Ain't She Sweet? (36 page)

Apparently not.

“Dinner at the Lakehouse tonight,” Jewel said. “My treat.”

“Okay. But just so there are no awkward moments, I’m not putting out on our first date.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. This time around, I’m looking for a sister.”

“You could at least give me a chance.”

“Some things were not meant to be.”

By the time they reached the Lakehouse and placed their order, their conversation had turned more serious. They spoke of books they loved, of old dreams and new insights.

Sugar Beth ignored Jewel’s nosiness about Colin but told her a little of what had happened that morning with Winnie.

When she finished, Jewel regarded her sympathetically. “You’re upset because she’s not staying with you longer.”

“Not exactly.”

“Exactly.”

It was true, Sugar Beth realized later as she drove home and parked in her empty driveway. Somehow she’d hoped her encounter with Winnie might be the basis for some new kind of . . . whatever.

Gordon didn’t knock her down to get outside, which meant Colin had brought him over recently. She resisted the temptation to trump up an excuse to bang on his door and pick a fight. She loved fighting with him. The freedom of it. No worries about getting slapped or thrown across a room. No fears of inducing a fatal heart attack. When they were together, she felt alive again. But that was her old pattern, wasn’t it? Only feeling alive when she could see her reflection in a man’s eyes? No more. She was smarter now, although wisdom hadn’t driven the loneliness away.

Everything that was wrong with her life settled over her. She was tired of keeping her head up when she wanted to bury it under the covers, tired of pretending she didn’t care what other people thought, tired of the neediness that made her keep falling in love. And she only knew one way to numb the pain. By getting drunk.

She headed for the kitchen, hoping chocolate would do the job instead.

Ryan cursed under his breath as he saw Sugar Beth’s Volvo sitting by itself in the carriage house drive. Winnie wasn’t there. And he’d brought her white tulips. Granted, ten o’clock was a little late to deliver them, but Gigi had joined the Spanish club’s outing at Casa Pepe, and he’d ended up with car pool duty.

He stared at the Volvo’s bumper and tried to ease the knots in his back, but they refused to budge. He’d thought maybe Winnie had forgiven him for that ugly scene at the store on Wednesday, but he’d been kidding himself. Just because she hadn’t been openly hostile when he’d helped her clean up from the fire mess at the store today didn’t mean she’d forgotten or forgiven. Every time he’d tried to get her alone, she’d dodged him, and she’d blown him off when he’d invited her back to the house.

She’d been all smiles when she’d talked to everybody else, laughing when Gigi tried on old hats, chatting with the workmen doing the upstairs cleanup, joking with the Seawillows. She’d only smiled at him once, and his mouth had gone dry. Until today, he’d never paid much attention to Winnie’s smiles. Now he knew they started out slow, then gradually took over her whole face.

She hadn’t thanked him for helping out today, and she hadn’t fussed over him even once.

The old Winnie would have told him not to bother helping with the cleanup. Naturally, he’d have insisted, and then she’d have been all over him, stopping what she was doing to get him coffee, asking if he wanted something to eat, and generally irritating the hell out of him. But this new Winnie wasn’t nearly that sweet. Instead, she was hardheaded, confident, and so tantalizing he could think of little else but making love with her again.

He realized today was the first time he’d spent more than a few minutes at the store. Even though he’d known how much she loved antiques, he’d secretly thought of the shop as a rich woman’s diversion. Today, however, as he’d watched her handle the objects and talk to Gigi about them, he’d realized how good she was at what she did, and he’d felt ashamed.

He left the tulips on the seat and got out of the car. He couldn’t imagine anything stranger than asking Sugar Beth if she knew where Winnie was, but he refused to call the Seawillows. Once again, he wondered what had happened between Winnie and Sugar Beth that morning. Gigi knew, but when he’d tried to worm a few details out of her, she’d clammed up.

He changed his mind about the tulips and retrieved them from the car. Maybe leaving them would soften her up a little. He needed to start courting his wife, and to his surprise, the idea didn’t displease him. He’d always liked challenges. He’d just never expected to find one with Winnie.

Sugar Beth came to the door. She was bare-legged, wearing a man’s T-shirt that fell below her hips. Those endless legs, tousled blond hair, and pouty expression had
Homecoming Queen Gone Wild
written all over them. She was still the most provocative woman he’d ever known, but all he felt now was regret for the fourteen years he’d wasted thinking about her when he should have been paying attention to his wife.

She grabbed the tulips from him. “
Pour moi?
How sweet.”

“They’re for Winnie, and don’t even think about telling her I brought them for you. I mean it, Sugar Beth. None of your fun and games. You’ve done enough damage to my marriage as it is.”

“Uh-oh, somebody’s transferring blame again.”

She was right.

She curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled him into the room, looking at him as if he were a big ol’ box of candy. “You, my man, are exactly what the doctor ordered. I need a distraction.”

“Find it somewhere else.” He turned to leave, but she stepped around him and pressed her back to the door, blocking the way. “Please, Ryan.” She didn’t say the words so much as purr them, and the hair on his arms stood up. “I’ve been doing battle with the demon rum.

Just stay for a little while.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Sober as a judge . . . if you don’t count a serious sugar high. But I’m not feeling too confident about staying that way.”

“Look, Sugar Beth, all I want to do is see Winnie.”

“And all I want to do is forget how much I need a drink.”

“Have one.”

“Unfortunately, one’s never enough, and before I know it, I’m dancing on the bar in my underwear.”

“There’s no bar here, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

She slipped her arms around his waist. He jerked back, but she held on tight. “Then how

’bout I just show you my underwear without the drinking?”

Her scent drifted up to his nostrils as she pressed against him. He caught her shoulders, and his voice wasn’t quite steady. “What are you trying to do?”

“I just need a little comfort, that’s all. It’s been a shitty month. A shitty year.” She rested her cheek against his chest, slid her bare foot along the inner slope of his calf.

“Remember how it used to be, Ryan? The two of us. Remember when we couldn’t get enough of each other.”

His chest felt tight. “A long time ago.”

She gazed up at him through the same silver-blue eyes as his wife’s. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

He’d dreamed of this moment—Sugar Beth throwing herself at him—begging him to take her back.

“I’m not going to tell if you won’t,” she whispered. “Just for tonight. What’s the harm?”

He was hard. How could he be anything else with the way she was rubbing against him?

Hard. But not tempted. Not even for a moment.

He gripped her shoulders and firmly set her aside. “I love my wife. That’s the harm.”

“Well, aren’t you the noble one?”

“Nobility doesn’t have anything to do with it. She means everything to me. I’d never betray her.”

“Then get the hell out of here.”

He felt a flash of pity for her, an urge to tell her she was too old for games like this. But he wasn’t the person to offer advice, and with a brief nod, he turned away and let himself out.

The March wind rustled his hair as he made his way down the front steps. When he got to the bottom, he drew a deep breath, tilted back his head, and gazed through the tree branches toward the sky. Maybe it was his imagination, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such bright, perfect stars. He smiled.

Inside the carriage house, Sugar Beth dove for the half-empty bag of Oreos she’d left on the couch. As she munched, Gordon trotted downstairs, followed by Colin and then Winnie.

“Was that entirely necessary?” Colin inquired, nostrils flared with distaste.

“Ask her.” Sugar Beth jerked her head toward Winnie and stuffed another Oreo in her mouth.

Winnie gazed at the door, her expression bemused. “You upset him.”

“Not to mention what you did to me.” Colin thrust a pointed finger in her face. “You’re a lunatic. Someone should lock you up. Bloody hell,
I’ll
lock you up.”

Sugar Beth ignored him so she could turn her wrath on Winnie. “This is
it
!” she exclaimed through the Oreos. “Tonight’s mortifying little escapade stamps
Paid
on whatever debt I still owed you. That man loves you. He doesn’t give a damn about me, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re even. If you don’t see it that way, I don’t really care.

Got it?”

Winnie gave a distracted nod.

She’d shown up barely ten minutes earlier with Colin in tow. She’d told Sugar Beth that the window in her bedroom was stuck and she needed him to open it. Sugar Beth hadn’t believed her for a minute. Winnie had brought Colin here simply to cause trouble.

Apparently the two of them had enjoyed a cozy pizza dinner at Frenchman’s Bride. And didn’t that just warm the ol’ heart cockles?

“You were completely shameless,” Winnie continued, staring at the door. “You threw yourself at him.”

“I wrapped around him like a snake. And, believe me, he noticed.”

“Uhm . . .”

Sugar Beth waited for Winnie to grab her purse and take off after Ryan. Instead, she picked up the pot of white tulips and floated toward the stairs, a dreamy smile on her face.

Sugar Beth shook her head as she disappeared. “That woman is playing some serious hard-to-get.”

“Come into the kitchen,” Colin said. “I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate.”

“There’s not enough chocolate in the world to satisfy me tonight.” She followed him anyway.

“Do you need a drink that badly?”

She thought about it as he opened the refrigerator. “No. I’m just tired. And frustrated.”

“Nobility’s a bitch.” He gave the milk a suspicious sniff before he poured it into a saucepan, then extracted an ancient tin of cocoa from the cupboard. “Were you truly an alcoholic or is this another of your exaggerations?”

“Let’s just say I looked forward to getting drunk a little too much. The day I ordered my first club soda was the day I started liking myself.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Right before I met Emmett. Until then, drinking was the way I coped with crisis.”

“Now you do it with sugar.”

“And grease. Don’t forget the grease.”

He adjusted the burner, then turned to inspect her, and the lazy sweep of his jade eyes made her skin prickle. “Are you wearing anything underneath that jersey?”

“Sure.”

He lifted an inquiring brow.

She told herself not to be a smart-ass, but she was born to be bad. “Tallulah’s White Gardenia.”

She should have known better than to toy with a master. Those lips curved in a thin smile, and his visual inspection continued, lazier than ever. It sent little shock waves skidding through her. While he was enjoying himself, she deliberately turned away to locate the mugs and sugar bowl. She hadn’t been entirely truthful about the White Gardenia. She also wore a pair of blue bikini panties with questionable elastic.

Colin divided his attention between the saucepan of milk and her legs. The tension grew with the silence in the kitchen, but she seemed to be the only one bothered by it. Why didn’t he just go away? Even knowing Winnie was upstairs didn’t make her feel safe, and by the time he’d poured the hot chocolate, she was ready to jump out of her skin. She nearly did when he finally spoke.

“Everyone in town is talking about how you saved Winnie’s life last night.”

“More like I tripped her when she got to the door, then dragged her outside so everybody’d think I’d saved her.”

He smiled and lifted his mug in a toast. “Well done.”

“You’ve been hanging out with me way too long.”

“Interesting that Winnie never mentioned it to me.”

“Too devious. She’s storing up more ammunition against me.”

“That would explain it, then.” He pulled his cell from his pocket. She frowned as he punched in a number. He waited, listened. She heard the muted beep of an answering machine. “Ryan, Colin here. Winnie’s staying with Sugar Beth tonight, but she left her car at my place. I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

As he hung up, Sugar Beth frowned at him. “You’re going to tell him I set him up, aren’t you?”

“Tempting, but I believe I’ll let Winnie do that.” Once again, he took in the sweep of her legs.

“Stop it.”

“You’re determined, then, to dump me?”

“Absolutely.” She heard a queer little catch in her voice.

He took a step closer. “I hope it goes without saying that I wouldn’t think of trying to press you to change your mind.” Another step. “British rules of fair play and all that.”

“Colin . . .”

“Of course, I am an American now.” He slid his hands along her arms, leaving a trail of sensation in their wake. “And we Yanks are an aggressive lot.”

“Oh, Colin . . .” She didn’t get a chance to say more because he was kissing her again, and she was letting him, kissing him back, taking his tongue and giving him hers in return. He used his knee to separate her thighs, cupped her under her shirt.

“God, Sugar Beth,” he murmured against her lips. “You feel so good.”

The warmth of his hand penetrated her skin through her panties. She was overcome with a need for him that made her weak. That
was
weak. She simply couldn’t do this any longer. “No.” She pushed him away. “I won’t let you turn me into some kind of sexual challenge. I meant it, Colin. I’m not an obstacle for you to conquer just to prove you can.”