A small crowd gathered near the mahogany check-in desk. Several in the group stared, but he resisted the urge to dive behind the potted palm near the front window. His mother hadn’t lied. The placed oozed wealth—ornate carpets, plush ivory-colored couches and chairs, even a pianist playing a baby grand.
“Jake, over here.”
His heart beat double time when he spotted Amanda waving from across the lobby. Her hair wasn’t as neat as it had been in the morning and wrinkles creased the front of her skirt, but she was the prettiest woman in the whole world. Unable to drag his eyes from her tousled state, he headed in her direction. They met in front of a massive white column on the far side of the lobby. She coaxed him behind the pillar into a dimly lit alcove.
“I missed you,” she murmured, curling her arms around his neck.
“How much?” His hands greedily clutched her hips.
“This much.” Her breath fanned his face as her mouth inched upward.
Jake resisted the urge to take control, to kiss her the way he’d fantasized about all day—hard and hot. Lots of tongue. Soft and tentative, she flirted with his mouth. “More,” he breathed. “Way more.” When she ran her tongue over his lower lip, Jake’s knees damn near gave out.
Tangling a hand in her hair, he pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth. Sweet. So sweet. He wanted his kiss to say everything he couldn’t—that he ached for a future with her, that he ached to be her everything, that he yearned to fit into her world. When they finally came up for air, he pulled Amanda close, marveling at the perfect fit of their bodies.
“I didn’t expect you to stop by,” she whispered.
“Your house is boring. No big-screen TV. No satellite dish. No video-game system,” he teased.
“And here I thought you’d be racing your Harley through the mountains all day.”
“No fun without you on the back.” He lowered his head and she met him halfway. The urgency having been sated with the first kiss, he took his time—little nibbles and long easy strokes of the tongue.
“Ahem.”
Jake and Amanda jumped apart at the throat-clearing sound. A few feet away an older woman smiled.
“Miss Blanchard, you remember Jake Turner, don’t you?” Amanda discreetly wiped the back of her hand across her wet-slicked lips. “Jake, I believe Miss Blanchard taught English your senior year.”
“I remember you, young man. You earned a solid B in my class.” She held out her hand.
Jake wasn’t sure what to do with that hand, but he clasped it in both of his and said, “Nice to see you, Miss Blanchard.” His attempt to remove his hand was met with resistance.
“I wouldn’t believe it possible, but you’ve grown more handsome with time.”
Uncertain what to make of the teacher’s flirtatious remark, Jake mumbled, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“I was delighted to hear you’d returned for the reunion. I understand you’re staying with Amanda.”
Evidently his shacking up with the town librarian was public knowledge. Was it possible that Amanda wasn’t bothered by his past and what people thought about him as much as he was? “The hotels were booked and she was nice enough to loan me her couch.”
Miss Blanchard’s smile dimmed. “I’m sorry to hear that. I had expected…well, never mind.”
Expected? Expected what—that he and Amanda would have sex?
“I’d better resume my duties, but I wanted to be sure to say hello.” The retired teacher walked off, calling over her shoulder, “I hope you’ve come home to stay, Jake.”
Home to stay… If the English teacher welcomed Jake back, would others, as well? Tonight at the Ruby Slipper, Silver Cliff’s once historical brothel, he’d discover how welcome he was.
*
“IS THAT Jake Turner?” Kelly Smith asked, joining Amanda in the bar of the Ruby Slipper. Kelly, former Class of ’87 president, was a feature reporter for KCNC news in Denver. Pretty, smart and tonight sexy in a little black dress that appeared as if it had been airbrushed onto her. There was nothing to find fault with in Kelly—except the sparkle of interest in her eyes as she studied Jake. Clad in black jeans and a mustard-colored mock turtleneck, Jake was the sexiest man in the saloon.
“Back off, Hollywood,” Amanda warned, using Kelly’s high-school nickname. Then she added with a sugary smile, “Jake’s my date.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Why was it difficult for others to believe a man as handsome as Jake might be interested in her, the local librarian?
“How long have you two been an item?” Kelly probed.
Amanda checked her wristwatch. “Almost twenty-nine hours.”
Two perfectly plucked eyebrows arched. “Not long.”
“Long enough,” Amanda grumbled. She glanced at her red dress, wondering if she was properly equipped to declare war against the brunette. She couldn’t compete with Kelly’s Penthouse figure, but appreciation had shown on Jake’s face earlier in the evening when Amanda had appeared in the sequined dress.
“Are you two involved in a whirlwind affair?”
I wish. Although tempted, Amanda refused to lie. Jake had been on the receiving end of rumors his entire life and she wouldn’t contribute to the gossip. “I’m loaning him my couch for the weekend.”
“Ah-ha. Fair game, then,” Kelly murmured.
Amanda chose to pretend she hadn’t heard the comment as she watched Jake head toward them. She’d never seen a man so confident. He wasn’t the same troubled kid who’d blown out of town twenty years ago.
“Hello, Kelly.” Jake stopped next to Amanda and set his hand on her lower back. Aware of Kelly’s envious stare, Amanda snuggled against his side. Maybe there was hope he wouldn’t fall under Hollywood’s spell.
“Hello, Jake. You look…great.” Kelly’s eyes did the roaming thing again and Amanda wanted to stomp on the toe of the flirt’s three-inch-heeled shoe.
Amanda appreciated that Jake hadn’t returned the “looking…great” sentiment, and if Kelly had noticed, she didn’t let on. “What do you do for a living?” Kelly inquired.
The question sent a rush of heat up Amanda’s neck and she fanned herself with a cocktail napkin.
“You okay?” Jake grasped her elbow.
“It’s a little warm in here,” she muttered. What must Jake think? She’d spent the past two days with him and hadn’t bothered to ask what he did for a living. Had he assumed she wasn’t interested, or, worse, that she didn’t care? He probably believed she was shallow, and that was why he hadn’t jumped into bed with her.
“I own a software company,” he answered.
Really?
“Really?” Kelly echoed Amanda’s thought. “You’re a math and computers guy.”
Hardly. Jake hated math. Amanda had managed to help him eke out a C in Algebra II his senior year…barely.
Jake shook his head. “I despise math, but I love computers. My business partner is a genius programmer.”
“What’s the name of your company?”
“JT Communications, Inc.”
“JT…Jake Turner.” Kelly snapped her fingers. “Virus-protection software. The TV station did a feature story on your product, but they didn’t interview you. They talked with a company spokesperson.”
Left out of the conversation, Amanda swallowed the lump in her throat and again wondered how she could not have asked Jake how he made his income. He knew everything about her and she knew zip, nada, nothing about his life outside Silver Cliff.
“My senior programmer is currently working on the next generation of computer security,” Jake added. “She’s brilliant.”
She. The lump grew larger until Amanda’s throat threatened to swell shut. She was nothing but a dull librarian. Hardly as exciting as Jake’s brilliant female computer programmer.
“Ted, over here.” Kelly waved at a man in the crowd. “You remember Ted Butler. He graduated a year ahead of us. Manages a motel chain in Vegas.” When the short, rotund man joined
the group, Kelly said, “Ted, this is Jake Turner of JT Communications.”
Amanda waited for her introduction, but it never materialized. As a conversation in wireless security ensued, the circle closed and Amanda found herself standing on the outside. And here she’d been worried that Jake would have trouble fitting in tonight. Feeling sorry for herself, she roamed over to the bar. “A shot of tequila, barkeep,” she ordered, sliding onto an empty stool.
The bartender handed Amanda a shot glass of liquor, a slice of lemon and a saltshaker. She studied the items, then shrugged. She sprinkled salt over the lemon, then squeezed until juice dribbled into the tequila.
“It appears that Ms. Brain needs a tutor,” Jake whispered near her ear, his hot breath rustling her hair.
She stuck out her lower lip. “My tequila tutor appears more interested in talking than teaching.”
“No way, babe.” He bent his head and kissed her. Not a little peck. Not a sisterly smooch. A man-to-woman kiss that curled her toes and told anyone watching that Amanda belonged to Jake. “Now, pay attention.” He clenched his hand into a fist, ran his tongue across the skin below his index finger and sprinkled salt over the area. Then he licked off the salt, tossed back the tequila in one swallow and bit into the lemon wedge.
“You’re good.” His eyes didn’t even water.
“Practice makes perfect.” He motioned for the bartender to bring another round. “Your turn.”
Amanda followed his instructions, a bit slower, and succeeded in downing the tequila in two swallows. Her eyes watered. “My throat is on fire,” she wheezed.
“The second shot won’t burn as much.”
Within a few minutes, a small crowd had gathered around Amanda and Jake. Shot glasses were lined up along the length of the bar. Saltshakers appeared, and lemon and lime wedges passed around.
“Ready…set…go!” someone shouted.
Amanda swallowed the tequila in one gulp, then immediately coughed. “Third time’s a charm.” Jake grinned. “Line ’em up, barkeep,” he ordered.
“I think I’m getting drunk, Jake,” Amanda mumbled, her stomach warming from the liquor.
“I’ll make sure you get home tonight, even if I have to carry you.”
The image of Jake slinging the local librarian over his shoulder and hauling her inebriated fanny through the streets brought a smile to Amanda’s face.
The good folks of Silver Cliff would be talking about Amanda Winslow’s tequila-shooter lesson for years to come.
Chapter Six
“One more step,” Jake coaxed, half lugging, half pushing Amanda up the front porch.
Her heel caught on the top step and her arms windmilled. “Whoa!” She toppled backward into Jake.
After glancing around, he scooped her up and carried her to the door. At one in the morning, the block was dark, save for Amanda’s porch light, which splashed their monster-size silhouettes against the house. “The key,” he urged, hoping none of the neighbors was spying on them.
Ms. Brain wasn’t so much inebriated as she was exhausted. She’d stopped after four tequila shooters and chugged coffee the rest of the evening. But after a long day of work and several turns on the dance floor with him and others, she was done in.
“Right here.” She lifted her beaded purse, accidentally whacking Jake across the head. “Oops.” She struggled with the zipper.
“Let me.” His big fingers dug through the dainty clutch. After confiscating the key, he opened the lock, carried Amanda inside and kicked the door closed with his boot heel.
He considered setting her on her feet but decided he preferred her right where she was—snuggled against his chest. Hoisting her high in his arms, he climbed the stairs to the second floor. In the hallway he propped her against the wall outside the bathroom and sucked in several deep breaths.
Her fingers toyed with his ear. “You’re out of shape.”
Maybe he should change his exercise routine—heck of a lot cheaper and more fun to tote Amanda around than to shell out big bucks for a membership at the athletic club. Before he admitted as much, he heard a sniffle. A sniffle? He tilted her chin, stunned at the tears glistening in her pretty eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“That I never asked about your job.” A liquid drop leaked from the corner of her eye and dribbled down her cheek.
Frowning, he insisted, “It’s not import—”
She cut him off. “All these years, you’ve been so successful.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get any ideas about calling me brain,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“You never returned, Jake.” Her lower lip wobbled.
Oh, boy. The real reason behind the tears. “Please stop crying.” He kissed her cheek, which led to kissing her chin, which led to exploring her collarbone after he slid aside the dress’s shoulder strap.
A warm purr vibrated in her throat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. Their hot mouths mated, his tongue campaigning for a part of his anatomy that ached to get in on the action. After lengthy exploration, he ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve been dying to do that ever since I saw you in—” he tugged the hem of her dress “—this little number.”
“Really?” Her breath puffed against his face. “I thought you preferred Kelly’s little black number.”
“Nope. Red is definitely my color.” And maybe green. His ego appreciated Amanda’s jealous bone. “There’s something else I’ve been dreaming of doing.” He cupped her breast in his palm and squeezed. “This.” The feel of her was pure heaven. Touching wasn’t enough. “I want you, Amanda.” Intending for there to be no mistake about the definition of want, he thrust his erection against her thigh and groaned.
“Yes.” She nibbled his jaw. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Blood racing, he bent at the knees and scooped her into his arms, questioning why he’d ever put her down in the first place. Inside the bedroom he laid her on the pink ruffled comforter and stretched out beside her. “I’ve thought about making love to you on this frilly bed since the fireworks last night.” He nuzzled her neck.
“Wait.” Her fingertips flexed against his shoulders.
Concerned by the wobble in her voice, he levered himself onto his elbows. Her blue eyes were huge, almost too big for her face. “What’s wrong? Change of heart?” He sure in hell hoped not.
“I’ve always wondered why you didn’t make love to me that night in my bedroom.”
Swallowing a groan, Jake rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. He shoved a hand through his hair, silently cursing. He didn’t care to discuss the past. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Amanda moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, then rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Was it because of my father?”
Yes.
“Because I was the preacher’s daughter?”
Yes. “Amanda, let’s not discuss—”
“You owe me an explanation.”
He could give her part of the truth. “I didn’t make love to you because I realized that my feelings for you had altered.”
Her arms fell away, but he grabbed her hands and held them tight to his chest. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. I fought it. But in the end I couldn’t stop myself from caring about you.” Loving you.
“I don’t understand. If you—”
“I would have hurt you,” he blurted louder than he’d intended.
She scooted to the side. “Hurt me how?”
Jake admitted there was a small part of him—a part he was ashamed of—that yearned to destroy the man who’d preyed upon his mother—a weak woman lost in despair. But revenge wasn’t worth risking the chance of a future with Amanda. He left the bed and moved across the room. “I wasn’t the kind of guy a girl like you should have been involved with.”
“I was aware my father disapproved of you. In fact, he threatened to ground me
for life if I didn’t quit tutoring you.”
“Why did you chance your father’s wrath to help me?”
“I wanted everyone in our class to graduate.” Then she smiled. “And I thought you were cute.”
Her honesty caught him off guard and he chuckled. “Cute?”
“Okay, not cute. You were a stud.” Her expression sobered. “After we became better acquainted, I began to like you and then…like turned to love.”
“Love?” Was she serious? “You never told me.”
“How could I when you never said how you felt about me? That night in my bedroom I was gathering the courage to tell you, but then you went all weird and left.”
He doubted Amanda’s confession would have influenced his actions that night. He’d been so confused, hurt and angry and had wondered if his feelings for Amanda had been genuine or anchored in the hate he’d felt for her father. “I left because I refused to cause trouble between you and your father.”
Compassion filled her gaze. “I understand your life wasn’t easy in Silver Cliff. But once my father got to know you and your mother, he would have recognized that you were good people. He would have approved of you and me.”
She was delusional. But he didn’t have the heart to shatter her perception of her father. “No, he wouldn’t have.”
“He’s a preacher, Jake. He sees past the labels that society places on people,” she argued.
“Are you sure about that?” Jake challenged, regretting the comment when her eyes widened in shock.
“What makes you so positive my father wouldn’t have accepted you?”
“Never mind.” He slipped his feet into his shoes. “Jake, did my father hurt you?”
“Let it go, Amanda.” He had to leave before he said something he regretted.
Amanda leaped from the bed. “You’re not doing this to me again.”
“Doing what?”
“Running away.”
“I’m not running away. I just need some air.”
“What did my father do?”
Her plea stopped him at the doorway. “Jake, wait. Please.”
His chest ached at the tears streaming down her face. Once again, he’d hurt her. Maybe that was all he was capable of offering—pain.
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