From the corner of his eye, Blake glanced up to the second floor window across the street. The blinds flipped closed, and he let out a deep sigh. For a moment, he’d felt her gaze all over his body. Back in the day, he’d been able to feel her gaze slipping over his skin, lifting goose bumps. A long, long time had passed since he’d felt that burn. Maybe he’d just been imagining the sensation now. Sherry had made it plain she was over him.
“Benny, you send the mayor our request to hold a fundraiser?” he asked his sergeant. Didn’t matter it was his job to interface with the city. Regarding the mayor’s office, he just didn’t have the stomach to pretend Sherry was a stranger. He couldn’t keep it strictly business.
“Yeah, boss. That dragon of a secretary said she’d pass the word. I told her it’s a good time, that the public would enjoy it. Sure could use the money we’d rake in with the spaghetti dinner.”
Blake pursed his lips. They needed the funds to send the new volunteers for training in San Antonio. Perhaps he should deliver the request in person. Make sure that secretary of hers was giving her all of his messages. “I’ll follow up with the mayor,” he said, eyes narrowing.
Benny’s lips pressed into a thin line.
He was trying to hold back a smile. Likely thought the cool weather between him and his wife was just their latest tiff. Benny hadn’t been there the last time things went sideways.
“You let her slide down your pole?” Sherry had said, her tone low and deadly.
“You make it sound like she was sliding on this pole,” he said, cupping his dick. “She’s a reporter. Maybe she wanted her Bridget Jones moment.”
Her arms crossed over her chest. “She was in a dress. Did you stand at the bottom of the pole?”
He’d made the mistake of shrugging—something that made her nostrils flare like a bull’s when a toreador’s cape flapped. “It was her first time. I couldn’t have her injuring herself.”
Sherry’s face had been beet red, not a pretty color with her red hair. And her gray eyes had screwed up so tight they’d looked like shiny silver daggers as she’d glared. That’s when he’d had his first inkling that she was really angry. Not you didn’t put your underwear in the laundry basket mad, but furious. Over Lois Freely.
Didn’t she know her type was the last he’d be interested in? Selfishly ambitious—and she’d been rude to Benny, probably because Benny couldn’t leave off the cupcakes. No, she’d zoned in on Blake and clung like mosquito for her entire interview. So annoying. He’d come home in one hell of a bad mood only to walk in unprepared to negotiate a minefield of accusations.
What hurt most wasn’t the fact she’d thought he’d looked up the woman’s skirt because he’d wanted to. Looking away had been impossible. Public safety and all. Maybe he shouldn’t have blurted her panties had been pink.
The slap from Sherry’s fingers had stung his cheek. Then they’d both stared, holding their breath because they’d never gotten violent before. Not once.
For Blake, what stung more was the fact Sherry didn’t trust him. They’d been together since high school, weathered hard times while they’d both put themselves through college, and she didn’t trust that he couldn’t keep his hands off Lois Freely?
He’d been so pissed the day they’d fought he’d left to blow off steam, afraid he’d say something else he shouldn’t because he’d been so mad he couldn’t think. When he’d come back, he discovered the door was locked. And his key didn’t fit the damn Brinks.
Ever since, trying to nail her down to talk had been futile. No one was more stubborn. That should have been her campaign slogan—Vote for Sherry Thacker, the Most Stubborn Woman in Texas.
A voice cleared nearby, dragging him back to the subject at hand—the wet down ceremony.
“Might want to borrow a flak jacket from Josh at the po-lice station,” Benny said, both eyebrows raised high.
“I don’t need Kevlar to talk to my damn wife,” Blake muttered. He glanced down at his chest. He’d just finished tearing apart the old generator the station used during power outages. Grass clung to his skin, and he smelled like gasoline. “I’m showering first.”
The tone for a fire truck and ambulance sounded over the loud speakers, followed by the digitized dispatcher providing the address. Blake shook out his shirt and tugged it quickly over his head. “Get to the watch desk, Benny. Radio me when you have more details.”
Time to suit up. Talking to the mayor would have to wait until later. Truth was, he’d rather be swinging an axe to vent a roof on a burning building than face Sherry across her big wooden desk. Sherry in a snit was definitely scarier.
Each time he worked himself up to the point he could keep calm enough to be in the same room with her, he was set off by something she said or did. Not that he ignited like a blow torch. But something inside would begin to burn, and all his anger and sorrow, all his loneliness, would coalesce and he couldn’t keep cool, couldn’t keep his neck from getting hot. He’d stand there, fists curling at his sides because all he wanted to do was charge around that monstrous desk and pluck her from her chair to give her a hard kiss.
If he ever let it get to that, there’d be no stopping him from reaching under her skirt to scrape away her panties. In the blink of an eye, he’d be balls deep. And she’d like it. He knew she’d like it. She always had. Swore she wanted him rough and raw. Always.
Hurt burned an ulcer in his belly. He glanced up at her shuttered window as the engine pulled out of the station.
Well, baby, I’m still here.
Chapter Two
“Yoo-hoo! Madam Mayor!”
Sherry rolled her eyes. No one in Caldera called her that. She was Sherry or Miz Thacker. For some reason, Lois Freely couldn’t manage to call her either. Was it because calling her Sherry would humanize her? Or calling her Miz Thacker would mean she’d have to acknowledge the man she’d shown her pink panties to was married?
Sherry slowed her pace to a jog, then halted. She removed her ear buds, taking her time in turning off her iPod while she fought to catch her breath. When she turned, she wished she’d pretended she hadn’t heard the other woman. Sure, Lois was dressed casually, but the snug fit of her dark jeans and snap-button Western shirt emphasized her sleek body. Her blonde hair was artfully shaggy and fell to her shoulders. Her startling blue eyes appeared to be makeup free, but that was simply a testament to how good she was at waving a makeup wand. Or maybe it was her youth. Beside her, Sherry felt pudgy and frumpy—and old. And her face was red because she’d just run a mile to take the extra inch or two off her ass she’d gained since the breakup.
“How can I help you, Lois?” Better to address her as she might a child, rather than with her adult title. She’d keep the higher ground.
Lois smiled. “I wanted to thank you for giving me a heads-up about the wet down. I had to move a couple of things around on my schedule, but if you want to be safe, Saturdays work best.”
Sherry made a real “note to self” to make sure the wet down happened on a Friday. “The fire department will appreciate the coverage.”
“Yes, Chief Thacker is hoping for big attendance. He mentioned they’d be using the funds they get to send new recruits to firefighter school.”
Sherry wondered if the woman would call Blake “chief” when he had her bent over the back seat of his dualie. The thought made Sherry’s ears steam.
But somehow, she couldn’t imagine they’d already slept together. Blake had enough integrity to wait until things had officially ended between them. Besides, Caldera was a conservative town; one couldn’t get a speeding ticket without everyone knowing. And she hadn’t heard a whisper about Blake and this woman-child.
Wait a minute—she hadn’t yet given Blake formal approval to even hold the ceremony. What was he doing already talking to Lois about it? Did he just assume Sherry would add it to the community calendar, post-haste, because he was the one doing the asking? Did he think he was the only one with an important job, or that sh
e didn’t have anything better to do than coordinate his little ceremony?
Sherry took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Was there something else you needed?”
Lois blushed and fiddled with her hair. “Well, I was hoping, seeing as how you and the chief are..um…separated…whether you might be interested in having dinner with me?”
Sherry blinked. Was the woman that completely brazen? What would be the purpose? Did she want to make nice and assure her she’d take good care of Blake? Or did she want to make sure the breakup was permanent so she didn’t step on any toes? If she’d been waffling before, Sherry was sure as shit delivering those papers that freaking afternoon.
Didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about the woman’s motives. Blake might need a warning if Lois was boiling bunnies in his stove pot. “Sure,” she said, giving a fake smile. “Just call my secretary. She’ll clear my calendar.”
Lois’s smile broadened. “That’s…great. Thanks.” She backed up and gave a little wave.
Watching the reporter leave, Sherry had the fleeting thought it was too bad the woman was seducing her husband away, because for a moment there, she’d seemed vulnerable and sweet.
Sherry glanced at her watch and cussed. Martha had her down for a late-morning coffee with the local health clinic’s administrator. But right after that, she’d be marching into Blake’s office with those papers. No use stalling any longer. Lois had her sights set on her man. How could a twenty-nine-year-old with cellulite on her thighs fight all that youthful skinniness?
Sherry let her shoulders droop and turned on the hill to walk back home. One mile wouldn’t counteract a dozen doughnuts and a gallon of creamy delight. Hell, she didn’t like running anyway.
A car horn sounded behind her, and although she had the urge to raise her hand and give the driver the bird, she refrained. Mayors didn’t use their middle fingers.
Instead of passing her as she expected, she saw the vehicle slow. She swung her head and her gaze locked with Blake’s through the window of his big black truck.
He pointed his head toward the hill. “Lose your juice?”
She snorted. “I have plenty of juice. But I have a meeting, so I decided to head back.”
“Can’t be all that urgent,” he murmured, “or you’d at least be jogging.”
She lifted her chin. “It’s called a cool down. I can hardly get into the shower if I’m still sweating.”
“But you could jump into my truck. I’ll crank up the AC…”
The offer sure was tempting. She had a mile to walk. This would give her time to hit the drive thru at the doughnut shop on her the way to City Hall. And wasn’t it about time they started acting civil toward each other? She halted. “All right. A lift to my door.”
“That’s all I’m offering,” he said, opening his hands.
She walked around his truck and climbed up into the cab.
“Unless…”
She shot him a glance, but he wasn’t looking at her. His lips were pursed, as though he was thinking through a problem. “Unless, what?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
He blew out a quick breath that made his cheeks billow. “Well… unless you’re horny. We’re two adults. Free agents, right? We could help each other out.”
She shivered. But was her reaction shock or delight? What he suggested was a slippery slope she’d never slide down. “Thank you for the offer, but all I need is a shower.” His eyebrows did that sexy little waggle that almost made her smile.
“Might distract you from stopping at Donuts 2 Go on the way to work. I’d hate for you to waste all the effort you made with your morning run.”
“And you’re just offerin’ to give me a little something to kickstart my day out of the goodness of your little ole heart?” she asked, coating her Texas drawl with extra honey.
“Sure,” he said cheerfully. “We could look at this like it’s the start of a new phase of our relationship. You know, friends with benefits…”
Sherry thought about the dinner date she’d just made with Blake’s soon-to-be girlfriend. Although she knew it didn’t paint her in a good light, she rather liked the thought of sneaking one in before Lois got her claws fully into Blake. “Why not?” she said, fighting not to gasp because suddenly her breaths felt a little constricted. “We’re adults.”
His hands re-gripped his steering wheel, and he straightened in his seat. She guessed he hadn’t expected her to say yes.
Blake was usually faithful to the speed limit, but Sherry didn’t complain as he jammed on the gas pedal.
Blake couldn’t believe she’d agreed. He’d thrown it out there as a tease, half-expecting her to get her back up and flash him a little fire. Anger was better than indifference. But this… whatever it was…was even better.
For weeks, he’d lived in blue-ball hell, unwilling to relieve himself because he’d known she wouldn’t. If they didn’t share a bed, at least they’d share the same discomfort. Besides, even using his hand felt like cheating. Unless she approved or participated, he wasn’t going to masturbate. The only satisfaction he’d had for weeks happened while he slept, which might make getting a grip on his arousal tough.
“Still on the pill?” he asked.
“You don’t need to worry about a condom. Should I?”
He knew she was asking whether he’d had another partner since they’d split. “No, baby. You’ve got nothing to fear.”
She sniffed. “Good, I hate anything between me and my meat.”
A laugh caught him by surprise. He remembered the first time she’d said that, in their first year of college. They’d been lying side by side, their faces beside each other’s genitals, and she’d been licking him up and down like an ice cream cone.
He’d laughed so hard he’d lost a little starch. Not so now. A glance beside him revealed her blush and a small, smug smile. Whatever their future held, he hoped she’d remember there had been plenty of laughter along the way.
He pulled into her driveway and climbed out slowly to follow her inside, half-expecting her to change her mind and slam the door in his face. But she kept it open and made her way through the house, up the staircase, losing her clothes along the way.
Prompted by her obvious need for speed, he began stripping, too, leaving items in a trail to their bedroom.
Her bedroom, he amended a moment later. His things no longer cluttered his bedside table. His photograph was no longer prominent on hers. But he didn’t slow, didn’t let her know he’d been sidetracked. The last thing he wanted was to put a damper on the moment.
Not now when she was naked and pulling back the sheet.
Lord, he’d missed looking at her. Sunlight striped her skin, winking in from the blinds. Except for her red cheeks, her skin was a lovely, unfreckled ivory. Her nipples were a reddish-brown, and went perfectly with the dark red thatch of hair on her mound. She’d trimmed it. His cock bobbed. Who had she been thinking of when she’d done that? Did she have her eye on some other man? Not that he was worried she’d already stepped out on him, because he knew, her being the mayor, the last thing she’d risk was a scandal.
She lay on the bed, propped on her elbows, one brow rising because he wasn’t moving fast enough, wasn’t already on top of her. Sherry never seemed to care much about foreplay. She considered the chase, the capture, to be as much foreplay as she could handle.
Odd for a woman, he supposed, but then, she’d kept him in shape over the years, hiding in closets, running through the house, down the stairs, screeching with delight the moment he snagged her hand or her hair.
“This doing it for you, baby?” he said, arching a brow.
Sherry tossed back her hair. “Look, if all you want to do is talk, I should get ready for work.” She rolled off the bed and sauntered toward the bathroom door.
His cue. A grin stretched slowly across his face as he admired her womanly body.
In the doorway, she paused and gave him a furtive glance over her shoulder, then darted toward
the hall.
The chase was on.
“Some things never change, do they, sweetheart?” he called after her. “You still think you can outrun me?”
“Have to catch me before you get some,” she sang over her shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time, her long legs looking clumsy as hell, but still managing the feat without slowing.
Lord, he’d missed this. Holding back just so he could watch her expression as she flashed him smiles, so intense, so hell-bent on winning. He loved to watch her soft, abundant ass jiggle as she fled. If she’d had a clue what fascinated him about that view, she’d have been embarrassed.
She cut toward the kitchen, her arms windmilling and nearly clipping the vase on the sideboard. But she was giggling.
The sound was infectious, and he couldn’t help grinning as he picked up the pace, looking for just the right moment, just the right place to pounce. He caught her in the dining room, snagging an arm, then clamping his fingers around both wrists and bringing them behind her back. He forced her toward the mahogany table, then raised her arms behind her.
She folded over the edge of the wood, her breasts spreading, the sides visible from above.
“Gotcha now,” he said softly.
“So, you won. What are you going to do to me now?” Her feet inched apart.
He could see her pussy, shiny with moisture, the lower part of her labia completely free of hair and reddening.
Keeping her wrists locked in one of his hands, he bent behind her and ran his fingers along her folds, then ducked down and followed with his tongue, surprising a moan from her. Unable to resist, he pointed his tongue and fucked her with it while he rubbed her clit. Lord, he’d missed her taste, the slick feel of her sex.
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