“Can you all give me directions to a place to stay for a few days? Nothing too pricey. I’ll be hanging around for a while.” His gaze swept the room. “Great bar. Barbecue smells as if it’s got a hint of cinnamon, touch of cloves and maybe some chocolate. Chocolate in barbecue is the secret.”
Demar nodded and laughed. “You got a good nose for good food, my man. And if I don’t get back to my grill I’m going to be serving up burnt hockey pucks for lunch.”
Demar left and Quaid said, “There’s Ivy Acres, it’s a bed and breakfast run by Ida Landon. You can stay there.”
“Landon? No kidding. Heard that name mentioned over in Rockton. It’s got a certain reputation. Is this a…house?”
“The family’s well known in the area and they have a really great house. You’ll like Ivy Acres. A little run-down but it makes up for that in hospitality. You’ll feel right at home. The women who run it will take good care of you, very friendly.”
“Really?”
“You bet. Whatever you heard in Rockton is absolutely true. Just follow the road to the river, take a hard left to the white house a few miles down. Four columns in front, you can’t miss it.” Least he could give Cynthia some business out of this…whatever this was. Raising a child was not cheap and she was out of a job. “And as long as you’re staying there you get free dinners here.”
Sally gave him an evil look and Preston arched his brows Tom Selleck style. “Well now, I think I’ll check out this Ivy Acres. Never visited a place like that before, though I’ve been tempted. Never knew Southern hospitality could be so…hospitable.”
Preston strolled out the door, his beat-up loafers slapping the floor. Sally glanced at the card in her hand, shook her head and drank her tea down in one gulp. She said in a low voice, “Rory’s cracked under the pressure. This Mimi thing has scrambled and fried his brain like an omelet. Why else would he hire…Magnum? And what’s with this free dinner stuff?”
“I need to find Rory.” Quaid stared out the doorway, the old red convertible coughing and sputtering its way down the main street of town. “Bill me for the dinners. I just wanted to throw some business Cynthia’s way.”
“Well, if Thelma finds out you sent a paying customer to Ivy Acres instead of Hastings House you’ll never get another piece of her pecan pie as long as you live.” Sally’s eyes twinkled. “And if there’s nothing between you and Cynthia why’d you give her business?”
“She has a son, they need money. There are a lot of strangers in town, now that the place is getting spruced up. Thelma will get her share. Ida wouldn’t be doing the bed and breakfast thing if she didn’t need money. The place looked worn when I was there. Not the way I remember. Preston might need encouragement to stay, so I threw in the dinner.”
Sally said, “Everyone in town thought Ida was doing the bed and breakfast because she was lonely in that big house all by herself. When her Edward died there was talk of something going on in Rockton but no one knows what happened exactly. No scandal for the Landons. I’m guessing it was a cute young cupcake on the side but everything got real hush, hush.”
Sally looked Quaid straight in the eyes. “Kind of like you and Cynthia. A big old fat mystery.”
Quaid flashed a grin as he headed for the door. “And that’s exactly the way it’s going to stay.”
Chapter 3
The next morning Sally stood in the middle of the bar and studied the architect plans Ryan O’Fallon drew up on expanding Slim’s, except she wasn’t really thinking about the building project so much as Quaid and Cynthia. What was going on between those two? And something sure was. Quaid’s poker face didn’t give much away but there was a spark there when he talked about Cynthia—and she was so not the one for Quaid.
Demar came up behind her, she could tell before he even spoke. She could feel his presence. ’Course she could also smell the odor of hickory smoke and barbecue sauce that seemed to follow him everywhere.
He nuzzled her neck, sending both chills and roaring heat clear through her. She turned and he pressed her close to his broad chest, her favorite place to be. His arousal nestled against her, and her hands rested against his derriere. Demar Thacker was the most handsome, well-built man God ever set on the earth in or out of a barbecue-smeared apron. “Cynthia is not the gal for Quaid but I am so the girl for you.”
“Are you still thinking about that?”
“That I’m the girl for you? Heck yes!” She laughed and gave him a quick kiss.
“Why does it bother you so much that Quaid and this Cynthia person are an item—if they even are? Who is she and what’s wrong with her?”
“She’s the local snob, even had Conrad Hastings beat in that department till he fell for Thelma and entered the real world.”
Demar ran his lips lightly across hers and she kissed him because she had to. “Quaid’s my friend, Cynthia isn’t. The two together gives me a bad feeling.”
“And I’ll just have to change that feeling.” His tongue licked her lips, her mouth parting. He tasted warm and male and of pure sex. His tongue mated with hers as he slid his big arms around her, making her feel as if all was right with the world, at least her corner of it. She’d found the man for her, her Prince Charming, her soul mate, her—
“My, my, as I live and breathe, if it isn’t Demar Thacker doing what he does best.” A woman swayed her way up to them, black hair braided back, khaki slacks hugging slim hips and thighs, white blouse open to the third button. “I’ve been looking my eyeballs out for you, big boy.”
The stranger flashed a smile, perfect white teeth against perfect ginger complexion and a really great makeup job Christian Dior would be proud of. “If the gang at the station could see you now all decked out in an apron they’d laugh their behinds off.”
Demar’s eyes widened and his arm slipped away from Sally. He stepped back. “Jett? What the hell are you doing here? And nobody from that station would be laughing, they’d be wanting me to cook for them.”
Laughing, Jett ran to Demar, jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What in the world are you doing in this place?”
This place? Sally felt steam curl from her ears.
“That’s my line.”
“Had to see for myself that you really were spending your vacation standing over a grill.”
She slid down his front as if this was not the first time she’d taken that particular path. Demar said, “I make the best barbecue east of the Mississippi…except for Slim.” Then as if he suddenly remembered, he nodded at Sally. “Uh, this is…Slim’s daughter.”
Slim’s daughter? She’d been relegated to someone’s daughter with no name of her own, in the space of five seconds, a front-body slide and a sexy come-on?
“This is Jett Compton, another cop from Nashville.”
Good old Jett had a name. Demar didn’t hesitate a beat in who she was.
He said to Jett, “And I know you didn’t come here to watch me cook.”
She rolled her shoulders, her well-toned body moving in all the right places. Sally sucked in her stomach, stuck out her boobs, what there was, and swore off sausage and chocolate chip cookies. She stood tall—though being five-three didn’t give her much to work with, especially compared to a lanky five-ten with good caps and augmentation…those puppies had to be augmented.
Ms. Cleavage said, “Thought if this town is where you took your vacation I should too.”
“You’re staying?” Demar said, too much happy in his voice.
“Why not,” she purred as Cynthia Landon came in and took a seat at the bar.
What the heck was Cynthia Landon doing here? Sally wondered. Slim’s was not the usual haunt of the rich and snobby, or cops from Nashville.
Cleavage continued, “I’ve never seen the Mississippi River or Graceland, and Memphis isn’t far away. You know how I love Delta blues and I have some R and R time coming.”
“Well, then I’ll just have to show you around,” Demar volunteered, looking
like a kid at Christmas.
“I have to tend the bar,” Sally offered.
Jett waved her hand in dismissal, not even glancing Sally’s way. “We’ll catch up with you later, dear.”
Dear?
A spark lit Demar’s eyes, a look he’d reserved only for her, Sally thought. Except he wasn’t looking at her. He gazed at Jett and said to her, “We need to take a walk down by the river. Nothing like the river in the summer. I’ll pack lunch and we’ll catch up.” He checked his watch. “Meet me at the landing in two hours.”
He gave Sally a quick kiss that was more autopilot than meaningful then headed for the back door, calling over his shoulder, “The road takes you down to the water, Jett. I’ll snag us a boat and show you the Mississippi up close and personal like.”
“I showed him the river when he got here,” Sally muttered to herself while watching Demar’s retreating back. She faced Cleavage. What to say? Welcome. Nice boobs? What the hell are you really doing here with my man?
Jett smiled sweetly, too sweetly, and she didn’t budge. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here?”
“Ordering breakfast? We don’t do breakfast. You’ll have to find another place.” Like back in Nashville.
“Demar and I used to be lovers.”
Sally willed herself not to react because that’s what Jett wanted, she knew that with every jealous fiber of her body. Jett added, “Actually, we were engaged two years ago.”
“Congratulations?” This conversation was not improving.
“And I suppose you should know that I intend to get Demar back. I made a mistake breaking up with him. He’s drop-dead handsome and thoughtful and a girl could do a whole lot worse than getting it on with Demar. So why don’t you be a good little country frau and let him go and save us both a lot of time and trouble.”
A homicide in the bar would not be good for business but it was damn tempting. “I think that’s up to Demar.”
Jett let out with one of those that’s what you think kind of laughs. “It’s up to the woman to catch the man she wants and I want that man. Always have, always will.”
“Except you broke up with him.”
“I’m just doing you a favor and telling you up front what’s happening.” She patted Sally’s cheek and Sally considered slapping her silly. “You’re no match for me, dear. You should know that.”
Sally folded her arms. “I may be a hillbilly from Tennessee but I’m also a Harvard hillbilly, and floor broker on the stock exchange. If I can handle that I can handle anything, dear.”
“But you didn’t handle it, did you,” sneered Jett. “Or you wouldn’t be back here in nowhere Tennessee serving drinks to the locals.”
Ouch! The truth hurt. Three years on the exchange, two prescriptions for ulcers and landing flat on her back in the ER and she knew it was time to pack it in. She wasn’t cut out for the Wall Street scene.
Sally Donaldson couldn’t hack it just like Jett said. Self-esteem took a dive and she couldn’t think of a comeback to save her life.
“See you around, girl. Think about what I said, save yourself some grief.”
“Wait a minute,” Cynthia said, suddenly standing in front of Jett, anger in her eyes, surprising the hell out of Sally. “What makes you think you have the right to come in here, insult the owner and threaten to take her man? No one died and left you boss, girl.”
Jett’s eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”
Cynthia’s eyes drew together, her lips thinned and Sally took a step back. Whoa. Cynthia Landon, pissed off woman. Who would have thought? “I’ve had my fill of people taking what belongs to others and I didn’t come home to get more of the same.”
“I’ll remember that. But you remember that Demar Thacker is mine and I’m going to do whatever it takes to have him.”
Jett stepped around Cynthia and strutted her stuff all the way to her little white sports car. It headed down the street in a spray of gravel and Cynthia said, “I have an ex who’d be a perfect match for that witch. We should get them together, pray they don’t breed.”
“Why…why did you do that?”
Cynthia’s brows arched as if she didn’t quite know herself. “I think I snapped.” She raked her hair from her face. “It’s no fun to have someone come into your place and run off with the things you cherish most, man or loft.”
“Loft?”
“Long story. I didn’t mean to butt into your business but that woman’s a snake. You better watch your back.”
This was probably the most Cynthia Landon had ever said to Sally in her life. “Well, thanks for saying what you did. She kind of caught me off guard.” She didn’t think she’d ever be thanking Cynthia Landon for anything. “Did you need something?”
Cynthia drew in a deep breath and smiled, though it seemed forced. “My mother may stop in here for a drink and I’d like for you to call me if she does. She’s taking medication and it doesn’t mix well with alcohol and she tends to get a little wobbly but…”
“What kind of medication? Is Ida ill?”
Cynthia gave a deer-in-the-headlights look. “Ill?”
“Medication? Your mother? Are you okay?”
Cynthia sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Okay, There is no medication, I lied and I’m really bad at it. I need to give it up. The truth is my dad made some unwise investments and Ida’s numbing it all by tipping the sauce. There it is, I said it, it’s the truth.”
“Ida’s a…drunk?”
“More like a drink followed by another and another. I got rid of all the alcohol in the house so she may come here because I hid her car keys and she can’t drive into Memphis. I don’t want her dependent on liquor and I’m working on breaking her habit. If she starts distilling gin in the bathtub I’m in trouble. I can pay you.” She opened her purse and took out a checkbook.
“Ida doesn’t exactly frequent this place.”
“Well thank heavens for that,” Cynthia said as she fished in her purse. She stopped and looked up. “That came out all wrong. I mean I’m thankful that Ida’s not coming here to imbibe and…Oh, what’s the use?” She dropped her checkbook in her purse and turned for the door. “You have no reason on earth to help me. I’m not exactly the Landing’s answer to Ms. Congeniality. I spent most of my childhood with my nose in the air wondering who I was. I’ll handle this myself.”
Now who was being the snob? thought Sally. Besides, Cynthia had stood up for her. She caught up with Cynthia and touched her arm. “If Ida comes in I’ll call you, or feed her barbecue till you get here. I really appreciate your help with Jett.”
“Sorry you’re having man troubles. I can relate. I think I wrote the book on troubles with the opposite sex.”
Sally shrugged, pushing aside the tension from Jett. She grinned. “Not from what I hear. Word has it you and the opposite sex in the form of one Quaid O’Fallon are getting along real well.” And that didn’t bother her now as much as it did ten minutes ago. In fact, maybe Cynthia Landon was someone who could actually handle Quaid, or at least stand up to him. Surprise, surprise! “You two are an item?”
Cynthia laughed, suddenly looking not so stressed. And she blushed. Sally bet it took a lot for a forty-something from New York to blush but Quaid did the trick. Cynthia said, “Gossip rules in small towns. Even when you think no one’s looking someone always is. How could I forget?” She pushed back her hair from her face. “But just for the record, there is nothing going on between Quaid and me. I’ve had my fill of men, any and all of them. I simply quit.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what we all say and it never happens. Kind of like a diet, you swear off chocolate and then you see a delicious six-foot chunk that you can’t live without.”
“Men have so screwed up my life, but if you want your chocolate you’ll have to fight for him. Jett is not the kind who gives up easily…and…” She pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. “And there’s something else going on with that woman. Jett’s beautiful, more model than co
p. Why all the way out here to get Demar?”
“Girl, Demar is gorgeous.”
“But there are hunks of gorgeous especially in Nashville…with it being country-western music central. Demar’s got something she wants and not just what’s below his belt.”
Sally raised her brow. “You’ve never seen what’s below that man’s belt.”
Cynthia chuckled and patted Sally’s hand in big sister fashion that wasn’t patronizing so much as a shared experience. “If you want Demar below and above the waist, leave what happened to you in New York in New York. You need to forget about it, shake it off and remember you’re better than that. You are a talented woman and don’t let Jett belittle you with her poison. She’s counting on that, just like my ex did with me, they make you feel bad so they can get away with murder.”
Cynthia left and Sally sat down at the bar where she’d been serving barbecue and drinks forever. What a morning. Jett, Cynthia, Demar salivating like Pavlov’s dog. Cynthia was right about another thing: if Jett wanted a fight, Sally Donaldson would give it to her and win. Oh, she could go to Demar and whine that Jett was here to get him back but that made Sally look pathetic and gave Jett a leg up as strong and capable. Nope, she had to win Demar fair and square. ’Course that meant she’d win him for keeps.
The question was, did she love Demar enough to go after him? Did she really want him that much? For keeps was a really long time.
Demar hustled down the gravel road to the O’Fallon docks as late morning sun inched overhead, gearing up for another August inferno. Nothing moved, not a leaf on the maples or blades of the cattails at the shoreline. A box turtle hid in the mud under a chunk of driftwood and even the Mississippi seemed to move slower.
He had a few hours to spend with Jett before getting back for the dinner crowd. He liked the bar, Slim was the best and Sally was pretty and fun, sassy and sexy as hell and…and suddenly Demar caught sight of Jett on the dock talking on the payphone, and every thought in his brain vanished. Desire he thought dead and gone wasn’t gone at all. Hell, one look at Jett and he was horny as a three-puckered billy goat.
I’ll Be Seeing U Page 4