Jenni Beth draped an arm across her eyes. The morning sun had risen, but she hadn’t. Groggy, she blamed Cole for her poor night’s sleep. He’d crawled inside her head and messed with it. That shared kiss, her body’s traitorous response, their almost make-out session. She groaned. How long since she’d even thought about going parking? Ah, jeez. If he’d had any idea how tempted she’d been. Trouble, trouble, trouble. He was up to something. But then, heck, what was she doing? She’d kissed him by her car like there’d be no tomorrow. Of course, he’d started it, but still. She’d surprised herself with the way she’d answered his kiss, then doubled the ante. They both should have disintegrated from the heat.
On the other hand, she’d been the one in the middle of the drought. It had been a long time since she’d kissed like that, felt that heat. Cole? That man lived in a veritable rain forest of women. She doubted the kiss had affected him the way it had her. No. Not true. She’d felt his arousal against her, felt his need. And that’s what had snapped her back to reality.
They weren’t kids anymore, and this was a dangerous game they played. Somebody could get hurt. And it wouldn’t be Cole.
She sighed. Yesterday, Cole had been so gentle, so patient with Ms. Hattie, coaxing her to eat a little more, to take one more bite. He’d approached their plan so matter-of-factly it never once, not for a single second, smacked of charity. And that allowed Ms. Hattie to maintain her dignity and pride.
The man was a chameleon, one she needed to banish from her mind. They’d ridden the carousel before, and it hadn’t worked. Well, not the ride. She huffed out a breath. That had worked finer than fine. It was the aftermath that had been a disaster.
She threw herself into her work, so exhausted she could barely find her bed at night. And still, when she closed her eyes, Cole crept into her mind, into her bed. She’d pull the covers over her head, but she couldn’t hide from him.
Late Thursday afternoon, Richard Thorndike showed up, his shiny new Lexus looking totally out of place beside the workers’ pickups.
Her stomach rolled, clenched. She took a deep breath. Darned if she’d let the arrogant, deceitful pain in the butt see a single nerve.
“You making house calls?” Jenni Beth wiped her hands on already filthy shorts and stood from where she’d been weeding the flower bed. She suspected she had dirt on her face, too.
Oh well.
“Thought I’d stop by and see how things are progressing.” Hands splayed on his hips, he stood beside the Lexus in shirt sleeves and sharply creased dress pants, studying the house from top to bottom. He nodded. “A lot of improvements.”
“If you’ve come looking for an apology, you can hop right back in that car of yours and head into town.”
“No. I came to deliver one, actually. I was out of line.”
Her brows arched.
“I might not have handled things as well as I could have.”
She sent him a saccharine-sweet smile. “You think?”
His ears turned red. “Don’t use that tone with me.”
“Or what? You’ll spread gossip around town?”
He shifted his hands to his pockets.
“That was my biggest complaint, you know. That’s why I paid you that visit.”
“Paid me a visit? Is that what you call it?” His small eyes drilled her. “Barging in, chasing away customers, and screaming at me?”
“I did not scream at you,” she said. “I may have raised my voice, but I most certainly didn’t scream.”
“Semantics.” Richard waved a hand far more manicured than her own grubby ones. “I do, however, apologize for speaking to Moose and the guys at the store. My first allegiance has to be to the people of Misty Bottoms.”
Ice flowed through her veins, crept into her voice. “And the Beaumonts aren’t citizens of Misty Bottoms?”
“Of course you are. You’re being nitpicky.”
“I don’t think so. You’re standing here on my land, in front of my house, insulting me and my family.”
His eyes shuttered; his color rose. “As I said, I came to apologize. However, I’m still not totally convinced this idea of yours will be profitable, and I don’t want you taking anyone else down with you.”
“The good citizens of Misty Bottoms must rest easily at night, knowing you’re protecting them from the big, bad monster.” She pointed at finger at herself. “Me.”
Beck appeared out of nowhere, and Jenni Beth, certain he’d heard the entire conversation, felt a spear of relief.
“Richard.” He acknowledged him with a tip of his head.
“You helping out, Beck?”
Her friend nodded, but said nothing.
“Can I take a look inside?”
Jenni Beth glanced at Beck, then back at Richard. The air fairly vibrated with an undercurrent of hostility.
“Richard, I’m sorry, but the house is a construction site. I’m not sure our insurance would cover you if something happened, so I’m going to have to say no.”
Beck leveled a well-done look at her, and she almost smiled.
Thorndike stared at her in stony disbelief. No one told him no. What he wanted, he got. Well, not this time.
“We’re doing fine,” she continued. “We’re on track both with the time and our budget. Anything else? Because if not, I have work to do.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw.
Had he really expected her to take him into the parlor? Offer him tea? So not going to happen.
Without a word, he stormed back to his car.
Beck stepped beside her, and she leaned into him. In the shade of the porch, they watched as he drove down the live-oak-lined drive.
“What did he want?”
“I guess he wanted to scratch his curiosity.” She shrugged.
“You handled that perfectly. Remember, he’s not on your side. He only wins if you lose.”
She turned her head slightly. “Now you sound like Cole.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
Friday morning, perched on the fourth rung of a ladder, scraping the last stubborn bits of paint from the fascia, Jenni Beth’s cell rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she saw it was Duffy at the pub.
“One of my waitresses has a nasty cold and can’t make her shift. Friday’s a tough night to run shorthanded. Wondered if you might want to fill in for her.”
“Oh, we’re so busy here, Duffy, and I’m a mess. I’ve been working my butt off all week.”
“I’ll pay you. I know you’re runnin’ up lots of bills with that renovation.”
“Cash?”
“You bet.”
The calculator inside her came to life. A transfusion, no matter how small, would be welcome. Figuring everything at his cost, Beck had worked up an invoice for the absolutely essential repairs at Ms. Hattie’s, and Jenni Beth had given him the okay. Whatever Duffy paid her tonight, along with tips, would help offset that tab. If it paid for a single window, it would be worth it. Besides, it had been ages since she’d waited tables at the pub. Might be a nice change of pace.
“What time do you need me?”
* * *
Cole’s headlights reflected off the Misty Bottoms town limits sign, and he asked himself for the hundredth time what the heck he was doing. Tired and more than a little frazzled, he should be home. In his city condo.
He’d finished up late this afternoon, with no intention of making this drive. Since he’d been spending so much time here, he’d fallen behind in Savannah, both at home and at work. He’d planned to spend the evening taking care of late paperwork, then pick up a few groceries before heading to his condo to straighten up a bit and do some laundry. All the day-to-day stuff.
If he were smart, he’d give both Jenni Beth and Magnolia House a wide berth, tell Mickey to take tomorrow off, and work Traditions himself.
But he hadn’t. Like a fly to a honey jar, he’d come barreling in. Chances were good, too, he’d end up in as much of a mess as that honey-lovin’ fly.
A glance at his dashboard clock told him it was too late to drive to Jenni Beth’s house, too early to go to his place and stare at four walls. As restless as he was, he’d drive himself nuts.
Problem was he was going under and fast—and not at all comfortable with it. He thought about her day and night. She’d even wriggled her way into his dreams.
This wasn’t in his plans, wasn’t what he wanted.
His stomach growled. His fridge was pretty darn bare, and he didn’t want to barge in on his parents. Why not hit Duffy’s Pub? He’d eat, play a little pool, drink a couple cold ones, and get his mind off Jenni Beth. It was either that or drive over to her place and climb the ivy to her attic room. That idea? Fraught with all kinds of danger.
By the time he parked his truck, he heard the music rolling out of the restaurant. Friday night. He’d forgotten the pub hired a band on the weekends.
Halfway through the door, he stopped and dropped his head to his chest. He recognized Jenni Beth’s laugh from across the room and didn’t know whether to laugh at himself or cry. Talk about best laid plans gone awry.
What the heck. A grin split his face. Might as well go with it. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight. Now he would. What were the chances Jenni Beth would be here tonight waiting tables? Maybe he should consider it a gift. An opportunity to sit back and drink his fill of her. Or punishment. The grin disappeared. Look, but don’t touch.
Didn’t Nietzsche say something about what didn’t kill you made you stronger?
Guess he’d soon find out.
Muscling his way to the bar, he slid onto a stool and ordered a beer. Settling in, he leaned an elbow on the patinated copper counter and relaxed.
He swiveled on his stool and faced the tables. She wore skintight jeans and a skimpy, white lace halter top. The ankle-length pants showed off simple red flats. Big dangly earrings caught the light and sparkled.
Redder-than-red lipstick, wavy, mussed hair, and smoking hot eyes.
Whooee! Maybe she would kill him.
Leaning toward old Mr. Watkins, she jotted his order on her pad, then said something that had him laughing. She moved to another table with her coffeepot and, chatting, refilled cups. Jenni Beth had her customers eating out of her hand.
Damn. Every male in the place had to be salivating. He sure as hell was. He’d been fighting this attraction for a long while now. Too long. He’d dated his share of women, but none got to him. Yet watching her, so confident and comfortable, spun his system out of control.
Maybe the time had come to throw in the towel and run with whatever was going on between the two of them. He’d dipped his toe in the water earlier this week, throwing out more than a few broad hints, stealing a couple kisses. While she hadn’t exactly run with it, she hadn’t blown him out of the water, either.
That kiss in the parking lot… Whew. Thinking about it, thinking how she’d felt dancing with him at Chateau Rouge, set his motor running faster still. Made him hotter than hell. Fidgety.
He didn’t get it. His taste ran to dark-eyed brunettes, yet this one blond had always been able to work her way beneath his skin. It defied all logic and understanding.
Well, logic be damned. Time to go with his gut.
Slowly, he took another drink of his beer, set down the bottle, and sauntered to the stage. He nodded at Trey, the lead guitarist, indicating he wanted to talk.
When his pal moved to the front edge, Cole leaned in and said, “Do me a favor, bud. You know Eric Clapton’s ‘Wonderful Tonight’?”
“Sure do. Great song.”
“Would you play it? I want to dance with Jenni Beth.”
He winked. “You bet.”
At the end of the number, Trey struck the first notes of Clapton’s hit.
Cole crooked a finger at Jenni Beth, then tugged at her hand when she came close.
Her gaze moved over her tables. “What do you want?”
“Quit scowlin’. You’ll scare everybody away. Dance with me.”
“Cole, I’m working.” She tried to pull away.
“Hey, Duffy,” Cole shouted across the noisy bar. “You don’t care if Jenni Beth dances with me, do you?”
“Hell no.”
Everybody in the pub looked their way, and he watched Jenni Beth’s face flush. Somebody in the back whistled.
“Thanks, Duf.”
“You’re causing a scene, Cole.”
“Nope. But you will if you fight me on this.”
He laced his fingers with hers and led her onto the miniscule dance floor.
Without giving her even a second to catch her breath or put up more of an argument, he drew her into him, inhaling her sweet scent, a smell so totally and uniquely Jenni Beth. Feminine and delicate with a touch of heat and sizzle.
“You do look wonderful tonight, sugar.” He sang along with the song, and she relaxed in his arms.
In one smooth motion, he spun her out, twirled her in a circle. Her quick laugh caused his heart to stumble, proof positive he’d landed himself smack-dab in the middle of some serious trouble.
Dangedest thing about it? He didn’t care.
His arm encircled her waist, and he brought her in close as she added her voice to his, singing along with the familiar song. “You’ve come a long way from that hairbrush microphone in your bedroom.”
“What?”
She started to pull away, but he deftly brought her back, her body warm and soft against his.
“Wes and I used to sit on the stairs and listen while you sang to your latest favorites on the radio.”
“And laugh your fool heads off, I’m sure.”
He grinned. “Sometimes.”
She swatted him. “Cole Bryson, you are no gentleman.”
“Never claimed to be.”
As he twirled her out again, he watched her arrange her expression into that prim and proper Southern lady.
But underneath? He studied her as she gave it up and laughed. In the skintight demins and that sexy-as-sin lace halter top?
One hot woman!
Even at eighteen, in her quiet white debutante gown, the real Jenni Beth had shone through. She had no idea how close he’d come to dragging her away somewhere and devouring her.
And yet it added a layer of excitement when she cloaked that heat and he imagined only he could feel it.
Tonight? She hid nothing. She’d tossed her burning sexuality right out there for anyone and everyone to view.
Again, he fought with himself. He wanted far too badly to toss her in his truck, take her home, and have his way with her. He wanted to make love to her all night long and well into tomorrow.
Problem was, he was scared to death even that wouldn’t be enough. He’d had that taste already, hadn’t he? And it had only whetted his appetite.
She brought out the beast in him. Always had. And he was beginning to suspect that maybe she always would.
The song ended and, grudgingly, he kissed the top of her head. “Give ’em hell, tiger.”
Moving back to his drink, he swung around on his stool and leaned against the bar to watch her. Every once and again, their gazes caught and he damned near stopped breathing.
Good sense dictated he should go home. Catch some shut-eye. He didn’t. He ordered dinner and ate, his foot tapping to the band’s music. They had a good sound, and Cole found himself wishing Jenni Beth was up there singing with them. The woman had an incredible voice.
At midnight, the band announced their final song, “Hit the Road, Jack.” Cole laughed. Perfect ending.
He kept his eye on Jenni Beth as she cleared her last table. Binnie would handle the stragglers.
She caught his eye, and he pointed to a small, empty table in the corner. After a second, she nodded. He held up his beer toward her, and she mouthed, “Yes, please.”
Snagging another beer from Binnie, he moved to the table and slid out a chair for Jenni Beth as she made her way to him.
“You handled your tables well.”
“Thanks.” She took a healthy drink. “Oh, that tastes good. My throat’s parched. I haven’t played waitress in a long time.”
“And you enjoyed it.”
“I did.” She grinned. “It’s nice to mingle. I saw people I haven’t talked to in years. And look at this.” She reached into her jeans pocket and held up her tip money. “Between this and what Duffy owes me, I earned enough to pay for the materials for Ms. Hattie’s new porch stairs.”
Didn’t that just do it? His heart hit the floor. How was a man supposed to resist a woman like her? She needed that money badly, yet her first thought was Ms. Hattie’s steps.
He lov—his mind stumbled over the word—liked her. So much he hurt. Dazed, he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she did. “Jeez, I’m starving.” She laid a hand on her stomach. “I didn’t get a chance to eat before I left the house.”
“What can the kitchen do this late, Binnie?”
“They’ve shut down the griddle and deep fryer, but the oven’s still on.”
“I don’t want anything heavy. Can they toss together a sandwich?”
“You bet.”
Cole stretched his legs out in front of him and watched her devour the club sandwich when it came. Another point for her. He liked a woman who actually ate, one who didn’t play with her food. He snagged a couple chips off her plate while they talked about his week, her week. About happenings in town.
“I need to go to bed, Cole.”
His wiring short-circuited. To cover it, he laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Okay. Now you’re talkin’. I’ve been waitin’ to hear those words from you, sugar.”
“Ha-ha. To sleep. Alone. At my house.”
“What a tease.” As fast as it had come, the laughter left him. He wanted to make her his. Knew deep down what a horrid mistake that would be. Or would it? He didn’t know anymore. She scrambled his brains.
Keeping his voice light, he said, “Grab your purse and I’ll walk you out.”
When they stepped into the Georgia night, the heat and humidity grabbed at him. Overhead, stars scattered across the night sky, winking. The moon frosted Jenni Beth and gave her the appearance of an ice princess.
Because he desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless, he stepped to the side, careful not to touch her as he escorted her to her little sports car.
She reached it first and kicked at the front driver’s-side tire. “Shoot.”
Cole came up behind her. “What’s wrong?”
“My tire’s flat.” She ran fingers through her tangled mass of silvery hair.
Cole knelt and ran a hand over the tire. He moved to the side so he could see it better in the meager light that filtered through the bar’s windows. Somebody opened the door and he saw the tire clearly for a few seconds. That was all he needed. Cold fury ripped through him. He took a deep breath to rein in his temper. The tire hadn’t gone flat. Somebody had slashed it.
Jenni Beth didn’t need to know that. Not tonight.
“I could change this tonight, sugar, but it sure would be easier in the mornin’. We’re both tired. Why don’t you let me drive you home? When I come into town tomorrow, I’ll take care of it.” He tugged at his ball cap. “Or later today, I guess, since it’s already tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“It scares me that I understand that,” she said.
Hand on her back, he herded her to his truck, opened her door, tossed a couple files into the back, and helped her in. Heat sizzled through him at the innocent contact.
“There you go.”
He walked around the hood of the vehicle and slid in behind the wheel. The truck’s cab shrank, grew intimate. The woman smelled so good, so feminine. Lavender. Jasmine. Nighttime.
It felt right to have Jenni Beth here beside him. To drive through the night with her. To pass neighbors’ homes with their darkened windows and know they were tucked in for the night.
His head filled with a vision of the two of them heading home to a night together. A dream where she wouldn’t have to leave. Where they’d have each other to turn to in the night. Where she’d still curl against him when the sun peeked over the horizon first thing in the morning.
They’d share that first cup of coffee. That first burst of laughter. That first—
She turned on the CD player and pulled back as though burned.
Of all the— He’d been listening to Wes’s favorite CD, and Jenni Beth recognized it. Her hands moved to her face.
Quickly he punched the power button and pitched the truck into silence. He swerved onto the road’s shoulder and threw the truck in park. When he reached out to her, she pulled away, her breathing ragged.
“Why that CD?”
“It makes me feel close to him, honey. When I’m missin’ him, I’ll put this in sometimes, turn it up, and go for a ride. I had no idea—”
“I miss him.”
“I know.”
“And you’re crowding me, Cole.”
“Crowdin’ you?” He turned in his seat and rested his head against the side window, staring at her. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“You’ve wormed your way into my life. Made yourself necessary to me. Made it so that I think about you all the time. I—”
He laid a finger over her lips. “Stop. Don’t say whatever it is that’s ready to spill from that gorgeous mouth.”
“Cole—”
He shook his head. “Please. We can work this out, Jenni Beth.”
“I don’t think so.”
Against his better judgment, he unsnapped both their seat belts and crushed her to him, held her close. Cursed the storage compartment between them.
Her heart raced—or was it his?
He heard the first sob, almost a hiccup. The tears came faster. She shook in his arms, her hot tears wetting his shirt.
He cupped the back of her head and buried his face in her hair. “Oh, sugar, don’t. Please. Don’t cry.” He ran his fingers through her hair.
“You’re breaking down my walls,” she sobbed. “I swore I’d never let that happen again. After Wes died, I don’t seem to be able to invest myself in relationships. I hold back. I can’t face that pain again.”
“That’s understandable.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve even wedged that little bit of space between me and my friends, between me and my parents, and I hate it. I’m always preparing, always getting ready to say good-bye.”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“Not right now, but you will!”
He drew back, rested a finger beneath her chin. “Honey, I’m right here. Always will be.”
“No.” She jerked away from him. “That’s not true, Cole. You know it, and so do I. But I will be. Misty Bottoms is my home. My parents are here. This is where what’s left of my heart is. Your niche is in Savannah.”
“That’s where my business is.”
“That’s what I said. You belong in Savannah.”
“I wonder.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “I’m beginnin’ to think my heart is right here. You’re doin’ something to me, sugar, that I can’t fight. That I’m not sure I want to fight.”
“Don’t say that, Cole.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t do this. I can’t give you my heart, then watch you walk away. So, please, go now. Before it hurts worse.”
Desperation welled in him, and his eyes burned into her. “You’re not listenin’. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You will.” She pushed away. “Take me home.”
He did, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
The instant the tires stopped turning, she hopped out and walked inside without looking back. When the wooden screen door slapped shut, he swore he heard the sound of his heart breaking. How stupid was that?
He should go. Instead, he sat in the dark, his window down. The sweet smell of roses surrounded him. Crickets chirped. Night birds called. Overhead, the moon shone through the leaves of the live oaks, giving the appearance of a huge lace doily spread across the newly mown yard.
The last light in the house went out, and he was alone.
Time for him to go home, too. Putting the truck in gear, he drove away. Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell Jenni Beth her tire hadn’t gone flat. She hadn’t run over anything.
Someone had slashed it. Viciously.
And everybody in town knew that Corvette belonged to her.