Hell, he just wanted to kiss her.
That’s all he’d seemed to be able to think about the entire day. Kissing Her. Touching her. Wondering if she was wearing the white lace bra and panties she’d bought at the department store.
Or the leopard thong. He thought a lot about that leopard thong.
He swore he was losing his mind.
“Clair, hi,” he said, but hesitated when the two women looked at each other. “Ah, Clair this is Tina Holland. Tina, Clair Beauchamp. Tina works here.”
Oh, for God’s sake.
He’d not only just made a formal introduction between the gas station clerk and Clair, he’d made a ridiculously obvious statement.
He was definitely losing his mind.
“I’m going to be working on my car all afternoon,” he said more roughly than he intended. “You’ll have to find something to do on your own.”
Clair watched Jacob snatch up the overalls and leave the office. She stared after him, wondering why he’d suddenly been so gruff, then realized she’d interrupted his conversation with Tina. Had he been trying to hit on the woman? Clair wondered. He’d been staring at the clerk when she’d walked around the corner, and with the ample amount of bossom the pretty redhead displayed, why wouldn’t he? He’d also seemed flustered, she thought, and definitely in a hurry to leave.
Clair looked back at the clerk. Was this the kind of woman that attracted Jacob? When he’d first met Mindy, Clair was certain she’d seen interest in his eyes, too.
It was all she could do not to stare down at her own plain clothes and her uninteresting B cup. Even the new makeup she’d bought had been conservative compared to Mindy and Tina.
Maybe you need to rewrap the package, Mindy had said. Clair glanced over her shoulder, watched as Jacob tugged on the overalls, then jumped in his car, closed the hood and drove it into the gas station garage.
“Can I help you with anything?” Tina asked.
Clair blinked, then turned back to the clerk. “Yes,” she said and smiled slowly. “I believe you can…”
Six
She was late.
For the tenth time in twenty minutes, Jacob stared at his watch and frowned. It was nearly seven o’clock. Clair had left a message on his motel room phone for him to meet her at Pink’s Steak House at six-thirty.
So where the hell was she?
Not that he was worried. Liberty seemed to be a quiet, friendly town, and Jacob had spotted several Liberty County sheriff cars driving around this afternoon. Since Clair had told him she was going shopping on the main thoroughfare through town, and the motel they were staying at was on the same street, as well, there was no reason to be concerned.
She did have a knack for getting herself into situations, though, Jacob thought. All alone for the afternoon, in a strange town, a woman as naive as Clair could probably find trouble. He thought about her going into that bar last night by herself and running into Mad Dog. Though the construction worker had turned out to be a nice guy, he could have just as easily been not so nice.
Jacob’s frown darkened. He stared at his watch again and signaled the cocktail waitress to bring him another beer.
He wasn’t worried, dammit.
Tapping his fingers on the tabletop, he glanced around the dimly lit restaurant. A single pink rose in a cut glass vase and a flickering votive graced every linen covered table. Nice place, he thought, yet he still felt comfortable in his jeans and the black button-down shirt he’d pulled on after he’d scrubbed the grease from his hands and showered.
It had felt good to get his hands dirty again. He’d been so busy these past few months he’d had no time to even pick up a wrench, let alone tinker with his engine. Usually he found working on his car calmed him down, eased the stress of a difficult, and sometimes dangerous, job.
But today he’d been too distracted to relax, had found his mind drifting and his concentration shot to hell. He’d scraped his knuckles on an alternator mount and burned the inside of his forearm on the radiator. All because of Clair.
Even while he’d been covered with grease, dripping with sweat, bending over a one-hundred-twenty-degree engine, he’d had thoughts about Clair. Lurid, scandalous, erotic thoughts.
How the hell was he was going to last another three or four days? The woman was driving him crazy. Killing him.
The cocktail waitress, a shapely blonde, set another beer in front of him, gave him a lingering smile, then left. He watched her walk away, then mentally shook his head and groaned. Last night Mindy, this morning Tina, now this waitress. Pretty women all around him, women who were clearly experienced with the opposite sex. Women he normally would have at least flirted with, maybe even more if the situation were right.
He lifted his beer and took a sip. Clair had never been the type of woman he’d been attracted to before. Naive, innocent, conservative—
Sexy?
The sip of beer in his mouth nearly went flying out as he caught sight of her moving toward him. He gulped to swallow it, then choked.
Good God, what had she done to herself?
The tight, black skirt skimming her slender hips had to be illegal in some states. Though it was well past her knees, the slit up the side seemed to expose leg all the way from the tips of her shiny black high heels clear up to her neck. Her lips were full and glossy wet, the same deep burgundy color as the sheer, long-sleeved blouse she wore. Her hair, normally straight, fell in loose, soft curls around her face and shoulders. Her eyes smoldered; her skin glowed. She kept that smoky gaze on him as she approached, exposing bare thigh with every stride.
A waiter carrying a tray of drinks caught sight of her and bumped into a chair, nearly spilling his load. His jaw slack, Jacob noticed that the rest of the men in the restaurant were staring, as well.
What the hell was she trying to do? Start a riot?
His hand tightened on his glass when she slid smoothly into the booth across from him.
“Hi,” she said as if she were out of breath.
Hi? He narrowed a gaze at her. She’d walked in here looking like some kind of a sultry sex goddess and all she could say was “hi?”
He caught her scent and drew it slowly into his lungs. Dammit, she smelled sexy, too. Exotic and seductive.
“Sorry I’m late. I got caught up shopping this afternoon, then dropped into the hair salon and told them I wanted a new look.” She pulled at one loose curl brushing her neck. “What do you think?”
What did he think? That it would be so easy to slide his hand up that slit in her skirt, even easier to slip off her underwear and be inside her in a matter of—
“Good evening.” A pencil-necked waiter with short blond hair appeared from nowhere and gaped at Clair. “My name is George and I’ll be your server this evening. May I get you something to drink?”
“Hello, George.” Clair pursed her lips while she thought. “Maybe a glass of wine.”
“We have a house chardonnay that’s very nice.” George pulled a wine list from his pocket. “And a 1995 pinot from Chile that I’m sure you’ll find quite crisp and light.”
Gimme a break. Jacob resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.
“Something more robust, I think,” Clair breathed. “And full-bodied.”
When the waiter’s gaze dropped to Clair’s breasts, Jacob felt a tick jump at the corner of his eye.
George blinked, then visibly swallowed. “Ah, perhaps a merlot or a cabernet?”
Clair smiled. “You pick.”
“Thank you.” The waiter blushed, then cleared his throat. “Yes, I will. Pick something nice, I mean.”
Jacob decided that if the man didn’t stop gawking at Clair, the only thing he’d pick would be his teeth from the back of his throat. When the waiter hurried away, Jacob narrowed a gaze at Clair. “I thought you were shopping for antiques today.”
“I changed my mind.” She shrugged a shoulder, drawing attention to the outline of a black bra under her sheer blouse. “One of those s
pur-of-the-moment, impulse things.”
He kept his eyes on her face so he wouldn’t stare at the soft swell of her breasts peeking out from the vee of her blouse. “Part of your No-Plan, Plan?”
“Absolutely.” George brought her wine, but left quickly when Jacob shot him a warning look. Clair picked up her glass and sipped. “You must be hungry. What looks good on the menu?”
What looked good to him wasn’t on the menu, he thought. And he was hungry, all right, but the hunger wasn’t in his stomach. He would have gobbled her whole if he could have. Just watching her wet lips touch her glass made his groin ache. Made him think of other places he wanted that luscious mouth, and where he wanted his mouth on her, which was everywhere.
He’d always taken pride in his control, in his ability to take charge of a situation. It irritated the hell out of him that Clair Beauchamp could have him rolling over like a puppy wanting his tummy scratched. He’d never met a woman who could make him beg yet, and he wasn’t about to start with Clair. He’d made a vow to keep his hands off her, and dammit, that’s what he intended to do.
Determined that every man in this place knew she was off-limits, as well, he scanned the restaurant, saw several heads turn away when he curled his lip and all but growled. Satisfied, he buried his nose in his menu as if it were a shield of armor.
Clair glanced cautiously up at Jacob, considered telling him that his menu was upside down, but the hard set of his mouth and the twitch in the corner of his left eye warned her off. Heavens, but he was in a mood.
Not exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for.
The waiter returned and they ordered their food, then Jacob excused himself and headed toward the rest rooms.
Thank heavens.
Clair sank back in the booth on a heavy sigh of relief, then took a long sip of her wine. Her insides were still shaking from what she’d hoped would be her grand entrance. The new hairstyle and makeup had been difficult enough, but wearing a sheer blouse and skirt with a high slit had nearly caused her to hyperventilate. If ever she’d been grateful for the years of poise and self-assured composure continually pounded into her, it was now. She’d been amazed herself that she’d been able to hold her head high and that her knees hadn’t crumpled under her.
What had seemed like a courageous, daring plan to gain Jacob’s attention now felt silly and foolish.
Tina, from the gas station, had recommended The Head to Toe Salon and when Clair had told Bridgette, the hairdresser, that she wanted a look sexy enough to attract a man, the woman had taken on the project with the tenacity of a bulldog. The salon Clair had always gone to in Charleston, Jean-Lucs, was subdued, conservative. They served Perrier and iced mint tea while they permed and cut, played Beethoven and Bach while they colored and weaved. The Head to Toe played a country-western radio station which could barely be heard over the phones ringing, blow-dryers buzzing and the hairstylists talking over one another. It was gossip central, and in the few short hours she’d sat in the chair, Clair had learned about two affairs, three divorces and four pregnancies—one with a heated debate over who the father really was.
The afternoon had flown by. Clair’s hair had been trimmed and curled, her fingernails and toes polished in WildBerry Wine. Smoke Me Blue eye shadow and RazzleDazzle lip gloss completed her makeup, then Suzie, the owner of the clothes boutique next door, brought over outfits and everyone in the place gave their opinions on what was right for Clair to catch a man. There’d been much discussion between the ladies, but they’d all finally agreed that the sheer blouse, the black, slit-up-the-side skirt, and high heels were guaranteed to bring the toughest, most hardheaded man to his knees.
So much for guarantees.
But there had been a few moments, she thought as she took another sip of her wine. When she’d walked into the restaurant, her heart pounding and her palms sweating, she’d have sworn she’d seen Jacob’s mouth drop open. There’d been more than interest in his dark gaze, there’d been lust. She’d felt her hopes soar and her pulse race.
Then she’d slid into the booth and he’d been nothing but abrupt and cross.
Maybe she wasn’t giving this enough of a chance, she thought. Maybe his mind was still on his car, or maybe he was hungry. She’d waited twenty-five years to seduce a man, surely she could give him a few more minutes before she…what was the term he’d used before? Oh, yes. Before she jumped his bones.
Clearly she’d gone about this all wrong. She’d been too subtle. Women who were confident, who knew what they wanted and went after it, were direct. She loosened one more button, then adjusted her blouse to expose the slightest edge of black lace. If he needed direct, then fine, she’d give him direct.
He walked back to the table at the same time their food arrived. She saw his stride falter as he looked at her, then he sat back down into the booth and dug into his food.
She took a bite of her chicken. “This is so tender,” she said on a soft moan. “Would you like a taste?”
The piece of steak he’d had halfway to his mouth froze, then he glanced up at her and scowled. “No, thanks.”
“Are you sure?” She took another bite, gave another sigh of pleasure. “You won’t know what you’re missing if you don’t try it.”
“Fine,” he said tightly. “I’ll try it.”
Smiling, she speared a bite and held it out to him. Her heart all but stopped when he closed his mouth over her fork.
As strange as it seemed, that was the most erotic thing she’d ever done. Her pulse began to skip and her throat turned dry as dust.
And she could swear she’d gotten a reaction from Jacob, the kind she’d wanted. His eyes narrowed and darkened and his nostrils seemed to flare.
“So what do you think?” she asked, amazed she had any voice at all.
He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “It was fine.”
“That’s it?” Determined to shake him up, she leaned closer, arched one eyebrow and curved her lips. “Just fine?”
His gaze dropped to the black lace she’d exposed, and he visibly swallowed. “Maybe a little better than fine.”
Dammit, but the man was hardheaded. What did she have to do to break through his wall of indifference? Take her blouse off and jump on the table?
Like hell she would.
All her life she’d molded herself to suit other people, to be the person she thought someone else wanted her to be. Her mother, her father, Oliver.
And now Jacob.
She might be a fool, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Thank you for meeting me for dinner, Jacob.” She forced a smile. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little tired. I think I’ll go back to the motel.”
He started to push his plate away, but she shook her head. “You go on and finish your dinner. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll just get the—”
“Don’t worry about me.” She slid out of the booth. “I can get myself back. You just take your time.”
She quickly walked away, head held high. This time, her knees didn’t tremble and her palms didn’t sweat. In spite of her disappointment, she felt lighter, more comfortable in her own skin than she’d felt in her entire life.
She was almost at the front door when she heard a woman call her name. Clair saw Bridgette waving frantically from a darkened corner of the lounge area. She was with a small group of men and women.
Why not? Clair thought. She could go back to the motel, get into her pj’s and watch TV, or she could spend the evening with Bridgette and her friends. She thought about the empty motel room, her empty bed, and it wasn’t a difficult choice.
Smiling, she turned and walked into the lounge.
Where the hell was she?
Jacob paced irritably from Clair’s motel room into his own, then back again. After he’d wolfed down the rest of his meal and paid the bill, he’d been no more than ten minutes behind her. The motel they were staying at was across the street and three doors down f
rom the restaurant, so she couldn’t have made a wrong turn.
He stared at his wristwatch, then clenched his jaw. She’d said she was tired, that she was going back to the motel. She should have been here long before him.
Dammit.
What if someone had followed her out of the restaurant? Or approached her on the street? The way she looked, she would have easily stopped traffic, not to mention caused an accident or two.
Didn’t she realize the trouble she could get into dressed like that? He stomped to the motel window and looked out at the well-lit parking lot.
Nothing.
His gut twisted into a knot.
Hell, it wasn’t that he hadn’t liked the way she’d looked. He’d have to be dead not to appreciate the sensuality she’d radiated. What man wouldn’t, for crying out loud?
But what possible reason could she have to completely change her look from cool and calm into hot and wild? And why here, in Liberty? Who would she want to impress with a new style in this small town?
He was on his way to the phone to call the front desk when it hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.
Good God, but he was an idiot.
He would have kicked himself all the way back across the street to the restaurant, but it would have taken longer for him to get there if he did. He had a pretty good idea where he’d find her.
The question was, did she want to be found?
“…and the kid says, ‘No problem. Hillary took my backpack.’”
The crowd busted out in laughter at Bridgette’s joke and Clair joined in. They’d been on a jokefest for the past ten minutes and what had started out as a small group had doubled in size, with each new member contributing a joke, a few of them risqué enough to make Clair’s cheeks warm.
After Jacob’s indifference to her, it felt good to be welcomed into Bridgette’s group of friends. She knew a couple of the men were working their way into position to make a move on her, and while it raised her self-confidence, it didn’t raise her interest.
There was only one man on her mind; only one man she wanted to be with.
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