Can't Help Falling In Love
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His gaze swept down her body, heating her intimately. “All this sure explains those skimpy purple undies.”
Skyler’s face flamed. “What undies?”
“Yours.”
“When did you—” She stopped, suddenly remembering Fluffy’s rescue from the tree while Jack gazed up at her. She gasped. “You, you…I can’t believe you looked! You’re a city employee, a civil servant, a—”
“I’m a man.”
Skyler didn’t know whether to be ticked, flattered or embarrassed. She settled for all three. “Jack Tesson, you and I are gonna go a few rounds if you continue—”
He tapped the end of her nose, distracting her. “Call me by my full name.”
“Why would I—”
“Just do it. Please.”
She heaved a sigh. “What is it?”
“Jackson Phillipe.”
Having no idea why she was humoring the man, but needing to make her point about his bad boy behavior, Skyler went on. “Jackson Phillipe Tesson, you and I are gonna go a few rounds if you continue in this inappropriate habit of doing and saying forward things to proper, Southern-bred ladies.”
He slid his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her forward, then kissed her hard on the lips.
Mouth tingling, she stared at him. “What did you do that for?”
He grinned. “You reminded me so much of my grand-mère, I had to kiss you.”
She knew she’d sounded a bit maternal, but… “Your grandmother?”
“She always tried to make speeches about proper behavior, too.”
“Tried?”
“Without much success—obviously.” His eyes danced. “Now for the reason I came by.”
Distracted, she’d completely forgotten to question what he was doing in her shop in the middle of the day. She absolutely could not think straight in the man’s presence.
“The other night at the bar was completely my fault.” He stroked the delicate skin beneath her eye, regret obvious in his tone. “I can’t believe you were hurt because of something I did.”
She shook her head. Her impulsiveness and desperation to keep her secret had led to the trouble.
“Oui. I should have protected you.”
Again, it occurred to her that this whole hero thing might not be so bad.
“So, I want to make it up to you. How ’bout dinner Friday night?”
A refusal was on the tip of her tongue, but something held her back. She’d always been happy to let her brothers protect her from dangerous men like Jack, but now she suddenly didn’t want to play it safe. No doubt this urge was the result of her daring and impulsive Kimball genes.
She also recalled her recent conversation with Casey—aka Frat Boy—who’d told her he broke the record in ducking her brothers because Jack had let him hide out at his apartment. Her heart fluttered at the thought.
One date. What could it hurt?
She looked up, meeting his gaze. “Sure.”
A broad smile broke across his face, but then he eyed her oddly. “What’s the catch?”
The man was definitely quick. She wanted to go out with him, but she wasn’t willing to sacrifice his job in the process. “We can’t tell anyone.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, managing to go from charming to intimidating in that one move. “Come again?”
“I won’t have you losing your job over a simple dinner.”
“Ben is a reasonable man. He wouldn’t fire me.”
Ben could be reasonable. Wes, she wasn’t taking any bets on, and he could certainly make life hard for Jack. Besides, by keeping this date under wraps she could be daring without being reckless.
“I’m not hiding from your family,” Jack said.
“Then I won’t go.”
Looking exasperated, he sighed. “You’re a helluva negotiator, chère.”
“You should see me negotiate prices with Bud.”
“Bud?”
“Proprietor of Bud’s Leather Palace.”
Laughing, he pulled her into his arms. A pretty great place to spend a Tuesday afternoon, in Skyler’s book. “You’re somethin’,” he said quietly. “And you’ve got a deal.”
Her heart thumped hard in her chest.
He looked down at her, brushing her hair back from her face. “But I won’t lie. I’ll agree not to advertise our date in the newspaper, but if one of your brothers asks me directly, I won’t deny it.”
Skyler bit her lip. She didn’t like this contention, but since she only intended for them to have one date—she was attracted to Jack, but she couldn’t really get involved with him. The loss of her father had ruled so many of her actions for so long, she doubted she’d ever change. Adding Jack to her collection of people to obsessively worry over was a really bad idea.
Jack and his dangerous job wouldn’t be hanging around Baxter long anyway. Losing him was inevitable.
But since they were only talking about one date, she figured she could keep her heart safe.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Okay. Covert, but no lying. Anything else?”
He pulled her tighter against him, so she could feel his hardness growing against her stomach. “How about wearing a selection from Bud’s Leather Palace?”
Skyler thought of the black leather jeans with silver rivets down the seams she’d ordered for Fiona. She couldn’t imagine ever having the guts to wear something like that beyond her dressing room, much less in front of Jack.
“I’m kidding,” he said, as if he sensed her unease. “But wear a dress.” He kissed the side of her neck, just below her ear. “And the purple undies.”
She shivered. God, the man knew how to proposition. He was assuming a great deal about the outcome of their dinner, she supposed, but his tendency to push the limits was part of his charm.
“How about a skirt?” she suggested, not about to give him total control over this date, though he seemed to have commandeered—temporarily, of course—her hormones.
“And the undies?”
Smiling, she waggled her finger at him. “My undies, young man, are none of—”
The alarm above the door jangled.
Skyler jumped away from Jack as if she’d just grabbed a hot frying pan.
Mrs. Markenson—a regular customer and cousin to the mayor—sailed through the doorway, her sixteen-year-old daughter trailing in her wake.
Jack, damn him, discretely stroked her side and whispered, “Relax, chère. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Nothing, absolutely nothing about Jackson Phillipe Tesson was safe.
“Good afternoon, Skyler,” Mrs. Markenson said, nodding her perfectly styled and highlighted head of light brown hair. “I need to find something appropriate for the church picnic for Christine.” She pushed her giggling, blushing daughter, whose wide blue gaze was riveted to Jack, forward.
“Absolutely.” Skyler approached her customers. “I have some trendy new styles for teens.”
Mrs. Markenson wrinkled her nose. “Nothing too stylish, I hope.”
Skyler resisted the urge to groan. More girls in living room drapery fabric—just what the world needed. “Of course not.” As they moved toward the back of the store, she took the opportunity to introduce her customers to Jack. The momentary distraction gave her time to wonder what semitrendy top or skirt she had in her back room that would flatter Christine without offending her mother.
“We’re so happy to have you in Baxter,” Mrs. Markenson was saying. “I’m on the council, you know.”
Yes, we know, Skyler echoed. We also know if you found out about the latest shipment of edible underwear, I’d be out on my purple-undie-clad ass.
Jack, of course, was smooth as glass. “I’m honored you show such confidence in me, madame.”
Mrs. Markenson actually blushed at the French form of address.
“We’re planning an exciting Fourth of July celebration,” Jack continued.
Skyler frowned. She’d forgotten about his appointment to the same committee as her. How was that going to work after she told him they could have one and only one date? As Christine giggled beside her, she waved aside this concern for the moment. Happy customers first. Concern for love life second.
After securing Christine and her mother in a large dressing room with several modest, solid-color dresses and a few skirts and tops, she jerked her head toward the door. “You’re distracting my customers,” she said to Jack. “Out you go.”
“Me?” he had the nerve to ask, eyes all innocent.
She shoved his shoulder. “Yes, you. And don’t give me that wicked-but-innocent grin of yours. I have a business to run.” She held open the door. “Out.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the opening. “What grin?” he asked before producing the distracting expression.
Good grief but he was sexy. She half considered hopping on that sleek, black motorcycle parked at the curb, driving away with him, where no inhibitions existed, and she could ease the hunger clawing at her body.
Wait a freaking minute. Sleek, black motorcycle?
She groaned. “Don’t tell me—the motorcycle is yours, isn’t it?”
He threw one long leg over the seat. “Course, chère. Wanna ride?”
“No, no—” it does look kind of cool, her libido prodded “—absolutely not,” she said firmly, striding toward him. He looked so perfect, so right, so dangerous sitting astride the bike, she had to suppress a moan of longing. And of course he wanted her to wear a dress. Wouldn’t that be just like a man to satisfy his prurient fantasies by having her straddle him—she had to fight back another moan—with her dress hiked up to her thighs?
“We can’t go out to dinner on that,” she said, her voice high and tight. She hoped she hadn’t offended him, but the clash between sensible and risky was overwhelming her senses to the point of irrationality.
“I’ve got a car, ange. We’ll save the motor for our second date.” He kicked the engine over, and the street beneath Skyler’s feet vibrated. “See you Friday,” he mouthed just before he dropped a black helmet over his head and roared away.
Skyler stomped her foot in frustration. There wasn’t going to be a second date, much less one on that rolling organ donor. As she turned to enter her shop, it occurred to her that she was trying to get a dangerous man to play it safe.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, Sky. That’ll work.”
5
FRIDAY NIGHT, Jack slid into the seat next to Skyler just as the mayor called the Independence Day Committee meeting to order. “What’s the emergency?”
“I have no idea,” she whispered back. She shrugged her shoulder—bare except for her dress’s bright pink spaghetti strap. The rest of the thigh-skimming dress clung to her curves and matched perfectly with her heeled sandals and toenail polish.
Delicious. He considered dropping a kiss on her icy pastel pink lips, but knew public affection was definitely a move in the wrong direction. He focused on positive thoughts. Their date might be a secret, but she’d prepared carefully for the event. Definite good sign. In the past few days, he’d managed to dispel the niggling spark of worry that she didn’t want to be seen with him. She was worried about his job. She cared. Her motives were sweet. She wasn’t using her brothers as an excuse. She didn’t have to remind him of the “good girls” in high school, who flirted with him on Saturday nights, then ignored him during school, where he’d certainly not been a part of their clique.
“Okay, people,” the mayor said, rising from behind his desk. “I know it’s Friday night, and I know y’all have plans, but we’ve got ourselves a crisis.”
Eyes wide, Jack had a hard time concentrating on the man’s serious tone. Mayor Franklin Collins was dressed as Elvis—the Vegas years—in a white-sequined jumpsuit, gold necklaces and huge rings on his fingers. The First Lady didn’t disappoint in complementing her husband. She had the voluptuous figure, exaggerated makeup and headdress of a Vegas showgirl.
Jack leaned close to Skyler’s ear, inhaling the sweet, flowery scent clinging to her skin before he asked, “What’s with the costumes?”
Before she could answer, a male voice called out, “Hold on, honey.” Roland swished into the room. At least Jack thought it was Roland. He wore glamour-girl makeup, a blond wig and a gold-sequined evening gown, so only the voice was recognizable. The pet store owner waggled his fingers in Skyler’s direction as he crossed the room.
Jack glanced from the mayor, to his wife, then back to Roland. He asked Skyler, “Did I miss a dress code meeting?”
“No.” She met his gaze, her blue eyes twinkling. “The mayor’s an Elvis fanatic, and Roland performs at a local bar on the weekends. His act is a riot, sort of Ru Paul meets Tony Bennett.”
“These are the people who voted against a lingerie shop?”
“No,” she whispered back. “The mayor only votes if there’s a tie, which there definitely wasn’t. Roland was my only supporter. The rest of the committee—led by two Baptist deacons—trounced the idea.”
The mayor waited while Roland arranged himself in his chair, crossing his unshaven legs. “Could we get back to the problem at hand?”
Everyone fixed their gaze on Mayor Collins. How they could do so without busting out laughing, much less not cracking a smile, Jack had no idea. He bit the inside of his cheek.
“A local band wants to play at the festival,” the mayor announced.
And? Jack waited for the other shoe to drop.
“They’re calling themselves The Metal Heads this year,” the mayor said wearily, shaking his head. “Last year they were The Punk Heads, the year before that The Dixie Heads, before that The Rock Heads.”
A collective groan rippled through the room.
“Not them again,” one of the other committee members said.
“I got rid of them last year,” Roland called out. “It’s somebody else’s turn.”
Before Jack could ask what was so awful about The Metal Heads and why this was an important enough crisis to delay his and Skyler’s date, the mayor turned to him to explain. “They’ve been trying to get into the festival for the past three years, each year with a different act and collection of horrible songs.”
Roland tapped his red-tipped fingernails against the arm of his chair. “The year they went country they planned their opening song to be ‘I Shot My Dog Then Got Runned Over by a Train.’”
Ouch.
The mayor sank onto the edge of his desk. “This year they can’t wait to play ‘I Bashed My Mama with My Guitar Last Night.’”
Double ouch.
Still, this problem seemed easy to fix. Everyone agreed The Metal Heads were a bad idea entertainment-wise. They could just send them a letter—thanks for your interest, but after a decisive vote by our committee…blah, blah, blah. Problem solved.
Jack dusted his hands together and rose. “No problem. I’ll send them a rejection letter and—”
“Won’t work,” the mayor said. “Last year, after they got their letter, they camped out on the steps of City Hall for three days and nights until I listened to an entire set of their songs.” He shuddered.
“They’re really very sweet,” Skyler said, looking troubled.
“And desperate,” Roland put in.
“You know…” the mayor began, staring up at Jack. The beginnings of a smile crept to his lips.
Uh-oh. Jack had the feeling he was about to pay for his impulsive volunteering.
“You could turn them down, Jack. But in person.”
Everyone in the room focused on Jack. Their gazes followed his height and breadth carefully. Obviously, they all thought brawn would come more in handy than brains. The story of his life.
Mrs. Collins clapped her hands, gazing up at her husband adoringly. “Oh, Franklin, you’re brilliant!”
Everyone rose, obviously considering the matter settled, chattering about their plans for the night. Within minutes, only he and Skyler stood in the mayor’s office.
“I’ll help you,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “They sometimes play on the street corners for tips…at least until Wes threatens to arrest them.”
Jack glanced down. Her fingertips felt cool and delicate against his skin. Flowery perfume drifted to his nose. He inhaled deeply, and smiled at the heat invading his blood. “Forget The Metal Heads for now.” He grabbed her hand, urging her to spin. “Turn for me, ’tite ange.”
He could see her outfit was actually a top and a miniskirt. Of course, she hadn’t worn exactly what he’d suggested. His ange was such a rebel. And she had great legs.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, pulling her close.
She glanced toward the door. “Thanks.”
“We’re alone.”
She smiled, but nervously. “I know.”
Setting his jaw, he fought the urge to comment on their “secret” relationship. It was no big deal. He didn’t need to claim her. He didn’t need her at all.
He wanted to stay focused on his career. But Skyler was fun and smart, and the contrast between her “good girl” and “bad girl” sides intrigued him. And the way she was biting her lip and glancing around as if they might be caught touching at any moment just shouted for him to give in to his own bad side.
He cupped the back of her head, leaning close. “We’re very alone.” Her eyes widened, and before she could give him a reason not to, he kissed her.
Her mouth softened, and a sigh escaped her lips. He slid his tongue against hers, slow and easy, wanting, maybe even needing, to lose himself in her sweetness. Her womanly curves pressed against his body as she gripped the front of his shirt, her fingers clenching and releasing, like an itch she was desperate to scratch. She was going to drive him totally crazy. He wanted her, needed her, absolutely had to have her.
Who was he kidding about his career being his top priority? Every time he touched her, he couldn’t even remember what he did.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her closer. Her head dropped back, and he left her lips to trail hot, openmouthed kisses against her jawline. Against his chest, her heart pounded like a freight train. Every inch of his body had hardened, and he was considering the sturdiness of the mayor’s desk when she gasped his name.
“J-Jack,” she said, her tone breathy and uneven.
He nibbled her lips. “Mmm.”
“We shouldn’t be—”
He slid his tongue against hers, and she moaned, pulling back.
“—doing this here,” she finished breathlessly.
Jack made an effort to tamp down the devil—the one Sister Katherine had fought unsuccessfully to rid him of in his formative years—sitting on his shoulder, urging him on. “Wild Jack” wasn’t the kind of man for an angel.
Still holding her against him, he tucked her head beneath his chin and savored the sensation of having her close. He drew deep breaths and fought for control of his body. Why did she have to feel so special, so right next to him?
He’d kissed her to prove to her she wanted him in spite of the danger, that he could override her cautious nature, only to confirm for himself that no matter how much he wanted her, he sure as hell didn’t deserve her.
He released her, taking a physical and mental step away from temptation. “I’m sorry.”
She angled her head. “For?”
In some ways she seemed so innocent—big blue eyes, petite frame, pale hair and skin—but as he watched those eyes narrow he remembered her looks were deceiving. A determined businesswoman resided beneath that angelic package. In addition to scandalous purple panties. Hell. His gaze automatically dropped as he wondered what delights that pink skirt hid. Had she asked him a question?
He tunneled his hand through his hair. “Uh, I just didn’t mean for things to get so, um, out of control.” Oh, that was real smooth, Jack.
“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t exactly fighting you off.” She grinned. “That whole might-get-caught part was kind of fun actually.”
He grabbed her hand, tugging her through the doorway and down the hall. “Glad you approve. I’ve got lots of fun ideas.” He led her to the parking lot, and, as he tucked her into the passenger’s side of his Jeep, the slit in the back of her skirt bared her thighs to a sweat-inducing height.
Oh, yeah. He had lots of ideas.
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