Closer To You (Tales of the Sweet Magnolia Book 1)

by McIntyre, Amanda

  “Miss Lillian! Dammit, are you in there?” The pounding resumed with the fierce command of someone decidedly irate. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  Lillian blinked as she fought the deception of her senses. What was going on? When had her mini-blinds been replaced by thin, worn curtains? She scanned the room’s interior. Was this even her room? Though the coverlet and pillows resembled those she remembered on her bed, little else was the same. Against the opposite wall, she saw her reflection in an ornately carved oval mirror attached to a beautiful matching vanity. Displayed on its smooth marble surface was an array of small French perfume bottles. A small woven basket held a handful of soft colored ribbons. An overly large oval hairbrush lay beside it. Her eyes drifted to the low back wooden chair with its white-tufted seat cushion and the twin rose hued lamps that flickered on either side of the vanity. The fact that Lillian recognized the piece as well over a century old caused her to sit up and blink a few times. Unsure if this was a dream or not, she took a better look around her, noting that her walls once painted conventional beige were now covered with a rich olive brocade wallpaper.

  Am I dreaming?

  “Miss Lillian? You best open this door right now, or I’m aim to kick it down.”

  The voice on the other side of the door, however, did not sound like a dream, at least not a very happy one. She patted the mattress in the shadowed room, searching for some clothes. At the end of the bed, she found a robe, very sheer in

  a lovely pale lavender and fluffy matching trim. With little choice at how gaudy it was, she hurriedly slipped it over her arms, fearful that the irate man on the other side of the door might follow through with his threat. She glanced down realizing with muted brain cells that, in fact the covering—or lack thereof—had rather the opposite effect. Instead of concealing her scanty, leopard print ensemble, it enhanced it in such an explicit manner that she had to clutch the lapels in effort to hide the large amount of her exposed flesh.

  “One…two….”

  The man sounded as though he meant business. Still in a daze, Lillian scooted off the bed, closing the fabric around her as best she could. “I’m coming, hold your horses.” She struggled to remember whether she was late again in paying rent to her persnickety landlord thinking how very real this dream seemed to be. “Ow!” She let out a yelp stubbing her toe in the dim light. The room seemed far smaller than she remembered. The dream was getting stranger by the minute.

  Lillian grabbed the brass lock, twisted it and, as any sensible woman would do, opened it just enough to see who it was, while bracing her body against the other side of the door in case she needed to push against it. Nonetheless, what she saw standing in the shadowy hallway rendered her limbs virtually useless. Now, she was certain this was a dream, one that she hoped she might get to enjoy a little longer.

  Unless the building’s manager had made an instantaneous and decidedly better change in both stature and clothing, she had no idea who this hunk of a cowboy was. She stared at the man with his back to her. His shoulders, broad from her viewpoint, fit nicely into a long, butter-colored duster, just like a gunman in a western movie. Carefully, she eased the door open for a better view. She cringed when the hinges squeaked, causing the tall man to whirl fast on his heel and pin her with a stern look. Her breath caught in her throat. Good lord, it was him! Her dream cowboy! He was even more handsome than she remembered…but he’d never appeared so unhappy.

  “What the Sam hell does ‘hold my horses’ mean?” His words clipped short as his gaze dropped to where her hands clutched the robe over her breasts.

  Push-up bra notwithstanding, Lillian wrestled with having the formidable stranger staring openly at her cleavage and the fact that she rather liked it. She’d never seen before the combination of arousal and nervousness etched on a man’s face— in her presence, at any rate. “May I help you?” It seemed like a reasonable question.

  “Lil—Miss Lillian.” He shook his head as though assembling his tongue back to its proper function. “My apologies ma’am, for disturbing you, but what I came here to say can’t wait.” He planted his hands on his lean hips, setting his jaw firm. He peered at her with eyes that sparkled dark as a cool desert night. His dusty black Stetson sat low on his forehead, making his eyes even more menacing.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m slightly confused why it is that you’re dressed well, like a…” She knew what she wanted to say, but her brain was having trouble convincing her to say the word aloud. It just sounded impossible.

  In sheer frustration, based on the sigh he emitted, he raked his teeth over his provocative lower lip and pushed the hat back off his forehead, revealing a handsome rugged face.

  “Like what, Miss Lillian? Like the sheriff?” he asked, shooting her a wary glance. “You seem a might pale tonight. You sure you’re feelin’ well?” He reached back and scratched his neck, eyeing her with a look that made her question her sanity.

  As if she needed any more help in that department. Tongue-tied by his formidable presence and the way he looked at her like a man eyeballs a steak, she drew the robe closer, realizing his gaze had dropped below her eye level once again.

  “Uh, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Sheriff…?” Even as she addressed him with the term he used for himself, she couldn’t grasp what was happening to her. Though she’d had few dealings with legal officials before, he certainly didn’t fit the mold of anyone from her neighborhood beat. An instant, troubling thought attacked her muddled brain. Had Burt turned her in because she’d chosen to take the necklace home with her instead of putting it in the library’s security vault? Surely not! Lillian made a mental note to give Burt a call just as soon as her unexpected visitor left.

  She gasped when the man leaned forward, studying her with those intense orbs. His dark brow arched as though he was waiting for her response, successfully disarming what little calm she had left in her.

  “Sloan. Miss Lillian. Sheriff Jake Sloan. You act like you don’t know who I am.”

  A nervous laugh escaped her throat, but Lillian followed it with a brave smile. This was only a dream. She could handle a burly cowboy. She’d fantasized about meeting one forever, hadn’t she? Her hand flew to her throat, twisting the jewel at her neck. She wet her lips and stared right back at him until he inched away, the corner of his lip curving in a slight smile.

  “Of course,” she lied. “Sherriff Sloan. I thought that title was only reserved for small, rural communities.”

  Given the strange look on his face, this would have been as good a time as any for her to awaken from the dream. Though it seemed he was willing to accept her apparent loss of memory, it was obvious he wasn’t ignoring the rest of her. The blatant attention sent an odd flutter through her belly.

  “Can’t say I get what you’re talking about, Miss Lillian, but the point of my being here is to give you a fair warning.”

  “Me? A warning?” She’d just opened the door and was already in trouble with the law?

  “Your girls were seen shopping downtown during daylight hours again.” He shifted his weight to his other leg, however his attention stayed on her cleavage.

  Desire, powerful and bold, snaked through her and caused her blood to warm. The girls? What girls? Could it be that he was referring to—she looked down at her chest—no, that was impossible. A sudden thought snapped her head upright and she peered at his ruggedly handsome face. If this was a dream—her dream— of a gorgeous cowboy and her body, scantily clad in an outfit that certainly the man before her appreciated, she shouldn’t hesitate to do something about it. After all, this might be the only chance she’d have to seduce her fantasy. Instead of fighting what was logical, Lillian chose to embrace her inner hussy, let go of her fear and get a little unruly. She slid her hand up the doorframe, letting her robe fall open as she struck a provocative pose. “Tell me, Sheriff, how do you feel about quiet women?” Her fingers itched to touch the black waves of hair sticking from beneath his Stetson
.

  Heat ignited in his gaze. His eyes raked over her, singeing her from the inside out and suddenly he doubled over, his arm covering his mouth as he collapsed in a fit of coughing.

  Rats. Not the effect I was going for.

  Lillian rushed to his side, forgetting the robe, that this was a strange man, and that she was barely dressed—standing in full view of her apartment hallway. She patted him on the back feeling a tad guilty that she’d caught him off-guard like that, even if it was her fantasy. Good lord, what was the smell radiating off his coat? Was that the scent of a horse?

  She quickly scoped the hallway to see if any of her nosy neighbors had heard the ruckus going on. No one had, but it was then that she realized the wallpaper was a scarlet red with large white magnolia flowers. She must have missed that notice.

  “Good God in heaven woman.” He tossed her a side look, giving a quick scan of her fleshly appeal. “Are you trying to solicit an officer of the law?”

  His suggestion jerked her from her decorating reverie. Wasn’t her attempt at seduction obvious? This was the strangest fantasy she’d ever had. “Well, I…perhaps was….” She shot him a side look. “No, no, of course not. I haven’t even touched you.” She was flustered, no big surprise there since she was relatively new to the whole “playing out your fantasy” thing.

  “And that’s’ how it ought to be.” He nodded firmly. “And for God’s sake, Miss Lillian. Will you please cover yourself?” He reached out, snagging the edge of her flimsy robe, his fingers brushing across her skin.

  “I beg your pardon?” She attempted to snatch the thin robe from his hand, but he held tight, his assessment of her underclothing creating a delicious shiver up her spine and a few other places as well.

  “Is that one of them fancy French numbers?” He nodded toward her, his eyes locked on her bra and skimpy thong. The hunger in his eyes caused her skin to burst into flame. About damn time this little dream went her way, but first she intended to clear up a few minor details.

  Lillian swallowed. “Sheriff, you said something about my girls shopping? Since when is shopping a crime? And what girls are you referring to?” Not that it mattered a great deal. She had no idea what he was talking about, but for the chance to have a man like him stare at her with pure desire glittering in his eyes, she’d be happy to shoot the breeze a while longer. It was certainly creating a fabulous sexual tension between them.

  He stepped back, squaring his massive shoulders and dropped his hand to his side. “Have you hit your head on something? Now, you and I, we had an agreement. They could come into town, late afternoon, between five and six, that’s when your women are allowed to shop for your—” His Adam’s apple bobbled on his unshaven throat. “You know…your womanly things.”

  His gaze snapped to hers tilting her world on its axis. Those cool, dark eyes filled with determination held hers in an all-business-and-no-fun look.

  Hardly the direction she’d hoped for with this fantasy.

  “Mark my words, Miss Lillian”

  “You can call me, Lil, everyone else does.”

  He pointed a finger at her nose. “Listen, I want no trouble. You talk to those gals. Remind ‘em of our little agreement. That way the townsfolk get what they want, and y’all get what you want.” He ripped the hat from his head and pushed his long fingers through his wave of thick, black hair. “Damn, it sure is hot in here.”

  He was sweet, gorgeous, and Lil had to admit she enjoyed watching him battle between lust and being a gentleman. She was usually the one ill at ease around men, not knowing what to say, how to act. She smiled, touching the gem at the base of her throat. An instant surge of brazen confidence welled inside her.

  “Is there anything else you needed, Sheriff?” She laid her carnal suggestion out like a royal flush, finding the more she gave into her fantasy, the more empowered she felt. “Anything I can do for you?” She shifted one shoulder, allowing the robe to slide to the crook of her arm and curled her hand over his broad shoulder. She sensed the all-male strength that lay beneath the soft leathery coat. Thoughts of where else he might be as firm flooded her mind and caused her body to heat.

  Lil circled around behind him, trailing her fingers across the width of his back.

  She indulged in her fantasy of a man with large shoulders, brimming with masculinity and strength, held in his capable arms, soothed by his velvet touch. She breathed in his scent, the smell of the rugged outdoors mingled with leather and, yes horse, but she was willing to overlook that for the sake of her fantasy.

  She arched a brow as she came around to face him. Playfully, she rested her arm on his shoulder, allowing him full view of the magic of her push-up lingerie. She curled her finger around a ringlet of his ebony hair, jutting out just below his ear. His shoulder flinched briefly as he fought for control. Lillian smiled, appreciating the power she seemed to have over him. Only in a dream would she have the audacity to come on like this to a man like him. She ran her fingertip along his chiseled jaw, over his firm, kissable lower lip.

  “Miss Lillian.” His tone offered a stern warning.

  His reprimand broke her from her seductive fantasy. What is going on? Did he want to have a go at it or didn’t he? This is the strangest damn dream. Her spirit dampened by the cold wash of his tone caused her to step back, distancing herself from him. Fine. If he was in such a hurry to leave, so be it. “Sure, I’ll talk to the girls if that’s all you want, Sheriff.”

  Geez, even in her dreams she couldn’t hold a man’s attention.

  Her fantasy touched her chin, lifting it to meet those fabulous dark eyes.

  “Now, Miss Lillian, er, Miss Lily, there’s no need to get all fired up about this. Come on now, it’s Jake and we’ve been friends a while. This one incident isn’t going to change anything. It’s just we have to keep certain—rules, you know.”

  His gaze, soft and warm, made her feel liquid all over—again. Dammit.

  She nodded, wanting to kiss him in a way that made her ache, but she figured that might be pushing her luck. Maybe he’d ask for her phone number, though in truth, fantasies generally didn’t have phones. She sighed.

  “Miss Lily?”

  “Yeah?” She admired the serious line of his tempting lips, thinking she’d like to get to know them better.

  “Just promise me you’ll talk to the girls.”

  Lillian nodded, focused on wondering where he got that small scar above his upper lip. “Sure.”

  “Soon.”

  He held her chin, keeping his gaze on her face. Were his lips getting closer? “And Miss Lily?” He dipped his head, the warmth of his breath danced over her cheek.

  “Uh-huh?” she whispered, surrendering to this part of her dream at least.

  “Listen. You know that I’m, not allowed…that I shouldn’t touch you.” His voice sounded strangled with desire. She took some comfort in that.

  “But aren’t you already doing that, Sheriff?”

  His unshaven face touched her cheek, his soft caress lingering. She swore she heard him utter a sigh. “Damn, woman.”

  She wanted to turn her face, just a scant few inches and meet that scrumptious mouth.

  “I’ve got a secret, Miss Lily. I’m not touching you the way I’d like to, but it’s just not possible. I’m the law. People expect certain things out of me.”

  Since when had making love become illegal? Surely, he couldn’t object to a harmless little kiss. Why did her fantasy insist on being noble? She wanted him to be reckless, wild—have crazy monkey sex back on those red satin sheets in her room. Lillian tipped her head, anticipating how he might taste. Come on, come on—

  “Call me, Jake. I want to hear you say it, Miss Lilly,” he spoke quietly.

  Pressing close, making her step backward, he moved her up against the wall. His fingers held her chin, angled towards him. She was about to burst into flames.

  “Say it. Let me hear my name from” --is gaze lingered a moment on her mouth--“your lips.”
>
  His pure determination to have her call him by his name aroused her, or maybe it was the fact that she was half-naked. Nonetheless, he was pure alpha male and it was her dream. It felt damn good to feel wicked. “Jake,” she spoke his name softly, matching her desire to his. His dark eyes pinned her in a haze of seduction. An all-male satisfaction sparkled in them. His smile was slow and even.

  Lil’s body quivered under his carnal scrutiny, and she pressed her palms against the wall to prevent her knees from buckling beneath her. Lord in heaven, he’d barely touched her, and she already teetered on the brink of an orgasm. She was going to have to indulge in her dreams more often, that was for sure.

  Lil lifted slightly on her toes, anticipating his kiss when a smidgeon of pride assaulted her. If they were to be friends…good friends, then he should know the truth about her, and that this image was not entirely who she was. She had another side to her and for reasons she couldn’t yet pinpoint, it was important that he accept all of her. “Jake, there’s something you should know about me. I’m also a librarian.” She held her breath, waiting for his response.

  There was a flicker of lust in his eyes, and he took another step closer, cutting off the air between them.

  Lil’s breasts tightened, brushing against his chest. His sexy grin caused a deep jolt to her equilibrium. The man was better at titillation than the little toy she kept in her bedside table.

  “Sure you are, Miss Lilly. Now listen, you can be whatever you’d like to be, but you keep your girls in line and we won’t have any trouble, you hear?”

  He tapped the end of her nose and planted his hat back on his head. “Good day, Miss Lilly.” With one last lingering look, he turned with a heavy swirl of his used duster and headed down the stairs.

  Lillian collapsed against the wall, understanding now what they meant by the term “rode hard and put up wet.”