Good Girls Don't (23 page)
Without taking time to second-guess her response, she curved one arm behind her back and undid the clasp, then let the red satin material fall to her lap.
His gray eyes smoldered and the slow shake of his head provided a genuine display of appreciation. “Woman, you’ll be the death of me.”
“I’m counting on it.” The cars behind them honked their disapproval. “I think the light changed,” she said, not making an effort to cover the nipples currently reaching for the cowboy in the front seat.
“Right,” he said, twisting in the seat. “You realize you’re going to pay for this later.”
“Pay for what?” she asked, pulling the green tank over her head.
“For this rise in my Levi’s.”
“Funny,” she said, wriggling out of her pants and sliding into the shorts. “I could’ve sworn you wore Wranglers.”
He laughed, and it rippled over her skin, ending directly between her legs.
She slipped her feet into the sandals, then crawled back to the front of the truck.
“Do you like them?” he asked, taking his eyes from the road to survey his choices in clothing.
“They’re perfect.”
“Good.” He reached a hand to her bare thigh and caressed it slowly, while her insides jumped, and the phone in her purse rang.
“Oh Lord, I nearly forgot,” she said, scrambling to pull her purse from the front floorboard. “I’ve got to take this.”
He shook his head, but kept smiling. “Just so you know, you probably won’t be able to hear your cell phone ringing where we’re going.”
She swallowed.
Whoops
. What would she do about that? She’d promised to field the Southersby calls for Lettie.
Punching the “talk” button on the red phone, she answered, “The Palisades, this is Amy. Can I help you?”
Landon stopped at another traffic light, then turned and gawked at her greeting. Amy held up a finger and mouthed that she’d explain later.
“I need to leave a message for Walter and Ellen Southersby,” the man said.
“Certainly,” Amy answered, grabbing a tiny spiral notebook and a purple Adventurous Accessories pen from her purse. “Go ahead.”
“This is their son, Harold Southersby. Just tell them Sylvie’s play was changed to tomorrow night. And tell them I don’t want them cutting their trip short because of it, but I knew Mother’d hit the roof if I didn’t let her know about it.” He chuckled. “She hates missing anything her grandkids do, but tell her Sylvie will have three more performances, and she shouldn’t worry about missing one.” He paused. “You know, that may be too much for you to cover. Wanna just have her call me?”
“I’ll tell her to call you,” Amy said, “but I got the message and will give it to her as well. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Then have a good day, Mr. Southersby.”
“You too,” he said, and disconnected.
She turned to Landon. “I need to make a call.”
“And then you’re going to explain, right?” he asked.
“I’ll try.”
She dialed Love Beach and entered the extension to Walter and Ellen Southersby’s room.
“Hello,” Ellen answered.
“Mrs. Southersby? Hi, it’s Amy with My Alibi,” she said as Landon’s brows shot up a notch.
“Oh, hello, dear, we’re absolutely loving these products, and I’ve recorded all the information you asked for,” she said.
“Really?” Amy asked. “You liked them?”
“Yes. In fact, we wanted to try a few more, so we ordered some additional things. Not many, since you’d provided practically everything we needed, but we did purchase a few bottles of the edible massage oils.”
“Which flavors?” Amy asked.
“Chocolate and strawberry. I’ve got to tell you, they’re absolutely heavenly.”
“Well, it just so happens I’m with the project lead for that department, and I’ll be happy to let him know,” Amy said, grinning at the confusion evident on Landon’s fine-chiseled face.
“Oh yes, dear. Please do that. So, have you heard from one of our children? I’m assuming that’s why you called, and we simply haven’t had time to contact them today. Today was exploration therapy.”
“Exploration therapy?”
“Exploring erogenous zones. I never realized my body had so many, or Walter’s, for that matter. Behind the knees. Who would have thought soft kisses behind the knees could make you . . . Well, let’s just say I’ve been pleasantly surprised by everything I learned throughout the day’s lessons.”
Amy grinned. “Sounds neat. And actually, I did hear from one of your children. Harold.”
“Really? He doesn’t usually call. Is everything okay?” she asked, concern etching her tender voice.
“He seems fine, but he wanted to let you know Sylvie’s performance has been moved to tomorrow night.” Amy went on to relay the remainder of Harold’s message and the fact he didn’t want their trip cut short because of his daughter’s performance night being altered.
However, Ellen Southersby would have no part of it. “Nonsense. That’s opening night, dear,” she said, then evidently put her hand over the receiver while she called to her husband to begin packing. Amy heard the muffled words and waited for Ellen to return. It was nice to hear the woman’s quick affirmation of priorities. Yes, the older couple was still pursuing their sexual aspirations, but not at the cost of their grandchildren.
“Amy?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“We’re going to head on home tonight. I’ll need to order roses for my granddaughter, and I want to go see her tomorrow to help her get ready for the show. She has the lead in the school play, you know.”
“How old is she?” Amy asked. She may have only “met” Ellen Southersby this week, but she’d grown fond of the lady.
“Eight. But don’t let her age fool you. Our little Sylvie has talent. Wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t see that girl on Broadway later on.”
“Sounds great,” Amy said, enjoying the enthusiasm in the older woman’s words.
“So I suppose you won’t have to field our calls anymore,” Ellen said. “I’ll let Harold know we’re on our way and that our cellular will now catch a signal. But I truly appreciate everything you and your sister have done this week to help make our trip a success.”
“No problem at all,” Amy answered.
“And Amy?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I’d love to do that product-testing thing you talked about, if you still need testers in our age bracket. You can send them to the address on our My Alibi form, if you want.”
“I’m always looking for product testers,” Amy said.
“Fine, dear. And, one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you don’t mind, can you send them in something discreet? A brown unmarked box, or something along that line? I can’t imagine what Mr. Wilkins, my postman, would think if he saw something labeled with your company’s name arriving at our house.”
Amy laughed out loud. “I totally understand.”
“Good, dear. Well, we’re going to pack now, and you don’t have to worry with the remainder of our My Alibi week. We’ll be heading on home to see our Sylvie.”
“That sounds great. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“You too, dear,” Ellen Southersby said, then disconnected.
Amy turned off the phone and plunked it back in her purse. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about fielding calls tonight while she and Landon went wherever he’d planned. “Okay,” she said, turning her attention back toward the handsome male in the driver’s seat. “All taken care of.”
“Were you talking to someone about my products?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact, I was,” she said, then barreled into a lengthy explanation of Lettie’s employer, Mr. and Mrs. Southersby, and Amy’s part in making their week at Love Beach a bit more fun.
Landon listened with interest. “Incredible,” he said when she finished.
“What? My Alibi? You haven’t heard of the company before?”
“No,” he admitted, “but I meant that a couple their age would be so completely in tune with each other physically and emotionally. Still looking to fulfill each other’s needs, to explore everything sensually.”
“I thought the same thing.”
“I’m going to be like that,” he said, and nodded his head for emphasis.
“Yeah, I bet you will,” she said, and knew it was true. Landon was extremely sensual and extremely sexual, very much in tune with the opposite sex. And, Amy realized, as her body continued to respond to every word, every look, every touch, from Landon Brooks, so was she. “Landon?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are we going?”
“Right here.” He turned the truck into a large parking lot.
Amy swung around in the seat, then laughed out loud at the blinking lights, colorful flags soaring and red-and-white-striped roofs dotting the tiny buildings surrounding the perimeter of the complex. “Really?”
“You remember that staff meeting when Brenda introduced the cotton-candy-flavored massage oil?” he asked.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“She said it reminded her of fun and carefree times, of having fun at the fair,” Landon continued.
“Right,” Amy said, her throat closing in at his memory, and at his thoughtfulness.
“Then you said you’d never been to a fair, that they didn’t have them in the small town where you grew up. Plus you’d never made it to a big city to attend one either, right? You joked about it, like you were poking fun at where you came from, but to me, you seemed a bit bothered. Although you still approved the cotton candy oil,” he added, smiling.
“I did. And it’s one of our best-sellers.”
“True, which is why it’s about time you experienced the inspiration for that oil.” He parked the truck merely feet away from the sign identifying the Fulton County Fair.
Amy waited for him to turn off the engine, then crawled across the seat and kissed him thoroughly. She cupped his jaw, a bit prickly from his five o’clock shadow, and ran her tongue inside his luscious mouth to explore the deliciousness of Landon Brooks. And, consequently, felt the rise he’d indicated in his Wranglers. “You weren’t kidding, were you?” she asked, pulling away and nodding toward the jean-clad bulge.
“Heck, I’m controlling it now.”
“Really?”
Dang, what’s it like when it isn’t controlled?
“You sure you don’t want to, you know, do anything first?”
He chuckled deeply. Throatily. And the sound made her nipples salute within the thin tank top.
Landon noticed. “You better watch that,” he said, and ran a fingertip over one protruding point. “Or we’ll never make it out of the truck.”
“Do you want to make it out?” she asked, her tone as seductive as possible.
“What I really want to do is peel that shirt off, latch onto this,” he said, pinching a nipple, “and drive you completely over the edge.”
“Okay by me.”
He shook his head. “But I’m trying to do something special for you here.” He pointed to the Ferris wheel in the distance. “Ride the rides, eat some candy, watch the fireworks. Then later, we can make some fireworks of our own.”
“I’ve never been on a Ferris wheel,” she admitted.
“Then let’s go.” He opened his door and climbed down, then reached for Amy and helped her to the ground, once again sliding her down the front of his body and nipping her lips when their mouths met.
Her knees wobbled when she finally reached the ground.
“But later, I do want to see those fireworks,” she said. “All of them.”
“Done.”
L
andon purchased park wristbands, allowing them to ride everything they wanted, as many times as they wanted. Or, rather, as many times as she wanted, since this was her dream. Her green eyes were absolutely alight with excitement, and he was thrilled to be the one providing her with the fun.
For the past two years, he’d tried to get to know the secretive, sexy female. She’d mesmerized him in staff meetings, with her knowledge of sex and her admitted lack of desire for sexual partners.
“You don’t need a partner to orgasm,” she’d said on numerous occasions, “and our job is to make sure we can provide the products necessary to make that possible.”
Each time, Landon had countered by informing her that the products could also be used to enhance a couple’s bedroom repertoire. And each time, Vernon Miller had agreed with both of them. He wanted products for singles and for couples—and between Landon, Amy and the additional project leads at Adventurous Accessories, they had all bases covered.
But he’d often wondered if the intriguing brunette had ever given the opposite sex a try. And if she had, had some guy bruised her heart? Had he caused her distrust toward men in general that Landon witnessed at every staff meeting?
That was what Landon had guessed, throughout his two years attempting to learn more about Amy Campbell.
While they ate caramel apples and watched a guy on stilts perform, Amy told him about her sister and the way she’d reconnected with her friend from the past. Amy seemed totally transfixed by the story of their friendship rekindled and the new relationship.
Her love for her sister touched his heart, as did her description of the love Lettie had found with Bill. Did Amy realize that by describing the perfection in Lettie’s relationship, she had described what she desired too? As in, someone who could be totally trusted, someone who could be your best friend, and lover.
And did she know Landon was interested in helping her experience all the feelings she’d described?
“He’d felt more than friendship all along,” Landon surmised, listening to the key points in the story and learning more about Amy with every fact.
“Yes,” she said, moving to the next carnival booth. “Isn’t that incredible? But she was a little slower figuring out what the two of them could have, beyond friendship.”
“What about you?” Landon asked, handing the booth attendant five dollars and grabbing the first of three baseballs, then flinging it toward a stack of cans.
They fell with a loud crash.
“Wow,” Amy said, watching the man put the cans back in place. She took a bite of her caramel apple, moaned her approval and asked, “What about me?”
“Are you also slow at figuring it out?” he asked, taking down the second batch of cans. He turned to face her as the fellow resituated the stack once more.