by Lori Foster
With one last bow, she turned and ducked behind the curtain. Her changing room was really a cleaning closet overflowing with supplies. Next to her street clothes hanging on a metal hook, rested a mildewy mop and several stained rags. One bare bench, raw enough to leave splinters in her behind if she was ever foolish enough to sit on it, occupied the space next to the door.
Georgia tossed the foolish hat aside, then leaned against the wall and struggled to catch her breath. Dancing, even at the bar, always left her exuberant. She loved to dance, to feel her movements become fluid like the music. And thanks to Jordan, she no longer had to go on stage in a state of exhaustion. He and his family had forced so much help on her, had been so supportive and friendly and accepting, she’d gotten plenty of rest the past few weeks.
But while she was grateful, she was also resentful because it was Jordan’s fault that she hesitated to answer tonight’s screaming applause with an encore. She just couldn’t make herself go back out there. Not with Jordan watching.
Bill pounded on her door. “Front and center, damn it! They’re calling for you.”
Georgia stared at the closed door. She could probably convince Bill that it was better to leave them wanting more….
Then Jordan’s voice intruded. “If she doesn’t want to go back out there, then leave her alone.”
She gasped in outrage. How dare he confront her boss? Was he trying to get her fired?
She answered her own question with an obvious, resounding yes. Not once had Jordan tried to hide his disdain of The Swine. This time, however, he’d stepped completely over the line.
The door bounced hard against the wall when she threw it open. Both Jordan and Bill jumped, but Georgia stomped right past them to the steps leading up on stage. It was uncanny, but she could actually feel the searing heat of Jordan’s gaze on her exposed rump.
The second she opened the curtain, the men bellowed their appreciation. More money came flying her way and Georgia, with grim resolve, submitted to the attention.
After three encores she was finally left in peace.
For all of one minute.
She’d just stepped out of her high-heel sandals and started to relax when Jordan walked in without knocking. His gaze did the quick once-over, searing her from head to toes and everywhere in-between. Georgia glared at him. “What are you doing here?”
Despite his heated expression, his tone sounded mild enough. “I was already out.”
She didn’t buy it for a second. “Try again, Jordan.”
“All right.” He didn’t appear the least put off by her hostile attitude. But then, she’d already realized how pigheaded he could be in his determination. “I stopped by to see your mother. She had the kids in bed, so I missed visiting with them. We took tea in the patio room, and when she started yawning, I told she should turn in, too. Though she’s doing so much better, Sawyer says she should continue to get plenty of rest.”
His words were easy and rehearsed. But his gaze burned over her, lingering in places that always felt too sensitive whenever Jordan Sommerville was in the vicinity.
Realizing she still wore the stupid gloves, she jerked them off and stuffed them into her bag. Jordan leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched her every movement with an intensity that set her stomach to roiling. She couldn’t very well finish changing with him standing there.
“It’s rude to stare,” she grumbled.
“Honey, the whole point of that getup is to make men stare.”
She lost it, stepping forward and poking him hard in the chest. “Not you! Other men, okay, men who want to watch me dance, men who—”
Rubbing at his chest and frowning at the same time, Jordan interjected, “I came to watch you dance.”
“No, you came to watch everyone else watch me dance!” Her head pounded, keeping time with her heart. She felt ready to burst into tears, to scream. He and his family were so wonderful, so giving, they made her feel terrible in comparison. All her life she’d screwed up. Having Jordan around only emphasized that, and weakened her resolve to learn independence. But she needed to know she could protect her children now, and in the future.
“You,” she said in a tone nearing a snarl, “came to make sure no one did anything improper like speak to me.”
Jordan took his own step forward. “Are you telling me you want to converse with these yahoos?”
“I’m telling you it’s none of your damn business what I do!”
Jordan stalled, then in a voice as soft as warm velvet, he whispered, “I want it to be my business, though. Keeping my hands off you the past few weeks has been torture. Hell, Georgia…”
Her heart slammed into her ribs. He reached for her, touched her face with a gentleness she’d never known, and her knees went weak. “Jordan?”
Even to her own ears, his name sounded like a plea. The past few weeks had been hell, with the memory of his touch haunting her. She’d dreamed about that morning in the kitchen, and every night the dreams got hotter, more real.
Jordan cupped her jaw. “Don’t ask me to go away, sweetheart. And don’t ask me not to care.”
Georgia watched his eyes darken, now so close to her own since he loomed over her. She exhaled on a trembling sigh. “You’re making me crazy,” she admitted. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking or saying anymore.”
His gaze flickered, becoming more intimate, hotter. “I don’t mean to upset you.”
“I know that.” She almost laughed, it was so absurd. Jordan and his family had irrevocably changed her life—all for the better. Casey cut her grass, Gabe fixed her leaky pipes, they all doted on the children and on her mother. And on her.
But what if she came to depend on them, if she let her children start to love them, and then they went away? What would she do then? She’d be no better off, and she’d have the memories to torment her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but quickly opened them again when Jordan’s big thumb teased at the corner of her mouth. “Jordan,” she said, hoping to make him understand, “dancing on that stage is hard enough for me. Especially in this getup. I do what I have to do, but I don’t like it. When you’re here, passing judgment and waiting to condemn, well…it only makes me more nervous.”
Jordan shook her gently. “I’m not condemning you. How could you even think that?”
“You condemn all this.” She’d learned so much about him from his family. Her visits with them had started out strained, but Honey wasn’t a woman who left anyone feeling uncomfortable, and his brothers were too outrageous to be kept at an emotional distance. They treated her with all the teasing irreverence normally reserved for a little sister. And she loved it.
Where Jordan tended to close up about anything personal, his brothers took delight in sharing his deepest darkest secrets. Gabe had told her that Jordan never drank. And Morgan had told her because of his father, he protested any abuse of alcohol.
Georgia shook her head. “You may not condemn me specifically, but the bar, the men here, the atmosphere…And I’m a part of it, Jordan.” She hesitated, unsure how much she wanted to push him, especially in a damn closet, but she just couldn’t take it anymore.
She stepped away from him and concentrated on what she had to say while putting away her high heels. “You’ve done so much for me. I never would have gotten through the past weeks without your help.”
“Nonsense. You’re about the most resourceful woman I’ve ever met. I have no doubt you’d have managed just fine. But you know I wanted to help.”
His praise made her feel more vulnerable than ever. “And I appreciate it more than I can say. You’re…well, you’re wonderful.”
Jordan stared at her hard. “But?”
She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to say the words. “But I want to make it on my own. It’s important to me. I’ve made some really dumb mistakes in the past, mistakes that have hurt me, my children and my mother. I’m trying to fix all that.”
; “You can’t fix the past, sweetheart. All you can do is make the future different.”
She nodded. “I know. And that’s what I’m going to do. My mother insists she’s feeling as good as ever, and I’ve cut back on the hours I work during the day so she’s not overburdened with the kids. And thanks to Bill’s stupid costume choices, I’m making more money in the evenings so my budget is more sound than ever. I’m managing, Jordan, and that’s what I want to concentrate on.”
Jordan gave her a long, considering look. As if she hadn’t just spilled her guts to him, he said, “Your mother likes me.”
Georgia had no idea how to respond to that. Truth was, her mother adored him.
“Your kids are crazy about me.”
She smiled. “I know. They’re also crazy about your family. Honey has been promoted to honorary aunt. Morgan, that big ox, astounds me every time he manages to be so gentle with them. And Sawyer and Casey…” She shook her head. “They’re incredible men.”
Jordan stepped closer until his chest brushed her breasts. “We’re your friends now. You can’t just expect us all to go away.”
“I wouldn’t want that!” It was so difficult to think clearly with him this close. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to ask him to hold her. But he hadn’t touched her sexually since that morning in her kitchen, and she knew that was for the best.
“My children,” she said slowly, measuring her words, “have never had enough people in their lives who cared about them. My ex-in-laws…” She shook her head, not willing to go into details. “They weren’t nice people. They’ve never really cared about Lisa or Adam.”
“They must be idiots, then, because your children are very lovable.”
Anyone who loved her kids automatically got her love as well. And that fact scared her to death.
Feeling almost desperate, she put a hand on his arm and explained, “I want to keep the friendship.” She wanted that so badly her stomach felt like lead whenever she thought of losing it. As a child, she’d craved friendship so badly, always watching from the sidelines as someone else got picked for tag, as other girls gathered in clusters to giggle, excluding her. As a teenager, she’d put everything into her dance, detaching herself from the hurt, telling herself that she didn’t care. She’d gone from being almost totally isolated from friends, to being Dennis’s wife, then to being on her own again.
Gaining friendship only to lose it once more would be unbearable. “I just…I just don’t want you here at night, watching me. I don’t want it to go beyond friendship.”
Jordan cradled her face between his large hands. She felt helpless against the drugging pull of his nearness, the warmth of his body, his scent. Everything he’d ever made her feel came swamping back with his first gentle touch.
“I’ll tell you what I think.” His sensual tone made her heart race. “I think everything you’ve just said is bullshit.”
She stared at him, appalled, wondering if he could really see through her so easily.
“I think,” he growled as he pulled her into the hardness and heat of his body, “that you want me every bit as much as I want you. Friends? Hell yes, we’ll be friends. And a whole lot more.”
She wasn’t at all surprised when he kissed her.
JORDAN WANTED to devour her. The need she created just by being close nearly made him crazy. It was a live thing, a teeth-gnashing hunger that he had no control over. He groaned, sucking her tongue into his mouth and stroking it with his own.
Georgia’s arms slipped around his neck, her soft breasts nestling into his chest. Her costume top was skimpy and he slipped his hands beneath it to feel the warm skin of her back, then couldn’t resist sliding his hands down to her sweetly curved ass. His body pulsed with need, his erection growing painfully. Her bottom was bare except for the thong and her cheeks were hot, soft. He traced the thin line of material with his fingertips as deeply as he could, and took her rough groan into his mouth.
She went on tiptoe against him, pushing into him. Her nipples were hard and he used his other hand to explore her breasts. He wanted her naked. He wanted to see her nipples, to taste them.
He kissed her neck as he brought both hands up to the lapels on her top and pulled them open. The low vee of the costume made it easy to expose her and the second her breasts were freed, pushed up by the material bunched tightly beneath them, Georgia gasped. Jordan didn’t give her time to pull away. He dipped his head down and licked one dark rosy nipple.
Her fingers clenched in his hair. “Jordan.”
“Shhh.” Even with his blood roaring in his ears, Jordan cautioned himself to go slow, to tease her, to make her admit to the incredible passion between them. All the well-grounded reasons to give her more time, to avoid sexual interludes, were chased away by the sight of her.
Her nipples were large, tightly puckered. He licked again, then again, using the rough tip of his tongue to torment her. Tantalizing sounds of hunger escaped her. He caught her with his teeth and nipped gently, then not so gently. Georgia trembled. When she tried to pull him closer he sucked her deep into the heat of his mouth.
“Jordan…” she whispered on a vibrating moan.
“I know, sweetheart, I know.”
He cupped her between her legs. She was so hot, and she pushed against his probing fingers, her thighs opening without his instruction. He could feel her swollen flesh, feel the dampness of her even through the material. The bottoms were tight but he insinuated his fingers beneath the right leg opening and found her wet and ready—for him. He straightened and held her tightly with his free arm.
Her hips moved with his fingers, seeking more of his touch. Jordan felt swollen and thick, achingly hard. The damn saloon could have blown up and he might not have noticed. He was only aware of the feel of her, her scent, now stronger with her excitement.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged roughly, seeing that she was already climbing toward a climax. Her eyes were cloudy, unfocused, her lips parted as she panted for breath. His fingers moved more deeply, stroking, sliding insistently over her slick flesh then up to her swollen clitoris. Delicately now, he touched her, light, rhythmic touches.
Georgia groaned and squeezed her eyes closed. Jordan watched her face, saw her skin flush darkly, her lush mouth tremble. Her pulse raced in her throat, and her hands bit into his upper arms, caught between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
“Come for me, Georgia,” he groaned, knowing he, too, was perilously close to the edge. “I want to see you come.”
Her beautiful breasts heaved, her throat arched, and then she bit her bottom lip and groaned harsh and low and Jordan supported her, mesmerized as she jerked and shuddered and it went on and on. He felt so much a part of her that he knew nothing would ever be the same again.
Long seconds passed. Gently, he pulled his fingers from her. Her eyelashes fluttered and she looked at him, still slightly dazed. Her forehead and temples were dewy, her breathing still labored. Jordan met her gaze, held it as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.
Georgia shuddered. She clung to him with a rough tenderness he’d never known before. She was pliant, accepting of his will.
He gave her a kiss of lingering need and apology. Holding her, seeing her like this, brought him back to reality. The very last thing she wanted or needed was to be taken quickly in a damn saloon closet. Not that he regretted giving her pleasure. How could he?
“We have to stop.” Jordan couldn’t quite believe the words came from his own mouth. Not when he wanted her so badly. But the past few weeks had been a carefully wrought campaign to win her over, and he wouldn’t blow it now. If he made love to her here—and he was about a nanosecond away from doing just that—her embarrassment would drive a new wedge between them.
He took a deep breath and said, “I can’t take you here, sweetheart.” He kissed her damp, open mouth in quick little pecks, hoping to soften his next words. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
Th
e slumberous, sated look left her eyes. Her cheeks, warmly flushed only seconds before, went pale. He knew before she answered that she’d refuse.
Georgia pushed away from him and covered her face with both hands. In a tone more startling for the lack of emotion, she whispered, “I can’t believe I just did that.”
Alarmed, Jordan smoothed her hair away from her face with trembling hands. “I can’t believe I stopped.”
She looked up at him. “You must think I’m awful.”
“No.” She started to say something more, but he didn’t let her. “Shh. It’s okay.” Even with her heavy stage makeup, she looked precious to him. “Actually, it was better than okay. Much much better.”
“But you didn’t—” She glanced down at his very visible erection.
“Believe me, I know.” Jordan ran a hand through his hair and tamped down his sexual frustration. He met her wary, shame-filled gaze, knowing his own was hot, piercing. “The thing is,” he said, his voice sounding like sandpaper, “making you come was a helluva fantasy. And I wasn’t disappointed.”
“It was wrong.”
“No. Hell, no. Nothing wrong can feel that right and you know it.” He shook her gently. “Don’t ask me to apologize, Georgia. We’ve both been on the ragged edge since first meeting and it was only a matter of time before this—and more—was bound to happen.”
She attempted to turn away. “Please, don’t come here again. I can’t trust myself around you.”
She asked the impossible. The first time he’d sat there and watched her dance, he swore he’d never come back. It ate him up to see all those men drooling over her, to know what they were thinking, that she was the center of so many drunken, lurid fantasies.
But he’d discovered that staying away was even harder. He couldn’t sleep for wanting her; she occupied his thoughts both day and night. The few times he managed to get her out of his mind, he found himself thinking about the kids instead, smiling, missing them. And Ruth, too. She was such a gutsy woman, altering a lifetime of social conformity to stand up for her daughter.