"But you said we were going to get started."
"I said you're going to get started." He reached for her video camera sitting on a nearby chair and hefted it to his shoulder. "I'm going to watch, darlin'."
* * *
Chapter 5
«^»
Jack reached for the light and a wave of insecurity rushed through Paige.
"No. Leave it off. Please."
He moved the camera and stared at her for a long moment. "Okay," he said after a hesitant second. "For now." He aimed the camera. "Now close your eyes."
"What?"
"Trust me, remember? I'm the teacher, you're the student. Now close your eyes."
She drew in a shaky breath and fought to calm her beating heart. "I don't understand what this has to do with—"
"Sex appeal comes from the inside. You want to learn all about sex, then you need to realize your own sex appeal. You need to feel it, Paige. That's what this is about. It's about feeling. Not seeing or understanding. Just feeling. That's why I want you to close your eyes. So you're not distracted."
She drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Okay."
When her eyelids had fluttered closed, she heard his deep voice. For some reason it seemed huskier, sexier echoing through her head with her eyes clamped so tight. "Listen to the sound of your own breathing," he told her. "Concentrate on the in and out of your breath."
She did as he instructed, feeling the press of her own skin against the lace of her nightgown with every draw of air. The sensation sent a skitter of tingles down her arm and her heart sped faster. She breathed deeper. When the lace snagged on one nipple, she tugged on the material. The pressure sent a delicious jolt through her.
"Now concentrate on the scent of your own perfume."
She inhaled, the scent of apples and cinnamon and warmth filling her nostrils. It was a smell she was all too familiar with, yet it had never seemed quite as mesmerizing as it did with her eyes closed and her own breath echoing in her ears. She inhaled again and again, drinking in the scent and relishing the rush that went through her body.
"Undress."
She wouldn't have obeyed the command, but she was drunk from so many sensations. And excited. She reached for the straps of her gown. Cool air swept across her bare skin as the material pooled at her feet and she stood before him wearing nothing but a pair of slinky panties. Her hands went for those, but his voice stopped her.
"Touch your breast."
The command sent a wave of embarrassment through her, quickly replaced by a rush of excitement. Her heart was pounding too fast, the expectancy in her stomach too fierce to stop now and pull back. She actually wanted to touch herself, to feel her nipple bead with excitement.
At the first stroke of her finger, the tip ripened and sensation unlike anything she'd ever felt before, speared her. She gasped, the sound echoing in the suddenly breathless silence of the bedroom.
"Christ, you're beautiful." His voice, usually so deep and smooth and seductive, came out raw and choked. "Open your eyes, Paige, and look at me."
Her eyelids fluttered open, but she didn't look at him. She looked into the camera poised on his shoulder and saw her own reflection in the small glass lens.
A woman stared back at her, but it wasn't the same woman she faced day after day in the mirror. Her eyes appeared heavy-lidded, her lips parted, the bottom slightly more prominent and slick from the unconscious glide of her tongue. Her breasts were full and flushed, the nipples pebbled. She looked as if she'd just rolled out of bed after a night of wild, hot sex. She looked wild and hot and sexy.
He let the camera down and her gaze met his. She saw the desire in his eyes, the heat, the passion, and for the first time in her life, Paige actually felt sexy.
Jack Mission – experienced, passionate Jack Mission – wanted her. There was no mistaking the look. No dismissing it as wishful thinking. He was turned on and she was to blame.
She smiled.
"You're sexy, Paige. Sexy as hell." He let the camera down and stepped toward her. She closed her eyes, fully expecting to feel his arms around her. Instead, she felt the soft press of his lips to her forehead. "Sleep tight."
Her eyes opened in time to see him turn toward the bedroom door. "Where are you going?"
"First lesson's over."
"But I didn't… I mean, we didn't…"
"Not yet." He flashed her a grin. "Sleep tight."
And then Jack Mission did something he'd never done where a woman was concerned. He turned and walked away.
Under any other circumstances, he would have taken her in his arms and loved her within an inch of her life. Quick and to the point. No time for thinking. Just feeling. That had always been his motto. But Paige wasn't his usual type of woman. She was his student and, therefore, entitled to a little patience. His restraint certainly had nothing to do with the fact that almost more than he'd liked seeing her naked, he'd enjoyed the bright-as-a-Texas-sun smile that had lit her face when the truth had sank in.
Almost.
He would take a naked woman over a smiling one any old day. Just not this naked one. Not yet, anyhow.
* * *
She was not hot.
Paige drew in a deep breath, wiped a drop of perspiration from her temple and walked into the In Touch.
"Call 911," Dolores said the moment she glanced up from her desk. "Somebody's this close to a heart attack."
"Who?" Paige asked as she unloaded her satchel at her desk.
"You," Dolores told her pointedly. "You look hot."
"Flushed," Wally added as he walked by.
"Overheated," Dolores continued.
"I'm fine." Paige blew out a deep breath. "Really."
She wasn't hot. She was late, which was almost as bad. She had five minutes to write up her interview questions for her next appointment – a get-to-know-you talk with the newest resident of the Red Cedar Rest Home.
Late. The word echoed through her head, sending a wave of dread through her. Paige was never late. She was early. Conscientious. In control. On top of things.
Not this morning. She'd rolled out of bed exactly ten minutes ago. Even after a quick cold shower and three large glasses of ice-cold orange juice, she still felt as if she'd been sitting outside, baking on the pavement.
Thanks to Jack and lesson number one.
He'd gotten her so worked up, so … ready, and then he'd walked away.
Which was proof enough that her newly discovered sex appeal hadn't been that potent. Sure, she'd seen the desire in his eyes. She'd even felt the tension in his body, as if he'd been fighting to keep from hauling her into his arms. But then he'd left.
"Why, you're red-faced, dear. Your blood pressure must be sky-high."
"How anybody can even have blood pressure in this weather is beyond me." Paige suddenly noticed the temperature as Wally snuggled deeper into his coat, his earmuffs on, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.
"It is a mite cold." Dolores pulled her jacket tighter and shot an accusing stare at Wally. "I told you not to touch the blasted thing."
"I was just lowering the temperature a few notches. After all that heat, I needed to cool off."
"He broke the thermostat at fifty," Dolores told Paige.
"I did not break the thermostat. It's just stuck. But I'm going to pull out my pliers today and see what I can do to fix it."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"It's a simple fix."
"Men." Dolores rolled her eyes. "Now you know why I never remarried after Elias. They're all too stubborn for their own good and I'm too old to be worrying over one of them."
"I'm not stubborn. I'm technically inclined."
"Where have I heard that before?" Dolores turned her attention back to Paige who busied herself booting up her computer.
"Are you sure you're okay? You're awful pink."
"I'm fine. I probably got a little too much sun. I spent most of Saturday at the SAT garage sale. We're trying to raise money to actually buy
ourselves a meeting place, or at least be able to lease something. At the activity center, we have to fight with the junior pet owners for chairs every week."
"Wasn't that garage sale in a garage?"
"Yes."
"Then why would you be sunburned?"
"I, um, from going in and out. We had things sitting out in the yard."
Dolores, who had the most watchful eyes in the county, shook her head. "I still say something isn't right. You look hot and tired, like you didn't get much sleep last night."
"Worry," Paige blurted, diverting her eyes from the older woman's knowing gaze. "There's a new girl in the SAT group who's not opening up. I can see she needs to talk, but so far, nothing. I tossed and turned all night." The small measure of truth in the last sentence eased the guilt she felt at lying to Dolores.
"Who's the girl?"
"Jenny Turnover."
"As in Mrs. Walter Jackson Turnover the third?"
"That's the one."
"Honey, it's a miracle she's even going to your group. Count your blessings. The man's a tyrant. I can't believe he allows it."
"He might not know she's joined the group." She remembered the timid set of Jenny's shoulders, the fear in her dark brown eyes. The uncertainty. "In fact he probably doesn't know."
"That's the only explanation I'd believe."
"And he won't know, will he?" She trained her most intimidating glare on Dolores. "Will he?"
"What do you think I am?"
"The biggest mouth in the South, at least according to Deb and most everybody else who reads the In Touch."
"I may have a big mouth, but I know when to keep it shut." At Paige's disbelieving look, she added, "Mum's the word. I swear on my Trinity pin."
Paige nodded. A Trinity pin was the highest award given by the ladies auxiliary to their citizen of the year. Dolores had won hers last year and it held a place of honor above her desk in a glass enclosed frame. If Dolores was swearing on her precious award, she meant business.
"Besides, we women have to stick together. Speaking of which, I hear Jonas Peabody has been getting very cozy with SueAnn James who works over at the feed store."
"Cozy as in coffee over at Pancake World?"
"Cozy as in the fact that SueAnn has herself an engagement ring the size of Eulie Brown's mouth."
"Get out of here."
"I'm serious. The sucker is huge and I'm headed over to Heavenly Feed to see it." She snatched a disposable camera out of her top drawer. "Can't forget this. Readers want to see, too. I'm betting that Jonas is going to put every man in this town to shame."
Dolores continued to chatter while Paige turned her attention to the subject at hand – her upcoming interview. She needed to put together a list of questions, then finish editing one of Wally's pieces, before getting her buns over to the interview. She had no time to think about Jack Mission and the way he made her feel.
Hot and bothered and…
She shook away the thought and ignored the sudden urge to rush across the room and stand in front of the air unit blowing ice-cold comfort.
She was not bothered in the least by Jack Mission or last night's lesson. And she was not hot.
* * *
He was hot.
With the tail of his work shirt, Jack wiped a trickle of sweat from the side of his face and focused his attention on the horse stomping around the corral.
"Don't tell me you're getting back on," Wayne said as Jack started to approach the ornery animal.
"I have to get back on. She's not going to break on her own. Besides, haven't you ever heard the saying about falling off a horse?"
"You didn't fall. You got thrown. Hell, you got stomped, boy. Big difference. Not to mention, Molly isn't your typical horse."
Molly was a beautiful thoroughbred who'd been starved and mistreated by her owner's grandchildren – none of whom had known diddly about horses for the past five years. The owner had suffered from Alzheimer's and had been too sick to care for her, then he'd passed on. Jimmy had come across her a few months back when he'd been scouting out breeding prospects for his stud bull, Valentino. He'd taken one look at the pitiful animal and bought her for a ridiculous amount of money. Jack didn't blame him for forking over the bucks. He would have done the same for Molly. Not because she was a purebred and had the potential to be one of the prettiest horses in the county, but because she'd needed help in the worst way. She'd been neglected, mistreated and hurt. And she was scared.
Scared, he reminded himself, despite the fierce flare of her nostrils and the fact that she looked spitting mad rather than frightened. Her survival instincts had kicked in and she was waging war.
One that Jack intended to win. There wasn't a horse this side of the Rio Grande that he couldn't calm. It was his gift. His passion. The one thing that he did better than anyone else and he took pride in it.
He'd always had a way with animals. While Jimmy had been out riding fence with their father, Jack had been with the horses. He loved to ride, to shoe, to break, to do anything and everything that related to the spirited animals.
It wasn't so much a learned technique that made him so good at what he did. When he was with a home, he felt a kinship. He felt connected. He felt the animal. It was all about feeling.
Just feel.
The phrase echoed through his head, reminding him of last night, of Paige and how beautiful she'd looked with her eyes all dreamy and her full lips parted, her fingertips circling her rosy nipple. It had taken every ounce of strength he'd possessed not to take her then and there.
Hell, he'd wanted to. He'd wanted to carry her to the bedroom and love her fast and fierce. Soon, he promised himself. He was giving her time to adjust, letting her get used to him.
As bold as she'd been when she'd asked him for lessons in the first place, when it came down to actually following through, she was skittish. Inexperienced. Scared, just like Molly.
Jack didn't want her frightened. He wanted her willing in his arms. Completely accepting. Which was why he had no intention of finding himself in her bedroom with all those candles and silk sheets. He'd been hard-pressed, very hard-pressed, not to give her exactly what she was asking for. If he meant to go slow, he had to conduct her lessons in more neutral surroundings. The sort of place that didn't inspire any sexual thoughts.
An image of Paige and the way she'd looked last night flashed through his mind again … so soft and warm and luscious.
Okay, so maybe there weren't too many places that wouldn't inspire sexual thoughts. But at least he could take her someplace where he wouldn't be able to act on the lust heating his blood. Someplace where he would definitely have to hold back, until Paige was truly ready for him.
* * *
"The bedroom's that way," Paige told Jack when he showed up on her doorstep the following night for lesson number two.
He'd knocked, said hello when she answered, given her the once-over with those liquid gray eyes of his, then promptly turned and started back down the walkway.
Paige grabbed her purse, locked the door and hurried after him. "Hey, didn't you hear me?"
"We're not ready for a bedroom yet," he told her as he straddled the motorcycle and revved the engine. "Climb on."
She straightened her shoulders. "I think I'm ready."
He grinned, his gaze sliding over her, making her wish she could disappear inside the T-shirt dress she was wearing. "Darlin', you're not nearly ready. Don't you have anything a little … tighter?"
She glanced down at her outfit – the waist dropped into a long skirt that ended just above her ankles to reveal the new sandals she'd purchased last month on a shopping trip with Deb. They were a little too strappy for her tastes – she leaned toward a more conservative shoe – but Deb had insisted they looked "hot".
"I thought you said that it didn't matter what I wore. That sex appeal came from the inside."
His grin widened. "You were listening."
"Of course I was listening. I had a perfec
t GPA in high school and would have graduated at the top of my class."
"You didn't graduate?"
"I finished at night. Back then, Woodrow said he needed me to take care of him full time. So I had to quit, I had too much house stuff to do."
He eyed her for a long moment. "Get on."
"Where are we going? Someplace romantic?"
"Not if I can help it," he said. Or that's what she thought he said, but then the engine drowned out everything as he kicked them into gear and zoomed out of her driveway.
* * *
"I hope you like chicken-fried steak." He sat across from her at Pancake World and handed her a menu.
"I do, but I don't understand what chicken-fried steak has to do with…" She glanced around, noted the elderly couple in the booth next to them, and lowered her voice, "…sex," she finally whispered.
"Consider it foreplay."
"Chicken-fried steak is foreplay? I might be naive but I'm not that naive."
"Darlin', man doesn't live by sex alone. I've been working all day, you've been working all day. We need to eat."
But they did much more than just eat over the next hour. They talked. Jack told her about his childhood in Inspiration. About the way he used to tag along after his older brother Jimmy and Jimmy's best friend, Tack Brandon, now a nearby rancher and ex-motocross star. He told her about his love for horses.
In turn, Paige told him about the different classes she was taking, about her job at the newspaper and how she enjoyed writing Deb's Fun Fact column, even though she was still a bit new at it. She talked about her SAT group and how they had to fight with the local pet owners for chairs before every meeting. Her group had been trying to raise money to lease their own meeting place where women could go anytime they needed someone to talk to, and not just on Tuesdays. They talked about their likes and dislikes and the fact that they both loved chicken-fried steak smothered in white country gravy with just a touch of pepper on top.
It was the most pleasant evening she'd had in a long time, and at the same time, the most trying. Paige couldn't calm the sense of expectancy growing in the pit of her stomach. The anxiety. The excitement.
"Aren't you coming in?" she asked, when he dropped her off at home later that evening.
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