Somewhere in the midst of all that emotion, Rick came, too, straining against her, his breath raspy in her ear. His skin was slick with sweat. So was hers. His heart thundered around them. So did hers.
When his arms wouldn’t hold him any longer, he collapsed on top of her and she held him, her touches gentle on skin that still prickled with reaction. Slowly, she started breathing again and her gaze brought him into focus. Dazed, handsome, heartbreakingly intent as he stared back at her. In his dark eyes, she saw surprise, tenderness, something more than affection, something that touched her heart and raised a lump in her throat.
Then he summoned the strength to move off her, to lie on the mattress beside her, still touching head to toe, and he gave her a wicked smile. “Hot sex, you said. God in heaven, if it had gotten any hotter, you would have killed me.”
She smiled and pressed her lips to his shoulder. “But what a way to go, huh?”
Feeling wanted, needed, satisfied, loved. That was all she’d ever wanted, wasn’t it?
Rick awoke Saturday morning to a warm body snuggled behind him, slow, even breath cooling his shoulder. He hadn’t slept enough, but any sleep lost to sex was worth losing. He thought about making love to Amanda again—he was already half aroused—but it wouldn’t be that easy, because unless she’d developed a taste for canine treats, that was Dancer stretched out behind him.
He pushed back the covers and sat up. The dog snuffled and resettled right in the middle of the bed. Sleeping there was a habit she’d have to break. In fact, sleeping on the bed at all needed to become a thing of the past. He would buy her one of those fancy dog beds and find a nice corner for her.
He dragged his fingers through his hair. Geez, he was thinking like he was going to be a permanent fixture around there. He and Amanda had something special going. But that didn’t automatically translate into permanency. She still didn’t know what he really did for a living. She didn’t know that he was looking to lock up her boss, with whom she was friendly, and God knew who else at the club.
She still didn’t know he was acting a role, and when she found out, she was going to wonder if she’d just been screwed by another Calloway brother.
So he’d have to convince her otherwise.
He located his clothes on the other side of the bed and pulled on his boxers and jeans. After a trip to the bathroom, where he found a new toothbrush on the counter next to the sink, he made himself reasonably presentable, then went looking for Amanda.
He found her in the dining room, wearing a sports bra and leggings that hugged her like a second skin from hip to midcalf. Her hair was pulled back and braided, and she was sitting on the yoga mat, eyes closed, breathing deeply.
“There’s cereal in the cabinet and muffins on the counter in the kitchen,” she murmured, clasping her hands behind her back, then straightening her arms. Still breathing long and slow, she leaned forward and raised her arms high above her back, her forehead an inch above the floor, then sat up and lowered her arms again.
As she repeated the move, he went to the kitchen. The cereal was low-fat, low-taste, and the milk in the refrigerator was one percent. He chose a muffin instead, whole grain, oatmeal, with chunks of wood for fiber. Man, he was going to have to introduce her to the pleasures of Waffle House for breakfast.
When he returned to the dining room, she was still stretching. He sat down on the weight bench, content to watch her and say nothing. The way she moved was incredible. She was more comfortable in her body than anyone he knew.
He’d been pretty damn comfortable there himself.
At last, she turned on the mat to face him. “How’s the muffin?”
“It ain’t no pecan waffle, darlin’.”
“Don’t I know it.” Wistfulness crossed her face, then was gone. “I didn’t expect you up for a few more hours.”
“I wouldn’t be except for the suggestive rubbing against my back and the heavy breathing in my ear.”
She grinned. “You should feel honored. Dancer loves you.”
“Uh-huh. If putting up with Dancer is what it takes to get to be with her mama…”
She came to him, plucking a chunk of the remaining bite of muffin and putting it in her mouth. Foolish woman acted like it tasted good. “Since you didn’t boot Dancer out of bed, you can come take a shower with her mama.”
He let her pull him to his feet and lead the way to the bathroom. “I’d rather try out that tub.”
“Oh, good, I’ve always thought it had possibilities.”
Meaning she hadn’t shared it with anyone else? He liked that.
“By the way, I like the bedroom.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she turned the water on. “Even the wallpaper?”
“Even the wallpaper.” It took a hell of a lot more than fussy wallpaper to threaten his masculinity. And, truthfully, it wasn’t that fussy—just stripes and the wisteria border. If a man had to wake up to flowers every morning, wisteria were better than most.
“When did you find time to do all this?”
She stripped off her bra, then pinned her hair on top of her head. “I didn’t have anything else to do this week. Julia’s lessons were finished and no one was hanging around the parking lot after work to distract me.”
He was so distracted that he could hardly think to respond. “So I’m a charming distraction?”
“I don’t believe I said charming.” She pulled off the leggings and a pair of hot pink bikini panties.
“Last night. You said—” Abruptly he broke off, feeling like an idiot. If she had put last night—at least, part of it—out of her mind, he had no business bringing it up again.
She switched on the Jacuzzi as she matter-of-factly said, “That your brother lacks your charm.” She gave him a head-to-toe look and murmured, “And a whole lot more.”
Just that look made it harder—pun intended—to get his clothes off, but he managed. They got into the tub together, the water warm enough to steam, the jets relaxing. They stretched out, as much as the tub allowed, facing each other, not talking for a long time.
Finally, she broke the silence. “Why do you carry a gun?”
With half a shrug, he parroted her words back to her. “You’ve seen where I live.”
She smiled, but didn’t accept that as an answer.
“I just feel more comfortable with it, working where I work, living where I live. If it makes you feel any better, it’s not to threaten or harass or intimidate anybody unless they’re already threatening me.”
“Isn’t it illegal to carry a concealed weapon in a bar?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.”
“Does Harry know you have it?”
Another shrug. “As long as one of us shows up to work the door, one to tend the bar and at least three of you to dance onstage, Harry doesn’t care about much of anything else out front.”
He touched her breast, half in, half out of the water, and her nipple hardened instantly. “You are an honest person,” he said with a grin. “A rare breed in our business.” Darting his gaze back up to hers, he quickly added, “I’m an honest person, too.”
“If I had any doubts about that, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Good,” he said.
“Good,” she repeated.
After another long, intense look, she shifted to kneel above him, water streaming over her golden skin. “Have you ever made love in a Jacuzzi?” “No.”
“Me, neither. Let’s change that.” Leaning forward, bringing her breasts temptingly close to his mouth, she took a plastic packet from behind the vase of bath beads in the corner.
Rick couldn’t keep from chuckling. “You keep condoms in the bathroom?”
“Of course not,” she said with a haughty shake of her head that would have been more effective if her hair had been free to toss. “Just one, conveniently tucked away this morning while you snoozed with another female.”
“She doesn’t smell nearly as good as you,” he said, nuzzling her b
reast. “And she drools.”
“I won’t drool,” she promised. Then she gave him a lascivious grin. “But I just might howl.”
She did howl.
And so did he.
They talked. They made love again, this time playing in the large glassed-in shower tucked opposite the tub. They let Dancer out and let her in and finally got ready to eat lunch.
Rick stood in front of the refrigerator. He’d heard a lot of jokes about single women stocking only salads, diet pop and ice cream in their refrigerators, while single men had only beer and condiments. But the only time his refrigerator had ever been this bare was the hour between the delivery guys bringing it and him going to the grocery store. Nonfat yogurt, one-percent milk, egg substitute and fat-free salad dressing…what could you do with that?
“I can give you some of my candy bar treats.”
He looked at her, looking entirely too innocent. “Those little one-bite wonders? No, thanks. Unless you want me to start stealing Dancer’s food—” curled on the floor in the doorway, Dancer growled “—I need real food. Do you have a grill? Propane?”
She nodded.
“You actually eat something grilled?”
“Salmon. And zucchini and squash.”
She could have salmon; he would eat steak. “Let’s go to the store. Which one’s closest?”
She told him as he trailed her out the door. She hadn’t bothered putting on makeup yet—when had she had the time?—but it didn’t seem to bother her going out without. And why would it? She was cover-model gorgeous with her naked skin.
The afternoon was sunny and warm with the humidity manageable. It would be a good time to spend three or four hours on the river back home. He couldn’t catch any salmon for her, but he was sure he could land something she would eat.
But they didn’t have time for a trip to Copper Lake and he hadn’t yet convinced her that she might ever want to go. Maybe if he promised her Robbie’s head on a platter.
It was a busy time at the shopping center. He found the closest parking space to the grocery store, only a half-mile hike away, grumbling about it as they walked.
“It’s not even close to a half mile,” Amanda admonished him. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll make you jog to breakfast.”
“Only if it’s Waffle House and I get all-you-can-eat hash browns.”
The interior of the store was cool, the aisles filled with shopping carts, adults and hyped-up kids.
She selected a few items for the cart—zucchini, yellow squash, carrots. He added onions and mushrooms and baking potatoes. She got bagged salad greens, three or four meals’ worth, and he picked out tomatoes and cucumbers. He wasn’t averse to eating salad; he just wanted something to make it good.
She bought wood chip cereal; he bought cheese danishes. She chose caffeine-free diet pop; he wanted the full-calorie high-octane stuff. She picked up vinegar for salad dressing; he got blue cheese with chunks the size of a golf ball.
“We are so incompatible,” she said with a sigh as she steered the cart onto another, less crowded aisle.
“Nah. It’s just that I see food as pleasure and nourishment and you see it as a test of willpower. But I don’t like to drive the cart and you do, so there. Besides, have you forgotten what we did in the shower a while ago? You said it was physically impossible, but we managed, didn’t we? Only two highly compatible people could have pulled that off.”
Her cheeks turned the sweetest shade of crimson that extended down her throat and beneath the rounded neck of her T-shirt. And though the pattern of the shirt made it difficult to tell, he thought he saw the tiny point of an aroused nipple pressing against the cloth.
Laughing, he wrapped his arms around her, spun her around and gave her a smacking kiss on the mouth. “You’re the best time of my life, Amanda. I’m going to be telling you that in grocery stores when I’m eighty-six and you’re a sweet young eighty.”
Another shopper passing by gave them an indulgent smile. So did the granny behind her. The third shopper didn’t pass by. Didn’t smile. Didn’t do anything but stare at them, her mouth all pursed as if she’d sucked hard on a lemon.
Amanda stiffened and dropped her gaze to the basket of the shopping cart, fiddling with the keys hanging from a clip on her purse. Rick looked from her to the older woman and realized who it was. There was no family resemblance—Amanda looked more like her dad in the one picture he’d seen—but this store was less than a mile from Brenda Nelson’s house and was the biggest and best-stocked grocery in the area. The surprise wasn’t that they’d run into her, but that it hadn’t happened before.
“Hey, Mom,” Amanda said, her mouth barely moving.
“Amanda.”
Rick frowned. He liked her name. It sounded sweet and funny and sexy and elegant and cool. But some-how Brenda turned it into three distinct, unforgiving syllables.
“How have you—”
“Are you still working at that place?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you’ve got nothing to say that I want to hear.” Brenda started to push her cart past, but Rick stepped in her way.
“Mrs. Nelson, I’m Rick Calloway, Amanda’s—”
“I know who you are. You think I can forget one single high-and-mighty Calloway? You’re Gerald’s son. Sara’s. Old man Jed’s grandson. My husband, my daughter and I worked for you people, worked hard, and got paid a fraction of what we were worth. Your faulty equipment caused my husband’s accident and when he was paralyzed, when he needed round-the-clock care, your grandfather said, ‘Thanks for the twenty-one years of faithful service and get out of our house.’” She drew a deep, trembling breath. “Oh, I remember the Calloways. I pray every night for them all to rot in hell.”
“Mom, Rick was a kid back then,” Amanda protested. “He had nothing to do with the business.”
Brenda treated him to a scornful examination. “He’s no kid now. Bet he hasn’t done a damn thing to change the way it’s run.”
“I don’t work for the company, Mrs. Nelson.”
“And where do you work?”
It would have been a better idea to let her pass when she tried. But Rick sucked it up and politely said, “Right now I’m tending bar at a club in the area, but I expect that to change before long.”
Brenda laughed. “Tending bar? You’re tending bar at the club where she dances naked? And your mother knows that? Oh, she must be so proud of you! Sara Calloway’s oldest boy serving up drinks at a strip joint.” The humor faded as quickly as it had come. “You two are a perfect fit. Trash and garbage.”
She eased her cart forward and Rick moved to the side to let her pass. He watched until she was out of sight around the corner, then sighed. “Damn. That’s one angry, bitter woman.”
“You didn’t pick up on that when I talked about her?” Amanda responded wryly. “I must have been too subtle.”
She pushed the cart a few yards farther down the aisle, stopping in front of the condom display. As she studied the choices, he reached past her for a box of his favorite brand.
“Running into your mother in general counts as bad luck,” he said, “but it could have been worse. She could have caught us here instead.”
She picked a box of her favorite brand and tossed it in beside his. As she moved slowly toward the front of the store and the checkout, she casually asked, “What kind of job change are you thinking about?”
A case ended; another came along. But he couldn’t tell her about that, so he shrugged. “My girl is starting a day job in January. Since her working all day and my working all night isn’t conducive to great sex, I figured I’d change my hours, too.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what, but something about his words seemed to carry a pretty good emotional punch. She wrapped her fingers around his, pulled him closer and hugged him there in the checkout line.
If he could figure out what he’d said, he would say it again.
In private next time.
Chapter 9
She was a little uncomfortable about walking into the dressing room for the first time—not because of Rick, but because of the scene Robbie had caused the night before. The noise coming from there indicated a full house tonight, filled both with regulars and girls who came by only now and then.
“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Eternity asked as soon as she set her duffel down.
“I’m fine.”
“Let me see your arms.”
Amanda dutifully held them out, and Eternity lightly touched the body makeup that made the bruises from Robbie’s fingers virtually disappear. “Good job. Did you know that little putz was Rick’s brother?”
“Yeah.” Amanda grimaced. “Long story.”
“You want to tell it sometime, Eternity will listen.”
She’d already told it to the most important person last night. Amanda thought she might never need to tell it again. Before long, she might never even think of it again.
“Word is, after punching his brother in the jaw, Rick escorted him outside and little brother’s face made contact with the hood of somebody’s car nose-first. Boy’s slow to learn when to keep his mouth shut.”
After she turned six, there’d been no man to defend Amanda. Oh, the bouncers had occasionally pulled a guy away, but they were being paid to do it. And even though Rick had been getting paid, too, it had been personal with him. It had been about her, not the job.
And he’d called her my girl. She was surprised she hadn’t swooned right there in the grocery store. The things he could do to her with nothing more than words…
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