Fall Into Me: Hearts of the South

by Linda Winfree

  If anything Rhonda tightened her grip, digging little half-moons into Angel’s arm. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, if you’re out to make Jim jealous or what, showing up here with that boy, but it won’t work—”

  “I said let go.” Using the technique she’d learned years ago in one of Tick Calvert’s self-defense classes, Angel pressed down hard at Rhonda’s inner elbow, forcing her to release her hold. She backed up a step, gauging the distance to the door. Darn if she was staying here with the crazy bitch. She lowered her voice to the easy, authoritative tone she used with difficult drunks. “I don’t want Jim, Rhonda. I’ve moved on, okay? He’s all yours.”

  Rhonda sniffed, eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

  Sweet Jesus, what had the girl been smoking? Well, Angel had learned a long time ago there was no reasoning with unreasonable drunks, and even though Rhonda seemed sober enough, Angel didn’t plan on wasting her breath.

  With her index finger, she gestured toward the right. “You need to move.”

  Rhonda’s chin lifted. “I’m not moving and you’re not going anywhere until we come to an understanding. Jim is mine.”

  “Yes, he is. He married you, Rhonda. He’s yours. You won’t get an argument from me.”

  Touching her index fingers together then separating them in an arc, Rhonda drew an imaginary line between them. “Then stay away from him.”

  “I—”

  “Hey, Angel!” The door swung open and Nikki Pantone’s enthusiastic greeting saved her from replying. The EMT who worked the shift opposite Jim and Clark breezed into the restroom, effectively separating Rhonda from Angel by hugging Angel’s neck. Nikki wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist and ignored Rhonda. “I’ve been trying to get over to speak to you all night.”

  “Excuse me.” Rhonda flipped back her hair. “We were having a conversation.”

  “No, you were being a bitch.” Nikki delivered the correction in a relaxed tone. She pointed behind Rhonda. “There’s the door. Don’t let it hit you in the ass as you leave.”

  “You—”

  The door opening once more interrupted Rhonda, frustration twisting her pretty features into an unattractive mask. Angel didn’t really need Nikki’s intervention, but she was glad for it and the supportive arm about her waist regardless. The ugliness of the encounter seemed determined to weaken her knees, and the shakiness of aftermath began to set in.

  Tori Calvert stepped into the small room, and Angel swallowed a trembling laugh. Well, darn. Wonder who else had an invitation to this private little get-together?

  “I’m sorry,” Tori said, although she didn’t sound the least apologetic, her dark eyes roving over the trio to light on Angel with something like concern. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No.” Nikki smirked in Rhonda’s direction. “Mrs. Tyre was just leaving.”

  Arms folded over her chest, Rhonda slanted a killing look at all of them, pushed by Tori and stalked out.

  Nikki shook her head as the door closed with a snap. “That bitch has snakes in her head.”

  Tori’s big eyes widened and Angel giggled, although it sounded shaky even to her. God, she adored Nikki, always had, even if she didn’t see her often now that Jim was out of her life. She held onto Nikki, as her knees went watery and her head went dizzy. “I’m glad you showed up.”

  “Oh, you could have taken her.” Nikki sketched a careless gesture. “Although I saw her follow you in and I figured what was happening in here was probably more interesting than trying to convince Chris Parker I’d be a great lay.”

  Again, Tori looked shocked and Angel took pity on her. She disentangled from Nikki’s gently supportive arm. “Behave.”

  Determined to appear unaffected, Angel moved to the sink and ran cold water over her wrists. She glanced up at her reflection, only to find Tori watching her carefully. The younger woman stepped forward but didn’t invade Angel’s space. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She pressed cool fingers to her cheeks. An ironic laugh bubbled from her throat. “She thinks I want Jim back.”

  “She thinks everybody wants Jim.” Nikki rolled her eyes and hopped up on the counter at Angel’s elbow. The already short skirt of her party dress rode up to reveal lace-topped thigh highs. “Hell, she thinks I want Jim. How crazy is that?”

  “Crazy.”

  “He doesn’t realize it yet because he’s all starry-eyed-in-lust, but she’s going to make his life miserable.”

  Angel closed her eyes a second. Oh, hell. She might have to deal with this woman for the rest of her life. Even worse, what might Rhonda be like with Angel’s baby? She shuddered.

  “Angel?” A touch even softer than Tori’s voice drifted over her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “No.” She opened her eyes, meeting Tori’s dark gaze in the mirror. She dredged up a smile from somewhere. “But I will be. Thanks.”

  “We should probably get back out there.” Nikki slipped from the counter, giving them a flash of hot pink panties as she did so. “If Troy Lee finds out she upset you, he’ll go ballistic.”

  Angel snorted. “No, he won’t.”

  “Yes ma’am, he would.” Nikki nodded, long rhinestone earrings swinging wildly. “He’s crazy about you, and he definitely has that wild-boy side that would go nuts if his woman was threatened.”

  “You’re the nut.” Angel exchanged an amused look with Tori, who held the door for them. She surveyed the room, seeking Troy Lee. He stood at the shiny grand piano, deep in conversation with Clark, guitar case at his feet.

  “My God, he’s beautiful. I just want to lick him or something.” Nikki gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m jealous as hell that you’re fucking him.”

  Angel’s laugh covered Tori’s small choking sound. With her tension effectively broken, she hugged Nikki. “Nik, thank you for rescuing me, but go away.”

  Nikki plopped a kiss on her cheek. “Later, sugar.”

  Tori watched her walk away. “Is she always so…?”

  “Yes. Always. What you see is what you get. She’s utterly confident in herself, doesn’t care what anybody thinks, and I love her to death.” Angel crossed her arms over her midriff. Across the ballroom, Clark settled at the piano and Troy Lee unpacked his guitar as Emmett Beck, the young city cop who played bass and fiddle, joined them.

  “Must be nice, to be that secure in oneself.” Tori fiddled with the square-cut diamond ring gracing her left hand. She drew herself up and turned a dazzling smile in Angel’s direction. “Listen, speaking of confidence. About Rhonda…don’t let her get to you. She obviously has insecurity issues and that has nothing whatsoever to do with you.”

  “Wow, you could have fooled me ten minutes ago.”

  “It’s not about you. The insecurity, the problem, whatever it is, lies within her.” Tori’s shoulders moved with a deep breath. “She’s just displacing it and you’re the most convenient target.”

  “That’s reassuring. She doesn’t seem the type to be self-aware enough to deal with it.”

  “I owe you an apology.” A hint of embarrassed desperation tightened Tori’s expression. “Probably you and Mark, both—”

  “What?” Angel shook her head. Lord help her, could this night get worse? She wasn’t standing here, having this conversation with the woman Cookie planned to marry. “No, you don’t. Believe me.”

  Clark rippled his fingers over the keys, and a familiar murmur of anticipation swelled in the room.

  “I do, but now’s not the time or place.” With a light touch, Tori tried to usher her toward the table she and Mark had shared most of the night with the sheriff and his wife. “Come sit with us since Troy Lee’s abandoned you to sing, which by the way, I’ve never heard him do, despite all the good things everyone says about his voice. I’m excited.”

  Angel cast a despairing glance at the table. She had a couple of choices here. She could balk like her granddaddy’s old mule, refuse to go, make a
scene as Troy Lee and Emmett tuned up and the room hushed. Or she could do the graceful thing, put on a smile and pretend sitting with them wouldn’t leave her sick with nerves.

  Darn it all, why did being graceful have to be so damned hard?

  “Come on. They’re getting ready to start.” Like a high-heeled bulldozer, Tori moved her inexorably toward what had to be the second-most place that she didn’t want to be. At least she wasn’t being ushered over to sit with Jim and Rhonda. That was the only thing she could think of that might be worse than this.

  Lord help her.

  She didn’t miss the flare of surprise in Cookie’s eyes as they reached the table and Tori made swift pseudo-introductions. Every nerve in her body stiff and singing with tension, Angel perched on the chair next to Tori’s and tried not to think too hard about the reality before her. At her sides, she clenched her hands around the edges of the wooden chair, hidden by her skirt, and focused her gaze on Troy Lee as he settled onto the end of the piano bench. He strummed opening notes, Clark picking up the melody and Emmett soon joining in with the violin.

  The crowd didn’t exist for them tonight, Angel soon realized, just the music and the joy of it. Troy Lee sang of love and longing and intense desire, of loss and healing and falling. Raw and powerful, his voice swelled to match with Emmett’s violin. With his song, memories flashed in her head—the way he touched her, his insistence that she mattered, the look on his face when he talked about her baby, about their future.

  Certainty shimmered through her, shiny and bright and full of hope. The man singing before her with such emotion and passion, the man she’d been falling into for weeks now…this was the man she’d been waiting for. The right man for her, the one Jim or Cookie or anyone else could never be.

  And he loved her. She hugged that sweet knowledge close. If he loved her as she was, thought she was good enough for him, then darn it, that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She couldn’t keep her hands off him.

  Angel buzzed with it, this pulsing, palpable need that spread throughout her entire body until she was one exposed wire. Standing behind him as he unlocked the door to her house, she wrapped her arms around his waist, rubbing her hands over his abdomen and chest. He fumbled the keys, laughing, as she pressed herself to him and chafed her fingers across hardened male nipples.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he said, finally managing to throw the lock, “but I like it.”

  Inside, she pushed him against the wall the moment the door closed. Biting the tip of her tongue, she attacked the buttons on his dress shirt, craving the feel of his bare skin. He widened his stance and pulled her into him, his hands at her waist.

  “So what did I do to deserve this?” He nibbled his way along her jaw to her ear, the resonation of his voice sending desire down her spine, swirling into the heat already suffusing her belly. He nipped her earlobe. “Tell me so I can do it again.”

  On the fourth button, she fumbled too hard and it tore loose, pinging away on her hardwood floor. His husky laugh growled near her ear. “What is it with you and ripping off my buttons, anyway? Not that I mind, but you’re hell on my wardrobe, Angel baby.”

  His dimple flashed with a lazy smile, and desire smoldered in his blue gaze. She spread her fingers over his chest, his skin hot against her palms, and looked up at him. “I love you.”

  His eyes flared and his lips parted, but no sound emerged. Giddiness bubbled through her, a sparkling flow of sheer happiness. She’d left him speechless and he looked at her like she’d given him the finest gift of his life. The next breath, he crushed her to him, that beautiful mouth of his taking hers in a kiss both ravenous and reverent.

  “Tell me again.” Cradling her face in both hands, he scattered tiny kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her brow. “Say it again so I know I didn’t dream it.”

  “I love you.” She breathed the words into the curve beneath his chin, lifted her head to find his mouth. “I love you.”

  “God, baby. I love you so much it hurts sometimes.” He moved with decisive swiftness, sliding one arm beneath her knees to swing her into his arms.

  She wrapped her arms about his neck, liking how being held high against his chest made her feel dainty and feminine. Cherished. “What are you doing?”

  “Carrying you off to bed.” He angled them through her bedroom door. “Hearing those words from you? That deserves a grand romantic gesture.”

  He set her on her feet by the bed and reached for the tiny hook at her nape. She finished off the buttons on his shirt and tugged the tails free of his slacks before gliding the fine cotton down his arms. He shrugged free of it, the garment whispering to the floor, and slid his fingers over the bare length of her spine to find the series of fabric-covered buttons at the small of her back.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He touched his mouth to hers and smoothed the dress down over her hips. She caught it, stepped free and laid it over the hope chest at the end of the bed while he shucked his pants. Kissing her again, a light series of caresses and nips, he backed her toward the bed, until she sat on the edge. Kneeling before her, he lifted one foot, stroking her ankle before releasing the rhinestone strap there and slipping off the sandal. He pressed a kiss to the side of her arch, one palm curved around her calf, then lifted her other foot to do the same. “So strong.”

  She blinked away a blur of tears and leaned forward to frame his face and pull him up to her. “I don’t know how I didn’t see earlier that you were everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

  “You were blinded by my runner’s physique.” His chuckle murmured over her lips. “Or my sexual prowess, maybe. You know, the endurance.”

  Laughter bubbled up as she hugged him to her and fell back on the bed, the urgency of her need not diminished but somehow tempered by the knowledge that they had forever now. “Probably that twisted sense of humor of yours.”

  On a satisfied groan, he rolled to his side and propped on his elbow. He picked up her hand and pressed his mouth to her palm, kissing each finger. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, how long I’ve wanted this.”

  She trailed a touch down the center line of his chest. “How long?”

  “Since the first time I met you.”

  “When you pulled me over on Highway 3?” That had been forever ago.

  “Yeah.” He laid an open-mouth kiss on the inside of her wrist. “Well, actually, that was probably sexual attraction. You were wearing this great red lipstick and I had a hell of a time concentrating on writing that ticket. There were all these fantasies kicking off in my head, about you—”

  “I can imagine.” She pressed her fist against his stomach in a playful mock punch. The muscles didn’t give.

  “Hey, I am a guy, babe. We think that way, although it’s not great practice during a traffic stop. That’s how cops get killed.” He nibbled at the tender underside of her thumb. “Then Clark introduced me to you at the bar and every time we were playing or hanging out, there you were, all beautiful and funny and smart, and I just got sucked in deeper and deeper.”

  His exhale vibrated between them, traveling over her skin. He rubbed his cheek into her palm.

  “I figured if I waited long enough, Jim would do something stupid—he’s too much of a dumbass not to—and maybe I’d have a chance to get you to see me as something more than the cop who wrote you tickets or the guy who played your bar on weekends. And then he did and as much as I wanted to pound his ass for hurting you, I thought hey, here’s that opportunity you’ve been waiting for. Back off, give her some time, be there when she’s ready.”

  His voice faded into a rough cough, and her heart twisted. Somehow she knew what was coming. “Troy Lee, I—”

  “I just didn’t figure on Cookie being the wild variable in the equation. That night…” A hoarse, humorless laugh lifted his chest. “I turned the corner at the motel, saw him leaving about the second I spotted your car, and I thought I’d d
ie. I’m not a jealous guy normally, but I seriously wanted to kill him. I spent the rest of that shift, and most of the ones for days afterward, driving around, thinking about what had gone on between you two, madly trying to figure out how I could have missed Cookie as the variable. I never expected him to even be in the picture because you were so different from his other women, and I even started wondering if I’d been wrong about the way he looked at Tori Calvert, that maybe he didn’t want her after all, and that I’d lost any chance with you.”

  She closed her eyes at the raw pain in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, baby, don’t be.” He tugged her closer, so her shoulder nestled at his chest, her hip into the cradle of his thighs, his arm a heavy comfort over her waist. “It’s over and done, and one thing I learned for damn sure…you’re too valuable to risk losing. I kept telling myself if I got a chance, one opportunity to have you look at me, I’d make the most of it.”

  “I was right from the start. You are a sweetheart.” She snuggled into him, kissing him, letting the love and passion and hope color the touch of their lips. “And I’m so yours, Troy Lee.”

  “That’s good.” He rested his face against her neck. “Because you own me.”

  “Really?” She pressed her fingertips between his ribs, catching the ticklish spot. He coughed out a laugh and squirmed beneath her marauding hand. “I’ve never owned six feet of man before. Whatever shall I do with you?”

  He captured her wrists and rolled, stretching her arms above her head, looming over her. “Making love to me sounds good.”

  On a soft giggle, she twisted free of his easy hold and rubbed at his shoulders. “It does, doesn’t it?”

  He touched her, skimming his hands over her skin with awed hunger. The emotion resounded in her, finding an answering need in her own heart and body. For long minutes, they put the playful teasing aside, charting one another with hands and lips and tongues.

  “Troy Lee, please.” His name passed her lips on a moan. She arched into him, threading her fingers into his hair as he made her crazy, playing those riffs on responsive flesh between her thighs. “I want you.”