by Maddie James
“Wow. Give us a break,” another classmate taunted.
Graham hardly heard the gibes as he watched Steven take the plastic figure from Jane’s hand, and without ceremony grab her, drawing her into his arms. Unlike Clint’s kiss for fun, Steven appeared serious. The other man clasped one hand on Jane’s half-exposed buttocks and secured his mouth firmly on hers in a prolonged lip-lock. Jane squirmed under his insulting contact.
Graham’s fingers gripped the log for about fifteen seconds until he stomached enough. Jumping up, he strode to the fire and grabbed Steven’s collar.
“Get your hands off me.” Steven jerked away from Graham’s grasp.
“You’re out of line, buddy.”
“I’m just sampling the wares like Clint.”
“The lady doesn’t want your attention.”
“Who are you? Her white knight?” Steven’s voice was full of sarcasm.
“Yes,” Graham answered.
“You bastard, you’re just after her yourself.”
Blood roared in Graham’s ears. “That’s no concern of yours, especially since you’re dating her sister.”
“Was dating. Past tense, you bastard.” Steven shoved him. “Hell, just because you’ve made it out of this one horse town, doesn’t mean you can lord it over us.”
At that moment, Clint inserted his two hundred plus pounds between them. “You’re drunk, Ridgeway. Don’t spoil the evening.”
“He’s the spoiler. I was just having a little fun.”
“Call it what you want,” Clint said. “You’re outta here, man.”
The ex-football player grabbed him by the arm and ushered him unceremoniously away from the campfire. Steven wasn’t any match for Clint’s burly body or iron grip.
“You okay?” Graham turned toward Jane. She was visibly shaking.
“Yes.”
In a haze of fury, Graham could hardly hear her breathless reply. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“But the time capsule.”
“The party’s over for us. Jane can take over.”
Graham placed a possessive hand on Jane’s arm and drew her away from the firelight. She came willingly, letting him take her hand and guide her through the darkness to the car.
For whatever reason, Graham couldn’t shake the anger that erupted so swiftly within him. Jane must have sensed it, for she trailed behind him in silence. Unlocking the car door, he opened it for her. Before she slipped into the seat, she turned her doe-like gaze upon him.
Damn her for looking so innocent and sensual at the same time.
“Get in,” he said gruffly.
Jane followed orders and Graham slammed the door. Behind the car, he paused to take a deep breath, and slapped his palm on the top of the trunk. His heart thudded hard. What was wrong with him? Steven was a jerk. Always had been. Nothing new there. It was Jane. Prancing around practically undressed, just asking for trouble. From Dawn he could expect that kind of behavior. He wasn’t sure he could take it from Jane.
Graham made another fist. The rage he felt was more than anger at Steven or Jane. He couldn’t lie to himself, realizing his anger was directed inward. Just a few weeks ago, he vowed never again to be taken in by scheming females. And here he was falling prey to Jane’s curvy little body and guileless eyes. Her game had gone on long enough. It was getting her into trouble and wasn’t cute any longer.
Setting his jaw, Graham continued around to the driver’s side and opened the door.
He slid in. “I’m taking you to Aunt Harriet’s. We need to talk.”
To her embarrassment, Jane couldn’t stop shaking. The combination of the damp fog, her lack of clothing and the heightened tension in the car, puckered goose bumps along her arms and legs. Her teeth chattered.
What could Graham want to talk about? Jane puzzled over his directive for the full twenty-minute ride. The atmosphere in the car was charged with electricity having nothing to do with the sexual awareness that punctuated their earlier trip. Although he didn’t voice it, Jane felt Graham’s anger. Heck, he didn’t need to say he was mad. The way his fingers clutched the steering wheel and his jaw locked firmly in place were enough to clue her into his discontent.
Could he be angry because of the kisses? Was it that male ego thing? Could Graham feel possessive toward her? What an irony if that were the reason. In a day fraught with strangeness, Jane had succeeded in making him jealous.
Correction. Dawn had made him jealous. The implications of the swap caused a new set of shivers to sweep through her body. Had she really believed she could pull this off?
Graham aimed a quick glance her way. “We need to get you warm.” He spoke for the first time.
“That would be nice.” They pulled into Aunt Harriet’s driveway and Graham got out.
He opened the side door and offered his hand. Jane grasped it, and felt an uncanny connection to him. As if they belonged together. Like soul mates.
Yeah, right. Graham was connecting to Dawn. Not to Jane, the “other” sister.
Chagrinned, Jane avoided eye contact when he helped her out of the car. He kept her hand in his, and walked her to the front porch where he unlocked the door and switched on the lights.
Harriet Winchester’s small living room stepped out of the past, comfortable and familiar. Lace dollies draped over the back and arms of a blue print sofa. Colorful throw rugs softened hardwood floors, and a polished antique cabinet displayed the retired teacher’s fine porcelain and crystal. A cozy aroma of cinnamon permeated the room.
“Cowboy cookies?” Jane turned in surprise.
He grinned, his mood seeming to lift. “Harriet baked cookies this morning before she left for Europe.”
“Just like the old days.”
“Yeah, like when we were kids.”
The admission startled Jane, for this was a memory she, Jane, shared with Graham. No one ever caught Dawn snitching cookies from Aunt Harriet’s cookie jar. She’d always feared it would ruin her willowy figure.
Graham must have recognized the difference, for his gaze fastened on hers, his eyes scanning her face as if he tried to read her mind. Jane shuddered in response to the look of bafflement and need. Her body felt extra sensitive.
“You’re still cold.”
“No.” Jane flicked her hair from her eyes. “I mean yes.”
“I have extra T-shirts in the bureau drawer upstairs. Help yourself. I’ll fix us some hot coffee and cookies.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Go on,” he prompted when she didn’t move. “I don’t want to be accused of causing your death from pneumonia.”
Jane smiled at the attempted joke. His anger with Steven had eased. She sensed it. She had only a few more hours as Dawn, and maybe if she carefully played her part, she’d achieve her goal tonight and seduce Graham into keeping his promise.
Jane lowered her voice and her eyelashes in her best sultry manner. “I’d rather you keep me warm.”
Graham frowned. She saw her miscalculation immediately.
“Just go get dry clothes on. I told you we needed to talk.”
Jane fled up the stairs. What had she done to annoy him? This time his aggravation was surely directed at her. Chilled to the bone from her own blunder, she couldn’t stop shaking. She found the guest room and shut the door. Leaning against it, she caught her breath. Now what?
Her options were to confess or to carry on. With her stomach doing flips, Jane slowly crossed the bedroom floor. Beside a double bed covered by a wedding ring quilt, she noticed Graham’s suitcase. She paused a moment to touch its expensive Italian leather.
Graham didn’t belong in Legend any more. He wasn’t going to stick around. If she confessed, she’d miss her only chance. She didn’t know why it meant so much to find out if that night long ago had been a fluke. There was no way sex with any man could be that good. She only knew she still “carried the torch” for Graham, as her mother used to point out. That torch burned brightly for fifteen years,
and she was reluctant to put it out until she discovered the truth.
Sighing, Jane pulled open the top drawer of the antique dresser, and found what she was looking for. Men’s plain white, cotton crew neck T-shirts. Size XL. She lifted one out of the drawer, dizzy at the thought of this touching Graham’s buff body. It would be plenty big on her. Big enough to cover the skimpy tank top and long enough to hide her naked bottom.
Jane raised her weary eyes to the oval mirror above the dresser top, and almost fainted at her disheveled reflection. All of Dawn’s careful makeup application was a mess of running eyeliner and smeared lipstick. Her skin glowed bright red from too much sun, and her curls stood in a frizzy rat’s nest from the damp evening fog.
Jane groaned. No man would want her this way—even if he thought she was a famous movie star. She’d probably looked okay by the firelight, but the incandescent light downstairs would show all her faults.
Jane turned her back on the mirror. Now what? She felt sticky from a day of sweating in the heat, and the skin under her breasts ached from the pinching bra Dawn made her wear. To top it all, her hair looked like Albert Einstein’s. She needed a shower. Coffee and cookies would have to wait. She wouldn’t go back downstairs until she returned her body to some semblance of order. Until she once again felt comfortable inside her own skin.
Could she do the same for her confused mind?
Chapter Eighteen
Suzie took one last swipe at the cooking island and glanced around her. The kitchen was back in order. Finally. Bread crumbs swept away. Cheese and chocolate drips wiped clean. Earlier she had sent home every one of her students with a plastic container of their fondue-of-choice and dippers du jour. Jim sped off to his second practice of the day—two-a-days were required now until the championship—and after Lilly met with Martin, they’d shopped until the dropped.
Sheesh.
What a day.
Even her bones ached.
She was ready for more bubble-therapy.
She glanced at her kitchen wall clock, a retro-version of a black cat with a swinging tail, silhouetted against her yellow walls, ticking off the seconds.
Four-forty-three.
“Hell’s bells.”
The town meeting was at five. She needed to get moving. Lilly would just have to fend for herself getting ready for her dinner with Jim.
No time to change, but she did manage a quick look in the bathroom mirror and frowned at her face that started out the day with make-up on. She pulled her long hair into some semblance of a ponytail and headed for the back door. At the last second she paused at her bedroom full-length mirror and took in her reflection.
Ugh.
She had a little height…that helped. And at thirty-six she supposed she wasn’t too pudgy. Her snug jeans fit nicely at her hips and she still had a hint of a waist. At least she wasn’t top-heavy and didn’t look dowdy. She hated dowdy. She leaned closer. Her complexion was nice. Pale and clear skin, a smattering of freckles, no age blemishes. Hair. Still long and thick and….
She was still five years older than Brad.
Double ugh.
She turned and studied herself back and front for a moment longer. Could Brad really be interested in her? Did she have what it takes? Him being a younger man and all? It didn’t bother her eighteen months ago.
Or him.
Did it?
Forget about it, Suzie.
But the thing was—was she interested? She hated to admit it, but she was. Darned hard to forget those blissful two months she’d spent in his arms. She had to admit that the memories of her nights spent with him warmed her on cold lonely nights this past year.
And she still got hot every time he was near. Like this afternoon. Damn him for interrupting her cooking class and setting her cheeks on fire.
Could she even consider it?
Is that really why he came back? To get back together? Permanently?
What other reason could there be?
The chime of her grandfather clock signaled five o’clock. She raced out the door and stumbled down her back steps. Lucky for her the antique clock was permanently set ten minutes fast. Although she had tried, there was nothing she could do to set it right. Most days it worked to her advantage. Like now.
Her Honda Element sat in the drive pointing toward the road. Brad’s bike was no longer on the gravel short lane. She’d not seen him since his fondue demonstration a couple of hours earlier. Good. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with him.
But maybe he’d realized that.
He’d been in and out all day. Business, he’d called out from the door when she’d laid out coffee and muffins early this morning. He’d grabbed a to-go foam cup, filled it to the brim with her special blend, stuffed one of her fresh-baked signature muffins into a large paper napkin, and vamoosed.
She had to wonder what kind of business Brad Matthews had in Legend besides her. Interesting….
Nevertheless, she was late for the meeting. Luckily, Legend’s Old Meeting House was only seven and a half minutes away if one drove the speed limit.
Which she did. Of course.
The meeting this evening was one in a series to discuss the natural progression of Legend’s growth. Most of the town residents were for development and job security. They wanted the factory to come to town. Others wanted to keep Legend as it was: a replica of Mayberry. Suzie found herself somewhere in the middle. Although, she was all for doing whatever was needed to keep the town’s economy stable, she felt the goal could be accomplished by successfully revitalizing Legend’s downtown business district, which was definitely on the upswing the past couple of years. Making good with what was already here, rather than leveling prime woods outside of town to build big box stores or adding an industrial park, made sense to her.
She, like many others, didn’t want Legend to become another Pigeon Forge. Although she liked to shop in Pigeon Forge, she couldn’t imagine living there. She wanted her little mountain town to stay the same—just be more economically sound.
The Mayor and the Town Council had been meeting with local committee members, town planners, business developers, and consultants over the past year. Tonight the topic was on the local economy and how to keep Legend alive and vital for future generations.
Suzie rushed into the room and fell into an empty back row seat. Glancing about the filled and busy room, she spied to see who was there. She had expected a bigger crowd. Where was Jane? Clint? And then she remembered—this was class reunion weekend. Most of her schoolmates who were a year behind her were deep into reunion activities this weekend.
Dammit. Why had they called this meeting for this weekend? She could have used Jane’s backup.
Martin McClain sat to her left, along with old Mr. and Mrs. Wilson whom she needed to avoid like the plague if possible, and...a warm body sat down right next to her.
A too warm body.
She started to look at the late-comer when Mayor Jack Crenshaw hammered the gavel on a wooden podium, on which a poster was tacked and stated, Support Local Merchants. Save Legend’s Trees and Forests! She caught a hint of familiar cologne, however, and turned to an eyeful of a sexy black T-shirt.
Brad leaned close. “Promises to be an interesting evening, huh?”
Taken aback, she nodded. “Could be. I suppose. I’m just here for the info.”
Brad cocked his head. “I hear there could be a hot topic on the agenda.”
Her interest piqued, she looked at him. “Oh? And how would you know that? You’ve been in town all of, what? Two days?”
He shrugged and smiled. “I get around.”
I bet. Suzie turned toward Jack Crenshaw who introduced the Council’s recently hired town planner consultant. He seemed like a slimy fellow, and she didn’t like the looks of him at all. With a narrow chicken face, his round-rimmed glasses tilted on the end of his nose as he looked down at everyone. She’d seen the man around town. Poking in and out of stores. Asking questions. Even
came to see her once. She wasn’t quite sure what his role or task was. Guess she’d find out tonight.
He droned on about local economy and the employment rate. He mentioned the necessity to capitalize on Legend’s natural resources, its people, and their talents. He stressed the needs of the community. He ranted about positive growth, keeping Legend green, and the strong revitalization of downtown. All things they’d heard before.
Brad leaned closer, listening intently. She glanced sideways at him, catching a new-found sparkle in his eye. For a moment, she studied his profile, and then the droning dragged her away.
The chicken-beaked consultant continued, this time with dire news. New threats to the economy. The drop-out rate. Unemployment. Loss of population in the town. Young people moving to the cities for jobs. No commerce to support college graduates. No local industry to support entry-level workers.
Bottom line: arts and crafts, mom and pop, home-spun and home-grown, and Mother Nature just wouldn’t cut it anymore. Legend needed more.
Huh?
Suzie screwed up her face and glanced around her. She was “mom and pop” er, well, “mom” and was doing okay. Right? What was this man saying? By the looks on the faces around her, she wasn’t the only one concerned.
Martin cleared his throat and tentatively stood up. Jack acknowledged him. “So let me make sure I understand you,” he nodded toward the consultant. “You’re saying that Legend needs to make changes? That the downtown isn’t going to make it? That we need more?”
The older man nodded. “Your economy is gradually dwindling. To be honest, it needs a swift kick in the butt. Your young people need to work and there are no jobs. If jobs don’t come here within the next five years, your beautiful little town could become a ghost town.”
Small gasps went up in the crowd.
Martin countered. “But our downtown is booming. Two new shops are opening up as we speak. Business is getting better all the time and, even though I’m not always in favor of fast growth, downtown is on an upswing.”