She's No Angel

by Leslie Kelly

  “Now, I didn’t come down here to steal your peaches.” Allie snagged another slice. “We’ve been invited to a party.”

  Emily immediately put the knife down, her eyes wide. “A…party?” She didn’t attend many parties, not in Trouble. Once in a while she took the bus up to visit her brother and his family in Pittsburgh, but as for local socializing, the Saturday night bingo game was about all the excitement she got.

  “Mortimer called a few minutes ago.”

  Emily’s heart picked up its pace. Her hand immediately went to her hair as she wondered how long it had been since she’d had the color touched up or a decent cut.

  “His grandson is home for the weekend and Mortimer has decided he wants to invite a few people over for an impromptu dinner party tomorrow night.”

  A dinner party. At Mortimer Potts’s house. My, oh my.

  She knew Mr. Potts, of course, through Allie. She’d even gone on a trip with all of them to the shore over Fourth of July weekend, to look after Hank while Allie worked. That had been quite a nice holiday. Particularly on one morning when she’d been feeding Hank on the terrace of the suite overlooking the ocean…and someone had joined them for a lovely meal.

  A bit of heat rose in her cheeks just at the memory of it.

  “He said he and Roderick are planning something spectacular and want everyone there by six. There’s room for all of us and the car seat in Damon’s car, so we’ll leave around 5:45, okay?”

  Something suddenly dawned on her and she lowered her eyes. “Yes, of course. But, you know, I don’t mind babysitting Hank here, where he has his own things.”

  Allie frowned, appearing confused, then her jaw dropped. “You think I’m inviting you to come along to babysit?”

  She hadn’t, at first. But it made more sense than the alternative…that she’d be wanted as a guest. After all, what did she have in common with such dashing, world-traveling, noble gentlemen like Mr. Potts and his handsome friend Roderick Ward? She was a small-town down-to-earth woman who’d never lived more than ten miles from where she lived right this very minute and had never spent more than a week away from Trouble at a time. Why on earth would they want anything to do with her? No matter how lovely that summer breakfast on the terrace had been.

  “I can’t believe you thought that.”

  “Well, it makes sense, dear.”

  “Now, get this, you are invited as a guest. I have tons of stuff for Hank at the house. Mr. Potts set up a whole nursery for him when I was living there last fall, remember? He’ll be adorable and everyone will fuss over him, then I’ll put him to bed at seven and we’ll have a lovely evening. Together. Got it?”

  She got it. And had to laugh at Allie’s bossiness. She was playing the part of mother today, the role Emily usually played.

  “Now, do you have something fabulous to wear?”

  “Fabulous? No. Not fabulous.” Though she did have a pretty lilac dress she’d worn to a friend’s grandson’s wedding last spring. It might do. “But perhaps I have something nice.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Allie smacked her peach juice-smeared lips together. “God, you must bring this pie.”

  “If there’s any filling left,” Emily replied tartly.

  Allie ignored that. “Everyone will be so impressed with your baking. And I know you’ll be gorgeous.”

  “Now, that’s silly.” Flustered, she turned back to her peaches, peeling another one. But her hands were shaking, and she made a mess of it, taking away more flesh than peel.

  “Emily, is there something wrong?”

  “No, no, nothing. But being invited to dine with hi…them. It’s unexpected, that’s all.”

  Allie’s grin turned decidedly cheeky. “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yeah. You are.” Allie pressed another kiss on Emily’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll never let Mortimer know you have a crush on him.” Then she strolled out before Emily could protest.

  And protest she would have, because Allie was wrong. Quite wrong. It wasn’t Mortimer Potts who’d earned a little piece of Emily’s heart last month.

  It was his handsome British friend, Roderick Ward.

  JEN DIDN’T KNOW WHICH WAS worse—being tricked and stranded by her aunts for the second day in a row, or having this intense, sexy man witness her humiliation. Again.

  Not that she was so humiliated she’d turn down his offer of a ride. She wasn’t that embarrassed. She’d jumped right in, though she was a lot closer to the houses—and, hopefully, her car—than she had been the previous day. Even with her bandaged feet she could have walked it easily.

  But she didn’t want to. She was still too frustrated—too angry and wound up—to even think about going back there yet. Ida Mae had surely not put her secret key back under the bench and the way Jen was feeling now, she might not be able to restrain herself from pitching a brick through a window.

  Besides, after the crappy time she’d been having lately, she deserved to have a bit of pleasure. And oh, this man could provide some pleasure, of that she had no doubt.

  If he wanted to. If she wanted to let him.

  Who was she kidding? She already wanted to let him. Her panties had grown damp the moment she’d turned around and seen him behind her on the road. And she strongly suspected, judging by the way he’d stared at her bare legs when she’d climbed in beside him that he was interested, too.

  It was too soon. She was twenty-nine years old, well beyond the age when she would even consider having crazy, reckless, no-strings sex. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize about it…or that she hadn’t dreamed about it the night before. Her tangled sheets in Ida Mae’s musty, stiflingly hot guest room had been proof of that.

  “How’d they get you this time?” he asked after they’d driven for a few minutes, heading out of town toward the trio of mountains encircling it. Stark, rocky mountains that didn’t look any more welcoming than Trouble itself.

  “We went out to breakfast to talk.”

  “All three of you?”

  Surprisingly, yes, even Ivy had come along, though only after Ida Mae had talked her out of the basement where she’d apparently been hiding out since last night. “Uh-huh. There was a pancake breakfast at the firehouse that they’ve been talking about all week and I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist.” She sighed, still unable to believe the way they’d duped her. “So I lured them with pancakes and the promise that the firemen would be serving them shirtless.”

  He glanced over, surprise obvious in his eyes. “Aren’t they elderly?”

  They were. But their advancing years hadn’t seemed to affect their libidos. That was one thing Jen sort of regretted about not being a blood relative to the two. “Yeah.”

  He seemed to know she didn’t want to elaborate and obviously didn’t want to know any more, either. “Were the firefighters really shirtless?”

  “No. That part I made up. Which started our breakfast off on a bad note. But it quickly got better when they started eating, especially because Ivy was having a great time pinching the butt of any fireman who walked past her.”

  He smiled. Maybe. A little. “Going fine until…”

  “Until I took out a brochure for the assisted-living center and asked them to just look at it.”

  “Bad move,” he said, shaking his head. “First rule of engagement—don’t let your enemy see your battle plan too soon.”

  How funny that he already knew she considered this a battle. A war. He’d apparently gotten to know her pretty well in their short acquaintance.

  She wished she could say the same. She knew his name and that he lived in New York. Knew he was here visiting his grandfather. Knew that he had a lazy dog. Beyond that, all she knew was that he was devastatingly attractive, grudgingly protective, and unpredictable. She didn’t know when he was going to smile or maybe even laugh…or do something sweet like offer to drive her around the block
so she wouldn’t have to face her aunts. Or help her pick up her things off the muddy ground. Including her shoes.

  An enigma.

  “You should have left that for later. Like when you were in their houses, far from your car, with your keys in your hand and your cell phone set to speed dial 9-1-1 if they got violent.”

  “Do they have 9-1-1 in this town?”

  “I think they have to. Of course, it’ll probably ring eighty times while the town secretary runs over from the diner to answer it.”

  He obviously knew a bit about Trouble, too.

  “I knew it was a bad move to pull out that brochure, but things seemed to be going pretty well. Anyway, Ivy was so upset, she spilled her juice all over herself. Ida glared me straight to hell before dragging her to the ladies’ room to clean her up.”

  Not saying where he was headed, Mike turned off the main road onto a smaller, single-lane one. It was overgrown, with trees untrimmed in a decade hanging across it, nearly creating a tunnel of green. Seeing a sign for a state park, she nodded her agreement. Maybe spending some time with Mother Earth would prevent her from wanting to bury her aunts in it.

  “Let me guess,” he said after a moment, “they ducked out a back door?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Stories like this always end with somebody ducking out the back door. You’re lucky you weren’t in a restaurant where they could stick you with the tab.”

  She scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head. “I hadn’t even realized Ivy stole my wallet until they were gone. I had to write an I.O.U. to the firehouse for three pancake breakfasts before they’d let me leave.”

  Suddenly, he shocked her by bursting into laughter. Not that first rough bark he’d so grudgingly let escape his succulent lips yesterday, or the later ones he’d quickly controlled, but a genuine, heartfelt laugh that he made no effort to disguise.

  That laugh changed everything. Every little thing.

  She stared at him from the passenger seat, seeing the way his dark eyes crinkled…and noticing the flash of a dimple in his right cheek. He looked younger—more approachable, less intense. And while her body had been wanting to have sex with the dark brooder since the first time she’d seen him, the rest of her now responded with warmth and appreciation to the laughing guy who sat beside her.

  Now she didn’t just want to have sex with him. She wanted to get to know him. Wanted to peel back that tough-guy exterior and see more of the inner man.

  Though, of course, peeling off his clothes and seeing the outer man would still be good, too.

  “Well, this is a good place to cool down and relax,” he said as he pulled into a weed-choked parking lot, once flatly graveled, now strewn with dirt and downed tree limbs. “And at least it’s not raining anymore.”

  The park had apparently been forgotten, because despite the huge, peaceful green lake and small sandy beach, the whole area told a tale of abandon. Every picnic bench was broken and warped, the paint gone, bird droppings littering the surfaces. No recent trash marred the ground, no beer bottles from teenagers who came up here to escape prying parental eyes. The vegetation was thick and overgrown, tumbling over the path leading to a dilapidated playground and the one down to the beach. Plus, the place was as quiet as a tomb.

  “I wonder why nobody comes here,” she said softly.

  “How do you know nobody comes here?”

  “Well…look at it.”

  “I have. I found it last winter when I was here visiting.” He cut the ignition and leaned back in his seat, staring out the windshield. “I don’t know if anybody even remembers that it’s here. I came to be alone. To think.”

  To escape. She almost heard the words, though he didn’t say them. She suddenly wondered what he had needed to escape from, suspecting it was his family. From the brief interaction she’d had with Mr. Potts, she suspected he was social, chatty and loved to entertain. Exactly the opposite of his taciturn grandson.

  “It’s a good place for that.” Reaching for the door handle, she said, “I want to look around.”

  “Be careful, the ground’s pretty uneven and wet from the rain.” That stern, serious tone was back, all signs of his laughter evaporating like the raindrops were from the windshield. Mr. Dark and Intense was back. And instead of her heart feeling light and fluttery the way she so ridiculously had when she’d witnessed that devastating smile, she went back to the standard feeling she’d had around this guy since he’d picked her up yesterday: physical want.

  “I just need some air,” she said, stepping outside. She immediately regretted it because though the drizzle had stopped, the air itself seemed composed of pure H2O. The humidity hung like a shroud, and she immediately felt damp. As if she’d been working out at the gym.

  Okay, that was a stretch. She never worked out at the gym. She hated the freaking gym and all the plastic women and obnoxious guys who frequented it. Especially since every man in New York pretty much had a Wanted poster with her face on it. So lately her workouts had been confined to the tread-mill in her apartment, and the pool on the roof of her building.

  She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d also been sticking close to home lately because of the crap she’d been dealing with from her nasty phone caller/letter writer. If he kept tracking down her phone number, he might know where she lived. So she’d been staying in, a lot…. Another reason she’d been happy to make this trip to Trouble.

  Ha. She’d have been better off with her creepy caller. At least she wouldn’t have been left stranded two days in a row.

  Idiot—sure you could be worse off—he could be a killer.

  Jen didn’t even allow herself to dwell on that possibility. The harassment was just the downside of fame. She’d pissed a guy off. He was getting even. It would all go away soon. Period. She refused to even consider anything else.

  “A swim would be nice,” she murmured, thinking longingly of gliding beneath the smooth surface of the lake. Now that she was standing outside, being smothered by a wet blanket of air, she wanted nothing more than to kick off her shoes, walk through the damp grass surrounding the sandy beach and dive in.

  Tempting. Despite her lack of a bathing suit, it was very tempting.

  Standing by Mike’s Jeep, Jen saw puddles of light beginning to take shape on the uneven ground. The sun was trying to slough off the morning clouds and break through. It succeeded briefly, hot rays of it touching her cheeks and blinding her for a second.

  Blinking a few times to adjust her eyes, she noticed the way the streaks of sunlight turned the green water into a crystallized playground. Beams sparkled and danced on the small, lapping waves, creating a million tiny diamonds on its surface.

  “Wow,” she murmured, hoping the still-heavy clouds wouldn’t shift back across the sun too quickly, casting the day in dull, washed-out gray again. “It looks beautiful.”

  “It looks wet. And cold.”

  She wasn’t surprised to see Mike had also left the Jeep and now stood a few feet away. She also wasn’t surprised to see him staring at the shoreline. It appeared she wasn’t the only one longing to dive into the cool waters of the lake.

  But in his stare, there wasn’t mere interest, there was something that looked like raw desire. Hunger.

  The thought made her legs grow weak. Oh, to be looked at by this man in such a way. The idea took her breath away, and Jen again acknowledged how long it had been since she’d been intimate with anyone. She didn’t mean just sex…. She’d missed being wanted. Being watched by coveting eyes and reached for by desperate hands. Being touched by thorough fingers and kissed by a ravenous mouth.

  Being stroked, being held, being pleasured.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she strove to control the shudders of want that threatened to roll through her. She had a good imagination—a writer’s imagination—and her mind had filled with possibilities. Possibilities she couldn’t possibly try to make come true, not with this virtual stranger. She couldn’t. Definite
ly could not.

  But she could, perhaps, get some of what she desired from the soothing water. It could touch her. Stroke her. Hold her. Cool her heated body.

  “It’s a lot more welcoming in the summer than it was last December,” he murmured, still not focused on her. The lake seemed to be singing the same siren’s song to him as it was to her. He was feeling the mugginess and the heat of the day as much as she was, judging by the sheen of sweat on his face. She could smell the hot earthiness of his body—musky and masculine—and felt herself break out in a sweat, too.

  God, they both needed to cool off. Badly. Though for different reasons.

  A big part of her wanted to strip out of her clothes and walk naked into all that liquid. A bigger part wondered what he’d do if she did.

  Would he watch? Would he join her? And where would it lead?

  “You know, all I wanted this morning when I got up was an icy shower after a long, miserable night in a sweatbox.”

  Sounded like the night she’d had. “You didn’t get one?”

  “My grandfather had a newspaper emergency.”

  She didn’t ask for details on that strange statement. Instead she kicked off her shoes and walked into the grassy area beside the parking lot. Her bandages might not last long, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She suddenly wanted to soak her aching feet and hot legs more than anything. Even more than she wanted to get over the writer’s block that was preventing her from finishing her next book, a situation, she was sure, that was caused by her unwanted phone calls.

  “Can’t resist, huh?” he asked, following her down the slope.

  “I’m desperate.”

  “Ditto.”

  They reached the sand of the tiny beach, which was littered with old, dead leaves and broken tree branches. Above them, a few enormous oaks and maples shaded the whole area, keeping the little bit of sunlight out and holding in a moist coolness rising off the lake. Thick moss covered the sides of the tree trunks, soft and spongy, a shade of green so rich it almost hurt the eyes. The air smelled of wet earth and summertime and tasted heady—almost drugging. And the only sounds were the tiny waves lapping at the sand and the drip of raindrops falling off the leaves onto the ground.