Kitabı oku: «Perfectly Saucy», sayfa 3
This time he couldn’t stop himself from meeting her gaze. He studied her face, but for once found it almost impossible to read her expression.
“As you pointed out,” she said. “There I was, thinking you were a hero. If all you’d wanted was to—”
When she hesitated, he supplied the words for her. “Nail you.”
She nodded. “If that was really what you wanted from me, you could have had it then.”
At her near-whispered words, blood surged through his groin, nearly destroying the last of his control. But her calm and steady gaze assured him of her seriousness. He laughed ruefully. “It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know that then.”
Now she was the one to laugh, clearly embarrassed. “And here all this time, I assumed you did know and just weren’t interested.” He shot her a questioning look and she shrugged sheepishly. “I looked for you all that next week at school, but every time I saw you, you were with friends. Or that girlfriend of yours. What was her name?”
Alex had to search his memory. Funny, he’d dated “that girlfriend of his” for months, but he could barely remember her name, let alone picture her. Yet he still remembered the expression on Jessica’s face when she’d put her hand into his. And the color of the shirt she’d been wearing. And the way she’d smelled. And—
“Sandra,” he finally supplied.
“Right. Sandra. Every time I saw you that week, you were with her. At first, I thought you were avoiding me on purpose.”
“I was. It wouldn’t have been in either of our best interests if people thought there was something going on between us.”
He’d known even then how impossible a relationship with her would be. Even a friendship would have caused problems. She was the a straight-A student and the daughter of the county judge. He was the son of a migrant farm worker, already a grade behind in school, in and out of more trouble than she could imagine, his police record already burgeoning. None of that had kept him from wanting her, but it had damn well kept him from acting on it.
He’d avoided her so effectively that she’d eventually resorted to slipping a note in his locker. Three simple lines thanking him for coming to her rescue, in neat, cursive writing on pale pink paper.
“I thought that you knew I’d developed a crush on you and were trying to discourage me,” she said now.
“I was.”
Her gaze darted to his, her eyes a vivid blue that he seemed to have no defenses against. “Then why did you write me back?”
Because he’d just plain been unable to resist.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
His response, slipped through the vent of her locker during fifth period, had started a flurry of notes. She wrote him every day, often more than once, about things both wonderful and absurdly out of the realm of his experience—a low score on a chemistry exam, the shoes her mother had had dyed to match for some party dress, the fight she’d had with her parents over whether or not she’d go to tennis camp over the summer.
He’d written her less often, but with almost unbearable attention to detail. He’d penned his notes to her in the library, hunched over the dictionary, carefully checking his spelling, scouring the thesaurus for words he thought would make him look smart. Words like “supposition” and “eradicate.”
Those three weeks that they’d exchanged notes had been some of the happiest of his young life. Then one day he’d received a note from her asking if he wanted to take her to the prom.
He’d known he couldn’t do it, but God how he’d wanted to. And he hadn’t had the heart to say no. So he’d just stopped writing to her.
“I know you thought I was just some annoying kid,” she said now. “But I loved getting those notes from you. I’d pretend, just for a little while, that I was your girlfriend, instead of Sandra.” She paused for a heartbeat, lost in some long-ago memory. “It was like you couldn’t keep your hands off her. Did you know, I even saw you kissing her once?”
He did know. He remembered the moment vividly. He’d been avoiding Jessica all week, but she hadn’t taken the hint when he’d stopped answering her notes. Every time he’d turned around, there she’d be. His patience and his willpower had started to wear thin. She hadn’t ever caught him alone, but he’d been sure she eventually would. He’d been sure she’d look up at him with those impossibly blue eyes and that when she did he wouldn’t be able to resist doing something incredibly stupid, like kiss her.
So he’d done something he was sure would scare her off. He’d kissed Sandra in front of her. Not an innocent little peck on the mouth, either, but a full-bodied, open-mouthed, I-can’t-wait-to-get-your-body-naked kiss.
“I’d never seen anyone kiss like that,” Jessica admitted with a little laugh. “Not in real life anyway. That kiss…it was like something out of movie. And I remember thinking, ‘So that’s passion.’ I’d never been kissed like that.” She laughed nervously, the pink returning to her cheeks. “I still haven’t.”
“Jess—”
Her hands were clasped tightly together and she was staring pointedly down at them. “All my life and I’ve never been kissed like that. Never felt that kind of passion. Or had anyone feel that kind of passion about me.”
The sheer yearning in her voice finally wore him down and he reached out and put his hand over hers. “Jess,” he said again.
This time she looked up at him. Her eyes held none of the emotion he’d expected to see. Just a glimmer of resignation. Nothing more.
But she pulled her hand out from under his. Then she turned, hitching her purse strap up on her shoulder as she made to leave. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t,” he protested. “But if you think no man’s ever felt passion for you, I think you may be seriously underestimating the effect you have on men.”
Her gaze narrowed and she shook her head dismissively “I don’t need your pity. And I certainly don’t need you to massage my ego. I only brought it up because I didn’t want you to think that yesterday was just—what was that phrase you used?—me wanting to screw around with the hired help. I don’t think of you that way. I never have.”
She continued down his driveway toward the street, but only made it a few feet before he stopped her. “Then what was it?”
“I guess I just wanted someone to feel that kind of passion for me.” This time, when she turned to leave, he just let her go.
Because if she stayed any longer, he might break down and tell her the truth. That he did feel that way about her. That he’d wanted her badly even back then. That, apparently, he still wanted her now.
And that she had inspired the kind of passion she’d spoken of.
That day back in high school, when she’d seen him kiss Sandra, it wasn’t Sandra he’d been kissing. Oh, it had been Sandra’s body pressed to his and Sandra’s mouth under his lips. But when he’d closed his eyes, it had been Jessica’s face he’d seen. And Jessica’s scent he’d smelled. It had been Jessica he’d wanted to kiss.
He’d known then he couldn’t have her, but that hadn’t kept him from wanting her. And it didn’t now.
3
“SO WHAT YOU and I need to do,” Patricia said as she pulled Jessica through her front door a week later, “is find you another man to have a wild fling with.”
As she was dragged toward Patricia’s bedroom, Jessica tried to protest. “I don’t want to find another guy.”
Patricia paused to prop her hands on her hips like a drill sergeant. “You want to do all the things on The List, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“There’s no ‘yes, but’ about it. If you want to complete the list, you need another guy. Which is why you and I are going clubbing.”
“Clubbing?” She narrowed her gaze suspiciously. “I thought you said we were just going to hang out.”
“We are just going to hang out. At a club.”
“Do we have to?”
“Yes, we have to. If we don’t go out, you can’t meet men.” Patricia ticked off her points on her fingers as she spoke. “If you don’t meet men, you’ll never be able to do all the things on that list.” Her voice dropped to a low growl. “You’re not giving up on The List are you? Are you?”
Feeling even more like a young recruit at boot camp, Jessica snapped to attention. “Sir, no, sir!”
Patricia eyed her shrewdly for a second before cracking a smile. “That’s more like it.” She clapped her hands together. “Now we just have to find something for you to wear.”
Jessica looked down at her clothes. “I can’t wear this?”
“Um…no. You look like you’re going to an English tea party.”
“But—”
“Trust me when I tell you that where we’re going, you’ll look out of place.” With that, Patricia disappeared into her closet. A few minutes later she peered around the door. “Do you trust me?”
Uh, oh. This didn’t sound good.
Jessica hesitated, but then she thought of The List and nodded firmly. “I trust you.”
“Great!” Patricia emerged, her arms laden with clothes, the fingers of one hand clutching a pair of knee-high, black patent-leather boots. They looked like something a superhero would wear along with a bright red spandex outfit.
Jessica eyed the boots warily. “Seriously?”
“You trust me, right?” Patricia’s lips curved in a mischievous smile. “You said you did.”
“Maybe.”
“The boots go with the outfit.” Patricia tossed the boots onto the bed and began sorting through the clothes. “You’re not weird about wearing other people’s shoes, are you?”
Other people’s shoes? Maybe a little weird. Other people’s superhero boots? That was a whole ’nother bag of Skittles.
“I’m not sure we wear the same size,” she pointed out.
Patricia planted her foot on the floor beside Jessica’s. “Close enough. Besides, they’re big on me. They should be perfect on you.”
Eyeing the boots with trepidation, she murmured, “Great.”
Patricia snorted with laughter. “Here, put this on.”
She tossed a tank top at Jessica, who caught it automatically then let it dangle by the straps from her fingers. “This? You want me to wear this?” She was a good four inches taller than Patricia. “This won’t fit me.”
“Yes, it will. It’s stretchy.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
Next, she tossed Jessica a skirt. A very tiny skirt.
“No. No way.”
“You said you trusted me.”
“I lied.”
“You’ll look hot. Besides, it’s leather.”
“So?”
“Wasn’t one of the things on The List something about wearing leather?”
Yes, but Jessica chose to ignore the question. “I can’t wear this. I’ll look ridiculous.”
Patricia thrust out her hand in a I-don’t-want-to-hear-it gesture. “When was the last time you went to a club?”
“Last weekend.”
“Not the country club. An actual club.”
“College,” she admitted.
“Okay, so you haven’t been to a club in ten years—”
“Seven.”
“Whatever.” Patricia waved her hand in exasperation, then rolled her eyes, in case the hand-waving wasn’t enough. “Think about why you’re doing the things on this list. You don’t want to settle for being plain, boring ol’ Jessica Sumners anymore, right? You want to be saucy. Like the magazine. Then be Saucy.”
“Okay. Be Saucy,” she repeated resolutely as she tugged on the clothes. The tank top fit better than she would have thought. The neck draped loosely, skimming the tops of her breasts. The hem just reached the low-slung skirt, teasing but not revealing.
She picked up one of the boots and studied it speculatively. “With a miniskirt? Really?”
“You’ll look hot.”
Still doubtful, but determined to be saucy, she tugged on the boots before standing and looking down at her outfit. The skirt was a good ten inches shorter than anything she’d ever worn. The tank top exposed glimpses of her midriff every time she moved. And the boots…Well, let’s just say, if her mother ever saw her wearing them, she’d faint dead away into her martini glass.
Patricia sighed. “Alex would be on his knees begging if he could see you now.”
“That would be nice,” she said with a chuckle.
Patricia came to stand beside her. Shoulder to shoulder, they stared at their reflections in the mirror.
“Well, forget about Alex,” Patricia said. “You look so good you’ll have to pry men off you with a paint scraper! And I say, we don’t leave that club alone. We’ll definitely find you the perfect guy for your fling.”
Despite Patricia’s bravado, Jessica had her doubts. What she wanted was someone who would:
A. Drop everything to have a wild passionate fling with her.
B. Want her so passionately, he forgot everything but her. And,
C. Make her forget all about Alex.
Yep, that about summed it up. In other words, she wanted a freakin’ miracle. She didn’t need superhero boots, she needed Dorothy’s red shoes.
ALEX HAD NEVER BEEN one to find redemption at the bottom of a bottle. Then again—he mused as he tipped the longneck back—he’d never really looked for it there.
He emptied the beer then set it down on the faux wood tabletop. The condensation and the slight tilt of the uneven table legs pulled the bottle closer to the edge, but his brother, Tomas, grabbed it before it could crash to the floor.
The table—like the rest of the decor—was a little too slick for his taste. Music blasted from the bar’s sound system and a mile-long row of bottles lined the mirrored wall on the other side of the gleaming, polished bar. This wasn’t a real bar, it was bar lite. Purified for the yuppies. But Tomas was buying and it was Alex’s first night out since he’d arrived back in town. Who was he to complain?
“What do you think?” Tomas gestured at the room with his beer.
Alex hid his smile and his sarcastic comment. “It’s great. You come here often?”
Tomas took a sip from his bottle, but couldn’t hide his own mischievous smile. “Never been here before. I think it’s absolute crap. But thanks for lying.”
“If you think it’s crap, why’d you bring me?”
“You seemed like you needed to blow off a little steam.”
Even as he protested, he knew Tomas was right. He appreciated his brother’s efforts, but he wasn’t sure how much good it would do. The bar was little more than a pickup joint catering to Palo Verde’s growing yuppie population. The beautiful women were plentiful and scantily clad. And if he’d been interested, he probably could’ve snagged one.
But, right now, the only woman he wanted to take to bed was Jessica Sumners.
He told himself she was all wrong for him. They had nothing in common. Sleeping with her would get him nothing but a few moments’ pleasure. None of that mattered. None of that had driven her from his thoughts.
And—so far—neither had the beer he’d been drinking.
He picked up the empty bottle. “You want another one?”
Tomas nodded. “Sure.”
A few minutes later he was working his way back through the crowd, holding a pair of longnecks, when Jessica walked in. The way she was dressed, he almost didn’t recognize her, but her posture gave her away. Even in a bar, she had the bearing of a princess. The sight of her jerked him to a standstill.
She was with a friend…someone shorter and curvier with platinum-blond hair. Beside her friend, Jessica looked like a goddess—one of those water sprite things he’d read about in school, tall and willowy. Her honey-blond hair tumbled over her shoulder in gleaming waves. Her eyes widened and shifted nervously as she glanced around the room.
Then, almost as if she sensed him watching her, her gaze drifted to his. She took half a step back and bumped into the door behind her. Her eyes darted from his as she frowned and tugged on her shirt.
The action called his gaze to her clothes and his hands clenched the necks of the beer bottles. Her outfit was no more revealing than the clothes of any other woman in the bar and less so than many. Neither her clothes nor the gorgeous body underneath held his attention—though the combination packed a powerful punch. But, oh, man, her expression nearly ripped his guts out. A beguiling mixture of innocence and seduction. Of temptation and redemption. He raised one of the bottles to his lips and took a long, slow drink.
He lowered the bottle and watched her trail behind her friend toward the bar. A line from one of those sappy romantic movies his mother loved to watch drifted through his mind. Of all the bars in the world, why did she have to walk into this one?
His heart thudded in his chest while he waited for her to reach him, but before she did, she touched her friend’s elbow, said something he couldn’t hear over the music, then steered her friend to the far end of the bar.
He couldn’t believe she’d shown up in a dive like this. Even more surprising was the fact that no one else seemed to have noticed the princess of Palo Verde slumming in this joint. But maybe no one recognized her. After all, the bar’s clientele seemed a far cry from the country club set she most likely usually hung out with.
He took another swig of beer, then worked his way back toward his brother, telling himself he was glad she’d avoided him. Just because she’d taken the leading role in every sexual fantasy he’d had in the past seven days didn’t mean he wanted to run into her. Not with her dressed like that. And certainly not with his self-control so threadbare.
Plunking the bottle down in front of his brother, he scooted onto the opposite stool.
“Thanks, man.” His brother took a swig of beer, then gestured with the bottle. “It’s the damnedest thing. While you were up getting the beer, these two women walked in and I would’ve sworn one of them was that Sumners girl. You remember her from school?”
“No.” He lied, because he didn’t want to get into it.
“Man, she looks hot. Do you think she looked this hot back in school?”
“Nope.” Hell, she hadn’t looked this hot a week ago. And a week ago she’d been pressed up against his body, begging to be kissed, which had drastically increased her appeal.
Tomas took a fortifying drink, then set down the bottle and stood.
Alex reached out and grabbed his arm before he could get more than a step away. “Where’re you going?”
Tomas pointed to the end of the bar where Jessica and her friend now lingered. Her friend, dressed in a skin-tight bright-red dress that crisscrossed her chest and left her belly bare, sat perched on the edge of a stool. Her elbows were propped on the bar behind her, a position that arched her back and thrust her breasts forward. Jessica stood off to the side, looking uncomfortable but still sexy as hell.
“I’m going over to say hello.” Tomas grinned. “It’d be rude not to.”
“Sit.” He tried to keep the irritation from his voice, but didn’t succeed.
“What?” Tomas asked. “You want a shot?”
At Jessica? Nope. He wasn’t sure he could resist temptation again this soon.
“Look,” he began hesitantly. “Jessica is—” Before he could fumble through an explanation, Tomas cut him off.
“Jessica, is it? You do remember her.”
“She’s thinking about having her kitchen remodeled. That’s all.”
Tomas raised his eyebrows. “That’s all?”
Alex forced himself to nod, though he was tempted to do something considerably less benign. That was the kicker about family. They knew how to push your buttons. Tomas, the brother he was closest to both in age and temperament, certainly knew how to push his.
“If that’s all it is, then you shouldn’t mind if I go over to say hello.” Tomas’s smile broadened. “Should you?”
His desire to keep his brother away from Jessica battled with his instincts not to give in to Tomas’s teasing. “Let it go, Tomas,” he warned.
Tomas cocked his head in the direction of the bar. “Looks like I’ll have to. Missed my chance.”
Alex shifted in his chair to look over to where Jessica and her friend stood. While he and Tomas had been talking, the two women had drawn a small crowd.
A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. A guy so slick and glossy he looked like a magazine cover model wrapped his hands around the waist of Jessica’s friend and lifted her to the bar. The woman smiled gamely, then swung her legs up onto the bar and stretched out. Propped up on her elbows, her chest thrust forward and her head tilted back, she commanded the attention of nearly every male in the room.
But not his. Alex’s gaze went immediately to where he’d last seen Jessica. Thank God she was trying to move away from the bar instead of toward it. But the growing group of men crowded closer to where her friend lay sprawled and waiting…for tequila, no doubt.
Then, sure enough, the bartender approached with a bowl of limes and a bottle of the potent liquor. But Alex wasn’t concerned about the girl on the bar. What worried him was the burly guy dressed in denim and flannel leering at Jessica.
A sinking feeling in Alex’s gut told him that if he didn’t step forward to stop it, the next woman lying across that bar would be Jessica.
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