Didn’t he?
He took a deep breath. She bumped hips with him. On purpose. “What was that for?”
She laughed, the sound foreign in his apartment. “Just because. We seem to be in each other’s way.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t fight it.”
“Fight it?” She stilled, wiped her hands on a dish towel and pivoted to face him. “What do you mean?”
He turned toward her, then reached out and took her soft, slightly damp hands in his. “We’re attracted to each other. We fight it. Then we tell each other that we’re just friends.”
She nodded, swallowed, but didn’t pull away. “Seems like our M.O. What are you suggesting?”
“I’m saying that despite what we say, despite what we think we should do, we’re still attracted.” He gently pulled her closer. “Maybe we shouldn’t fight the feelings. Maybe we should listen to our bodies instead of heeding all that conventional wisdom.”
She placed her hands on his waist and leaned closer, looking up. The overhead light made her eyes sparkle—with mischief or something else, he couldn’t tell. “I was never good with conventional wisdom, anyway.”
He smiled. “I’m terrific with all the traditional thinking, clichés and societal norms. I’m also getting better at ignoring those things that simply don’t work in a given situation.”
“This being a ‘given situation’?” she asked, her voice husky and so darn sexy he about grabbed her and ran for the bedroom.
“Exactly,” he whispered, before he bent down and kissed her.
Scarlett wound her arms around his waist, leaned into him and gave herself over to the kiss. Oh, that man could kiss. His lips molded to hers, his tongue thrust sure and strong, and she couldn’t get enough.
His body was tall and lean and so incredibly warm. She wanted to crawl inside his skin. She wanted to be absorbed by his heat and passion.
“James,” she whispered as he kissed his way to the side of her neck.
“Umm,” he murmured, but said nothing else. He was obviously too busy, and as soon as he hit that spot just below her ear, she didn’t really want to talk, either.
“Would you like to see the rest of the apartment now?” he asked as his hands roamed close to her breasts.
“Now?” she breathed. What was left to see? Why did she have to open her eyes, anyway?
“Um, I think the only room you haven’t seen is my bedroom.” Her eyes opened, unfocused. His hands stilled and he looked down at her. “What do you think?”
“How far is it?” she whispered, pulling him close again.
“Not too far, thank heavens,” he murmured. He cupped her bottom, lifted her and started walking.
Scarlett bent her knees and looped her legs around his waist, bringing her right up against that part of him that felt so very good. “Walking is good for your heart,” she whispered into his ear, “and it feels really, really wonderful.”
He chuckled and boosted her a little higher. “Our exercise has just begun,” he said before reaching a dark room that she assumed was the aforementioned bedroom. Yep, she thought as he eased her backward until she lay on a high, wide mattress.
She reluctantly removed her legs from around his waist. Looking about, she said, “Nice room.” Not that she could really see anything, since the only light came down the hall from the front rooms. “Now, where were we?”
“Joined at the hip?”
“Oh, yes.” That had felt really, really great. “Tell me you are prepared, because I—”
He placed a finger on her sensitive lips. “Don’t worry. I know all about being ready for any contingency.”
“Of course you do,” she said, pulling him down so she could nibble on his neck for a change.
Now that they were in his bedroom and on the bed, and he’d answered the question correctly, Scarlett sensed the change in James. She felt it also. The time for talking had passed. The time for teasing was over. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She saw his face, his intense expression, his wide shoulders. Pale light threaded through the dark brown strands of his hair, and her fingers followed, shaping it into slight spikes and smoothing it down again.
His hands learned her body and she arched toward him, her breath catching at the sheer excitement of making love with James. And they hadn’t even removed their clothes yet. As soon as she formed the thought, his fingers began to ease her sweater up, over her rib cage, over the demicups of her bright pink bra. She raised off the bed a little and he removed the sweater.
He was so neat that she half expected him to fold it, but instead, he flung it away. Scarlett smiled. She loved James’s rare, uncharacteristic actions.
“Whoever said pink and red clash never saw your underwear,” he said with near reverence. “Wow.”
“I do like underwear.”
“I like your underwear.”
“I’d like to see yours now.”
Chapter Eight
“In a moment. There’s something I must do right now.”
She propped herself up on her elbows and watched, amused and aroused, as he carefully unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Fortunately, she’d worn matching panties today. He removed her half-boots and long socks, which weren’t sexy at all. Her feet, however, were darn cute. She’d painted her toenails a cheerful red and placed a twinkling crystal on both big toes with clear topcoat.
She lifted her hips as he slid the jeans off, the rasp of denim making her feel even more feminine and vulnerable. He threw them in the general direction of her sweater.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the first moment I saw you, standing in Clarissa’s salon,” he said. With that, he lifted her toward the center of the big bed, and she sank into the thick comforter. He stretched out over her, his hands just above her waist, almost but not quite touching her breasts.
Then he leaned down and she felt his hot, damp breath on her stomach. His tongue flicked out and teased her belly button ring. He played with the little charms, kissed and sucked all around there until he had to hold her still or she would have wiggled off the bed.
“Stop,” she called weakly. She couldn’t stand any more. And yet she wanted more. Much more.
“That is so cool,” he said, grinning up at her. His grin faded as his attention caught on her pink bra. Yes, she felt like shouting.
He worked the front clasp as if he knew exactly what he was doing. He peeled the cups back, then moved up her body. Yes, right there, she wanted to cry, but her breath left her as she collapsed on the bed. I should be doing something, she thought as he eased her panties off. But she was too enthralled by what James was doing to her. Next time, she silently promised as she helped him lose her underwear to the shadowy corner.
The night became a blur. He moved over her. He momentarily shifted away and she knew he was donning a condom. He eased into her body, then stilled, held her head between his hands and kissed her tenderly. Tears welled in her eyes from the sweetness of the moment. Never, ever had she felt as she did right now. She kissed James back, wound her arms around him, held him tight as he began to move. Slowly, then faster as she collapsed to the bed and watched the dim light swirl around them.
Then soon, far too soon but not nearly soon enough, the colors of a million Christmas lights centered behind her eyes and exploded inside her head. She cried out and held on to James, felt him shudder and stiffen in her arms, and sank into the darkness.
JAMES AWOKE TO HEAR A BIRD chirping in one of the small trees in the park outside his bedroom window. Darn bird. It often woke him before dawn. He grabbed his extra pillow and rolled over—and encountered a warm, petite body.
The night rushed back to him. This wasn’t just any morning; this was the morning after the night he and Scarlett had made love. How could he have forgotten that for even a minute? Even sleep-deprived and groggy?
He rolled fully to his side, propped himself up on one elbow and smiled. She lay on her stomach, her head turned toward him. Even in the predawn darkness, h
e could see her bright red hair, more spiked than usual. He remembered that although it appeared firm, it was very soft when he ran his hands through it. When he held her head and kissed her until they were both breathless.
Thinking about Scarlett had the usual effect on him: he was ready to make love again. And again. Unfortunately, she was still asleep, and he didn’t want to wake her this early. They hadn’t slept all that much the night before.
Of course, he rationalized, they had gone to bed early—right after dinner dishes. So perhaps they had gotten seven or eight hours of sleep, broken up by making love two times during the night.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek, which was the only sensible place he could reach, since she was covered to her neck with a sheet and comforter. If he remembered correctly, she had nothing on under the covers. Neither did he. Convenient. He smiled again and watched her stir.
“Is it morning?” she asked in a sleepy, husky voice.
“Technically. It’s not dawn yet.”
“Um, that’s good,” she replied, snuggling closer. “You’re so warm.”
He put his arms around her, pulling her tight against his hot, aroused body. “Are you ready to get even warmer?”
She wiggled a little. Her breasts settled against his chest. One of her legs wrapped over his hip. “Maybe.”
“Are we into negotiations? I’m pretty good at that, being a lawyer and all.”
“Umm. How about you be quiet and let me get to work?”
He felt a moment of acute disappointment. She was leaving? Right now? But then she pressed him onto his back, straddled him, and pulled the comforter over both of them. Darn. He couldn’t see her body now.
He forgot that minor complaint when she reached between them and found him, already at attention.
“Condom?” she said, husky but no longer sleepy sounding.
He reached toward the nightstand, handed her one and held his breath as she tore it open and rolled it on. Oh, yes. He sucked in air and moaned at the same time.
He felt more than saw Scarlett’s smile. Wicked hussy, he thought with a grin. She settled over him, took him into her body and had her way with him. Oh, that woman could move. He grabbed her hips, held on tight and let the feelings of rightness rush through him, followed some time later by one fantastic climax.
“You’ve ruined me for other women,” he whispered into her hair as she panted against his chest.
Again, he felt her smile, but then she pushed away.
“I need to go,” she said.
SCARLETT DIDN’T EXACTLY panic when she realized dawn was breaking, but she did hurry. She needed to be back at the salon before people were up and about. She wouldn’t be responsible for ruining the reputation of one very upstanding attorney.
She ungracefully “dismounted” from James, slid from beneath the very warm comforter and headed for the pile of clothes. Last night she’d been amused that he’d flung them away, but he had good aim. Her underwear, sweater and jeans were piled so she could reach down, grab them and dash to the bathroom.
She washed quickly, used her finger and his toothpaste to “brush,” donned her clothes, and ran her fingers through her wild hair. There. She was as ready as she was going to get without a hot shower and makeup.
She opened the bathroom door to find a naked James leaning against the frame. “Eek!” she shrieked before she could stop herself. Apparently, she was a little more nervous than she’d thought.
“Let me in for a minute, then I’ll get dressed and walk you back to the salon.”
“No! You can’t.”
“Of course I can. It’s not fully light yet, and I wouldn’t feel right letting you walk alone.”
“This is Brody’s Crossing, not Atlanta. Or L.A.”
“I know. That doesn’t change how I would feel about you leaving alone, though,” he said, brushing past her into the bathroom.
She hadn’t thought of it that way. She didn’t want to answer questions about where she’d been, what she’d been doing or who she’d been doing it with. Especially who she’d been doing it with.
She went into the kitchen and found her hoodie. The kitchen window faced west, so she couldn’t see the sunrise, but the sky was lightening to gray, increasing her sense of panic. She had a perm scheduled for ten o’clock. She needed to grab a shower, get composed, before then.
As she looked around the kitchen for anything she might have missed, she wondered if James was sorry that they’d slept together. Did he regret inviting her to dinner? He’d obviously enjoyed himself. At least three times, if she remembered correctly, but that didn’t mean he was happy about having a—what? They weren’t having an affair, were they? That was so old-fashioned! And they’d done more than hook up, since they’d discussed the whole friends and more-than-friends thing. Maybe they were friends-with-benefits. That was modern and uncomplicated, right?
“I’ll be ready to walk you home in just a minute,” he said from the other room.
She had to hurry! She didn’t want to go, but she had to get back to the salon before the town awakened. And she didn’t correct him, but the salon wasn’t “home,” and never would be.
With a soft click, she unlocked the door and slipped out into the cold morning.
SCARLETT KNEW THEY’D BEEN lucky this morning; no one had seen her slip in the back door. At least, no one she knew of. She was pretty sure that if anyone saw her, she’d hear about it before noon, she thought as she pulled off her clothes in the small bathroom.
She wouldn’t do anything to hurt James’s reputation. After all, it just wouldn’t do for a future judge to be seen cavorting with the town’s redheaded stranger. She ruffled her hair in the mirror. Was it time for a change? Would James like her hair another way? Another color?
She jumped into the shower. Oh, why was she thinking about what he would like? She’d always done what she wanted with her hair. With every aspect of her life. In near record time, she’d washed away the evidence of their night together. If only she could get rid of the doubts just as easily, she thought as she dried herself.
Her normal reaction to inherent criticism was to flaunt her acts in the face of moral outrage. She tossed the towel in the hamper and reached for her clothes.
She couldn’t imagine doing such a thing to James. Which meant…what? She slowly pulled a stretchy, white, long-sleeved T-shirt over her head as comprehension dawned. Oh, no. She’d begun to care way too much for James Brody. Way, way too much. She was half in love with him already. She’d only known him a week and a half! How could she be falling in love with him that quickly? How could she do something so incredibly stupid?
She felt a renewed sense of panic, as if she needed to escape out the door, run fast and hard and never look back. This wasn’t her home. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She needed to get to Los Angeles, to Diego’s nice salon, where she had a future.
Why would she put herself through the aggravation of comb-outs on cranky women who had too-tight perms? Getting criticism for not executing updos on unsuspecting teens? Being threatened by blue-haired ladies for daring to update their color and style?
For James, a tiny voice said, and she felt even more panic. She didn’t want to love someone when she couldn’t be herself! She was Scarlett! She was independent and self-confident and talented. She wouldn’t settle for working in a small-town salon when she had the break—when she’d made the opportunity—to become a stylist to the stars.
By the time she was dressed, her hair and makeup done, the acute panic had settled down to a milder urge to run. She needed to get to L.A. Somehow.
Clarissa unlocked the front door and entered with a cheerful smile, wearing a bright Christmas sweater, black knit slacks and dangling ornament earrings. She immediately reached for a pink smock. Scarlett took one look at her and saw her future. The urge to run returned.
“Clarissa,” she said, rushing toward the older woman, “tell me how I can get out of town. Fast.”
&nb
sp; JAMES FROWNED as his mother talked about the farmers’ market grand opening. He’d been reading a recent court ruling that could relate to the case before the bench in Graham, and was now staring out the window at the bare limbs of trees in the park and watching birds search for tiny red berries among the green bushes. He was not in the Christmas spirit.
“James, what’s going on?” his mother had asked as she came into his office right before lunch. “You look angry and you’re late for lunch.”
“Sorry.” He couldn’t very well tell her that Scarlett had run out on him before he’d zipped his jeans this morning. His parents weren’t overly judgmental and wouldn’t be shocked if he told them he’d had sex outside of marriage. Surely they didn’t think he’d been celibate since his divorce.
Come to think of it, he had lived like a monk most of the time. There was one weekend where he and a former college girlfriend had gone to Dallas for a Mavericks game, dinner and hotel stay. But for the most part, he’d been busy with his new law practice. Besides, he didn’t want to flaunt a relationship. He especially didn’t want to give any single women in Brody’s Crossing the impression that he could be serious about them. He wasn’t ready to look for the future Mrs. Brody, and he didn’t know of anyone locally who made him think of marrying again.
“James, you’re acting very strange.” His mother placed her palm on his forehead. “You might be running a little fever.”
You’re so warm, Scarlett had said before she’d straddled his body.
“Um, I’d better get to lunch,” he murmured. “Are you eating in or going to the café?”
“I’m meeting some friends there. Why?”
“You go ahead. I’ll lock up in a minute when I leave.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take your temperature? Maybe you have a cold.”
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