And now here she stood, in the middle of a dimly lit bar, her ears filled with the sound of glass clinking, beer being poured and pool sticks hitting cue balls, looking for a man who compelled her to do things she knew she shouldn’t. Looking for J.T.
The sound of a few guitar strums floated on the alcohol-infused air. She looked in the direction of the jukebox and found J.T. bending over it, his back to her.
Her heart lodged tightly in her throat.
J. T. West filled out a pair of jeans like no man she had ever known could. The worn, faded denim was slightly loose around his slender waist and fit him snuggly around his hindquarters, making her fingers itch with the desire to run them down the soft cotton, probing the steel-hard flesh beneath.
He slowly turned, as if sensing her presence, her stare. Leah felt frozen to the spot as her gaze flicked up the denim of his shirt, catching sight of the tanned, hard chest at the neck before staring directly into his simmering golden brown eyes.
In that one moment everything but this moment ceased to exist for her. The bar. The worries of her class. The complaints of her sister. The concerns of her daughter. All she could hear was the thump of the bass in the song and her own heartbeat. Her palms and other, more intimate, parts of her body grew wet, her breasts tightened and her lips longed for the feel of J.T.’s mouth on hers.
Neither of them moved for long, long moments. Then, finally, J.T. pushed from the old-fashioned, upright jukebox and crossed to hold his hand out to her.
Leah gazed at his large, callused fingers and the dark hair kissing his forearms, then blinked back into his eyes.
“Dance with me?”
Leah’s hand shook so violently she was sure J.T. could see it as she slowly placed it in his. A hot, hot shiver rode through her body as she wondered why she felt that accepting his invitation meant so much more than just a dance….
5
LEAH SMELLED OF THE SUBTLE SCENT of gardenias and one-hundred-percent sweet, hot female.
J.T. slowly tugged her until she stood mere millimeters away. The very tips of her breasts brushed against his chest. The insistent throbbing of his manhood pulsed almost painfully, full with desire for this woman who’d haunted him throughout so much of his life. He rested his right hand on her hip, fighting the urge to press her to him until nothing separated them but their clothing.
It had been so long. Too long. But to give in to his craving to claim her now would only take them where they had already gone. And he wanted more, so much more.
“You waited,” she said quietly next to his ear.
He tightened his grip on her hand and led her in the slow dance, using every ounce of self-restraint he had to keep from rushing things. “I waited.”
He caught the scent of something evocatively familiar. The smell of lemons. And immediately he was transported to the first time they’d ever danced, fourteen years ago on one steamy summer’s eve. The entire campsite had gathered for dinner at the pavilion and the park owners had brought in a country band to entertain those who wanted to make a night of it. By midnight most of the campers had gone back to their trailers or tents, leaving just a few behind.
He and Leah had been two of them.
And she’d asked him to dance.
J.T. closed his eyes now, breathing in the lemony scent of her hair. He found it incredible that she still used the same shampoo that she had way back then. Found it incredible that the mouthy, straightforward, gutsy teenager she had been had turned into the hesitant, self-doubting, fearful woman he now held.
She took her hand briefly from his and wiped her palm on her slacks then returned it to his grip, her smile wavering before she turned her head in the other direction.
What had happened during their years apart to make her change? Or had she changed at all? Was his memory painting a picture of her that he wanted to see but that had no basis in reality? Was this Leah the real one?
No. He had only to think of their brief, unexpected, white-hot affair a year and a half ago to know that the Leah he danced with now was not the woman he’d once known. He knew that because for a brief, exciting time she had turned back into that young woman who had the world and everything in it at her beautiful feet. The judge’s daughter whose only care in the world was how to satisfy her own curious appetites. And J.T. had been the first man she’d welcomed between her toned thighs.
“Josh, I…”
Every muscle in J.T.’s body tightened.
It seemed forever since anyone had used his given name. And since warning Leah against it the last time they’d met, she hadn’t used it, either. No, he hadn’t told her the reason he went by his initials now instead of the name he’d been called his entire life. She’d merely accepted that it was something he couldn’t share.
That she was using the name now told him he wasn’t going to like what he was going to hear.
“Shhh,” he said, drawing her closer.
He heard her breath catch and felt her breasts heave slightly against his chest. He suppressed a groan. Did the woman have even the slightest idea how she affected him? Did she know that right now he wanted her so badly he was nearly bursting with his need for her? Did she know that not a day went by that he didn’t think about her, remember how it had been between them and hunger after her with an intensity that left him powerless to concentrate on anything but the memory of her?
He put his boot between her shoes and nudged her legs apart, naturally filling the gap with his thigh. She gave a small gasp as his taut muscles rested against her swollen womanhood. Oh, yeah, he knew she wanted him. She always had. It was the one weakness he could use against her.
The problem lay in that he didn’t want to use anything against her. Especially not her own betraying emotions.
“I was just remembering the first time we ever danced,” he whispered in her ear, teasing the delicate shell with his breath and watching a shiver wash down the delicate cord of her neck, coaxing tiny bumps over her arms. Her neatly trimmed blonde hair seemed to tremble with the reaction he was inciting in her. “Do you remember, Leah?”
She didn’t indicate one way or another if she’d heard.
J.T. stared at a spot beyond her, allowing the images of that long ago summer to take over. “I remember the heaviness of the air right before it rained later that night. I remember the sounds of the singer’s voice and the chirp of the crickets. The smell of straw and your hair.” He pressed his chin against the side of her head. “The way you looked up at me, so hungry, so confident.”
Leah went briefly still in his arms.
J.T. tightened his grip on her. “And I thought to myself, ‘This is a woman who knows what she wants. And I’m going to give it to her.”’
“I wasn’t a woman, I was a girl.”
J.T. pulled back slightly. “No, Leah. You were a woman.” He grinned. “I’m convinced that you’ve been one since the day you were born.”
The song drew to an end and Leah attempted to pull away. J.T. didn’t allow her the escape. The advantage of his having fed so much money into the jukebox was that he knew which songs would play next.
He brushed his cheek against her hair. “Then you kissed me,” he said quietly.
She dropped her gaze to stare at the front of his shirt, then seemed unsatisfied with that and looked restlessly around the bar. “You kissed me, if I remember correctly,” she said so quietly he nearly didn’t hear her.
He shook his head as the next song finally clicked on. “No, Leah. You kissed me.” He pressed his lips against her temple, resisting the urge to re-create the moment. But in order to re-create it, she would have to make the first move. Just like she had back then. “You kissed me as if you couldn’t help yourself.”
“That…that was a long time ago.”
J.T. pulled back enough to stare down into her eyes. “Was it? Because right now I’m feeling like it was five minutes ago.”
He watched as her pupils dilated in her dark eyes. Oh, yes, he could tell she
was feeling the same way. Yearning for that carefree moment when they’d first explored their burning attraction for each other. But his telling and her admitting were two completely different things. And he knew she wasn’t anywhere near confessing how she felt. And he also suspected he knew the reason why. Hell, he spent half his time asking himself what it was that he felt for her. And the other half wanting her so badly he throbbed with the power of the need.
She licked her lips. J.T. visually inhaled the movement, knowing it was the prelude to a kiss.
But rather than leaning toward him, she pulled away. “I…I shouldn’t be here. I’ve really got to go.”
J.T. resisted the urge to hold her still, to prevent her from leaving. Instead he released his hold on her and watched as she clutched her purse closer to her side and moved toward the door.
He was losing her and he didn’t know how to stop it.
LEAH KNEW A DESPERATION to escape so intense her knees shook. It wasn’t fair that J.T. had come back. It wasn’t fair that he was reminding her of times better off forgotten. It wasn’t fair that he made her want him so fully that she felt she’d die if she didn’t kiss him, feel him, make love to him…now.
She moved toward the door to the bar as quickly as she could, short of running. She shouldn’t have come here. It had been foolish to think she could tell J.T. that she couldn’t see him again. Look into his eyes and utter the words, “It’s over. I’ve moved on with my life and it’s time for you to do the same.”
Instead she hadn’t hesitated to step into his arms for a dance, her hand in his, their bodies slowly swaying seeming the most natural thing in the world.
“We fit.”
She remembered J.T. whispering words to that effect on the very night he’d reminded her of. He hadn’t been saying the words to her. Rather it had seemed he’d been talking to himself, his voice so full of wonder and conviction that they’d reverberated through her, changing her life forever.
She pushed the door open and took deep gulps of the chilly spring night air as if she’d just run a marathon. Changing her life forever. What a childish, stupid thing to think. Fine for a sixteen-year-old experiencing her first real brush with puppy love. Ridiculous for a woman of thirty with an eleven-year-old daughter.
She wondered what Dr. McKenna would say if she told him. Would he tell her that her reactions to J.T. were some sort of pre-middle-aged grab at what used to be? A return to the past, to less troubled times? A time when she didn’t have adult responsibilities and all that went along with them?
“Leah.”
Her step faltered at the sound of her name on J.T.’s lips. He’d followed her. Somewhere deep inside she’d known he would. And somewhere near that knowledge was also the relief, and the grief, that he had.
She swiveled toward him, the air and distance between them allowing her a measure of sanity. “I can’t see you again, J.T.”
He squinted at her in the near darkness, his face stern as if carved from granite. “You’re not seeing me now.”
Leah’s throat felt so tight she was surprised her breathing didn’t sound like panting. “I’ve seen you twice in the past three days.”
“I need to talk to you.”
She shook her head adamantly. “That’s what I told myself. That’s the reason why I came here. To talk. But we don’t talk, J.T. We never talk. Whenever we’re within touching distance both of us seem to lose the ability to speak.”
“We’re talking now.”
She laughed humorlessly and backed a short ways away, feeling an almost magnetic pull toward him and fighting it for all she was worth. “It doesn’t count. We’re just talking about talking.” She shook her head and clutched her purse to her stomach as if the action could keep her from moving toward him.
“I’ve moved on with my life, J.T.,” she said, somehow finding the words she’d rehearsed all afternoon, then during the drive out. “I’m back in school. I’m going to counseling with my ex-husband in the hopes of reconciling. And my daughter…well, my daughter needs me to be there for her.”
He was silent for a long moment, making her wonder if she’d said the words at all. And if she had, if he could understand what they meant.
“And you?” he asked quietly. “What do you need, Leah?”
No fair. It wasn’t fair for him to ask her that question.
He slowly held up his hand up. “What do you want?”
She turned toward her car parked around the back of the lot, out of view of passing traffic. She hadn’t done it on purpose, but it seemed that everything connected to J.T. was done in secret. Was bad. Forbidden.
“I want you to leave me alone,” she whispered.
But she hadn’t said it loud enough for him to hear. Rather the words had been for her ears only, as if some frightened part of her believed that by saying them she could make them so.
She rounded the building, nearly ran into a Dumpster, then rounded it, getting her keys from her purse.
“I didn’t quite make out your last words.”
Leah didn’t realize that J.T. had grasped her arm and turned her to face him until she was staring up into his too handsome, too rugged face.
“I said that I want you to leave me alone.”
Her heart crashed against her rib cage, the sound of her own words like a knife to her chest.
“Do you?” he asked. “Because if you do, I’ll leave town right now. Tonight.”
Leah felt like she’d never take an unlabored breath again. Standing there looking into a face made familiar by all the times she’d seen it in her dreams, nurtured it in her mind, she wanted the exact opposite of what she was saying.
She licked her lips several times. “Yes. That’s what I want.” The words grew quieter with each she said until the last one was nearly silent.
They stood like that for long moments, neither of them saying anything, both of them staring at each other, only the sound of passing cars on the other side of the building and the exhaust fan from the back kitchen breaking the utter silence of the night.
Then J.T. released her arm and stepped back.
Panic ballooned in Leah’s stomach and she nearly cried out. His movements had been slow but it seemed like he’d just cast her aside like so much garbage.
“Please,” she said, stepping toward him. “You’ve got to understand…”
“Understand what, Leah?” he asked. “I see no room for misunderstanding in your words.”
“But I need you to understand my motivations for saying them.”
“You told me why. You’ve moved on with your life.”
Her throat threatened to close. Had she really moved on? Or was she treading the same waters she’d swum through before, trying to find the stream that eluded her?
“Why?” she whispered.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t ask him that question. Wouldn’t probe into the reasons for his return. But ultimately she couldn’t help herself. She needed to know why he’d come back. Why he was in Toledo. And why he appeared to want to talk to her so badly.
“Why did you come back?”
“For the same reason you came here tonight, Leah. I needed to see you again.”
His words struck a chord deep within her.
“I needed to convince myself that my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. That I do want you the way I always have.”
Leah’s knees wavered beneath her and she clutched her purse as though it could help support her.
“I needed to see if the earth still shakes when you kiss me.”
The sound of the traffic and fan disappeared, leaving nothing but the thud-thud of her heart. Slowly her grip on her purse loosened until the small clutch dropped to the ground and she was stepping over it to see if J. T. West was still capable of making the earth shake for her, too.
She stood close enough to kiss him, their noses almost touching, her fingers probing the line of his jaw, the slope of his cheek, the ridge of his brow. She stared into hi
s eyes, smelling beer on his breath, the musk of his skin, feeling his heat as if it were her own. She leaned her head to the right, then moved it to the left, then slowly pressed her lips against his. His skin was dry and hot. His perpetual stubble prickled her chin.
Before she knew that was what she was going to do, she was sighing into him, her body automatically molding against his as if unable to hold itself upright anymore without his aid. She flicked her tongue out and moistened his top lip then slid it into his mouth, coaxing him to open for her.
His eyes were dark and unreadable as he watched her and she watched him back. Kiss me, she wanted to say. Kiss me now like you used to back then.
And then he was.
Leah heard a plaintive whimper and realized it had come from her own throat.
She tilted her head back as J.T. ran his fingertips along the length of her jaw, then rubbed his thumb over her cheek, turning her face so he could meet her mouth more fully. His tongue slowly swept around her mouth and along the ridges of her teeth before he withdrew it and sucked her bottom lip between his.
Leah was suddenly boneless, her muscles melting to liquid. Nothing existed beyond this moment, beyond this kiss, beyond J.T. and the cravings of their bodies. She moved closer to him until her pelvis met his, her breasts crushed against the wall of his chest. She curved her arms around his waist and tried to pull him even closer, though the laws of nature prevented it. Her breathing grew ragged, her womanhood pulsed, the dampness between her legs growing along with her desire to have J.T. here, now.
He must have been on the same page because he swiveled her until her bottom rested against the back of a wooden storage locker. Then he was boosting her up, his fingers on her knees prying her legs apart. He stepped into the space he’d made, his hard manhood pressing insistently against her needy femininity. He slid the top buttons of her blouse open, then slipped his hand inside, cupping her right breast through her bra. His fingers expertly stroked her, as if following a road map drawn long ago and known by heart. He dipped a fingertip into the front of the right bra cup, enticing her nipple to come out and play. She lost her ability to breathe when he fanned her blouse open and took her distended nipple deep into his mouth.
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