When he finally lifted his head and broke the contact, she could barely stand without support. As if he sensed that, he grasped her arm to hold her steady. When they reached his truck minutes later, she couldn’t remember walking to it. Had they taken the outdoor path to the front parking lot, or had he guided her back through the restaurant? She’d lost her mind. That had to be it. This was nothing more than an act to him, and she could no more resist him than a fruit fly could the sweet smell of a ripe banana.
• • •
After getting Taffeta settled inside the Dodge, Barney paused at the tailgate as he circled the truck, trying to collect his composure with little success. He’d kissed plenty of women and slept with a number of them. The foreplay had always aroused him. The sex had been satisfying as well. But never in his life had he been bowled over by his attraction to anyone. With only a touch of her mouth on his, Taffeta drugged his senses, making him forget who he was and where he was.
All his good intentions to be an honorable man were in grave danger of flying out the proverbial window. He wanted this woman in a way that he had never wanted anyone. He didn’t know how she felt, but for him, that kiss on the deck had been pure dynamite.
He sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it, trying to regain control of his physical reaction to her. Fat chance. He could stand at the back of his rig half the night, and his blood would still be running hot.
When he finally climbed inside the vehicle and twisted the key in the ignition, he was acutely aware of her sitting across from him. Her scent, which always reminded him of roses, curled around him. Darkness had fallen while they dined, but the glow of the dash lights faintly illuminated the cab. Even as he pretended to be focused on only the road, he took in her legs, which were bare from the hem of her skirt down to those sexy heels she wore. He salivated over the graceful curves of her calves and the dainty turn of her ankles. How would it feel to have those gorgeous legs locked around his hips as he drove his throbbing manhood deep into the hot, moist core of her?
He’d never know, he thought dismally, because he’d been taught by his father that his word was his honor. Maybe after she got her daughter back—maybe when they got a divorce—he could convince her to be with him in a real, meaningful way. Not within the lockdown of marriage, but as two consenting adults who found each other physically attractive. Some of the pressure eased from his chest. The hardness that throbbed against the fly of his jeans softened. Yeah. By holding on to that plan, maybe he could get through this without breaking his promise to her.
• • •
When they got home from the restaurant, Taffeta was as jumpy as a water droplet on a red-hot skillet. She had dressed seductively, per his request, and now she felt self-conscious. Eager to ditch the sexy black dress and heels, she hurried toward her bedroom and collided with Barney, who reached the dining room archway just as she did. The impact nearly knocked her down. The spiked heels gave her no edge on keeping her balance. Barney caught her arm to keep her from falling. She looked up, and their gazes locked. He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. A whooshing pressure throbbed against her eardrums, similar to when she cracked a window in her car while driving at high speeds and the interior of the vehicle formed a vacuum—only this wasn’t a result of that. She wanted him. She ached to feel his arms around her. She fleetingly considered locking her own arms around his neck and kissing him until he lost control.
Only he never gave her a chance. He cursed under his breath. Then he angled his head and brought his mouth down on hers, and the next thing she knew, she was sandwiched between his big, hard body and the dining room wall. His large hands clamped over her hips and moved swiftly upward, his fingers skimming, probing, and lightly caressing her, seemingly everywhere at once. She could barely breathe, and every rational thought in her head vanished. Barney. She felt him grappling with the hem of her dress. Then his fingertips delved between her thighs, rasping against her sensitive skin.
“Oh yes,” she pushed out, her voice thick and husky. She wanted him to touch her, to feel her wetness. She wanted the dress and her underthings gone so she could feel the hot, silky pull of his mouth on her nipples. “Oh yes.”
He drew away from her and deprived her of his support so fast that she slid a bit down the wall before she could lock her knees to remain standing. She blinked to bring him into focus. He stood two feet away, thrusting a hand through his hair. Eyes glassy with desire, he avoided looking at her.
“Wait—we have to figure this out.” His voice grated like a well-honed knife over sandpaper. Grabbing his Stetson from where it had fallen to the floor, he circled the long table, jerked back a chair, and sank onto the seat as if his legs felt as weak as hers did. “Take a load off.” He gestured for her to sit across from him. “We need some ground rules, or I’m not going to be able to do this.”
Taffeta moved carefully forward. Legs that had turned to jelly didn’t operate well when one was wearing three-inch heels. She took a seat across from him. He braced both elbows on the table, rubbed his face with one hand, and then set the hat back on his head. Still feeling dizzy, she wondered if he needed the Stetson for strength. She definitely needed something.
He puffed air into his cheeks and released it in a rush. His gaze locked on hers. He looked so handsome in the black jacket that she wanted to crawl across the table to steal another taste of his mouth. But to say that he looked unreceptive to an advance would have been an understatement.
He cleared his throat. “We, um, have no choice but to put on a show in town,” he said, his voice strained. “But from now on when we get home, I’ll need some recovery time.” He stared out the paned window at the end of the room. It was dark outside, so she guessed that he simply didn’t wish to look at her as he spoke. “I—well, I’m a guy, you know? Certain parts of my anatomy don’t recognize playacting from the real thing. I apologize for jumping you like that. It was inexcusable. I gave you my word that I wouldn’t ask you for sex, and then—” He broke off and shrugged. “It won’t happen again, not if we both agree to some preventive measures.”
“But I—”
He held up a hand to cut her off. “Tomorrow night, if you’d go directly to your room and change into something less—well, that dress you’re wearing is fabulous for in town, but maybe I’ll be less inclined to repeat what just happened if you hurry to put on something less enticing right away. I’ll hang back in the living room until you holler, and then I’ll go change.” A wry smile touched his mouth. “During the evenings, your icky brown shirt, or something like it, would be better.”
Taffeta gathered her courage. She’d never said anything like this to a man. “Barney, I wanted you to grab me.”
He blew out another breath. “Of course you’d say that. You need my help to get Sarah back. But let’s be honest, Taffy. You didn’t ask me to marry you because you had the hots for me. You were desperate to rescue your child from a bad mess.”
“True, that’s true,” she confessed. “But I also had a thing for you.” Heat crawled up her neck. “A crush, I guess you’d call it, and I fantasized about you from the moment I first saw you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Out of all the guys in Mystic Creek, I’m the one who caught your eye? Come on, Taffy. Off the top of my head, I can think of a dozen young men in town who outclass me in the looks department, nine ways to hell. You don’t need to do this. Just because my hormones are playing hell with my good intentions, you don’t have to flatter me. I’m not going to back out on our plan.”
“But, Barney, I—”
“Enough.” Anger edged his voice. “I didn’t agree to this deal for sex. The whole thought of that—well, it’s sleazy. And that isn’t who I am.”
Taffeta realized that Barney honestly didn’t know how devastatingly handsome he was. How could he possibly rank himself low on the charts in the looks department in any town, let alone one as small a
s Mystic Creek? Did he focus on tiny facial flaws or what he felt were his physical shortcomings when he looked in a mirror? She only knew that he wasn’t seeing the man she saw who moved with easy, masculine grace and flashed a grin that made her bones go limp. And didn’t he understand that a man’s magnetism had little to do with looks and nearly everything to do with who he was as a person and how he projected himself to others?
She saw a man who was a curious blend of steely strength and gentleness, a man with a caring heart, a captivating sense of humor, a sharp wit, and a rare honesty about who and what he really was. No pretense. No trying to impress people. And yet, with the exception that he rarely remembered to remove his hat when mannerly conduct dictated that he should, he could mix easily with individuals from all walks of life. He was well educated and loved to read. His tastes in music ran to down-home country, but he also appreciated classical, jazz, and blues. He was—oh, man, I’m in love with him. No maybe to it. No trying to stop myself from taking the leap. I’m totally head over heels.
“Are y-you saying that being with me would be sleazy?” she asked, hating that her voice trembled.
“No!” He jerked his hat off and slapped it on the table, sat back in the chair, closed his eyes briefly, and then gave her a burning look. “There’s nothing sleazy about you. You’re beautiful, classy, sweet, and—” He shot up from his seat and lifted his hands, as if he was at a loss for words. “It’s just—it’s this whole marriage thing that’s hog-tying me. Under any other circumstances, I’d hit on you and hope you said yes. I’m attracted to you, very attracted, and I can tell that you’re attracted to me. But it just can’t happen right now.”
“Why?” she demanded. “We’re both adults and—”
“And you have too much at stake to tell me no,” he finished for her.
Taffeta couldn’t deny that. When she’d asked him to marry her, she offered him conjugal rights to sweeten the deal. Now, looking at that from his viewpoint, she felt embarrassed—and ashamed. In order to save her daughter, she’d been willing to prostitute herself. And he was right. Even if she hadn’t wanted to make love with him tonight, she would still pretend that she did. When it came to ensuring her daughter’s safety, she would do anything.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve put you in a horrible situation.”
He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “You’re the one in a horrible situation, not me. All I can do is try my damnedest not to take advantage of it. I didn’t mean to let things get out of control a few minutes ago, but I did.” He stripped off the jacket and tossed it over a chairback. “I will need your cooperation so it won’t happen again. When I kissed you outside the restaurant—well, for me it was pretty spectacular.”
“For me, too.” She gnawed her bottom lip, trying to choose her words carefully. “I need you to know that it’s a first for me, Barney. I was so focused on getting good grades in high school that I had only one boyfriend and lost my virginity to him in the backseat of his father’s car. It was awful. Well, not awful, really. It was his first time, too, and for me, it was an awkward incident that ended up with me crying, not only because it hurt, but also because I got scared when I saw blood. Mine, of course. He was turned off. I was turned off. He took me home. I was determined never to go out with him again, and he never asked me, so I guess the feeling was mutual.”
“And then?” he asked.
“I focused on academics so I could go to the university. Then I met Phillip. He courted me, dazzled me with his charming lines, his sophistication, and his family.” Her cheeks burned. “I liked it okay when he kissed me.” With a shrug, she added, “At least he knew how. When we finally had sex, it was—well, not great, but at least it didn’t hurt, and he wasn’t awkward.”
Barney arched an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I need you to know that I don’t normally offer my body to men, that when I approached you it was totally out of character for me. I don’t sleep around. I’ve never slept around.”
The glints of gold left his eyes, making them look dark with shadows. “I never for a second thought otherwise,” he said softly. “If I somehow made you feel that I did, I’m sorry. You’ve never come across that way, Taffy—just the opposite in fact.”
He rested his hips against the china hutch behind him and folded his arms. “We have a common goal, getting Sarah out of Erickson and here with you. I’m in for the duration. I just need some help with keeping my hands off you.”
Taffeta wanted so badly to tell him that she didn’t want him to keep his hands off her, but she refrained, not because it wasn’t true, but because she didn’t want him to think she was lying out of desperation to save her daughter.
She settled for saying, “I’ll do everything I can. Can you give me some suggestions?”
The twinkles of gold finally returned to his eyes. “If there were such a thing as an ugly pill, I’d ask you to take one morning, noon, and night.” His mouth twitched at the corners. “Unfortunately I’m not sure even that would help. It’s not only that I like the way you look. I like you, the person you are. Everything about you is attractive to me.”
Tears burned in Taffeta’s eyes. She blinked to hold them back. “That’s a lovely compliment, and I feel the same way about you.”
“Don’t tell me that, or we’ll end up in bed, and I’ll hate myself in the morning.”
Taffeta knew he meant for her to laugh, but she couldn’t dredge up any humor. Instead she pushed herself to her feet. “I guess I’d better go change into something less . . . dressy.”
“How about a pair of those baggy jeans and a shirt that hangs on you like a tent?” he said with a chuckle.
She hurried to her bedroom, kicked off the heels, and peeled off the dress. Then she went in search of the ugliest, baggiest clothing she could find. Once dressed, she cleansed all traces of cosmetics from her face and skimmed her hair back in a tight knot at the back of her head, secured with a clip.
When she returned to the living area of the house, she found Barney in the kitchen measuring flour into the silver bowl of his stand-up mixer. He glanced over his shoulder at her, studied her for what felt like several seconds, and then said, “Thank God I decided to try my hand at another batch of sourdough bread. You still look good enough to eat. This will keep me preoccupied.”
In her opinion, he was the one who looked delicious, but she was coming to accept that he wasn’t hers to taste—and probably never would be. “Do you find sourdough difficult to make?” she asked.
He had changed into faded jeans and a white T-shirt that skimmed his upper body like a second skin, showcasing a fascinating play of muscles every time he moved. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve decided it’s an art, and I’ll either master it or die trying. Every loaf I’ve ever made refused to rise and was so dense with such a thick crust I could use it as a weapon to coldcock someone.”
She forced her gaze away from him to look at the stove clock. “Isn’t it a little late to be starting bread?”
He laughed and winked at her. “The way I see it, I won’t be able to go to sleep anyway.”
“Because of me?”
His grin broadened. “Taffy, it isn’t your fault. Okay? When you’re dying to eat a piece of chocolate, do you blame the chocolate?”
“Yes, because it’s there to tempt me.”
He chuckled again. “Well, I’m not of that mind-set. For me, you’re the chocolate, and I just have to use my willpower to resist you.” He scooped a cup and a half of gooey-looking stuff from a glass crock into the mixing bowl. Then he gestured with his head at a rack of wine bottles at the end of the counter. “Crack open a bottle, why don’t you? Maybe a couple more glasses will mellow me out.”
Taking care to cut a wide circle around him, Taffeta walked over to the wine. After studying the labels, she asked, “Which kind would you like?”
“I’m not particular, but if you see one called Limp Dick, I’ll drink the whole bottle.”
Caught by surprise, Taffeta chortled. “Sorry. You’re out of luck.” She selected a merlot, searched through the drawers for the corkscrew, and seconds later set a filled wineglass next to him on the counter. “Mind if I join you?”
“Hell, no. We’re not driving anywhere. Maybe we’ll get drunk, have mind-blowing sex, and I can blame it on the alcohol in the morning.”
Taffeta could think of no response to that. In her experience, a lot of men went to bed with women and never gave it a second thought. She suspected that Barney had traveled that path more than a few times with other women, but because he believed that she felt obligated to him, he refused to go there with her.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. For the first time in her life, she really, really wanted a man to make love to her, and he was too honorable to accommodate her.
She was a grown woman. If she wanted to have sex with him, why couldn’t he accept that it was her decision to make?
Other women made love with men they desired all the time, and Taffeta had never once been afforded that experience. It didn’t seem fair. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more irked she became. She understood Barney’s reluctance to take advantage of a woman who felt obligated to him, but where did her wants, needs, and, most important, her right to make choices for herself, factor into the equation? Studying Barney from the corner of her eye, Taffeta wondered what would happen if she tried to seduce him. She had zero experience at seduction, but if Barney was truly attracted to her, and apparently he was, maybe it wouldn’t be all that hard.
Chapter Fourteen
Over the next week, Barney and Taffeta went out on the town every night, pretending to be wildly in love with each other. Barney called it “Doing the hootchy-kootchy act.” Only Taffeta no longer wanted it to be only an act, so she did everything she possibly could, and at every opportunity, to turn him on.
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