Sweet but Sexy Boxed Set

by Maddie James

“It’s no big deal. I can sleep on the mattress on the floor. I could sleep on the floor itself, I’m so beat.”

  “No need for that. Just take me a minute.” He took the stairs two at a time, and when Chloe got up there, he had the bed half assembled. “You want to hold this rail for me? Doesn’t seem to want to go in straight.” She held the rail, and he slid it into place. The antique wrought iron bed had been hers since childhood. Greg slid the plywood platform onto the base then added her mattress. “Sheets?”

  “Greg. I’ve got it. Please don’t worry about the rest. I am capable of making my own bed.”

  His face fell. “Kind of thought if I helped, you might invite me...”

  She laughed. “You have got to be kidding. I just want to take a shower and fall into bed.”

  “I could go for that.”

  “And sleep! I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”

  “I’m something, but exhausted isn’t the word I’d use. So you really want to be on your own now?”

  “Yes. Thanks. I’ve got to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.”

  “Another one.”

  “And it’s probably not going to be long enough for me to get everything done exactly right.”

  “You’ll do fine. The big hurdles are crossed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Although she got a shower, thanks to the fact that Midnight had put her bathroom stuff in place, Chloe ended up sleeping without any pjs, wrapped in her comforter on a bed with no sheets. The next morning she awoke to the sound of knocking on the door. The gallery door, downstairs. It was pretty loud knocking for her to hear it in her apartment. Then her phone rang.

  “Chloe. It’s Greg. You okay in there?”

  “Mmm. Not awake yet. Is that you at the door?”

  “Yeah. Came to help you hang the pictures and stuff. It’s past seven.”

  She yawned. “Ugh.” A yawn silenced her. “Hey, I’m not dressed.”

  “Not a problem for me. Oh—I still have the key. Okay if I come on in?”

  “Well. If you could just wait...” But he had ended the call. She knew he had come in, but didn’t hear the door open and close. She needed to get a bell for the door so she’d know when a customer arrived. Something else for the never-ending “To Do” list.

  Thank goodness for girlfriends who put clothes into drawers. Chloe scrambled for jeans, t-shirt, and sandals then headed downstairs.

  “Greg, I’m sorry. I’m really not prepared.”

  “Not a problem. I am.” He held out a white paper bag.

  “Be still my heart! Donuts from Sydney’s Sugar High?”

  “You got it. And coffee. I figured you might have a rocky start this morning. Nothing like some sugar and caffeine to smooth it out, right?”

  “Absolutely right. Come on, I think I can find my kitchen table.” Not only had he gotten donuts, they were Chloe’s favorite kind. Obviously, the man was doing his homework. Seemed as if he was trying very hard to get on her good side. She knew what that meant—he wanted her. The problem was, she wanted him too, but no way would she give in and let her libido take over. Sex was great. She loved it, as she recalled. Without a loving relationship, she wouldn’t. Absolutely would not. No matter how handsome the guy was, no matter how much she wanted to yank him by that blonde braid and pull his mouth down to hers...

  Nope. Not going there. Back to business as usual.

  It took longer than she’d expected to hang the paintings. Greg was a willing helper, and visibly tamped down his frustration at Chloe’s perfectionism. They broke for lunch and went to Burrito Bungalow. Martin came in to get a bag of carryout and saw them at the small corner table. He ambled over to them, smiling.

  “So it’s true. I heard the two of you were actually on speaking terms. Word on the street is that Greg showed up at the gallery this morning at seven with donuts and coffee.”

  Chloe sighed. “I love how everybody knows everything around here. Do you know what kind of donuts?”

  “Your favorite, Greg’s favorite. And a couple of grande coffees. Want me to recite the blends?”

  She held up a hand. “No, thanks, Martin. That’s just scary. Not surprising, but scary.”

  “Tongues’ll be wagging about the two of you having lunch together.”

  Greg scowled. “Let ‘em wag.”

  “As if I could stop them.” He turned to Chloe, his gaze softening. “How’s it going? Need any help this afternoon? I had a closing this morning, but Betsy can keep the place from sinking if you need me.” Betsy McClain was Martin’s receptionist and was also working toward earning her real estate license.

  “I think we’re okay, Martin. Pictures are hung. I have to put out the Little Legend pieces and that’s about it. I’m amazed, but it’s not going to be crazy today after all.”

  “Huh. You must have decent help.” He winked at Greg.

  She smiled and looked at Greg, too. “I can’t complain.”

  “Of course you can, Sis. Been doing it all your life. Smart people just stopped listening.” He reached down and mussed her hair as he’d done when they were kids. “You gonna go around with bed head all day?”

  That’s when Chloe remembered she hadn’t done more this morning than put clothes on. No combing of hair, brushing of teeth, applying of makeup. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself it didn’t matter. Martin knew what she looked like underneath the makeup. Most of Legend probably did too, and didn’t care. And Greg?

  Greg looked at her, appraising. “It’s her new style. I think it’s called ‘Just got out of bed after a night of great sex.’ Looks good on her, huh?”

  Martin frowned and smiled at the same time—an interesting sight. He muttered something about delivering lunch to Midnight and Betsy and escaped out the front door.

  Greg was smiling at Chloe with a challenge in his eyes. “You want to say something about that. I know you do.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I think I just want to finish this tamale and go put Little Legend where it belongs. The real one? I can’t control that.”

  It was no surprise that family and friends stopped in during the afternoon to chat and see the completed gallery. Chloe enjoyed showing the place but definitely didn’t have time for visitors.

  “You ought to get a ‘Closed’ sign for the door and lock it. Never going to finish this with people trooping in and out all day.”

  “I can’t do that. These folks are part of the project, after all. It’ll be okay.” She sincerely hoped. It was nearly dark by the time all the Little Legend pieces were where she wanted them. Just as Chloe secured the lid on the last section of the case, the front door opened and in ran a princess.

  “Chloe! Trickertreat! I a fairy princess.” LizBeth Ann twirled. “See my fairy wings? See my pretty wahhhhhn?” She held out a silver-painted dowel rod with a twinkly star on the end, trailing silver streamers.

  “Oh, LizBeth Ann, you are a perfect fairy princess.” She looked at Betsy. “What’s the occasion?”

  Betsy took a step forward. “One of the neighbors had a yard sale. Hey, we’re ready for Halloween a little early, but that’s okay. We just wanted to stop in for a sec.”

  “Chloe? I’ll be back in a minute.” Greg walked out in a hurry.

  Betsy watched his quick departure. “What’s that about?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been wonderful help to me, and he’s off the clock now.” She was sorry he’d left, though.

  LizBeth Ann was looking at one of the display cases. “Ooh. Looky at the little houses and the little tiny people. Can I have one?”

  Chloe walked over and joined her, thrilled with the look of rapture on the child’s face. “These have to stay here, honey, so everybody can see them. It’s Legend. Let me show you some of them.” The little girl was soon naming the buildings she recognized and the people she knew. If LizBeth Ann was any indication, Little Legend was going to be a big hit.

  “Arrgh, matey! What be this princess’s name?”

  Greg Andrews,
the hunkiest pirate Chloe had ever seen. He’d evidently ducked over to his place a couple of blocks away. Now instead of the t-shirt, he was wearing a long sleeve white shirt, tucked in but unbuttoned. He’d tucked his jeans into his work boots, and was also sporting a black eye patch. A red bandanna was tied around the top of his blonde head, and in his hand, he held a plastic shopping bag from the Piggly Wiggly.

  LizBeth Ann’s forehead wrinkled as she took it all in. “Why you look like that?”

  Greg gave her a dazzling smile. “Decided I’d do some trick or treat, too.”

  She tipped her head and spoke even more softly, but she was clearly captivated by Greg. Chloe hadn’t realized this side of him existed.

  “Do grownups s’posed to trickertreat?” LizBeth Ann asked him.

  “Arrgh. Some do, some don’t, fair lady,” he growled with a smile. “Does it work better for you if the grownups hand out candy? ‘Cause I’ve got that covered, too.” He glanced at Chloe.

  Greg had never seen Chloe McClain move that fast. She was up the steep stairs to her apartment and, after making a lot of noise opening boxes and rummaging around, back down the stairs carrying a teakwood bowl.

  “Candy. Put it in,” she panted, setting the bowl on the counter. Greg dumped in the candy, then lowered the bowl to LizBeth Ann’s level.

  “Your pick, Princess.”

  Which was why, as the citizens of Legend, Tennessee arrived at the brightly lit art gallery to ooh and aah over the paintings and at the miniature town, there were “refreshments” of a sort. Many people had brought their children along, and each one got a sucker or miniature candy bar as they left. Greg got many interested glances as he remained dressed as a pirate all evening. Chloe glowed the whole time, accepting compliments and plenty of hugs. There’d be a little cleanup after the place emptied, but Greg figured it was totally worth it, even if he had to do it himself. He loved seeing her so happy.

  The sidewalks in Legend were generally rolled up around nine o’clock, and even the stragglers had left by ten after.

  “How wonderful!” She faced him in the brightly lit gallery and grabbed both his hands. “Greg, how wonderful! Did you invite people here tonight?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You don’t have to invite people in Legend. I think they just know when to show up. Sorry if I upstaged your art with my amazingly virile costume.”

  She squeezed his hands then took a step back. Embarrassed? “You’re a terrific pirate, by the way.”

  “Not much of a stretch, really. I pretty much am a pirate. Haven’t you always thought so?”

  She laughed. “A little bit, I guess. You sure do things your way without mincing any words. It works for you.”

  “You’d make a great pirate wench, Chloe. Not sure I could control myself if you walked down those stairs wearing a long full skirt with a slit and a buxom wench blouse. You need that get-up if you don’t have one. Wouldn’t it be great to do this again at Halloween?”

  “It would be fun. Not sure I’m buxom wench material though.” She ran a hand through her short hair. “Oh, wow. I just remembered what Martin said. I still have bed head and no makeup, the entire town has seen me this way, and the day is nearly over. Good grief.”

  “You look great that way. You don’t need makeup. And I meant what I said to Martin about the bed head.” He grazed her cheek with his fingertips. “I totally meant that. Mmm...”

  Chloe felt her eyes glaze over as her body betrayed her, reacting to the delicious sensation of Greg’s work-roughened fingertips on her skin. All her nerve endings were on alert, wanting more. Oh, to reach out and treat her hands to the feel of his golden torso through the gapping front of the white pirate shirt. Just one touch wouldn’t hurt, surely. Just one little touch…

  “Do it, Chloe.”

  “I can’t. I’m…”

  He stepped even closer. Just a few inches separated them now. “Yes? You’re what?” His breath was in her hair.

  “I’m…not sure of you. I don’t know you.”

  “You know everything about me. I’m a pretty uncomplicated guy. If it helps, I’m sure of you.” He ran one finger around the curve of her ear, fiddled with the diamond stud. “Very sure.” He leaned down and softly kissed her ear. It was delicious and so gentle.

  Completely without intending to, she leaned into him, so the touch was deeper. Greg ran his tongue along the curve, darted it in and out of her ear, and she was lost. She caught her breath and put her arms around his neck. His mouth was immediately on hers, and she was so ready for him. Timidity wasn’t something Chloe was guilty of, in any facet of her life. She met his thrusting tongue with her own and rejoiced in the feeling of oneness. His strength was her strength; his beautiful and willing body was hers to do with as she chose. This was a man she hadn’t even known a month ago, a man she could barely tolerate two weeks ago, and at this moment, she felt like ripping his clothes off and making love on the brand new floor.

  What? This can’t be happening!

  Chloe dropped her arms and pulled back, stepped away. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her shaking, but it must be obvious.

  “Greg,” she whispered. “I can’t.” She cleared her throat and began again, voice stronger. “I can’t let myself. I—I want you. Of course you know that. I practically jumped on you…”

  “God, I wish you would.” His voice was thick. “Hey,” he stepped closer, but she backed up at the same time. “What’s up? What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Absolutely nothing! I just really need to breathe. Think about this. Maybe I’m a little crazy right now with the gallery opening tomorrow, and the pirate outfit, and, you know, that tongue-in-the-ear thing.”

  He grinned. “You liked that, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah.” She touched a hand to her diamond. “I wonder if your tongue ought to be registered as a deadly weapon or something.”

  “Or something, maybe. And baby, that’s just the preliminaries. I want to show you the rest. I want to make you feel so good.”

  “Stop! Just stop talking, okay?” She turned away, arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t do this right now. Have this conversation, think these thoughts, kiss you. Tomorrow is the day.”

  His face changed completely. “Right. Tomorrow is the big opening day with all your important artsy-fartsy buds from the city coming down here. So you don’t have time to spend with somebody like me. Somebody who isn’t important.” He pinned her with a glare. “I’m not in your league, am I, Chloe? It’s bad enough that you’re a McClain in Legend. I can almost handle that, but this art crowd, no doubt they’re way superior to a simple carpenter.” He turned, his blonde braid swinging, and headed for the door, where he stopped and faced her again. “Sorry I forgot my place there for a minute. I’m just the hired help. Got it.”

  And Greg Andrews had left the building.

  Chapter Nine

  No wonder I don’t have a man in my life. I don’t know what to do with one. Chloe blamed herself completely for the situation. She’d been enjoying Greg’s company lately, his teasing, and yes, those preliminaries he referred to were pretty darned enjoyable too. But she didn’t know him well enough to spend the night with him. Wasn’t sure she ever would know him that well. She figured in his mind she was the nearest available female, practically thrown into his lap, so why not go for it? That wasn’t enough for Chloe. She wanted a man she could count on. Sex wasn’t just recreation for her. She needed a relationship, and she remembered again the early conversations with Greg in which it was so painfully obvious that his view was just the opposite. How she had let herself get to the point in which her tongue was in Greg’s mouth… Well, she didn’t want to think about that lapse in judgment. Couldn’t spend time on it now. She still had preparations to complete for tomorrow.

  Around two a.m. Chloe stood in the center of her amazing gallery. She had cleaned candy-smear fingerprints off the Plexiglas display case, swept and mopped the floor, and set the
finishing touches just where she knew they’d be perfect. She’d prepared the back room to be a makeshift kitchen and staging area for those who would be serving refreshments at tomorrow night’s opening. She looked around, appreciating the beauty surrounding her—the beloved Smokey Mountains painted from so many angles, at so many times of the day, times of the year. Every nuance explored and appreciated. Little Legend with its darling buildings and sweet little people. The track lighting that showed it all to perfection.

  And suddenly it seemed a hollow victory to have accomplished this feat in the short time allotted. Suddenly all she could think of was the fact that she had been less than gracious to the workmen who had made her dream come true. Some of them had been here tonight with their families, and everyone had seemed as enthusiastic about the place as Chloe felt. As enthusiastic as she thought they should be.

  Greg was right, wasn’t he? Chloe McClain was a bit of a snob, spoiled and self-important. Without even realizing her motivation, she had set the show in Legend for her own aggrandizement. The Little Legend was ego too, and a good counselor would probably also say it meant she had a less than realistic view of the town. Her hometown wasn’t perfect. Not only were some of the buildings in poor repair—of course she hadn’t created those particular buildings for her display—but deeper than that, there were problems in Legend. Like how to stop the constant loss of bright kids who did well in high school, went on to college, and eventually did important things anywhere but Legend. It was a great little town, but even with recent improvements, it still needed work. The kind of work Greg Andrews did, renovating buildings that had fallen into disrepair. Plus, he employed several local guys who would otherwise have to drive to the city for jobs. It wasn’t glorious, and Greg wasn’t famous, but his business was invaluable to a place like Legend.

  Not like an art gallery. No little town needed an art gallery. What had she been thinking? She’d sold her beloved cabin, gone into further debt for something that would probably bomb and bomb big.