“No. I can’t.”
“You take my breath away, run right into me, ruin my pants and you won’t even tell me your name? Cruel.”
“Cruel. Yeah. Welcome to Pleasantville,” she muttered.
“Ah, I suspected you weren’t a native.”
Remembering his other comment she asked, “What’s wrong with your pants?” She glanced down, noting the rigid bulge in his crotch, and had to gulp. Yeah, she guessed their embrace had ruined the fit of his pants, anyway.
He obviously saw her stare and lifted a brow. Then he turned, pointing ruefully at his taut backside hugged close in the expensive khaki trousers. Expensive, wet and dirty khaki trousers. Somehow, during their embrace, he must have leaned back against the soggy wood porch railing.
“You’re making it worse,” she noted, watching as he tried to brush off the dirt, but only succeeded in smearing the stains around.
“You could offer to help.”
Uh, right. Her hands. On his perfect male butt. Brushing against those lean hips. Trying not to squeeze his firm thighs. She swallowed hard. Glancing at him, she saw laughter in his eyes. Green eyes, dimples, thick blond hair, a body to stop traffic and what looked to be a good solid eight inches of hot and ready hard-on just waiting to be let loose.
On a public street. In broad daylight. In Pleasantville .
Sometimes life simply wasn’t fair.
“Sure, take off your pants and I’ll drop them off at Royal Dry Cleaners for you,” she finally managed to say, striving for nonchalance.
“That’d cause some eyes to pop, wouldn’t it?” he asked with a wicked grin. “You really want me to take them off now?”
She felt heat stain her cheeks. “I mean, you can…go somewhere and change.”
He chuckled. “I was teasing you. It’s not a problem. Besides, Royal closed several years ago. Pleasantville has no dry cleaner anymore.”
“A shame, given this town’s dirty laundry,” she muttered.
He gave her a curious look, but she certainly wasn’t going to elaborate.
“So, are you going to make it up to me?”
“I’m sorry if my running into you caused you to fall headfirst onto my lips and then back into the railing to ruin your pants,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Apology accepted,” he said succinctly, as if he’d had nothing to do with what had just happened.
She found herself almost grinning. Finally she admitted, “My name’s Kate.”
He brushed a strand of hair off her face, his fingers warm against her temple. Her heart skipped a beat.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kate.” He somehow made the simple words seem much more suggestive than they were. It’d be nice to have you, Kate . And, oh, it’d be nice to be had.
Before she could reply, Kate heard the Tea Room door open. Three women emerged, eyeing them curiously.
“I have to go,” she whispered, feeling the blood drain from her face. How this stranger could have made her forget the things she’d heard in the Tea Room, she didn’t know. The memory of the vicious gossip came back full force now, though.
Gossip about her mother. Her aunt. And the men in this town who apparently had left them each money or property.
According to the harpies, Edie had been left a fortune by Mayor John Winfield. Which, they believed, had to have been a payoff for a secret, torrid love affair.
Kate mentally snorted. The man had left Edie a measly thousand bucks. As far as Kate was concerned, that didn’t even cover the interest on all the late paychecks over the years.
It was almost laughable, really. The town in a tizzy, rumors of a scandalous affair. It could have been downright hilarious…if only it hadn’t been true. Kate suspected she was the single person who understood that, just this once, the vicious, mean-spirited Pleasantville grapevine was spreading a rumor actually based in truth.
The old saying about the truth hurting had never been more appropriate. In this particular case, the truth made her ache. She’d never completely gotten over the shock and hurt of that life-altering moment when her childhood illusions had shattered and her mother’s saintly image had become all too human.
“Don’t leave.”
She turned her attention back to the amazing stranger. He didn’t plead, didn’t cajole or coerce. He simply stared at her, all gorgeous intensity, tempting her with his smile and the heat in his eyes.
“I have to go somewhere. I’m only in town for today.” She wondered if he heard the anger and hurt in her voice. Did he see her hands shaking as she watched the audience inside the doorway of the Tea Room grow and expand?
Then, perhaps because the audience in the doorway was expanding, or perhaps because she simply wanted to know if he’d really kissed as well as she’d thought, she leaned up on her toes and slipped a hand behind the stranger’s—Jack’s—neck.
“Thanks, Jack, for giving me one pleasant thing to remember about my visit back to this mean little town.” His lips parted as she pulled him down to press a hot, wet kiss to his mouth. She playfully moved her tongue against his lips, teasing and coaxing him to be naughty with her.
He complied instantly, lowering his hands to her hips, tugging her tightly against his body. The kiss deepened and somewhere Kate heard a shocked gasp.
As if she cared.
Finally, dizzy and breathless, she felt him let her go. Somehow, a simple “Up-yours” to the occupants of the Tea Room had turned into a conflagration of desire. She found it hard to stand. Her whole body ached and she wanted to cry at the thought of not finishing what she’d so recklessly restarted.
“I’ll be seeing you, Kate,” he promised in a husky whisper.
And somehow, not sure why, she felt sure he was right.
A FTER SHE GOT IN her SUV and drove away, Jack stood on the porch for several moments. He ignored the people exiting the Tea Room—his mother’s cronies who’d probably already called her. And the men staring unabashedly from the barber shop—his late father’s buddies who probably wanted to change places with him.
They’d all watched while he’d done something outrageous. He’d seen a chance, seen something he wanted, followed his instincts and kissed a beautiful stranger. In his years playing the male/female sex/love game, he’d never done something so impulsive. Yeah, he’d probably had a few more women in his life than the average guy. But he’d never been as deeply affected by one, just from a heated stare across a nearly deserted street.
Jack still had the shakes, remembering the feel of her in his arms, the way she’d tilted her supple, firm body to maximize the touch of chest to chest, hip to hip. Man to woman. Her dark eyes had shone with confusion, but had been unable to hide the unexpected flare of passion. “Kate,” he whispered out loud.
He felt no sense of urgency to go after her since he knew who she was. As soon as she’d said her name, he’d remembered her face from the picture in the Chicago paper a few weeks ago.
He hadn’t read the article, and couldn’t remember much—only that she owned some trendy new women’s store on the Magnificent Mile. But he definitely remembered her face, and her name—Katherine…Kate—because, with her thick, dark hair she’d reminded him of an actress of the same name. Kate Jackson? No…but something like that. He couldn’t place the last name yet, but he felt sure he would.
What on earth she was doing in Pleasantville he couldn’t fathom. But tracking her down really shouldn’t pose much of a problem