Always on My Mind (14 page)

J
ack tied Kevin’s leash to the bench in front of the bakery. “Stay.”

Kevin immediately hopped up onto the bench like he owned the thing.

“Down,” Jack said.

Kevin indeed went down. He laid down, across the entire bench.

Since there was no one else around, Jack shook his head and walked into the bakery. The bell above the door tinkled, and the usual delicious scents assaulted his nose. Vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, and a hundred others that made his mouth water and his brain go straight to Leah.

And his other body parts as well.

Like Pavlov’s dog, he thought, with a shake of his head.

There were people seated at the tables, and a few more at the counter still eyeing their selections, among them Lucille and Mrs. Burland. Mrs. B had been Jack’s second-grade teacher, and he still twitched whenever she gazed at him with those hawklike eyes that saw everything.

Leah came out from the back carrying a huge tray. She was wearing two tank tops layered over each other, a short denim skirt, and high-heeled ankle boots that had a bunch of cutouts in them and were so damn sexy it made it difficult to put a thought together. Her arms were tanned and toned, carrying her burden with ease as she bent and began reloading the shelves of her glass-front display.

She served a couple of customers before glancing his way. Lucille and Mrs. B were down at the other end of the counter, and Jack scrambled for something clever to say but the only thing he could think of wasn’t clever at all.

He wanted to ask about the “fuck me” shoes.

Instead, he kept his mouth shut. Or he tried. He blamed his caffeine-deprived brain. “Nice shoes.”

He heard Lucille chuckle, but when he glanced at her, she was busy looking at donuts.

“What’s this new thing you have about my shoes?” Leah asked.

“I don’t know.” But he wanted to see her in those boots and nothing else. He leaned over the counter and caught a whiff of whatever she’d washed her hair with. Something with coconut, which made him hungry and not for food. “You smell good too.”

“You’re in a bakery,” she said dryly. “Everything smells good.”

He was a little stymied by her tone, but before he could ask her about it, someone tapped him on the arm. Turning, he looked down at all four feet of Mrs. Burland.

“Hey, you hoodlum, no cuts.”

There’d been a time when her voice had struck terror in his heart. And he supposed that if she was still judging his character on his “little hoodlum” eight-year-old self, the one who’d painted her desk chair with superglue and let the hamsters free in the ventilation system, then she had good reason to call him a hoodlum.

“He’s not a hoodlum,” Lucille said.

“Really?” Mrs. B asked snidely. “I take it he didn’t rearrange your Christmas reindeer lawn ornaments every year so they were…copulating.”

Lucille fought a grin and lost. “No, he didn’t.”

Jack sighed, gestured Mrs. B ahead of him, and waited while she curtly snapped her order at Leah.

“And make sure the cannoli is vanilla,” Mrs. Burland told her. “You don’t make good chocolate cannoli.”

“Yes she does,” Jack said.

Mrs. Burland turned an eagle eye on him. “She’s already yours, Harper. No one likes a kiss-ass.”

“I’m not
his
,” Leah said. “I’m my own woman.” She thrust a bag of baklava at Mrs. Burland. “It’s made with phyllo dough, which is much lower in fat than the cannoli.”

“I want cannoli. I am paying you for the cannoli.” Mrs. Burland waved a few bills.

Leah pushed them away. “And Dr. Scott paid me to give you something low-cholesterol instead.”

Mrs. Burland snatched the baklava and huffed off.

Leah turned to Lucille, who smiled. “Jack can go first,” she said.

Leah gave Lucille a look. “So you can eavesdrop?”

Lucille grinned. “Well, of course. But also the good men don’t wait around. You don’t know that yet because you’re still a spring chicken.”

“You’re not worried about him waiting around for me,” Leah said. “You want your daily dose of gossip.”

Lucille had the good grace to look slightly guilty. “People like to know what’s going on, that’s all.”

“What’s going on,” Leah said, “is that you’re both holding up my line.”

Both Lucille and Jack turned and looked behind them.

There was no one else in line.

Lucille looked up at Jack. “Seriously,” she said. “You can go first.”

“Seriously,” he said. “No thank you.”

“Because you and Leah have to talk?” Lucille asked hopefully.

“If I say yes, will you get the hell out?”

“Jack,” Leah said admonishingly.

Lucille didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. She pointed to a coffee éclair. “Anyone ever mention that those look like a one of them toys you can buy at the dirty stores? What are they called, dildos?”

Jack laughed, but Leah looked horrified. “Lucille!”

“Hey, this is the modern ages, honey,” Lucille said. “Women don’t have to hide the fact that they buy devices for themselves. After all, that’s what a nightstand drawer is for, right?”

Jack didn’t want to know what Lucille kept in her nightstand drawer, but the thought of looking in Leah’s was giving him a whole bunch of fantasies.

Leah packed up a bag and thrust it at her.

Lucille just grinned. “You’re my favorite,” she said to Jack.

“Favorite?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, you’ve got some competition, you know.” At Jack’s expression, she laughed. “So you
don’t
know…”

Jack looked at Leah. “That host guy?”

Leah blinked. “Who?”

“I noticed that too,” Lucille said. “The whole town noticed. What?” she said at Jack’s long look. “We gather to watch it at the bar. Anyway, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Lucille,” Leah said, “I think your phone is ringing.”

“Oh, I don’t have my phone on me.” She looked at Jack. “And you. You have no one to blame but yourself. You haven’t put a ring on it, so she’s got some real good options.”

“Lucille,” Leah said again, more tightly. “How much do you like my pastries?”

“More than George Clooney’s sexy tushie.”

“Then you’ll stop talking now,” Leah said.

“Honey, a man should know what he’s up against.” With that, she patted Jack’s arm and left.

Jack met Leah’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No worries. I can’t think past wondering what’s in your nightstand drawer anyway.”

“You’re bad.”

“So bad I’m torn between begging you to let me watch you use whatever you have in there or offering my services to replace it.”

She went pink as Lucille poked her head back into the bakery. “Oh, and don’t forget about the Facebook poll, Jack. You might want to round yourself up some votes. Tim’s out in front right now, with Ben right behind him.”

Jack looked at Leah, but she was suddenly very busy wiping down counters. “A poll,” he said.

“Honestly, don’t you ever go online?” Lucille shook her head. “You young people.” She vanished again.

Without a word, Leah began loading up a box for the fire station. She closed the box and handed it over. “I added a few old-fashioned glazed donuts for Tim. I was out of them the other day, and he had to help me change some fuses and said I owe him.”

“Tim’s on your list of options?”

“Not
my
list,” Leah said. “Facebook.”

“And Ben’s on it too.”

“Apparently.”

“And I’m…third.”

“Actually, I think you’re fifth,” she said. “Someone put Rafe on there.”

“Rafe.”

Leah shrugged.

Jack wasn’t actually worried that she was involved in something with Rafe. Six months was a long time, and long-distance relationships weren’t Leah’s strong suit. Plus, one of the very best things about her was how loyal she was, to her very core. If she’d had something going on with anyone else, she wouldn’t have slept with him. Logically, Jack knew this. But he wasn’t feeling all that logical at the moment. “Where would
you
put me on the list?” he asked softly.

“Does it matter?” She met his gaze, her own suddenly hooded. “No promises, remember? And this is just pretend.”

Well, hell. He’d walked right into that one. Reaching over the counter, Jack settled a hand on her wrist.

Quicker than he, she pulled free. Then she vanished into the kitchen.

He looked around. No one was paying them any mind at all. Outside on the bench, he could see Kevin, sitting in Mr. Lyons’s lap now. Since Mr. Lyons had his bony arm wrapped around the huge dog, Jack assumed they were both amenable to the arrangement, so he hopped over the counter and followed Leah into the back.

She was hauling a fifty-pound bag of flour to her work station, arms straining. He reached for it, and she gave him a don’t-you-dare look. Ignoring that, he took the bag and carried it for her, setting it down where she pointed.

“Leah,” he said to the back of her head as she worked at getting the bag open. “We need to talk.”

“So talk.” She was struggling, dammit, and he reached around her to help just as the bag opened and flour poofed out in a big white cloud.

She went still, then slowly turned and faced him, face and hair and chest covered in flour. “Look what you did.”

“Me? I was trying to help you.”

“Then why aren’t
you
white?”

They both looked down at his firefighter uniform. Navy-blue BDUs, navy-blue T-shirt with the firefighter logo on his left pec. Radio on his hip. Not a speck of flour on him. He solved that by hauling her up against him and wrapping his arms tightly around her. He felt her freeze for a beat, then her arms came around him with a soft sigh of acquiescence that made him instantly hard. Lowering his head, he took a nibble of her neck, absorbing her quiver as she rocked against him. “And good enough to eat,” he murmured.

She laughed, the sound music to his ears even as she pushed him away. “Now look at you,” she said.

He had a full imprint of her down his front, including two round white spots on his chest where her breasts had been, and then there was the patch of flour right over his crotch, where hers had pressed nice and snug like it belonged there. He grinned, his first of the morning.

“You’re a nut,” she said with a shake of her head and a helpless half smile. “And everyone’s going to think we went at it in here.”

“So?”

Her smile faded. “So we already did that.”

He let his smile fade too, let her see how serious he was. “You said that wouldn’t change anything, Leah.”

“It hasn’t.”

He caught her as she tried to move away and reeled her back in. “Then why are you changing right before my eyes?”

Her gaze slid over his features, landing at his mouth, where she lingered for a beat too long.

“Leah. Talk to me.”

There was a flare of heat in her eyes before she dropped her head to his chest. “It’s my body. It’s not listening to my brain.”

He knew what her body was saying because it was plastered to his, soft and warm and pliant. “And your brain’s saying…?”

“That we are
not
going to do it again. It was wrong and awful and…wrong.”

This was news to him. “Awful,” he said carefully, trying to reconcile the word with the woman who’d had at least three orgasms in that cave on the mountaintop. In fact, he’d gone to sleep every night since remembering exactly how it’d felt to hear her breathily pant, “Oh, please, Jack, oh yes, Jack, omigod,
yes
!” He took a deep breath. “Awful,” he repeated stupidly.

She lifted her head from his chest and took in his expression. Whatever she saw had her eyes darkening, and she bit her lower lip. “You think you can prove my brain wrong?”

“Oh yeah.”

She paused, glancing around as if to make sure no one was listening. “How long do you have before you’re missed at the station?” she whispered.

Not much shocked him, but this did.

“There’s our bathroom,” she said. “It’s small, but—”

“We’re not doing it in the bathroom.”

“You’re right,” she said, nodding, turning away. “The storage closet. There’s even some props in there—”

He tugged her back and wrapped his hand in her ponytail, tipping up her face so he could look into her eyes, all the possibilities playing havoc with his common sense. “Much as it kills me, not the closet either. At least not until we get a few things straightened out.”

“More rules?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Great. I’m so not good at rules.”

No kidding.
“You’ll be good at mine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, and then her eyes widened. “Oh my God. You’re not one of
those
guys, are you? Like a…dom?”

He just stared at her. “What?”

“Someone who ties up their sub and…dominates them.”

“I know what a dom is,” he said slowly. “I meant
what the hell
?”

“It’s very popular right now,” she said. “And okay, maybe I’ve always had a little teeny-tiny fantasy about being tied up. Just to try it. And a light spanking might be all right, but if you think I’m going to call you sir and bend to your every whim,
you’re
going first.”

On his hip, his radio went off, but he just stared at Leah. He’d completely lost all coherent, cognizant thought.

“Jack?” she said. “Earth to Jack.”

He blinked.

“I think you’re being called.” She actually looked pretty relieved as she pointed to his radio. “Right? Isn’t that you? I think you’ve got to go.”

She was right, his radio was squawking, and he considered retiring from the job right there on the spot so he didn’t have to leave.

As if reading his mind, she shook her head and let out a low laugh. “Go.”

He pointed at her. “We’re coming back to this.”

The bakery phone rang and she turned toward it, but he caught her hand and pulled her back around. “I’m serious, Leah. We are going to finish this.”

She gnawed on her lower lip some more. “I—”

“Do
not
forget where we were.”

“Um—”

“Never mind,” he said. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”