by Marina Adair
“Jace,” she whispered, her voice making it clear that everything he was thinking was on his face.
“Why don’t you tell me how you know about Payton’s impromptu lesson?” Because talking about his family was a surefire cure for his hard-on.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “I worked the last half of my shift with Glory. She said Payton had sweet-talked you into teaching her how to drive.”
“Oh no,” Jace shook his head sternly. “I agreed to teach her how to change a tire and jump-start her car. Her daddy has the honors of the driving lesson, because if Payton is anything like her grandma, the day she gets her license this town will never be safe again.”
Charlotte laughed. Jace did not. Hattie McGraw was the worst driver in the South. In fact, she had taken out more street signs and mailboxes than the entire Sugar High baseball team during a game of mailbox baseball.
“So let me get this straight,” Charlotte said with a sweet smile. “You’re teaching your niece how to change a tire, and you’re the new instructor for the Car Maintenance 101 course, and you’re on the Parade Committee for the Founder’s Day Fair. That’s an awful lot of pots to have your fingers in for a guy who gave up his residency.”
He knew what she was doing. Trying to see just how committed he was to seeing this through. Even so, the idea that so many people were counting on him didn’t go unheard. Which was why his heart shifted and his breathing changed pace.
Jace silently swore and waited. Waited for the panic to set in and the noose that had been wrapped around his neck since his parents died to slowly tighten. Only nothing happened. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the company, either way he didn’t feel like burning rubber out of town.
At least not just yet.
“Not really,” he said, testing her a little, too. “Seeing as I have a house and wife in town, it makes sense.”
Charlotte didn’t argue, didn’t correct him, she just stared silently at him. Her lips were parted slightly, and her eyes were soft, imploring him. And his heart shifted again until that little slice of peace he’d felt earlier grew, and suddenly Jace didn’t want to leave. Not if staying meant feeling like this forever.
Neither of them spoke, just letting his words and whatever feelings they evoked settle. The longer they sat here, the more flight they seem to gain. And even though they kept staring, waiting for the other to speak, nothing settled.
This was probably because Charlotte kept wiggling her foot.
Or maybe it was because he kept touching her legs. Higher and higher, he ran his fingers over her silky skin, loving how her breathing picked up. How her eyes dilated and zeroed in on his mouth. The longer she looked, the harder it seemed to stop, until the hunger in the room was palpable.
Jace wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they were both lying on her small-as-shit couch. Strike that. He was lying on the small-as-shit couch and Charlotte was lying on him. Her hands pushing up his shirt. Their mouths fused together so tight he’d need a crowbar to separate them. The way she kissed him, desperate and needy, told him that she did want more, she was just afraid of what came after the more.
And yeah, Jace being Jace, he couldn’t seem to think past right then, past sinking into her and staying there for a long time. Long enough to forget their past, forget the hurt, forget everything except how right it felt.
She shimmied a little, he sucked in a sharp breath. Then she shimmied some more, moving herself right up his secret spot and then back down. On her third pass Jace was about sure he was going to explode, so he gripped her ass to hold her still. Only the second his hands made contact with skin instead of her skirt he froze, long enough to give silent thanks for the best ass on the planet, then pulled her even closer, sure to do a thorough investigation of just how far her skirt had slid when she’d shimmied.
And amen, his fingers found the sweetest curve of skin and, what he could only imagine was a fuck-me red thong with some kind of bow nestled right above her cheeks. Except he didn’t have to imagine for long, Charlotte did this little twisting action, taking her hips lower and her skirt higher until he was able to see that it wasn’t a bow at all, but a little heart made of rhinestones on the band of her—God yes—fuck-me red thong.
And something about that stopped him short. Not the fuck-me red part, and sure as shit not the thong part, but the little sparkly heart. Because he didn’t want her sparkly heart, he wanted the real one, and he wasn’t going to get a shot at that here on the couch.
With great effort, and a promise that he would remove those panties with his teeth someday very soon, he pulled back so that their noses were still touching, their breaths were still mingling, and every other part of them was still connected.
Her panties still in place.
“Jace,” she said, her eyes filled with confusion—and a dump truck full of lust.
“Are we moving my boots, Charlie?”
She paused, long enough for him to know that she wasn’t ready. She was ready for sex, and maybe even sex in her bed, but she wasn’t ready for more. His fault.
“I don’t want to rush you,” he whispered. “But that’s my only rule.”
With a smile that was all trouble, she leaned in and snagged his lower lip between her teeth, letting it go with a tug. “It’s more fun when I make the rules.”
“Agreed,” he groaned, and her mouth was back on his, those sexy hips of hers on the move, slowly driving him insane.
“But,” he managed, his hands slipping down to grip her sweet ass and hold her in place so that he could think with the right part of his anatomy. “The last time you were rule maker I didn’t even get to walk you to your room. You distracted me with that mouth of yours, left me with my pants down and craving a nice cuddle moment, then evaded me for days, accused me of using a nice dinner as a precursor for sex, and told me to pretty much screw off.”
“I was confused about what I wanted.”
“You still are,” he whispered, determined not to think about the fact that time was running out. There was less than two weeks before their agreement was up, two weeks until the annulment came in and she’d have to make a choice. He didn’t have time to screw this up. “But I’m not. And for the first time in a long while I am trying to look past this moment, and God, baby, you aren’t making it easy.” He tightened his grip on that lush ass, then delivered a small brush of the lips. “I want you, so bad it aches. All. Day. Long.”
“Me too,” she whispered back, her hair a mess of tangles from his fingers, and her makeup smudged just enough to make her irresistible.
“But,” he said again, his hands tightening again, because her hips were on the move. Again. “I need to make sure that before we go there, you understand that what I want goes beyond the physical. Beyond fun and exciting.”
“I’m not sure I can give you that,” she said in a tone that would have crushed him had he not heard the fear in her voice, seen the way her lips trembled slightly.
Calling himself a hundred different kinds of bastard, he ran his hands up her back to cup her face. “It’s not you, Charlie, I know you can. You’re just waiting on me to prove that I’m worth the risk.”
Jace had stopped planning past tomorrow the same day he’d stopped seeking out deep connections—and Charlotte knew that. Had experienced it firsthand. It was what had her waffling. But Charlotte was different, always had been, which was how she managed to slip through his defenses and wiggle her way deep in his heart. So it was important to take a different approach this time. Start thinking about down the road instead of using the road as an escape.
He couldn’t tell her that, he’d have to show her, and the idea that he might not get the chance made his stomach go a little squirrelly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes, as long as you give me a chance to prove myself.”
Afraid she might not give him the answer he desperately wanted, he kissed her gently. Then not so gently. Then he kissed her until his lips started tingling and his pulse was g
oing haywire.
“I thought you said this wasn’t going to happen,” she whispered.
“I said sex wasn’t going to happen. Tonight at least,” he added with a grin. “I have nothing against making out until our lips go numb.”
“Until our lips go numb, huh?”
“Or we catch fire. I’m open to either.”
Charlotte gave him a sexy smile that said she was open to a little make-out session, too. Maybe even that second chance. And Jace hoped to God he didn’t blow it again.
“We’ve never really kissed without it leading to sex,” she said.
The first night they met in that bar, he’d sweet-talked her all the way home and straight into breakfast in bed. Nothing about them had ever been slow. And maybe that was part of the problem.
“Well, then I guess it’s time we do that.”
Her hands fisted in his shirt and she tugged—hard. “As long as you lose this.”
“Is that an official rule?” he asked.
Her impatient tug was all the answer he needed.
Chapter 14
An irritating tapping pulled Charlotte from a lovely dream starring Mr. McGraw in nothing but tattoos and that crooked grin, using his skilled and crafty hands to slowly rev her engine.
Telling herself that the light peeking through the blinds was just the moon and not morning, Charlotte snuggled deeper into her pillow, determined to cross that finish line. Only the pillow snuggled back, nuzzling her neck and creating enough heat to warm her all the way through.
Her pillow also smelled amazing. Like sleepy, sexy, hot man.
She opened one eye and closed it against the bright sun. Yup, it was morning, and Jace’s boots were still sitting by the door, which was why they were still twisted like a couple of pretzels on her couch. Instead of naked in her bed, where they would have been had she found the courage to leap.
Something that in the daylight, while nuzzled against his hard-muscled chest, seemed ridiculous. But the leap between inviting him into her home and inviting him into her bed was huge. Her bedroom was her sanctuary, and she was afraid that if she let him in too far, her sanctuary could easily become Jace.
A low tap sounded again, and before she could take further stock of the situation, sunlight flooded the room.
“Aw, Jesus,” Ben said, and Charlotte’s eyes flew open.
“Oh my God! Ben!” She tried to sit up, but her legs were intertwined with Jace’s, and his hands were molded to her backside. Her nearly bare backside that was sticking out from beneath her skirt. She tried to tug it down around her legs, but Jace wouldn’t move his hands. And Ben was staring. “Turn around!”
He did. But not until after she managed to secure her skirt, which was around her waist like a hula hoop, in a more useful position. “Put a sock on the door next time.”
“Or you could knock.” Charlotte did a quick pat down, relieved to find that, while Jace’s shirt was wadded up on the floor, hers was securely in place.
“For the record, I did. Twice.” Ben held up two fingers as though visual cues were necessary when communicating without eye contact. “When no one answered, I used the key.”
Jace opened one eye. His hands were back on her butt. “He has a key?”
“Do you really want to talk about this now?” she whispered.
The other eye slid open and locked on. “I don’t know, Charlie. Mr. M.D. over there has his own key while the house is on my credit report and I have to park my car across the lake.”
“Oh for God’s sake, he has my emergency key.” Charlotte shoved off his chest, and Jace finally let go of her enough to free her. She stumbled to her feet. “Wait. Is it an emergency? Is it Kenny O’Neil?”
Kenny O’Neil was a thirteen-year-old patient waiting for a liver transplant. Not that Charlotte was the overseeing surgeon, but as his physician she was the glue that connected all of his doctors together. Made sure everyone was kept in the loop. Talked to his mother when things got hard, gave Kenny hope when things got unbearable. “Is he okay?”
“Kenny’s fine,” Ben said quietly.
“Thank God.” She blew out a sigh of relief.
Ben peeked over his shoulder and, satisfied with Charlotte’s state of dress, turned back to face her. “There was just a change in the caseload at work that I wanted to discuss with you.” He paused, eyeing Jace, who was still sprawled out on the couch—shirtless—his hands behind his head as though he wasn’t in any hurry to move. “In private. Patient-doctor confidentiality being what it is.”
“Well, then I’ll make myself scarce,” Jace said, standing and stretching until every one of his muscles tightened and coiled. Then, to make a point, held it a second longer than necessary, sure to give everyone a clear look at just how big he was, before padding over.
To them.
Every time his bare feet hit the hardwood, he drew closer, as did Charlotte’s breath. Even in the morning with his hair standing on end, his jaw rough with yesterday’s growth and those deep blue eyes glossy with sleep, the man was gorgeous. Especially then, she thought. Because the big, invincible Jace McGraw, bad boy of Sugar, looked soft. Almost vulnerable.
Oh yeah, Charlotte had it bad.
Jace stopped right in front of her and winked. With a quick smack to Charlotte’s lips that had her toes turning and her face heating, he turned to welcome their company, who had to look way up to meet his gaze.
“Ben,” he said. Not an ounce of welcome present.
“Jace.”
There was a beat of silence, then another, followed by some weird eye twitching, and finally Ben nodded in what must have been some kind of secret guy-code because Jace made a low grunt then moseyed his way into the kitchen. “I’ll just go rustle us up some breakfast while you two talk shop. You hungry, Ben? No? Okay then, be sure to leave your key by the door when you head out.”
The kitchen sink turned on and Ben said, “Did he eat Paul Bunyan?”
“He’s just big boned,” Charlotte said, equally impressed with the way his broad shoulders rippled and dipped as he moved. The McGraw men were all big, but Jace was supersized.
“Well, now I know why you didn’t answer my calls. Must have been some kind of engine problem.” The big jerk had the nerve to snicker.
“Why are you here?”
His smile faded. “I wanted to give you a heads-up that I was assigned half your patient load for the week.”
Shock hit hard and fast. Followed by confusion. “What? When?”
“This morning. I got an email from Reginald informing me that I would be handling a portion of your patients for the rest of the week,” Ben said. “And from the stunned look on your face, I take it you weren’t in agreement.”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, so she sat down on the couch, her heart beating so fast she was sure it would pop right out of her chest. “I didn’t even know.” She looked up at Ben, who was looking back with concern laced in his expression. “Why would he move my patients to you? Especially when I am on the schedule all week.”
“I don’t know,” Ben said quietly. “But when I called in to see who was on my schedule for today, Glory told me that Reginald had instructed the nurses to hand over the rest of your patients to him.”
“This makes no sense.” Charlotte reached over the couch to grab her phone out of her purse. She scrolled through her activity.
A missed call from Ben. Three from her mother—and it was only seven thirty. Not a single call from her dad.
“Let me call him and figure out what’s going on,” she said more mildly than she felt. She dialed her dad’s cell, every ring echoing in her chest until she felt like she was going to crack. On the fifth ring it went to voice mail. “Hey, Dad. I had a question about this week’s schedule, if you could give me call back that would be great. Thanks. Love you.”
She hung up and stared at the phone. Her dad had just reorganized her entire week and she’d ended the call with “Love you.” Not that she didn’t always
end her calls with an endearment, but suddenly she realized how strange it sounded to say “I love you” to her boss. Because that was who she was calling, her boss.
Yet, neither of them were acting professional.
“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Ben said, so incredibly reasonable that Charlotte almost agreed. Almost.
But something in her clicked.
Jace would have said her dad was being a controlling idiot. And he would have been right, because while the old Charlotte hoped that this was just some clerical mix-up, Charlotte 2.0 knew that this was just another example of her dad not taking her feelings into consideration, steamrolling over her life without regard to her at all.
“No reason is good enough to alter a doctor’s schedule without consent.” Had this been any other doctor on staff, her father wouldn’t have meddled.
Ben paused, a bit surprised at her comment. Then chuckled. “I wholeheartedly agree. So when you figure out what you want to do, let me know, Doctor.” The way he punctuated the statement was primed for his exit. Only he stood there, staring at her, his expression perplexed.
“What?” Charlotte felt the urge to smooth down her hair, make sure she was indeed wearing clothes.
“I always wondered what love would look like on you,” he said softly. “It’s a good look, Charlotte.”
Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and, with a small smile, left. She stood there, watching Ben walk down the front steps, completely stunned. Not that she was in love with Jace—she’d admitted to herself long ago that she could never stop loving him. But that her love was so transparent.
Needing time to process, Charlotte sat back and closed her eyes. Her phone vibrated in her palm. She glanced at the screen and groaned.
“Not now.” Only it was now or never, so after a settling inhale that did nothing to calm her nerves, she answered. “Morning, Dad.”
Reginald didn’t return the greeting. “Want to explain to me why there is a mob of sheep eating all of the vegetation around the clinic and huge segments of the main parking lot are blocked off? Patients are parking on Maple Street and walking!”