by Shirley Jump
Her skin still tingled where he had touched her. She could still feel the imprint of his hard, strong chest against her back, feel the power in his arm when he wrapped it around her. She’d felt safe and protected and…
Desired.
And that was the whole problem. He wanted her, that was clear in his kiss, in his touch. The problem was wanting him back. Because she did. Too much. She had to end this before she got in too much deeper and began thinking about a future with Harlan Jones.
Despite everything he’d said about the drawbacks to his job, he was still a man who wouldn’t hesitate to use her most embarrassing moments to entertain the audience. If he found out about what happened in the church, she had no doubt he’d turn that into a joke, just like the rest of the media had. In short, he was dangerous, on a hundred different levels, and that meant she should stay away.
“So,” Mildred said. “I see my match is working out.”
“I agree. Lulu and Kevin seem very happy,” Sophie said.
Mildred laughed and waved a hand. “Silly! I meant you and Harlan.”
“Harlan and I? No, no, we’re—”
“Happier than two clams in one shell,” Mildred said. “Your grandmother is going to be so pleased when she stops by the carnival later.”
Mildred’s corny phrase immediately sent Sophie’s mind back to the Tilt-A-Whirl. Spinning into Harlan’s chest, feeling the hard strength of him beneath her. For a second back there, she’d wished he would wrap both his arms around her, trail kisses down her neck, maybe slip a hand beneath the cotton of her T-shirt. Touch her. Make her feel everything she had never felt before. Never felt with Jim, or anyone else.
Then when the ride had slowed, and Harlan had jerked away from her as if that moment of contact was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, she’d come to her senses. She might have seen some nice traits in him lately, but that didn’t mean he was settling-down material.
Besides that, she had a Love Lottery to run, a grandmother to worry about and a lot of lattes to make. There was no time to work on anything with Harlan Jones.
Good thing, too, because the man had a way of erasing her self-control.
“Mildred, Harlan and I aren’t a couple. Well, we are, but it’s just for show, for this week. If I wasn’t publicity director, I’d back out.” She saw disappointment fill the older woman’s features. Sophie’s gaze drifted across the park, lingered on the tall man in a cowboy hat leaning against the WFFM booth. He was talking to the other men in the booth, and not looking at her. Thank goodness, because if he did, she wasn’t sure she could stick to her resolve. “I know Harlan paid for his match, so why don’t you…” She paused, then pushed forward. She had to say it. “Why don’t you fix him up with someone else for the rest of the week? That way he gets his money’s worth.”
And maybe he’d be happier with someone less…complicated, she told herself. Even though the thought of him with another woman sent a sharp pain through her chest.
“Why?”
Sophie jerked her attention back to Mildred. “Why what?”
“Why aren’t you and Harlan going to work out?” Mildred’s lips puckered and her eyes narrowed. She leaned in closer to Sophie. “Because I’ve been making matches ever since I married my Henry, God rest his soul, and not a one of the pairs I’ve put together has broken up.”
“None of the couples broke up?”
“Well, if they have, no one’s said a word to me. As far as I know, all the chickens are happy in the hen house.”
“That’s good.”
“Darn tootin’,” Mildred said. “Why, I’ve been to more weddings than a priest. So, if you ask me, you should rethink Harlan Jones.” Mildred stepped out of the ticket booth, and Sophie turned to the little boy beneath the window.
“Can I help you?”
“Ten tickets, please,” he said, and thrust a five-dollar bill at her.
Sophie smiled, and exchanged the money for the tickets. “Have fun!” But her words fell on deaf ears because the boy was already charging across the park, headed for the Ferris wheel.
“I never thought he was right for you, you know,” Mildred said.
Sophie turned around, surprised to find Mildred still standing in the doorway. “Who? Harlan? I was just saying that. That’s why I think you should find him someone else.”
Mildred waved off that suggestion. “No, that Jim fellow. He didn’t read right for me.”
Mildred had more superstitions than anyone Sophie knew. “Are you doing tarot now, too, Miss Meyers?”
“Goodness, no.” She took a step toward Sophie. The ticket booth door shut behind her, and once again, they were enclosed in the tiny space. “Do you want to know how I match people?” Mildred didn’t wait for an answer. “I close my eyes, and I imagine two people together. And in my heart, I know if putting those two together will work or not. Jim was a nice man and all, but when I pictured him with you, it never felt right.”
“Wish you’d told me before the wedding,” Sophie muttered. “Could have saved myself some embarrassment.”
“You weren’t in any mood for listening. You have one quality, Sophie Watson, that is both good and bad. You are bull-headed.”
“I am not.” The Smithson family came up to the ticket booth, all three children in tow. The father plunked down a twenty, and Sophie handed him his tickets. The littlest Smithson sent Sophie a little wave before trotting off after her siblings. Her gaze followed him, then stopped when she saw Harlan Jones seated behind the mike in the radio station’s booth.
Broadcasting about their conversation in the Tilt-A-Whirl? She sure hoped not. He’d promised. Would he keep his word? How well did she know him, anyway?
“You are indeed bull-headed,” Mildred said from behind her. “It’s why your coffee shop has succeeded in a place where, heck, half the time, it is too darned hot to drink coffee. It’s why you were chosen as the head of the Love Lottery and asked to chair the fundraising committee for the community wellness center, because if anyone could make that happen, it would be you.”
Sophie had known Mildred most of her life, and had rarely heard that many compliments in one sitting. Mildred Meyers was a nice, generous and quirky woman, but not one who went throwing about accolades. “Thank you.”
Mildred wagged a finger at her. “I also said it could be a bad trait. You are so bull-headed about Harlan Jones that you can’t see the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” Sophie’s gaze strayed to Harlan again. He caught her eye, tipped his hat her way, and something hot exploded in her gut.
“That you two are made for each other. There isn’t another woman in the world who’s as perfect for that man as you are. So I’m sorry, but my match stays.” Mildred gave Sophie a nice, but firm smile. “Just close your eyes, and you’ll see what I see. Harlan Jones is the perfect man for you.”
If only she was right, Sophie thought with a sigh, then turned away from Harlan and got busy selling tickets.
Night dropped its blanket of blue black light over the Edgerton Shores town park. Families with small children bought one last elephant ear, tossed one last dart at a balloon, took one last spin on the Ferris wheel, then headed home, with tired, happy kids. WFFM switched to its nightly music show, allowing the remote team to dismantle the temporary location and head home.
Harlan stayed after the other guys left. He should get home to the dogs—they’d probably chewed through his living-room sofa by now—but he lingered, letting the twinkling lights in the trees and the soft music streaming from the speakers wash over him. The carnival’s sounds and colors were muted a bit, as if with the coming of night, the event strove for a softer touch.
The last couple months, doing Tobias’s job and his own, had been hell on wheels, keeping Harlan so busy most days he barely remembered to eat. Even the time he spent sitting in his chairs at Sophie’s café were work hours. He made calls, ran numbers, checked emails. He hadn’t had too many moments to just…be.
> Hell, he didn’t have many of those moments ever. Harlan Jones was a man who knew the value of hard work, and stuck to that, day in and day out. Except for the few hours he wasted in the garage woodshop, he kept his nose to the grindstone. But now, the show was over, the crew gone, and though there was a stack of files sitting in Harlan’s truck, he let them sit there while he strolled through the carnival.
Sophie Watson was just leaving the ticket booth. She stepped out of the small white structure and brushed her hair off her face, then let out a long breath, as if she, too, was shedding the weight of the day. Shadows dusted the undersides of her eyes, but to Harlan, she looked as beautiful as always.
“Long day?” he called out to her.
She started at the sound of his voice, then relaxed when she saw who it was. “Yeah. I’ve been running here and there all week.” She sighed. “I seem to have a bad case of volunteeritis.”
“Volunteeritis?”
“If someone needs something done, I’m the first to put up my hand.” She shook her head. “I’m either too nice or a glutton for punishment.”
He closed the gap between them in three strides. Part of him wanted to reach out and capture her hands in his, draw her to him, and take care of her for the rest of the night. There was just something about the carnival’s nighttime atmosphere that had softened his stance, made him want things he shouldn’t have. “I’d go with the too nice option.”
“Thanks.” She let out another breath, then looked around at the carnival. “I should probably start cleaning up.”
“Aren’t there other people with volunteeritis who will do that?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Stop right there, darlin’. You look like you haven’t eaten all day.” He put out his arm. “Let’s get something that’ll slap some meat on our bones.”
She laughed. “I shouldn’t.”
“You should.” He patted his arm. “Come on. I promise not to bite.”
As soon as he said the words, a mental image of his mouth, trailing down her soft peach skin, nipping here and there, tasting her sweet body, sprang to his mind. He could almost taste her, almost feel her arching beneath him. He wanted her, more than he could remember wanting anyone. The memory of her kiss—that hot, hard kiss—sprang to his mind. And stayed. Damn.
What was he doing? Why did he keep getting so distracted?
She slipped her hand into his arm, and smiled up at him, completely unaware of the decadent thoughts in Harlan’s mind. “Do you like elephant ears?”
“As long as they come with a tall iced tea, I do.”
She laughed, and they started walking, navigating around other couples who were playing the games of chance or taking one last spin on a ride. Pop music filled the air, so loud in some places the vibrations from the speakers had the canopies dancing. People cheered when a skinny teenager won a giant dolphin for his girlfriend. She clutched the stuffed animal to her chest and gave her boyfriend a long, barely legal-in-public kiss.
“I love dolphins,” Sophie said. “I think they’re my favorite animal.”
“You want me to win you one?”
“Oh, no. I prefer the real ones. Before I opened the coffee shop, I used to go to the beach every morning to see them. When it’s cooler and not so crowded, they like to come in close to shore. They’re just amazing.” She sighed. “Now I’m so busy in the mornings, I haven’t been over to the beach to see them in a while.”
“You should go sometime,” Harlan said.
“I should.” She watched the couple walk away, arm in arm and still kissing. “Sometime.”
“I can’t remember the last time I went to one of these,” Harlan said as they strolled between the carnival games. The lights flashed in a multicolored rainbow, dancing on Sophie’s features. “Guess I just got too old.”
“You’re never too old for a little fun,” Sophie said.
“Yeah,” Harlan said, glancing over at her, and wondering how she managed to find that balance that had so eluded him for so long, “you’re right.”
Sophie put a hand on her chest and faked a swoon. “Did I hear you correctly, Mr. Jones? Did you just say I was right?”
He stopped walking, and turned to face her. Her green eyes danced with merriment, and he found a smile curving across his face in answer. He tipped a finger under her chin, his gaze lingering on those full, dark pink lips. “What’s it gonna take for you to start calling me by my given name?”
“You want me to call you…” Her lips parted, and a breath whispered out of her, “Harlan?”
Desire roared through his veins. He’d heard plenty of people say his name before, but none had had that mixture of sweet and sassy. His hand danced against her jaw, their gazes locked, and the urge to kiss her again—and again and again—surged inside him. “Oh, Sophie.”
“Excuse me,” a woman said as she brushed past them.
The interruption jarred Harlan back to reality. Hadn’t he decided earlier today not to get any more involved with Sophie? That he should concentrate on WFFM, on helping his brother?
His hand dropped away. He stepped back. “I, uh, believe I promised you an elephant ear.”
“Oh, yeah. There’s a booth, um, over there.” Did he hear disappointment in her tone? Or regret? He didn’t ask.
They crossed to a squat white trailer, manned by two women wearing bright pink aprons. The scent of cinnamon and butter filled the air around them, so thick, Harlan could nearly taste the dessert on the breeze. “Two elephant ears and two iced teas,” Harlan said, handing over some money.
“You don’t have to pay for me,” Sophie said. She reached into her pocket, pulled out some bills and handed them to him.
He pressed the money back into her palm. “Of course I do. This is still a date. And when I’m dating a lady, I take care of her. Let me take care of you, Sophie.”
Even under the muted lights of the trailer, Harlan could see a pink flush rise in Sophie’s cheeks. “Well, thank you.”
“Anytime, darlin’.” What was he saying? Did he mean taking care of more than just the cost of a snack? For longer than this week? Every time he knew the right thing to focus on, he came right back to focusing on Sophie.
What was wrong with him? A week ago, he’d rather have spent time wrestling a pig than tangling with Sophie Watson. Then they’d shared a couple of dates, a couple of kisses, and one carnival ride, and his mind was traveling down paths that definitely lead down the road of Like. Maybe something more.
No, there’d be no more. Harlan thought of the work waiting in his car, the brother still recovering from an accident, and the people depending on him, and told himself he should leave.
He didn’t.
The woman in the trailer handed them their drinks, followed by two steaming fried dough circles. The elephant ears—so named because their large, irregular shape mimicked that of the animal’s—glistened with butter, as if begging to be eaten. He inhaled the scent of fried food—the decadent, heavy fragrance that only came with something battered and cooked in a hell of a lot of grease.
“I like mine loaded,” Sophie said, crossing to a small table set up with a variety of condiments. “I only get these once a year, at the Spring Fling, and when I do, I go all out.”
“You must have mighty strong self-control to resist these all year.” Harlan tore off a chunk of warm dough and popped it in his mouth. It melted against his tongue, smooth and rich.
She sprinkled cinnamon sugar on her fried dough, followed by a heaping spoonful of apple slices. Then she forked off a bite and ate it, pausing to smile at the taste before speaking again. “You should see me when we pull a fresh batch of biscotti out of the oven. I have to practically tie myself to the counter to keep from eating them all.”
He wagged another piece of dough at her. “Those don’t count. As far as I can tell, those bis-yummies don’t have a calorie in them.”
“Maybe I’ll put that on the advertising literature.” She laughed again, and
Harlan decided he liked the sound so much, he’d do whatever it took to hear it again. They began to walk the fairgrounds, eating their fried dough and admiring the scenery.
“We’d make quite the team,” Harlan said, tossing his trash into a bin.
“That could be dangerous. Us working together.”
They had reached the end of the carnival area. There were few lights here—only a couple strings of multicolored bulbs looped between the trees. The music had dropped into background noise. They were alone, in a shadowed, quiet area. The kind of place where anything could happen. He took her trash out of her hands, tossed it in the bin. Then rested his hands on her hips and met her gaze. “I like danger. Very much.”
“Do you?” A sexy tease lit the notes of her voice, a flirt danced in her eyes.
That was all it took to push Harlan over the edge. “Hell, yes,” he said, his voice nearly a growl as he lowered his mouth to hers and did the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do again.
Kissed Sophie Watson. And kissed her good.
CHAPTER NINE
SOPHIE didn’t want the night to end. After that kiss—a fiery, no-holds-barred kiss that would go down in history as one of the top ten kisses in the world—she had found reason after reason to justify staying with Harlan long after the carnival had shut down for the night.
They’d wandered the town park, talking about everything and nothing. She’d heard about his childhood in Texas, how he met Ernie, his first radio job and more about how his loud mouth had landed him on the air. She’d told him about living in the same town all her life, and finding no place else like it in the world, about opening the coffee shop because she believed in supporting the local economy, and about how close she’d grown to her grandma since her parents moved to northern Florida a few years ago.
She could feel them growing closer, feel the threads of a relationship knit between them. It scared her and thrilled her all at once.
Around midnight, they’d headed over to O’Toole’s Pub, a small bar on the east end of Main Street. They’d shared a pitcher of beer, a heaping platter of wings, and more conversation. So much, Sophie was sure her voice would be hoarse in the morning. They’d laughed and flirted, and bumped into each other a hundred times, charging the air with sexual tension and desire.