Crazy Love (16 page)

Before she could answer and make a complete fool of herself, he reached out and brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

“You were drooling.”

She jerked away as if stung. “No way.”

Heck, she hoped not. Thinking about her favorite food did that to a girl. Of course, it had nothing to do with the thought of City Boy wearing nothing but a thin layer of warmed Lindt milk chocolate smeared all over his…

He grinned and she wondered if she’d imagined his bad mood. “There’s something about the look in your eyes—”

“It’s fatigue. Time to call it a day.”

“Going to love me and leave me, huh?”

“Good night, Slick.”

She stood on tiptoe and placed a quick kiss on his lips before running inside and bolting the door. Leaning against it, she slowly exhaled, squeezed her eyes shut, silently reciting her mantra “
I don’t do love…I don’t do love
…”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male

Real men ask for directions…to find everything
.

Sierra had barely closed the door and slipped off her sling-backs when a lazy knock sounded.

Damn, what did City Boy want now?

She flung open the door and her heart ka-thumped, spiked and somersaulted with a double twist pike. Her reaction terrified: too fast, too intense, too much.

Hoping her ridiculous yearning didn’t show on her face, she leaned against the door, aiming for casual.

“What’s up? So enamored of my company you don’t want the day to end?”

His slow, teasing grin set her pulse thumping alongside her traitorous heart.

“Something like that. Why don’t we sweeten the odds of our bet by you giving me a personal guided tour of the town?”

“Now?”

He nodded, leaning within touching distance and her skin prickled at his proximity.

This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. If spending all day with him had her on the verge of flinging herself naked into his arms, what would a few more hours do?

His sexy grin widened. “You know you want to.”

“Arrogant sod.”

But her defiance fooled neither of them and when he took hold of her hand and tugged gently, she sighed in resignation as she slipped her shoes back on and pulled the door shut.

“How’s this going to sweeten our bet?”

He opened the car door and handed her in like a princess, another thing she liked about him. She may be a twenty-first century girl who’d burned her bras with the rest of the sisterhood but she could appreciate a chivalrous guy like the next gal.

“You want me to stick around for a week. Won’t getting acquaint with the town’s attractions help?”

“You think?”

He laughed at her dubious tone as he slid into the car and turned to face her. “You know it’s not just this place, right?”

“You mean you have an aversion to every small town in America?”

Guilt flickered across his face, guilt tinged with pain and in that second she knew Marc wasn’t as tough and ruthless as he liked to make out; and he had a story to tell.

“Let’s just say I’m better suited to the big city lights.”

“Should I expect you to break into a rousing rendition of ‘New York, New York’ any second?”

He chuckled, gunned the engine and steered the car onto the road. “I’ve been told my vocal skills are on a par with the rest of my talents, so only if you’re lucky.”

“That good?”

“Better.”

His quick glance smoldered with heat and sizzle and untold promise and she gulped, her fingers flexing, digging into the soft leather of her bag in an attempt to anchor them and stop from reaching out and dragging him across the seat towards her, screw the driving.

“Ever heard the phrase self-recommendation is no praise?”

“Nope.”

“Well, it is.”

“Why don’t you try me and find out?”

“We’re talking about your singing?”

“Whatever takes your fancy.”

She snuck a sideways glance but thankfully, his gaze was firmly fixed on the road. By the wicked smile playing about his mouth they weren’t talking about his vocal chords. Not by a long shot.

“Which way?”

She pointed to the right as they came to a T intersection and he glanced at her for a brief moment, his blistering gaze telling her they weren’t finished with this conversation.

“You’re confusing me.”

“How so?”

“One minute you’re grumpy, the next you’re trying to charm the pants off me.”

He slowed to let a squirrel dart across the road, her admiration grudgingly ratcheting up another few notches.

“Is it working?”

Her unladylike snort made him laugh. “Here’s a tip, Slick. It’ll take more than a few smooth words to charm anything off me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

His hand reached over and rested on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze and she bit back a groan. Electricity ricocheted through her body, pinging in every direction, zapping the bits in between.

While her logical brain hollered
slow down
, her hot-wired body was on a fast track to sin city.

His hand wandered back to the steering wheel all too soon as she indicated he take the next turn on the left.

She stared at his hands clenching the steering wheel. She loved their strength: long fingers, square nails, the faintest dusting of dark hair. Solid, capable hands, comforting hands, hands she’d give anything to feel exploring every inch of her…

“Where are we?”

She snapped to attention, her erotic daydream obliterated as she registered he’d pulled into the car park at the top of Mount Eros.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

She leaped from the car and headed for the partially hidden track worn into rocks leading to the summit, eager to put some physical distance between them before she grabbed his hands and put them right where she wanted them: anywhere and everywhere on her body.

“Hey, wait up.”

Glancing back, she saw his gaze move swiftly from her butt to her face and his hungry gleam only served to make her pick up the pace.

“Not far to go,” she flung over her shoulder, her labored breathing a result of that one, loaded look rather than the steady incline she’d climbed countless times before. “Wait ‘til you see the view.”

“I like the view from here just fine.”

She yelped as he slid his arms around her waist from behind, unaware he’d caught up let alone was in touching distance.

“Hey, I—”

“Ssh, too much talking will scare the wildlife away.”

“How would you know—”

He spun her around so fast the air whooshed out of her lungs, before covering her mouth with his.

One touch, one incredible, searing touch of his lips to hers was all it took for her to sag against him, clinging to his polo shirt, trying to anchor in a world spinning dangerously out of control.

She didn’t know this guy.

She didn’t want something transient.

She didn’t want to get involved with anyone, least of all someone like him.

None of it mattered as he deepened the kiss and ravished her mouth, his tongue plunging like he couldn’t taste her quick enough.

The same hunger drove her to match him and she shuddered with pleasure as he backed her up against the nearest tree and pressed into her.

He shackled her wrists as he lifted her arms overhead, pinning them against the scratchy bark, leaving her body open and eager and straining towards him.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Her low moan tore from somewhere deep within as his greedy gaze traveled the length of her body, devouring, lingering, before he met her eyes and the depth of his desire snatched her breath.

The raucous laughter of kids crashing through the bush nearby dispelled her lust-crazy haze as Marc swore and released her.

“Mount Eros is a popular spot, what can I say?” She made a half-hearted attempt to smooth her hair, not caring she probably had bark and twigs sticking out of it. She wouldn’t be the first woman to come down from Mount Eros with the local flora in her hair and a satisfied smile on her face.

“You can say there’ll be plenty more where that came from.”

“Wishful thinking—”

His lips seared hers in a quick kiss, a kiss filled with heat and promise, a kiss that blew any feeble hope she had of not taking this all the way clean into the wild blue yonder.

He gripped her hand while pointed with the other toward the lookout. “Time to show me a few landmarks before I lose my head again.”

She tried to think up a quick retort, something fabulously witty but her mind refused to cooperate as she concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other, no mean feat with her knees wobbling like just-set jelly.

When they reached the lookout he didn’t release her hand and as much as it pained her to admit it, she liked it.

How long since she’d had a man touch her let alone hold her hand? Kissing, foreplay, sex, great in their own right but there was something about holding hands…an intimacy, a security she’d craved all her life but never had.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out her lack of trust in the male species stemmed from flakey Bob but this thing with Marc wasn’t about security. It couldn’t be. Not when he’d be out of here in a few days.

“Wow, some view.”

“Not bad for a small town, huh?”

Her teasing had lost its usual edge and he smiled, sliding an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Love’s attractions are growing on me.”

Rather than call him on his corny line she snuggled closer, content to let his warmth infuse her as dusk descended, a stunning kaleidoscope of deep indigo, mauve, magenta and saffron streaking the horizon stretching to infinity.

Mount Eros wouldn’t win any contests for the most feet above sea level but it afforded a view of Love second to none and for this all-too-brief moment she was happy to share it with him.

She had no idea how long they stood there in easy silence, bodies touching, heat sparking, the underlying current arcing between them ready to short circuit with the slightest encouragement, and when they slowly disengaged and Marc offered his hand, she had no hesitation in taking it.

Plenty of time to second-guess herself. Tomorrow.

Flo dragged a hand through her wiry curls, took a drag on her cigarette and cursed her arthritic ankles as she slid them to the floor from the seat opposite.

Damn diner floors
, she thought, mentally calculating how many years she’d have to work nights to pay off Charlie’s debts and become a lady of leisure.

Despite her whining she liked chatting with the customers, giving Chuck hell and gossiping with Essie during the breaks. The work may be hard on her legs but she’d miss the socializing when she finally hung up her apron.

With a hefty sigh she shuffled over to the coffee pot and refilled her mug with the strong black brew, glancing out the window in the process. Young Marc’s car had been in the drive earlier and Ripley was bounding around Sierra’s backyard so that could only mean one thing. The youngsters made it back last night despite her praying that fancy-shmancy car of his would break down in LA, forcing them to spend the night together.

Fat chance a car that flash would accommodate an old lady’s wishes. She’d just have to meddle. Together with Liv, surely the two of them could get the brats into the swing of things?

Liv had reported she’d never seen her son get ‘that look’ and she could personally vouch for Sierra acting weird at the park the other day, as if she was itching to hotfoot it out to Hank’s place.

Yep, the two were interested in each other and with a gentle shove in the right direction Love could manufacture yet another happy ending.

Flo turned away from the window, rinsed her mug and picked up her keys, ready for her morning constitutional. It was the only way to keep her dodgy ankles mobile, especially after a killer shift like the one last night.

As she slipped on her shoes at the back door, her doorbell sang its familiar tune, Peter Allen’s lyrics never failing to bring a tear to her eye.

As soon as her debts were cleared she’d take a long trip to Sydney, have a few beers for old time’s sake and climb the Bridge. She’d always wanted to do it as a youngster but like many things in life she hadn’t had the opportunity.

Meeting Charlie had put paid to a lot of her dreams. In fact, after the honeymoon period, life with the no good lump had turned into a nightmare with his constant moaning, groaning and anti-social personality.

The tune rang out again, bringing her back to the present.

“Hold your horses, I’m coming.”

She briefly wondered if Liv had come for an update on the couple as she opened the door.

“Good morning. I believe this is where Marc Fairley is staying?”

Flo resisted her first impulse to reach up and pat her wayward curls as her gaze flicked over the stranger standing on her doorstep. Attractive. Very attractive. Around sixty, fair hair streaked silver, clear blue eyes surrounded by a few wrinkles to lend his face character.

It wasn’t fair. She had a roadmap crisscrossing her face and his Lordship with the toff accent barely had a track or two.

“Madam? Is Master Marc here?”

Madam? Master? Jeez, the old toff sounded like he’d just stepped off the Mayflower.

She grinned and held out her hand. “That depends whose asking. I’m Flo. Pleased to meet you.”
Very pleased to meet you
.

Men who looked like this codger didn’t ring her bell every day. Now, if only he could ring her bells in earnest…As if. Which man in his right mind would look sideways at an ugly old bat like her?

He held her hand and all but bowed over it. “William Jamieson.”

“You’re a Pom, Will?”

He stiffened and dropped her hand. “Yes, I’m English. And by your reference, I assume you’re Australian?”

“Too right, though I’ve lived in this town longer than I care to remember.”

He cleared his throat and she had the distinct impression he didn’t give a flying fig about her background, how long she’d lived here or anything else about her. Men like him were born polite and that’s all he was doing, making polite small talk. And here she was, babbling like a fool in the hope to keep him here longer.