Her Sweet Talkin' Man

by Myrna Mackenzie

  But he still wanted to gaze into her eyes as he slipped into her body. He wanted to hear her gasp and cry out with satisfaction.

  Knowing that he would do none of those things didn’t make the need less intense.

  “Time for an icy shower, buddy,” he told himself, forcing himself from bed and into the bathroom. “Get her out of your mind. She’s been hurt by men before and she doesn’t want that again. Besides, she has a boy. A very little boy. Innocent and vulnerable. A boy who hasn’t yet learned that people can be fickle, that they can hurt him when he hasn’t done anything wrong.” Boys like that blamed themselves when things went wrong. They smiled, and you smiled back. And when you left, they wondered if they’d done something wrong and what it was. Soon their smiles came less often and then not at all. They ceased to trust.

  A boy that young should still be able to trust.

  A woman that pure of heart should be able to leave her house without worrying that some man with lustful intentions would take advantage of her goodness and her warmth and her loveliness.

  She wasn’t going to have to worry about him. He was going to stick around only long enough to be an annoyance to Ford, long enough to remind him and his that there were at least some consequences for every action, even those that had happened long ago.

  Then he would finally feel as if he’d done a little something for his mother, given back a tiny bit of what had been taken from her. And then he would go, leaving Crystal Bennett as innocent as he’d found her.

  It was some kind of a plan, at least.

  As he felt some of the morning’s tension ease and made his way to the kitchen, the phone rang.

  “Yeah?” He held the receiver between his shoulder and ear as he opened the door to the beat-up refrigerator and stared at a lot of nothing.

  “Hmm, grumpy in the morning. Not specifically a Carson trait, but interesting.” It was Fiona’s too-cheerful voice.

  “I assume you have a reason for calling.”

  “Maybe I just wanted to make sure Crystal got home safely last night.”

  “You could have called her to ask that.”

  “I wonder. I saw her leave with you. She might have told me if Branson was bothering her again, but I’m not sure she would have discussed you with me even if you were less than a gentleman.”

  “I’m not a gentleman and there’s nothing to discuss.” But her words gave him pause.

  He’d seen the worried look in Crystal’s eyes when he’d gone to see Ford last night. He hadn’t missed the fact that she’d taken his hand. To protect him? Fiona was right. Crystal wouldn’t complain about his behavior to a Carson.

  “She’s fine,” he said a bit too roughly. “At least she was when I left her.”

  “Might be a good idea to call and find out for sure, though. Just in case Branson rang her doorbell after you left.”

  He was way ahead of her on that one. And like it or not, determined to keep his distance from Crystal or not, he intended to make sure Branson left her alone.

  “Good point. Is there anything else?” he asked. “I’m just getting ready for work.”

  “Oh, yes, Mission Creek Motors. You could probably have a job at Lone Star Auto, you know.”

  No, he couldn’t. He had lived his whole life at the wealthy academy where his mother had ended up working, fighting the accusations that he wanted to be an interloper, a climber, a pretender, a wanna-be who didn’t really belong at the school. It had taken him years to fight free. He was done with that. And this was just more of the same.

  The distance between him and the Carsons was glaring enough. He’d come here to show Ford that he’d survived in spite of everything and didn’t need the big bad Carsons to help him succeed. He’d come here to show Ford Carson he could give him a run for his money, even make him a little uncomfortable. Doing the nine-to-five under the thumb of Ford Carson would give Ford the power. And the old man had already exercised his power over Ace—and his mother. Ace didn’t want to be one of the Carsons of Mission Creek. And he sure didn’t want anyone thinking differently.

  “I don’t think I’d be a good match for Lone Star Auto. I like it just fine where I am. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Sure, I was just going, but…”

  “Yes?”

  “There is one thing.”

  He waited.

  “I was just wondering…I thought…well, Clay and I are having a little dinner party here later. Perhaps you’d like to bring Crystal.”

  It was the last thing Ace had expected to hear.

  “You want me to come to dinner?”

  “With Crystal.”

  Ah, now he was getting it. He remembered a few times last night when Fiona had appeared to get a certain look in her eyes. A born matchmaker, he guessed. Not a shy one, either. And her aim right now was to match Crystal with the new man in town. He was a little disappointed in Fiona. Surely she remembered what he’d told her about where he was staying and what he was doing while he was here, neither of which made him look like much of a catch. He wondered what the other men she’d tried to set Crystal up with had been like—and found he didn’t really want to know.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Because you don’t want to have dinner with the Carsons, or because you don’t want me to fix you up with Crystal?”

  He wasn’t prepared to answer. He doubted he could answer if he tried.

  “When I make a date with a woman, I prefer to do my own planning,” he finally said, his excuse sounding lame even to his own ears.

  “Hmm, well, I just thought it would be one way to keep her safe while Branson is in this mood.”

  “Is he truly dangerous?”

  “Could be. He’s served time in jail, but not for anything violent. Still, he went berserk after his wife, Deena, lost her baby when she went into premature labor. And he has an ugly history with Crystal, but that was a long time ago. I’m not sure why he targeted her yesterday.”

  Which meant the man was unpredictable. It was already obvious he was unstable. Fiona was right—someone needed to keep an eye on Crystal. For the next few days, at any rate.

  “Hmm,” he said.

  “Exactly,” Fiona replied. “You’ll come to dinner?”

  “I told you, I like to do things my own way when I’m getting involved with a woman.”

  “And are you planning on getting involved with her?” He could almost hear the satisfaction in Fiona’s voice.

  “I’m just going to make sure Branson doesn’t think she’s fair game. I’ll be a presence.”

  “I like that.”

  “Don’t like it too much. It won’t last, and you should be grateful for that. Crystal is destined for someone a lot more domestic than I am.”

  “She doesn’t want to get married. I know that much.”

  He did, too, but for some reason it grated coming from someone else. What did Crystal do? Advertise to the entire world that she wasn’t available to any man?

  “It won’t come to that,” he promised. “This will be short and simple. More of a task than a relationship,” he assured his half sister.

  But he had to admit, when he had hung up the phone, it was a task that might be pleasant. Crystal was an appetizing woman, and he was feeling rather hungry at the moment. As long as both of them recognized that they didn’t want to let things go too far, why shouldn’t they at least get to know each other a little?

  Crystal hung up the phone and wondered when Fiona would stop trying to fix her up with every man who entered her field of vision.

  She hadn’t even bothered to try to hide the fact that she was matchmaking.

  “Fiona,” Crystal had said, “doesn’t it bother you that Ace is obviously here to settle some kind of score with your family? Your father in particular?”

  “Yes, it bothers me a lot.”

  “Then why do you want me to date him?”

  “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t believe that anyon
e can really resist the Carson clan?” she teased. “Or because if you married him, you and I would be related?” Crystal could almost imagine Fiona’s grin.

  “Not exactly the most stable basis for a marriage, sweetie,” Crystal reminded her friend.

  “Maybe not, and maybe I’ll regret trying to throw you two together, but he protected you. You don’t get enough of that. You try to convince everyone that you don’t need anyone, and it sends most men running.”

  “That’s the idea. And I don’t need anyone.”

  “You have to admit that he’s a looker.”

  “He’s a Carson. You’re all lookers. And looks don’t make for a stable relationship, either. I had that with John. He even looked good walking away.”

  “He ran away. Coward.”

  “Yes.”

  “And it wasn’t you he was running from. It was fatherhood.”

  “And marriage. And Ace doesn’t want marriage, either, in case you don’t know that.”

  “Yes, well, I can guess. He doesn’t look like he’s thinking of domestic chores when he turns those blue eyes on you. Although he does look a bit like he’s imagining activities related to babies.”

  Crystal didn’t know what to say. “You really think that no one can resist the Carson clan?” She wondered if she was thinking about Ace resisting Fiona’s friendliness, or herself resisting Ace’s bedroom looks.

  “I guess you’ll see. He’s on his way over to see you before work. Why don’t you bring him over to my house for dinner tonight?”

  “If you know that he’s on his way over here, then you must have talked to him. I can only assume that he turned down your offer of a meal.”

  “Stubborn man.”

  “Yes, and he’s going to stay that way. I am not going to begin dating your half brother or any other man who looks like something so sinful he should be poured over ice cream. I’ve told you a thousand times I’m strictly into simple friendly relationships with men from here on out.”

  “Well, it was worth a try.” Fiona let out a long sigh.

  Crystal wasn’t going to rise to the bait. She was going to hang up just as soon as she found out one thing. “Why exactly is Ace on his way over here?”

  “Maybe because he just can’t stay away,” Fiona suggested.

  “Or because you told him something that sent him over here,” Crystal guessed.

  “That, too,” Fiona admitted. “But you can ask him about it when he gets there.” And then she hung up.

  Now Crystal was standing in the middle of the room trying to decide what to do. She wasn’t due at the hospital for another hour and so she hadn’t gotten dressed yet. Her hair was still loose and slightly mussed from a night in bed, and her pale blue sleep shirt had seen many washings and clung to her curves the way old soft shirts do. Her feet were bare. Worse, she hadn’t yet had coffee or anything else to brace her for the next few minutes.

  What she needed was a backbone. What she did not need was to have to face Ace when her lips were still tingling from his kiss the night before.

  But the doorbell rang at that moment and it didn’t matter what she needed. What she had was one gorgeous man standing on her doorstep.

  She let him in. His gaze shifted immediately to her bare legs. He didn’t look even vaguely apologetic. No surprise. Women probably spent hours dreaming up ways to show him their legs. Most women would probably consider her lucky.

  Crystal tried to nonchalantly cross her arms—and her legs.

  Ace grinned. “It’s not working, you know. You still look like something a man is supposed to find in his bed if he’s incredibly lucky.”

  Warmth stole up from her toes to the top of her head. It traveled back down through her body, stopping in all the places that made her aware that she was a woman and Ace Carson was a man.

  “Can I help you?” she finally managed to ask, not sure where to start.

  He shook his head. “Fiona suggested that Branson might have made a repeat visit to your side after I left last night. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  She didn’t want to be touched by his concern. But darn it, what was a woman supposed to do when he just stood there looking as if he really was concerned about more than her legs?

  “I haven’t seen him since you chased him away,” she replied.

  “Good. I’ll try to keep it that way.”

  She blinked. “Which means what?”

  He shrugged. “I’m here for a short while. My job isn’t that demanding. I can make myself useful while I’m in Mission Creek. Any problems with that?”

  Yes, more problems than she cared to examine if he meant what it sounded like he meant. “What did Fiona say to you?”

  “Fiona thinks you and I should get to know each other better.”

  “Fiona is sometimes too…helpful for her own good, but she’s also skipping down the wrong path.”

  “I know that. So does she, I think.”

  His easy compliance should have offered her some relief. Instead, it stung.

  “Don’t get me wrong. Fiona’s a good person,” Crystal said.

  Ace didn’t answer.

  “She’s a wonderful person, actually.”

  He stared at her, his lips even curved in a smile slightly, but he didn’t comment.

  “You’ll like her once you get to know her. She’s very special,” Crystal continued somewhat defensively.

  “Crystal,” Ace drawled, “you don’t have to do this. In fact, it would be best if you didn’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Attempt to patch things up between my sister and me.”

  “What’s to patch up? You don’t even know each other. I’m only saying that if you got to know each other—”

  “We won’t.”

  “Would you like to have dinner at her house?” Where had that come from? Hadn’t she just told Fiona that this dinner thing wasn’t going to happen?

  “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the small cozy dinner circuit. Too uncomfortable. I’m not here to make peace with the Carsons, Crystal.”

  “They’re family.”

  “Not mine.”

  And there was something in his voice that warned her not to take this any further. She supposed he was right. She didn’t know a thing about him. She had no right to judge or to press.

  “Nice suit,” she said, instead, and smiled. He was dressed in crisp black and white. “Not exactly typical auto-showroom attire.”

  “J.D. wants everything about the place to say formal, expensive, luxurious. At least that’s what he told me.”

  She knew that. She’d been by J.D.’s place, but she could have told the owner that none of the other salesmen even began to fill out a suit the way Ace did. Most of his salesmen looked like funeral directors in their stark black and white. Ace, however, looked all man—and a terribly attractive one, at that. Still…

  “You need just a touch of color, something that hints at a bit of adventure. Wait here,” she told him.

  She left the room, then came back with a deep maroon scarf. Carefully she folded it and stepped close to Ace. She tried her best not to breathe in the clean male scent of him or to notice that his shoulders were broad and his chest was, too. Something was definitely wrong with her, because she was not a morning person, yet this morning all her senses were on full alert. She had a strong desire to slip her hands beneath the lapels of Ace’s jacket and slide it off him as she kissed her way down the stark white of his shirt.

  She hoped beyond hope that she wasn’t blushing. “There,” she said, tucking the scarf into his pocket and finishing up somewhat clumsily. “Now you look just a little bit different, a little bit bolder than usual. You’ll attract attention.”

  As if he wouldn’t have before. Ace Turner Carson would attract attention if he were clad in…well, in anything. Or in nothing.

  “That’s what I came here to do,” he said softly, placing a finger beneath her chin. “I came to attract attention.”<
br />
  Crystal felt as if her skin was on fire. She felt as if she would die for lack of air if he didn’t lean down and kiss her. He was certainly attracting her attention.

  “After you’ve gotten everyone’s attention, then what will you do?” she asked.

  “Then I’ll leave,” he said simply and solemnly, looking straight into her eyes as he said it. “I’ll leave, Crystal.” She knew he was telling her something very important. Don’t be like my mother. Don’t follow the path you followed once before. Don’t make a mistake about a man who has no intention of being here when hard times strike. Be true to yourself and yourself alone.

  “Well,” she said, looking at her watch, “if you’re going to leave, then you’d better leave soon. Mission Creek Motors opens in ten minutes.”

  He swore beneath his breath and looked at his own watch.

  “Do not let Branson Hines get too near you today,” he said.

  She looked up at him as if he’d just told her not to jump off any high cliffs. “Do I look that gullible?”

  “Yes,” he said, causing her to gasp. “I can see what’s in your eyes, Crystal. I’m betting that if he apologized and told you that he’d made a mistake yesterday, you’d forgive him. You’d let down your guard. Don’t.”

  “You think I’m a pushover.”

  “I think you see things in people that aren’t there,” he said. And he leaned over as if he was going to kiss her goodbye again.

  He didn’t. Instead, he pulled back, and she saw that he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking beyond her.

  “Hey, wildcat, you have a great day today, do you hear? Make your mom laugh.”

  Timmy giggled, his pudgy cheeks dimpling. “Jokes,” he agreed. “Benny telled me some.”

  “Uh-oh,” Crystal said.

  “Uh-oh?” Ace raised a brow.

  “Benny is learning to swear. At age three,” she said, unable to keep the incredulity or concern from her voice. “I’m afraid he may be trying to teach Timmy some of his favorite words. Who knows what his favorite jokes are like?”

  Ace frowned. He studied Timmy, who had wandered into the back room, plopped down on the floor and was playing with a checkerboard. He was humming in that sweet off-key way little kids did. Blissful. Unaware of what was to come in his life.