea, or me?” The wink he gave her might have been over the top.

  She charged at him and grabbed the book from him. “Give me that. Go put some clothes on before you make me sick. I’ll order. How do you want your steak?”

  He laughed. “Medium rare. I’ll be in here.” He shot his thumb over his shoulder toward his bedroom. “In case you need me.”

  She picked up the room phone and pressed the button. “No, I’ve got it.”

  He closed the bedroom door and grinned. She might still be on the fence about whether she liked him or not. But one thing was for sure. She wanted him, and he could work with that.

  Luanne put the phone receiver into the cradle.

  Damn him, damn him, damn him.

  He was only coming on to her to get under her skin. And man, did he ever get under her skin. Her pulse still thrashed around like a toddler having a tantrum. She’d always thought he was handsome—anyone with eyes and ovaries could see that. But he was also a grade-A asshole, and that little trait kept him firmly out of her temptation zone. But now that she’d seen him act very un-asshole-like, his appeal was harder to ignore.

  Cripes. When he opened the door in that towel she’d wanted to rip it off with her teeth. Her temperature hadn’t spiked like that since…well, never. She’d been with men, but it was more like scratching an itch, nothing like the physical and now emotional reaction she had with Jack.

  He was only toying with her, plain and simple. Well, two could play that game. She glanced back at his bedroom door. “You want to play, Jackie-boy? I’ll show you I can give as good as I get.”

  She went to her room and closed the door. She rummaged through the bag with her belongings. Nothing. There wasn’t a thing in there that would make a man drool. For a second she regretted not buying the moneymaker shorts and halter top. Oh well, she’d just have to improvise.

  The large marble tub in the bathroom was beautiful, and she regretted not being able to take a long relaxing bath with a glass of wine, but she was on a mission. She mussed and fluffed her short hair. A little mascara and lip gloss, and she was ready for battle. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

  As she turned, she saw the perfect piece of armor to win this showdown. Her thrift store clothes puddled on the floor as she wrapped the white, fluffy spa robe around her body. It was big, but she rolled up the sleeves and tied the belt, allowing it to gape at the neck enough to show a little cleavage. She surveyed herself. “Okay, Jack. Let’s see how you like to sweat.”

  “Luanne. Food’s here.”

  “Alright. Be there in a minute.”

  “Hurry, while the meat’s hot.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. He was relentless.

  When she strolled into the living room, she almost tripped. He was putting dishes on the table. Barefoot, in low-slung jeans and an unbuttoned white dress shirt, he looked good enough to eat, his golden-brown chest on display for her viewing pleasure.

  “I hope you don’t mind but I ordered a bottle of wine too. Nothing’s better than steak and a good bottle of wine. Well, I can think of one or two things better—what are you wearing?”

  She sashayed to the table. Sashayed, for crying out loud. “It’s the hotel’s robe.” She pouted her lips and batted her lids. “I hope it’s okay that I eat in my robe. I’m just so sick of clothes. My skin’s overly sensitive for some reason.” She picked a carrot from her salad and popped it into her mouth. “Know what I mean?”

  He dropped the metal dome that covered the food. The clang seemed to knock him out of his trance. “Yes.” His long fingers wrapped around the glass of wine in front of him. “Wine?”

  “Yes, thanks.” They stared at each other, while the battle lines were drawn.

  Well played, Ms. Price. Well played.

  I thought so, counselor. Nice shirt.

  You’re good, darlin’, but I’m be
tter.

  Prove it.

  You’re on.

  He pulled her chair out for her. Then his lips were at her ear. “Mmm, you smell delicious.”

  Heat chased goose bumps down her arm. “Thanks, so do you.”

  He took his seat across from her. His white teeth bit into his plump lower lip, and the look he gave her seared her insides. Damn, he was good.

  The wine glass came to her lips. “Oops.” Without breaking eye contact, she touched her finger to her cleavage then ran it up her chest. “Spilled a drop.” His expression darkened and a hiss slipped out when she popped her finger into her mouth.

  She bit the inside of her lip when he murmured, “Are you kidding me?”

  “Hmm, what? I didn’t catch that.” Was the eye batting too much? It might be too much.

  His chest expanded when he filled his lungs with air. “Nothing. I forgot a call I needed to make.”

  “Oh. Do you need me to take my meal to my room so you can make a call?”

  “No!”

  “Alright.” She picked up her knife and fork. “This looks delicious.” It was hard to cut her food with her hands shaking the way they were. The utensils slipped from her hand when she glanced up. He was sitting back in the chair, his tan chest on full display while he licked the rim of his wine glass. Hoo-lee cow. He was sex on a freakin’ stick.

  Look away, look away, look away.

  She dragged her gaze from him and peered out the window. The lights of Birmingham shone back at her like stars reflecting off a still lake at midnight. Her reflection in the mirror told the story. Flushed skin, glazed eyes, she was completely turned on. Stupid to let this man in enough to do this to her. But there was something about him. If she’d never seen him talk about his mom, or the pain on his face from the revelations from his father, then she might be able to ignore his raw sexuality.

  Her gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirror. When she saw the same look on his face, a zing of satisfaction zipped through her. He seemed to sense her watching him and a calculated look of challenge stole over his face.

  Yep. There was the Jack she loved to hate. Later she’d have to thank him for throwing ice water onto her desire.

  With renewed determination to win this game, she turned back to her meal and began eating. “Mmm, this is yummy. I love a good, thick piece of meat.” She let her gaze roam down his chest, to his belly and below. The battle was almost lost when she had to choke down a laugh from the sheer ridiculousness of the over-the-top gesture.

  Focus, Luanne.

  He would not win.

  Jack was glad the tabletop covered his crotch because this whole thing just got real serious, real quick. She was killing him and he seemed to be having little effect on her. Time to turn up the heat. He took his own bite. “Mouthwatering. I can’t decide if I want to take my time and draw out every ounce of deliciousness.” He slowly licked his fork. “Or devour it, and go back for more, and more, and more until I get my fill.”

  She propped her elbow on the table and leaned her shoulder forward, causing the robe to gape and reveal the top swell of her breast. “That’s an interesting dilemma.” She brought her glass to her mouth, but right before she took a drink she darted her little pink tongue out and touched it to the glass. “We should probably make a list of pros and cons.”

  Damn. He might’ve met his match with this woman, and that thrilled him to his core. “Your thoughts?”

  Her delicate finger tapped at her do me, do me now lips. A filthy reel of things he’d like to do to that mouth scrolled through his brain, and he momentarily lost track of the conversation.

  She rested both elbows on the table, and the gap in the robe grew wider. Even though they were playing this flirtatious game, the keen intelligence of her brilliant mind showed in her sapphire eyes.

  “Pros for savoring. You can enjoy it longer. It enhances your pleasure. It’s more…fulfilling.”

  He placed both hands on the table. “True, but there’s something to be said for devouring the thing you crave. For biting, licking, and sucking until you’ve had your fill.” He dipped his finger into the mashed potatoes on his plate and sucked the creamy, salty goodness from the digit.

  The pulse at the base of her neck fluttered. He had her now, and a good thing too—this contest was killing him.

  “You’ve…ah…got some potatoes here.” She pointed to the corner of her edible mouth. Then she ran her delicate finger around her criminally sensual lips, and his head exploded.

  Sweat broke out at his hairline, his heart bucked like an electrified horse, and all the blood in his body shot to his dick. Daaammmmnnnn. This woman would be the death of him. For a moment, he forgot this was a match of wills, that she didn’t like him, and imagined what it would be like to peel back that robe and devour every inch of her creamy skin.

  She pulled the straw from her water glass and slid it between her thumb and forefinger, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

  He couldn’t tear his attention from the obscene motion. A mental list of all the ways he’d have her began to formulate in his mind. On the table, against the wall, in the shower…

  She cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her face. She licked the straw from one end to the other. “Also, haste makes waste.”

  The air between them was so charged it practically sparked. They held each other’s stare, and when her lips twitched, so did his.

  She snorted and tried to play it off as a sneeze.

  His bark of laughter was disguised as a cough. But when he saw the mirth at the edges of her lips, it was all over. He doubled over laughing. “Haste makes waste? Who let my grandma in here?”

  “I should’ve stopped with fulfilling.” Her belly laughs were louder than his.

  Their shared hilarity was more intoxicating than any of the provocative moves in the last fifteen minutes. “Probably.”

  She wiped her eyes. “Oh, lordy, that’s funny.”

  “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  “Me too.”

  As he watched her eat, he considered the last twenty-four hours and the life bomb that had rocked his world. The stone of anxiety that usually accompanied those revelations never dropped. For the moment, she’d taken that away. This woman. This smart, sassy, and funny as hell woman. No wonder he wanted her so much. He scrubbed his face.

  This was going to be a long trip.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jack packed his toiletry bag into his suitcase. A quick glance around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, then he grabbed his shoes and went to the living room to put them on.

  Luanne came out of her room at the same time and gave him a tentative smile. “Oh. Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I was going to go downstairs and get a coffee for the road. Do you want a cup?”

  Momentarily stunned that she’d offer, it took him a second to answer. “Yes, thanks. House blend with a little cream.” He reached into his back pocket and handed her some cash.

  She slipped it into her pocket. “This is a proud moment for me. I’m leaving a man’s hotel room with cash in hand.”

  “You should be proud, you earned it.” He made a gun out of his forefinger and thumb and shot her.

  “Har-har. See you downstairs.”

  He enjoyed the warm bubble of…something that only she evoked. Careful, Jack. That’s a dangerous, dangerous path to go down.

  Shoes on, he checked his pockets for his phone. No calls from his father. He’d hoped he would’ve heard from him by now. Well, if his dad wasn’t going to reach out then he would. He pulled up his dad’s contact and dialed.

  “Hello.” His father didn’t sound a whole lot better than he had when Jack was there.

  “Dad, it’s Jack.”

  “I know who it is. Your name comes up on this damn phone you insisted I have.” The resentment in his tone shocked Jack. That, combined with the fact that the man was slurring his speech, which meant he was already d
rinking, nearly did him in.

  “I wanted you to have something nice and to make sure you could get in touch with someone if there was an emergency.” He shouldn’t have to defend himself. His mom had been grateful for the phones.

  “What do you want, Jack?”

  The annoyance and defeat in his father’s voice kicked him in the gut. “I was calling to check on you, Dad.”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “Okay, calm down, remember your blood pressure.”

  “You always think you know so much, boy. But you don’t.” His father’s words assaulted him, blow after blow.

  How dare he? He’d been a good son. Hell, he’d been the perfect son, and this was the thanks he got. Kicked to the curb at the first available moment.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” his father mocked. “Always so high and mighty. Maybe you should look up that Yankee daddy of yours, he and his people seem to want to know you. They’re probably as snooty as you.”

  Who was this person on the other end of the phone? He’d never heard his father speak this way. “You don’t mean that—”

  The line went dead. Jack squeezed his lids shut and counted to ten. He wondered if the knife sticking out of his back was visible.

  His dad had been so loving, so supportive. But the contents of that letter had changed everything.

  That letter.

  He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that his mother had been engaged to someone else, let alone had a child with that person.

  The pain of that revelation was only tempered by his undying love and devotion to his mother. She’d been the one constant in his life. The strength and backbone of their family. So many things made sense now that he knew he wasn’t Ray Avery’s biological son.

  Ray was a passive man, and, if Jack was honest, weak at times. That’s why Jack strove to be in control of all things, at all times. Things he’d always denied, excused, or tried to laugh off now became crystal clear.