by Liz Talley
Nellie peered up at him, framed against the sun. He was as good as she imagined. He looked like David, carved and molded in masculine beauty. Well, except for one notable exception—that part was a whole lot bigger where it counted.
It was her turn to have her mouth water.
She wanted to touch every inch of him, to marvel at the smooth planes and deep hollows of his body, to feel the crisp hair sprinkled over his muscled chest, to drag her nails down the firm flanks of his backside. She wanted to taste him, the saltiness of his neck, the water droplets clinging to his shoulders. She felt insane by the desire to have Jack Darby.
He lowered himself to her, covering her once again with the heat of his body. She rejoiced in the feel of him. His lips moved on hers and she opened her mouth to him. Her arms twined round his neck as she pulled him even closer, grinding her hips up into his, allowing his erection to slide against the slickness at the juncture of her thighs. Jack’s hardness hovered just at the entrance, enticing with sweet friction. She couldn’t take it any longer. She pushed at his chest and slid her hand down in an effort to touch him, to wrap her hand round the pulsing silken length of him.
But his hand stilled her.
“Please, Jack.”
“Please, what? What do you want, Elle?” He brushed his lips down her neck, lingering on the delicate curve of her collarbone, tasting the sweet slope of her breast.
She bucked against him, hooking one leg over his, pulling her body as close as she could to his, reveling in the crisp hair of his chest against the hardness of her nipples, the jutting erection rubbing against her.
She felt out of her mind with passion, flooded by the sheer lust raging within her. She wanted him inside her. Now.
Jack seemed to sense her frustration, her need.
“Just a minute, baby.”
He left her for a minute before he came back, lifting her from where she sagged against the pool steps. Water sluiced off her body and the air chilled her briefly before he swept her into his arms and carried her to a cushioned double lounger beneath a pergola covered with blooming jasmine.
He reached toward the small table and grabbed the condom lying there.
“Pretty sure of yourself?” Nellie muttered.
He just smiled and ripped the package with his teeth. She squirmed beneath him, willing him to hurry up. He must have felt the same way for, in the blink of an eye, he settled back between her thighs. He caught her mouth with his and with one thrust he entered her, filling her, causing her to gasp with pleasure.
“Oh, Jack, that feels…so good,” she panted, her hips rising from the lounger to meet his thrusts, her body a slave to its need. She didn’t have to think about not being good or not knowing what to do. Her thoughts fled and her body took over.
“Yes,” Jack agreed, wanting to go slow and savor the feel of Elle’s tightness around him but not able to stop himself from plunging inside her over and over. He was lost, and the woman beneath him seemed to be his only salvation.
“Sorry, babe. I can’t last much longer.” He clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the oncoming orgasm. He wanted to take her to her peak, but wasn’t sure if he would make it.
Just then he felt her tighten around him, tiny spasms shaking her body, jiggling the fullness of her breasts. Her head bucked against the cushion as she shattered against him. Her body convulsed and a small groan of pleasure escaped her lips.
He let go, exploding, pumping into her, wishing it hadn’t ended so quickly. He collapsed on top of her, utterly depleted, unable to lift himself from her soft body.
She wound her arms around him and they lay there, their heavy breathing mingling with the chirping of birds.
Finally, Jack rolled off Elle, leaving one arm behind her to pillow her head. He studied the vines snaking through the arbor above them.
Words would not come. None needed to be spoken. What had just occurred seemed magical, a melding of bodies so in tune, so connected, words might destroy it.
So they lay there silently, Elle stroking his arm and he twisting her hair. He felt completely at peace with this woman, as if he’d made love to her a hundred times. God help him, but the past few days had felt so right.
“Jack?”
“Yes?” He propped himself up on one hand and studied the woman lying beside him. She was lovely even in the harsh afternoon light. Her skin glowed, her cheeks flushed, and her green eyes still held a glimmer of passion. Lovely wasn’t the word for her. His heart actually skipped a beat when she smiled at him.
“That was wonderful.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Absolutely wonderful.”
CHAPTER NINE
Go on and have your fantasies, Nellie. Life’s about as hard as the stone laying over your grandpapa. So you just pretend yourself into happiness, girl.
—Grandmother Tucker when she saw Nellie dressed in her wedding veil, holding a clutch of her prized irises.
NELLIE TRIED TO WIGGLE her toes but found them buried beneath a warm, hairy lump.
“Eh!” she shrieked, her eyes flying open just in time to see a long pink tongue swoop out.“Ew!” she groaned, pushing away the huge black Labrador retriever wriggling playfully in the twisted bedding. The dog’s eyes laughed at her and he reared up to deliver another determined kiss. Nellie blocked him, wiping away the evidence of the first kiss from her cheek.
“Dutch, down!” Jack commanded from the bedroom doorway. Dutch ducked his head and slunk off the plush bed as if he’d been beaten rather than reprimanded. “Sorry. He knows he’s not supposed to get on the bed. Guess he found you as irresistible as I do.”
Nellie couldn’t stop the pleasure flooding her heart, though by now she should have been used to his honeyed words. Lord knows he’d whispered more than a few into her ear last night. And again in the wee hours of the morning.
She smiled. “No problem. I like dogs. I guess I’m just not used to them waking me up with such an enthusiastic greeting.”
Dutch stared adoringly at his master. The dog’s tail thumped on the golden Berber rug, creating a tempo that matched Nellie’s heart. Did she look at Jack with such adoration? Was she turning into a lovesick puppy?
The only genuine canine in the room made another move toward the bed. Jack caught him by the collar and pulled him toward the open door. “Come on down. I got breakfast.”
Breakfast? He could cook? Jackpot. Of course, it might be nothing fancier than Lucky Charms or buttered toast, but Nellie couldn’t remember any man ever cooking anything for her, not even her own father when she went to visit him as a child. Where Nellie came from, the kitchen belonged to the women. The men could have the barbeque for steaks and such, but real cooking was done by the fairer sex.
She snorted at the thought. When it came to “fairer,” Jack Darby would have to be included. Damned if the man wasn’t as pretty as a Texas bluebonnet. Okay, not pretty, but definitely easy on the eyes.
She slid languidly out of the bed thinking her initial impression of the room last night was spot on. Modern, chic and elegant. The chocolate-and-gold-striped walls and billowing curtains were masculine without the gross special effects often found in Texas bachelor pads—beer signs, trophy bucks and pictures of fish. Modern furniture furnished the room and was personalized by framed family photos.
Nellie padded into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an old T-shirt of Jack’s emblazoned with Fishermen Use Their Poles across the faded front. She propped her fists on her hips and studied Jack as he raced from the six-burner stovetop to the Sub-zero fridge, balancing a carton of eggs and a quart of milk atop a huge tub of butter.
The carton of eggs popped open and two brown bombs hit the stone floor in rapid succession.
“Shit!” he muttered under his breath, trying to toe open the fridge door and close the carton at the same time. Nellie wanted to laugh, but the smoke rolling up from the frying pan atop the stove set her in motion.
“Ah, hell!” Jack said, slamming the tub and carton on t
he granite countertop. Before he could reach for the handle of the pan, Nellie beat him to it, setting it on a back burner and turning the flame off.
They both stared at the blackened lumps still smoking in the pan.
She couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “What was that supposed to be?”
Jack ran a hand through his dark hair, unintentionally ruffling it and making him appear bed-rumpled sexy. He sighed. “Well, it was supposed to be French toast.”
Nellie slipped her arms about his middle and gave him a squeeze. “Nice try.”
“Look, I really can make French toast. Any idiot can. It’s just been a while since I had anybody over. You know, since I needed to fix something like breakfast.”
Nellie smiled. Well, that said something. Perhaps Mr. Playboy Vegas wasn’t the Lothario she thought him to be. Suddenly she felt like dancing. Or singing. Or maybe just fixing breakfast.
“That’s okay. Tell you what. You go clean up those eggs and I’ll whip us up some breakfast.”
Jack crossed his arms and cocked his head. His blue eyes twinkled despite the frown he shot her way. “Why do I get cleanup duty?”
“’Cause you made the mess,” she quipped, scooping up the sizzling pan and looking for the trash disposal. “Plus, after you clean up the eggs, you can go relax with the paper or something.”
“Deal,” Jack declared, dropping a kiss on her hair.
Nellie set to work, keenly aware of how good it felt to be cooking breakfast in Jack’s kitchen. It surprised her at how comfortable she was. She could almost pretend it was a normal day—that she poured coffee for him every morning, fussed over the burnt mess stuck in the frying pan, and arranged his eggs and bacon into a smiley face and delivered it to him with a kiss.
Nellie shook her head. Stop with the fantasies, Nell. Are you deranged? Remember, this is a fling! What you feel is not real. You’re Elle, not Nellie. Get real, sister.
Shoving her dreams of domestic bliss aside, she assembled a simple but yummy breakfast. She found cream-colored stoneware in the cupboard, dished up steaming scrambled eggs with sausage, wheat toast and sliced cantaloupe she found in a plastic container in the fridge, and delivered it to Jack with a kiss.
She added the kiss just to spite herself.
He slid one hand under her T-shirt and gave her naked bottom a squeeze. “This looks almost as good as you. Where did a Dallas businesswoman like you learn to cook like this?”
Nellie ignored the fact she wasn’t a businesswoman and drawled, “Why, I’m a Southern girl, sugar. We live to serve our men. And put meat on their bones.”
Jack pulled her into his lap. “Oh, you live to serve your man, do you?” He nuzzled the side of her neck, nipping his way up to the sensitive shell of her ear.
She laughed. “You’re a bad boy, Jack Darby.”
He kissed along her jawline. “You’re damn right.”
He gave her a smacking kiss and set her on her feet. “Now let me get to my breakfast, woman.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she fetched her own plate and filled her coffee mug, then returned to the table to watch Jack enjoy the breakfast she’d made him. He ate with gusto, not that she’d expect any less. After all, in her limited experience, he seemed to do everything with intent, enthusiasm and passion. And since that included the bedroom, she considered herself pretty lucky. At least for two more days.
Jack munched his toast thoughtfully, watching Elle as she shoveled the steaming eggs into her mouth.
God, he was lucky. Not only was Elle hotter than a two-dollar pistol, but she could cook.
She had toppled into his life like a sexy Texas angel, delivering him from his self-imposed funk. Making him want to smile, want to live big, want to sneak kisses in elevators, dream about wide-open skies. Making him feel that love was possible.
He wondered yet again about his father’s declaration about the right woman coming along and slamming into him like an out-of-control freight train.
Would his world ever be the same?
Was Elle the right girl?
She looked at him with eyes that were windows into her soul. It was as if he could see her every thought—the longing, the hope, the excitement, the fear, the resignation. Was she as scared as he was? Did she feel the same way?
He needed to play this cool. No need to rush her, scare her. They had time. These past few days were only the beginning. Dallas wasn’t far, and he had plenty of frequent-flier miles. He’d be in Texas on a regular basis with the ranch venture, anyway. He knew their blossoming relationship was meant to be.
“What do you want to do today?”
A furrow emerged between Elle’s eyes. “Gosh, I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean, I probably need to get going. I’m sure Kate’s got something planned. She always does, and since I’ve been…occupied lately, I should hang out with her.”
“Oh, so that’s what you call this…occupying time?”
Elle’s cheeks flushed yet again. She did that so easily. Man, she was cute. Jack wanted her for himself. All day. All night. And every moment in between. But he understood. Maybe he could figure out a way to share her. “Well, if you have plans…”
Elle set her coffee mug down. Her eyes focused on the swirls of cream clouding the surface. “Let me call Kate and we’ll go from there.”
“Wait—why don’t you see if your friends want to come over here?”
“Over here?” Elle jerked her cup, causing coffee to slosh over the rim. She darted to the counter and ripped a few paper towels off the roll.
“We could have a get-together…a cookout,” Jack said, lifting one shoulder to send a “no big deal” vibe even as he silently prayed for her to agree.
“A cookout?” Elle swiped the spill from the glass table.
“Are you a parrot?” Jack laughed. “I thought maybe we could grill the chicken we never got around to grilling last night. Then maybe swim, drink Coronas, or whatever.”
Jack watched Elle’s wheels turn. He could see her weighing the pros and cons, wanting to be fair to her friends but still be with him. Jack thought the cookout was a pretty good idea. He would be able to finally meet Kate, learn more about the real Elle Hughes. That was, if she agreed to it.
“Okay, that sounds fun. Let me call Kate and make sure she doesn’t have some big deal planned for today. She’s usually up for a good time.”
Jack lifted his hand and gestured her to go ahead.
“My phone’s upstairs.” Elle slid from the chair and he tried not to watch her as she walked out of the room. Shit. If she happened to glance back, she would see the naked hope in his eyes. Jack smacked his head as she disappeared around the corner. When had he become such a putz?
He cleared the dishes, loaded them into the washer, and poured himself another cup of coffee. He stared out at his back patio to see Dutch digging in a flower bed.
“Okay.”
Jack jumped at the sound of Elle’s voice behind him.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” she asked, rubbing his shoulder tentatively as if she were unsure about touching him in such a possessive manner.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered.
“Huh?” she asked as he turned and took her in his arms.
“Nothing,” he answered, hauling her against him and delivering a kiss on her delicious lips. She tasted like coffee and sex so he deepened the kiss. When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing heavily.
“Let’s not start something we can’t finish,” she said against his shoulder.
“Who says we can’t finish it?”
“Me.” She gave him a playful push. “I’ve got to go back to the hotel, change, grab my suit and stuff.”
Jack allowed himself to be pushed back, but not before he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve been having a good time, Elle.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, watching his hand cradling hers. “I didn’t know I would feel so… I mean…”
; Her eyes caught his, held his gaze. He could see her searching for the right words. The moment was so tender, so poignant, yet he knew the words would be left unsaid, hovering just out of reach. It was all too strange for both of them.
Elle laughed. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.”
He returned her laugh, wanting to tell her he felt the same way, that his life was spinning out of control. But the moment had been broken. “So, just how many friends are you bringing this afternoon?
“Three others to be exact. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” he said as he steered her from the kitchen toward the stairway. “I’ll ask a few friends over to even out the numbers.”
“Good. I told Kate there’d be some hot guys. I have to dangle a carrot.”
Jack tugged her up the stairs. “Hello. Hot guy? What am I? Chopped liver?”
She scampered a few steps ahead of him and turned, jutting her hip out. “And so humble too.”
He leered. He could see straight up the T-shirt that brushed her mid-thigh. The view was awesome.
Elle squealed and scrambled to the top of the stairway. He was right behind her. He figured she probably needed help getting dressed. Or something.
CHAPTER TEN
A fool and his liquor are soon parted.
—Grandmother Tucker after Uncle Vergie upchucked his bourbon onto the kitchen floor at the family reunion.
“ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN there are going to be hot guys here?” Kate inquired, bouncing up the steps to Jack’s Mediterranean-style house. Her short ebony locks curled around her face—a nice change from the jarring blue-streaked spikes the day before.
“Well, coming from someone who snagged a guy from Jack’s softball game and couldn’t stop raving about the way he scorched her eyes, I would say there’s a good chance,” Nellie replied, juggling the bottles Kate had insisted on bringing.“Here, girl. Let me help you.” Trish took two of the bottles containing bright liquids. Kate had been adamant they bring the makings for martinis. Several different kinds of martinis.