She caressed his jaw, the side of his face, then ran her fingers through his hair to the back of his head where she pressed gently. He kissed her slow, easy and deep. The way he’d always dreamed of making love to her.
The first explosion rumbled through the sky, but Amanda’s moan muffled the sound of the fireworks. One more, he decided, kissing her again…and again…and again.
Chapter Four
“You sure it’s okay to park the Harley on your sidewalk?” Jake asked, shutting the front door behind him.
The drive home from the fireworks had been the longest ride of Amanda’s life. Their make-out session had prompted her to suggest they leave Canyon Lake early. Jake’s confession that he hadn’t booked a motel room for the night had played into her plans. She had the bad boy right where she wanted him—in her house.
A little miffed he appeared more concerned with his motorcycle while she fretted over how to seduce him, she assured him, “The bike is fine.” She ran her gaze over his body, her eyes stalling on the front of his tight jeans before continuing down the length of his thighs. Lord, the man could fill out a pair of button-fly 501’s.
He cleared his throat, the rumble drawing her attention to his face. “I’ll bunk on the couch.”
The couch? Her heart sank. Had she read the signals wrong? No. She hadn’t been the only one moaning on the blanket a short while ago. “Nonsense. You’ll use the guest room.” She had a better chance of enticing him into her bed if they slept on the same floor. Amanda resisted the urge to fidget under his solemn brown-eyed stare.
“If you’re sure…”
Heck, yes, she was sure. She and Jake had almost made love the night before their high-school graduation, but for some reason—a reason she still didn’t understand today—he’d changed his mind and put a stop to the caresses and kisses. After all these years of wondering what she’d missed out on, she was determined not to let Jake leave the house until they made love. “Follow me.”
Upon reaching the second-floor landing, she pointed to the bathroom as she strolled past. “Fresh towels are in the cabinet.” Then she paused at the guest-bedroom door. “There’s space in the closet if you care to hang up anything.”
“I’ll get my clothes in the morning.”
An image of Jake sleeping nude flashed through her mind and her pulse leaped. “Let me know if you need anything.”
He tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged. Their noses bumped. Breath mingled. He nuzzled her lips—the barest of touches. “’Night, Amanda.”
She hurried into her room and changed into her sexiest lingerie—a white cotton ankle-length nightgown with spaghetti straps. After slipping off her panties, she posed in front of the mirror. At least the material was sheer enough to see her silhouette underneath.
The bathroom door squeaked. Five minutes passed, then another squeak. She counted to ten before parading into the hall—and discovering he’d closed the bedroom door. Drat. She knocked softly. No answer. Knock. Knock. Again no answer. He couldn’t have fallen asleep already. Frustrated, she rested her forehead against the door.
A moment later the door was yanked open and her forehead thumped Jake’s naked chest. “What’s wrong?” He grabbed her shoulders.
“Ah…” Think! “I thought you might be hungry.” For me.
“Not really. See you in the morning.” For the second time in less than ten minutes Jake Turner shut the door in her face.
*
“MORNIN’.”
At the purr of Jake’s sleep-slurred voice, Amanda tightened her fingers around the coffee cup she’d been rinsing. She’d intended to escape out the back door before he’d crawled from bed. Mentally swatting at the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she dried her hands on a towel until every last drop of moisture disappeared, then faced her overnight guest.
Naked from the waist up, Jake lounged barefoot in the kitchen doorway. Amanda fought to keep her gaze from following the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans. She swallowed a sigh at his mussed state—hair sticking up, sleep creases branded into the side of his neck and beard stubble shadowing his cheeks. The sex god had spent the night under her roof and hadn’t touched her. “Did you sleep well?” She forced a cheery note in her voice.
He raised his arms above his head to stretch, drawing Amanda’s gaze to his bunching pectoral muscles. “The bed was too short.”
Precisely. She’d anticipated that the twin mattress in the guest room would be uncomfortable and had hoped he’d crawl into bed with her. Amanda had tossed and turned all night, struggling to figure out where she’d gone wrong. His snub still stung and she was tempted to make him sleep on the porch tonight. “You should have curled up on your side,” she teased.
“I prefer to sprawl.”
Amanda’s mouth went dry as she pictured Jake’s body sprawled across the mattress. “I have to get to work. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.” She retrieved her purse from the counter. “Coffee mugs are in the cupboard next to the sink.” She was halfway to the door when Jake’s voice stopped her.
“Don’t I get a kiss?”
When she spun, he’d crossed the room. Planting his hands against the door frame above her head, he leaned forward, his gaze glued to her mouth. She focused on the sexy tuft of dark hair under his arm, afraid her eyes would betray her eagerness for his kiss. When he touched his lips to hers, she caught the faint scent of mint toothpaste. He nuzzled her cheek, then blew in her ear. “You smell good,” he whispered before settling his mouth firmly over hers. The kiss didn’t last long, but it warmed Amanda down to her toes and left her breathless.
When he pulled away, she said in a rush, “I get off at three, but I promised Miss Blanchard I’d help with the class-reunion registration at the Silver Palace until five.”
“What time is the mixer tonight?” His chest brushed the front of her plum-colored silk blouse and her nipples perked.
The scent of his sleepy body made her dizzy and she was afraid she’d have to call in sick to work if she didn’t move away from the man. When the screen door stood between them, she answered, “Seven. At the Ruby Slipper.”
He grinned. “Have a good day, Ms. Brain.”
Amanda walked on the narrow brick path alongside the house, then halted at the sight of the Harley parked next to the porch steps. What will the neighbors think? Too cranky to care, she skirted the bike and cut across the green patch of grass she called the front yard, and headed for the library three blocks away—a commute most people would kill for.
The vigorous walk worked off her frustration, and by the time she reached the corner of Main and Hesslinger she was ready to face anything—except Mrs. O’Reilly and Taco—her fifteen-pound Chihuahua.
“Hello, dear. I was on my way to your house. Betty phoned about a motorcycle parked in your yard.” She shook her head. “I told the city council we should build a parking garage for tourists, but they don’t listen to old people.” She inched forward. “I’ll call Deputy John. He’ll help.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. O’Reilly. The bike belongs to Jake Turner. Remember Susan Turner’s son? Jake and I went to high school together.”
The old woman frowned. “He was a bit of a troublemaker, wasn’t he?”
Poor Jake. Would he ever live down his bad-boy reputation? “I invited Jake to stay at my home while he’s in town attending the weekend festivities.”
Mrs. O’Reilly smacked her chest with an open palm. “But you’re a single woman, dear.”
“Rest assured my single status works better than a chastity belt. I tried to seduce Jake last night, but he’d have nothing to do with me.” When the old biddy didn’t hit the pavement in a dead faint, Amanda mumbled, “Have a good day, Mrs. O’Reilly.”
Amanda had one foot in the library door when she was hit with the first question.
“Is it true?”
Already the wolves were circling. “Is what true?” Amanda growl
ed at her coworker Kathy as she stored her purse in the desk drawer. She eyed the empty coffeemaker across the room.
“Silver Cliff’s notorious bad boy spent the night under your roof?”
Oh. My. God.
Darn Mrs. O’Reilly and that new cell phone her kids had purchased for her this past Christmas. As if the woman and her overweight dog had nothing better to do than roam the streets reporting neighbors’ comings and goings. Obviously the old biddy had contacted Martha, who worked in the library circulation department, who then told Bernice in the children’s section, who in turn informed Kathy at the checkout desk. “You’re twenty-three years old,” Amanda argued. “How would you be aware of Jake’s notoriety?”
Kathy shrugged. “I’ve heard his name around town. His mom died a few years ago, right? They said she was a drunk.”
Amanda winced at the callous name-calling. Yes, Susan had been an alcoholic most of her life, but she’d also been a human being, with feelings, regrets, dreams and hopes.
“Jake slept at my house because the motels are booked solid for the class reunion.”
“Yeah, right.” Kathy followed Amanda to the coffeepot. “What was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“Sex with such a stud. I mean, a woman like you—”
“Like me?” Amanda set her coffee cup on the counter and gave the younger woman her best I’m-the-boss scowl.
Kathy retreated a step. “One who’s not…” The bell at the front desk rang. “Experienced.”
While the insult sank into Amanda’s sleep-deprived brain, Kathy had dashed off. Amanda understood that people in town considered her a dried-up prune. And they were right. She was approaching forty and had had no more than a handful of dates the past ten years.
Pretty hair—that was what the girls at the Cut-Off Hair Salon assured her she had—and a lean figure were hardly enough to eliminate the stigma attached to her job—librarian. In a small-town dictionary, the word was synonymous with old maid.
If you’re not an old maid, then what are you?
A coward. She should have marched into Jake’s bedroom and jumped his bones. Last night she’d lied to herself, maintaining the reason she’d wanted to have sex with Jake was to discover what she’d missed out on all those years ago. But one look at him this morning—groggy and sexy as all get out—and she’d realized that her feelings for him in high school had withstood a twenty-year separation.
Amanda yearned for more than great sex with Jake. She wanted a future. If only she had more than two days to make Jake believe he couldn’t live without her.
“Amanda,” Kathy called from the front desk. “Deputy John wishes to speak with you.”
Oh, brother. “Hello, John.” Amanda greeted the tall, pencil-thin officer after exiting her office. Kathy slunk off to the children’s section and resumed her patron-spying post behind the Dr. Seuss display.
“Change your mind about being a guest reader?” she asked. Three months ago she’d invited John to read a story on bike safety to Valerie’s day-care kids. She hadn’t realized John stuttered when he read out loud. The poor man had acted as if he’d rather face down a serial killer than a group of preschoolers.
“Mrs. O’Reilly reported a motorcycle parked at your house.” He rested his hand over the butt of his gun as if the perpetrator lurked between the shelves of books.
Amanda leaned forward and whispered, “Settle down, Barney Fife. Jake Turner isn’t here.”
John had the grace to blush. “Is he causing problems?”
Not the kind I can talk about publicly.
The deputy had been a freshman when Amanda and Jake were seniors. “Jake is not harassing me.” No wonder Jake had stayed away from Silver Cliff all these years. “I explained to Mrs. O’Reilly that I’d invited Jake to sleep over.” At the cop’s bug-eyed gape, she added, “In the guest bedroom.”
“Mrs. O’Reilly is concerned that Turner may not have your best interests—”
“John. Do I look like someone who would let herself be taken advantage of?”
“Ah, no.”
Well, shoot. Maybe that was the problem. She’d have to phone Valerie. As a former hooker, she could probably give Amanda a few pointers. “I appreciate that Mrs. O’Reilly is concerned, but it’s none of her business who I allow in my home.”
Remember, Amanda, you work with children. That gives adults the right to scrutinize your personal life—to a certain extent. She supposed rumors that she and Jake were having a torrid affair might compromise her good standing—a chance she was willing to accept.
“I agree that it’s none of Mrs. O’Reilly’s business,” John admitted. “Just the same, if Turner steps over the line, call the station, and I’ll be right over.”
Steps over the line… Tonight she hoped Jake would leap across the line and let loose his bad-boy ways on her.
Chapter Five
The Silver Palace hadn’t changed much over the years—it was still the same swanky hotel that Jake’s mother had argued their kind wasn’t welcome inside. From his vantage point across the street, he spotted the three mammoth crystal chandeliers visible behind the towering paned windows at the front of the building. Yep, all ritz and glitz.
He checked his watch: 5:00 p.m. Fifteen minutes ago, he’d caught a glimpse of Amanda strolling through the lobby. He’d thought about her a lot today. Found himself missing her…counting the hours until she got off work.
The desire to learn everything about her had driven him to wander through her house and take inventory of her possessions. Her favorite color was pink. Bath towels. Coffee cups. Throw pillows. Even the good china boasted a pink-flowered pattern. Pink suited Amanda. The color represented the soft, safe side of her that Jake ached to lose himself in.
He’d studied the collection of old family photographs she’d displayed on the foyer table and had wondered what the preacher would say if he’d discovered Jake had slept under his daughter’s roof last night.
The hotel blurred before Jake’s eyes as a memory formed in his mind: walking into his house after school and catching Amanda’s father having sex with his mother in the bedroom. His mother—head turned toward the wall, eyes vacant. Her body lifeless. The preacher moving over her like a rutting animal.
Jake had fled the room unnoticed and waited outside. When the preacher stepped onto the porch, Jake had expected the man to show regret. Embarrassment. Maybe even fear. But not indifference.
“I was sharing the word of the Lord with your mother,” the man had boasted, tucking his shirt into his pants.
“People at church care you’re spreading God’s word through your…?” Jake had meant to anger and provoke, but the vulgar question produced only a patronizing smile from the preacher.
“Son, God is a forgiving man. If you’d attend church, you’d understand that.”
The idea that Amanda’s father believed he wasn’t accountable to anyone but the person in the sky had angered Jake. “God might forgive you, but people won’t.”
“Talk all you want, boy. No one will believe you. Your mother’s a drunk. And we both know I’m not the first man to visit her bedroom. Nor will I be the last.”
The truth hit Jake hard. For the first time in his life he’d understood how the poor and less fortunate were discounted by society. He and his mother were of little value, therefore they didn’t deserve to be treated with the same respect as others. You’ll pay for this, he’d muttered as the preacher drove away.
Little had Jake expected the opportunity for revenge would land in his lap a few days later when Amanda had offered her tutoring services. In the end, though, Jake’s feelings had gotten in the way of going through with his plan to seduce Amanda.
After Jake had explored the rest of Amanda’s house, he’d sat outside at the iron tea table in the backyard, surrounded by decorative birdhouses, birdbaths and pots of flowers, and thought about how his childhood had been so opposite Amanda’s. He’d expected to return to Silver Clif
f and discover they had nothing in common. How wrong he’d been. Even though they both had fulfilling careers and friendships, their lives were missing something—or rather, that special someone. Amanda should have been a mother by now, yet she lived alone, not even a steady boyfriend. And Jake had never become serious with any of the women he’d dated in the past.
Everything in him shouted Amanda was the one. He wondered if she had any inkling how difficult it had been to ignore her invitation last night. He’d tossed and turned in bed, fighting the temptation to crawl beneath her big pink comforter, wrap her in his arms and free himself in her sweetness. But he couldn’t. The past—rather, Amanda’s father—stood between them.
But was telling the truth the answer? The truth would hurt Amanda. Forever change her relationship with her father. Besides, her life was in Silver Cliff and his was in L.A. If Amanda had no intention of ever moving away, then why tell her the truth?
Because you could move here. Make a life with Amanda in Silver Cliff. Her father wasn’t around. His mother was dead. They could make it work.
A computer and a cell phone were all he required to run his software company. He’d have to relocate the commuter jet to the Silver Cliff Regional Airport twelve miles outside of town in order to attend meetings once a month in L.A. Money made anything possible, except for one thing—wealth couldn’t buy acceptance. Jake wasn’t sure he’d be welcomed back to Silver Cliff by its residents—not that they could stop him from moving here. But he had to consider Amanda.
If they became a couple, how would the locals treat her? Would she keep her job? Her friends? He’d been an outcast all his life and he’d never wish for Amanda to suffer the same fate. Silver Cliff was more Amanda’s town than his and he had no intention of jeopardizing her good standing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t test the waters—get a feel for how people would react to seeing them as a couple.
Had she missed him as much as he’d missed her today? Would her face light up when he strolled through the huge hotel doors? Before he lost his courage, he crossed the street and entered the Silver Palace.
A Baby On The Way Page 4