Candidate For Love (Classic Romance Collection Book 2)

by Lita Lawson

  Crossing his swarthy arms across his apron-covered chest, Duke turned to Christine. “I work with the local neighborhood here. As you can tell, it’s not the best part of town. But for the most part, the people are good, hard-working folk. Some have had bad hands dealt them. Others just never had the gumption to want more than they’d grown up with. They just accepted it as their lot in life and stayed here.”

  When he paused, Christine nodded at him to continue.

  “I work with the church and homeless shelter around the corner, trying to help people who are ready to take the next step to help themselves or let others help them. Depending on how they look at it. Sometimes pride can get in a person’s way.”

  Warming to the subject, Duke went on. “I’m going to hold a fundraiser here at my place on Friday night. We’ve got a local band donating their time, and we’re selling spaghetti dinners to raise money. There’s a family here in town. Their kid got burned up pretty bad in a fire at his grandmother’s house. Everyone survived, but he’s gonna need lots of surgeries. They don’t have any insurance to pay for the operations, so we’re doing what we can to help them out.”

  Christine nodded, leaning forward with interest. “That sounds like a very good cause. Has the local paper covered this story?”

  “Nah. This is just a neighborhood event.”

  “I think I could help out, if you don’t mind.”

  Duke’s face lit up. “You really mean that?”

  “I could get a friend I know at the newspaper to do a local color story on it. And I’m on the hospital foundation board. I’ll have to see if there’s anything I can work out there.”

  “Oh, Christine.” Duke lunged out of his chair to shake her hand, pumping it longer than necessary. “That is so great!”

  “No problem. I always love to help out a good cause.”

  “Will you come to the event? There’ll be plenty of people here you can meet.”

  “I guess I could.” Christine glanced at JT.

  “Let me run back to the office, and I’ll get you a copy of the info I put together. It’s nothing much, but it will give you the details.”

  “Okay.” Christine smiled before she took another bite of her burger.

  When Duke returned and handed her the paper, JT asked, “Does this mean the woman can eat the rest of her meal in peace?”

  “Absolutely. She can do anything she wants.” Duke slapped JT on the back and returned to the kitchen.

  JT focused on finishing his own meal. The one good thing that Duke had achieved was providing JT another evening to spend with Christine, watching over her.

  Chapter 7

  The rest of the week went by in a whirlwind. Christine had several functions to speak at, the usual local civic and senior citizen groups. Nothing she hadn’t done before. The one event she was looking forward to was the Friday evening benefit for the child who had suffered burns. Her heart ached at the pain he and his family must be going through.

  She had contacted several of the hospital board members and discussed it with them. As she waited for a callback for any way they might help, the only thing now on her mind was what to wear. And would JT notice her as a woman? She was sure she wasn’t his type. A mother with a kid would surely cramp JT’s style.

  When they’d had dinner with Maddie and Nate at Duke’s, she hadn’t been able to tell by the closed expression on JT’s face whether he was angry at his foster parent for bothering her about helping his cause, or whether JT didn’t want her to be somewhere he planned on being.

  One thing she was sure of—she wasn’t going to be some ditzy blonde throwing herself at him. If he didn’t want to kiss her, that was fine by her. She was going to be there to help out a worthy cause. It just would have felt good to find that she was still attractive to men, especially someone as sexy as JT.

  All she had to do was figure out what to wear. Half the clothes in her closet were tossed haphazardly across her bed. Everything she owned seemed either too dressy or just plain boring.

  Settling on a pair of jeans and a green Marshall University T-shirt, she slipped on a pair of penny loafers and headed out. As luck would have it, Tad had stopped by on one of his rare visits and said he would take Sammy to spend the weekend with him. Had she not had something already planned for the evening, she probably would have spent it watching an old movie and feeling sorry for herself.

  Deciding to divorce Tad after his infidelity had been easy, but she’d agonized over putting Sammy through a divorce and separation from his father. But her world had been shattered, and she couldn’t continue to live with a man who had broken their vows. She had known Tad all her life and never once suspected him of being capable of doing such a thing. But he had, in a big way.

  As she drove to Duke’s, Christine thanked her lucky stars that at least Tad had blown into town and remembered he had a son he should spend time with. Sammy’s face had lit up at his father’s unexpected visit, and that fact made it easier for her to be around Tad. Negotiating the divorce and custody was rough, but with Tad living in DC half the time, no judge would give him full custody, no matter how many political favors he called in.

  She parked her car in Duke’s lot and headed toward the entryway. Laughter filtered out from the diner, and her spirits lifted. Helping others—especially children—always made her feel better.

  Her contact at the newspaper had come through with a small article about the child’s medical problems and tonight’s fundraiser. Apparently it had worked, because available parking was almost nonexistent.

  A young couple with a set of twins preceded her in the door. Christine paid the $10 donation to enter. The laughter was louder inside, part of it due to a man dressed like a hobo who was making balloon animals and entertaining the crowd. A lot of families were there. Christine glanced around for a familiar face and saw none.

  Edging her way to the bar, she slid onto a vacant stool. Accustomed to fitting in and knowing someone wherever she went, she found she was nervous here, a little out of place. As she looked around the packed restaurant, a familiar voice said, “Hey.”

  “Hey to you too, JT,” she replied, wishing she had a better comeback than that. “Looks like this ought to raise some money tonight.”

  “Sure does.” His gaze slid to the balloon man. “Thanks for getting that guy to write an article. I think it helped. There’s a lot of people here I don’t recognize from the neighborhood.”

  “That makes two of us. Besides your foster parents, I only know you.” Christine kept scanning the crowd, hoping to find Maddie and Nate. She was afraid with JT having grown up in the area and knowing the locals, she’d be alone again.

  “That’s not such a bad thing, is it?” His eyes were hooded as he looked at her.

  His hair was loose tonight, not encumbered by his ponytail band. Dressed in monochromatic black jeans and T-shirt, he fit in here. She was aware of his body heat, the musky scent of him, and the fact that he was a pure USDA Prime-grade male.

  “No, that’s not a bad thing at all,” she replied as she held his gaze. Christine felt her throat tighten and a slight shiver skitter up her spine. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall under his spell. She found herself drawn to his rebel look—dark, mysterious, and sexy as sin.

  She swallowed hard, a small noise within her throat that she hoped was drowned out by the crowd around them, but she didn’t break their gaze. A part of her wanted him to make a move. Maybe she should live it up a little, step outside her comfort zone and take a walk on the wild side.

  Just as she thought JT shifted slightly toward her, the moment was broken by a burly man wearing a black leather vest that revealed large tattooed biceps.

  “Yo, is that my man, JT?” Gold rings adorned his thick fingers as they clasped JT’s shoulders.

  “Hey, Tasmanian!” JT’s face lit up. “Long time, no see, man!” They shook hands.

  “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  “Been here about a month. Bee
n away too long and needed to get back to my roots. See the folks.” JT tilted his head toward the kitchen and turned to Christine. “Taz, I’d like you to meet Christine Yeager. Christine, Taz.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Christine was a little nervous offering her hand to the big man, afraid it might get crushed in his grasp. Instead, she was surprised by how gentle his grip was, almost like he was afraid he would hurt her. His full face was surrounded by a riot of brown curls that hung to his shoulders.

  “Ma’am,” he said, nodding his head in a mock bow.

  “Taz and I go way back to elementary school. He used to beat me up routinely until I put a stop to it.” JT laughed at the memory.

  Taz patted his large belly that hung over his belt. “Yeah, he played unfair. He used to bring me a package of cupcakes or donuts. How could I beat him up then?” Taz moved to the side, and behind him appeared a diminutive woman with cropped bright red hair. “Remember Rosita?”

  “Sure do,” JT said with a big smile.

  “She’s my lady now.” Taz beamed down lovingly at the woman whose height didn’t quite reach his shoulders.

  “Congratulations, man. When did that happen?” JT slapped Taz on the back and shook Rosita’s hand.

  “A couple of years back. Had the full pomp-and-ceremony service. There had to be at least a hundred bikes in the procession.”

  Christine had never heard of such a thing. “You’re talking about your wedding?” she asked, feeling foolish for not knowing what they meant.

  “Yeah,” Taz said. “When bikers get married, it’s tradition. All the other members and their ladies show up and drive up and down in front of the ceremony. We had ours at Rosita’s folks’ house.”

  “I didn’t realize . . .” Christine trailed off, feeling stupid.

  “Hey, I gotta help Rosita find her folks. I’m guarding the donation money at the door.”

  “I couldn’t think of a better person to do that,” JT replied, his hand sliding behind Christine on the bar.

  “Yeah, right, except maybe you.” Taz winked and led Rosita through the crowd.

  Too aware of JT’s arm behind her, Christine asked, “You bribed your way out of beatings?”

  “Promise not to let my secret out?” JT looked a little sheepish. “I was still pretty scrawny back then.”

  “So, when did you fill out . . . uh . . . or build up?” She stumbled over her words and felt herself blushing.

  “It’s called ‘bulking up.’ I got into weight training in a big way. It helped build my confidence, plus gave me the strength I needed to survive in the neighborhood.”

  “I can’t imagine you not having confidence.” Christine was surprised at that since JT was so self-assured and calm. “It just seems impossible.”

  JT inched a little closer to her. “Everything is possible if you put your mind and heart into it. Remember that, Chris.” His finger tilted her chin up, and she looked directly into his eyes.

  “Do you think—” His husky voice trailed off. “Do you think it would be possible for someone like you to ever consider seeing a guy like me?” His hypnotic gaze held hers.

  Now she felt like an awkward teenage girl. Christine’s tongue seemed tied and she sensed butterflies in her stomach. Could it be he was interested in her? It seemed the hunkiest Harley-riding guy in the world was hitting on her.

  What a loaded question. Taking a sip of her drink, Christine took a moment to figure out how she felt. She wasn’t yet divorced. Was she ready to date?

  Suddenly she felt giddy, weightless, all her worries gone in the blink of an eye, rather the blink of JT’s golden-brown eyes. Christine was tired of worrying about everything, what everyone thought, what everyone wanted her to do. Right now, she was sure she wanted to answer JT in such a way that the evening might evolve into one of exploration. But she wanted to sound cool, not like the normal matter-of-fact, rational-thinking Christine Yeager the mother or Christine the mayoral candidate. She wanted to sound like a cool babe that a hot guy like JT would normally hit on.

  Getting into the moment, she leaned a little into him so their shoulders were touching and replied, “Is it possible that a guy like you would be interested in someone like me?” Her stomach curled with anticipation at his answer.

  JT’s hand slid over her arm, resting there. “Most definitely, Chris, most definitely.” With his free hand, he lifted his longneck beer and took a swig. Placing it back on the counter, he said, “I think it’s getting a little crowded in here. Want to take a walk along the river?”

  She placed her hand in his, trustingly and without hesitation, and slid from her stool. As JT stood, their height difference was apparent. She felt like a meadow shadowed by a large tall oak tree.

  Holding her hand, he led the way through the crowded restaurant outside to a wooden boardwalk that ran along the river. A few other couples and some families were taking advantage of the nice weather.

  Christine felt special walking alongside him. It had been so long since a man had shown interest in her. He reaffirmed her womanhood.

  When they reached the edge of the boardwalk, JT lifted Christine onto the large wooden pylon, making their heights equal. She closed her eyes as he smoothed her hair on both sides of her face.

  “Are you sure about this? About me, Christine?” He looked out at the river beyond her and then back at her. “I don’t ever want to be a regret.”

  Frowning, she said, “What would I regret, JT?”

  “You know. I’m not exactly from your neck of the woods, and don’t travel in the same circles. I’m not rich. I’m a fostered orphan who doesn’t know where his parents are, and I’m not exactly the typical conventional guy most women want.”

  She was touched that he was concerned about her and that he’d revealed his insecurities. But not what most women wanted? He was strong, stood up for the underdog, and was sensitive. And he was drop-dead gorgeous. He was a complex, unique man wrapped up in a mystery of leather.

  “JT,” she said as she ran her fingers across his five o’clock shadow and along his strong jawline. “I can vouch for women. You are definitely desirable.” She felt her breath whoosh out at the admission, both to herself and out loud to JT. Normally she was shyer with men, not this open and honest. Something about him, though, made her open up.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he inched closer to her, his legs between her thighs. His lips touched hers, gently, provocatively. Tasting her, testing her.

  Christine willed her breathing to return to normal. She was surrounded by his sensuality, the smell of his leather jacket, his musky scent, the feel of his strong embrace.

  Angling his face to one side, JT deepened the kiss, pressing his lips firmly against hers. The kiss was an eternity of delight.

  Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his thighs and slid her arms underneath his leather jacket. A little tentative at first, she ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the ripple of muscles beneath her touch.

  His beard stubble rubbed against her face, the scratchy sensation feeling as if it branded her as his. She leaned into him, chest to chest, the contact causing her nipples to tighten in arousal. A rush of heat flowed through her and down to the apex of her soul.

  The sound of approaching footsteps caused JT to break their embrace, pulling away from her. He lifted her from her perch and slid her down slowly, inch by inch. Looking into her eyes, he asked, “Do you want to go inside or go somewhere more private?”

  Resisting the urge to gulp, she said, “Let me think about it.” Then she giggled. “Somewhere more private, please.”

  Hand in hand, they walked back to the parking lot where his bike was parked. He helped her get into his leather jacket and buckled the helmet on her for safety. JT straddled the machine, holding it steady while Christine got on behind him. Sliding close to him, she held on tight.

  As they drove out of the parking lot, the evening air rushed past Christine’s face, and she laid her cheek on JT’s shoulder, inhaling
the leather scent. Fantasies surfaced, long buried and forgotten. An excitement she hadn’t felt in years surfaced, causing her heart to race and a thrill to skitter through her chest.

  Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to slide her hands under JT’s jacket, beneath his T-shirt, running her palms along the ripples of his abdomen. Trying to contain herself and not appear easy, she hooked her thumbs in his jeans’ belt loops. A large, warm hand covered hers for a few moments. He felt it too, and relief washed over her.

  The Harley zipped them from the restaurant to a roadside park along the river. JT passed through the parking area, slowed, and followed a narrow opening into a wooded area. A natural green canopy covered them in seclusion. He circled the bike around an old campfire made of stones, with other large boulders and flat rocks surrounding it. Cutting the engine, JT tilted the Harley to a resting spot.

  Instead of dismounting, he turned around to remove the helmet from Christine and hang it on the handlebars. She shook her hair out and watched as his gaze focused on her, his golden eyes hooded. He shifted, straddling the bike backward before pulling her into his arms. They stayed that way for several minutes, him just holding her as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. The sound of the river water gently lapping the shore lulled her to a complete sense of contentment.

  She wanted to stay there forever to savor the moment. His hands slid down to her buttocks, cupping her and pulling her forward on the small seat toward him, until she hooked her legs over his thighs and her pelvis met his arousal. The sensation caused her to gasp as JT lowered his face to hers. And with one kiss, she felt her world spin out of control.

  All of her senses exploded into hypersensitivity. The feel of his lips on hers, the breeze fluttering her hair, the sound of the leaves rustling and birds singing all seemed magnified. But most of all, JT, his nearness, his maleness, his sensuousness all enveloped her in a cocoon of desire. Her body hummed with the awareness of living. She was reborn with every kiss and touch.

  She matched his kiss with the same passion, his touch with no resistance, and his arousal with no inhibitions.