Hotter than Texas (Pecan Creek) (15 page)

They giggled as if she’d told the world’s best joke.

“Come downstairs with us, and we’ll show you,” Minda said.

The dingbats in
Arsenic and Old Lace
had run their death parlor belowstairs. Of course, Bette Davis had ruled her trapped sister upstairs in
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Lucy swallowed, thinking that she’d really prefer it if she could stay on the main floor where there were plenty of windows and doors to the outside. “Is it absolutely necessary to go downstairs?”

Charlotte smiled at her. “It’s all right, Lucy.”

Lucy stiffened. “Of course it’s all right. I didn’t say I was afraid.”

Charlotte smiled. “Are you agoraphobic?”

“I don’t have any phobias.” She did, but she wasn’t going to show her weak flank to this crowd. “Who’s got the flashlight? You nursing-home candidates shouldn’t be going downstairs without a flashlight. It’s not safe.”

“I have state-of-the-art lighting,” Minda said. “And in a moment, you’ll see why.”

She locked the front door, drew the curtains. Lucy’s blood pressure rose to thunder in her ears, but she followed the women down the stairs. Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase
I’m so not. I’m more Bess the sidekick.

Minda wasn’t kidding; the place was lit like a science laboratory. “Holy cow,” Lucy said. “This is the size of a car showroom. You could fit a football team down here.”

Minda giggled. “We have bigger plans. This is our new business location. And we want to hire you.”

Lucy stared at the assortment of chocolates shaped like delicately beautiful, erotic body parts. Boobs lay perkily topped with cherries or other delicacies; penises sat pointy and erect in flesh-colored glory. It should have been tacky, but the renderings were so artistically achieved she wanted to bite into one in the worst way. She walked around long worktables, looking up at a clothesline, where she recognized Charlotte’s handiwork hanging in bedazzled display. Another table held various bottles of oils that glistened in the bright light, each with labels specifying some kind of unearthly delight associated with the use of the sparkling liquid. “Oh my God. You three are crazy.”

They looked at her.

“Not crazy in the medical sense,” Lucy said hurriedly, realizing she might have erred. “I can’t believe the three of you are running home businesses catering to the pleasure side of life. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. What’s my role?”

They beamed. “Charlotte says you’re a hard worker,” Dodie said. “We decided that if we pooled our resources and hid our businesses down here, no one would ever find out. And we want you to be our secret helper!”

Lucy looked at Charlotte. “Wouldn’t that violate the wishes of the wicked witch?”

“No,” Charlotte said. “You’ll be down here with us. Vivian won’t see you riding up to my house, and what she doesn’t know won’t condemn us. Vivian won’t know where our secret location is. She thinks we’re all still operating out of our kitchens and parlors. But it was getting cramped, and we’re all in a growth phase. We need help we can trust.”

“And you want me to keep your sexy secrets.” Lucy walked around the tables one more time, checking out the wares. “Well, I need a job, and the only other thing I figured I could do was have a phone-sex business.”

They drew back as if she’d struck them, blinking at her with horrified bright eyes. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Dear child,” Charlotte said, “that would be
dirty
. Unseemly. It just isn’t done in polite circles.”

Lucy gazed around at the lovely chocolate boobs and ornate penises, the jeweled man mittens, and the sex potions designed to make Aphrodite scream with mind-bending pleasure. “Oh, I get it. No talking about s-e-x.”

They beamed at her, suddenly the smartest student in the room. Lucy glowed under their approbation. “I get it. Thank you for the opportunity of working for your estimable businesses. I’m pleased to accept your offer of employment, and may the profit be with us.”

They shook on it, and that was how Lucy Cassavechia knew she finally fit into the fabric of Pecan Creek.

She had found her calling.

Sex. Ladylike and calm, and always on the down low.

Maggie swung in the hammock lazily, enjoying the late September sunshine and the warmth of Lassiter’s big body against her back. “I love it here.”

“I love you here,” Lassiter told her, kissing her temple. Tiny white puffy clouds scudded overhead. Mockingbirds sang their copycat calls, beautiful and haunting, in the overgrown, native live oak trees. Maggie didn’t think she’d ever been this happy, except when her daughters were born.

“Do you ever tell them where you are?”

“No,” Maggie said, settling more comfortably against his chest. “Sugar’s too busy with her business and with Jake and what she calls the gang of good ol’ boys. And I don’t really know what Lucy does. I think she’s working at the library. Whatever it is, she seems very happy.”

“Not as happy as I am to have you all to myself.”

Maggie was happy too. The only problem marring her happiness was that she felt like she’d deserted Sugar’s fledgling business. But she had nothing to contribute, because she simply couldn’t recall a single ingredient properly. As the days went on, and she became more worried, the recipes became jumbled in her mind. The day she realized she was adding ingredients from her father’s favorite chili recipe to the list for her grandmother’s famous pecans, Maggie gave up.

She didn’t dare tell Sugar that the dream was over.

The very thought made her so sad she wanted to cry. Sugar had brought them all the way here to start over, to help Maggie recuperate and get well. But there wasn’t anything to start—no business, no anything—because Maggie couldn’t remember.

She was not being a supportive mother, which she’d so badly wanted to be this time. “I’m supposed to be keeping a journal,” Maggie said. “But I don’t ever write in it.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Maggie began. She sighed. “I don’t know. I think I don’t care. Coming here wasn’t my dream. It was what Sugar thought was best. And I understood that. But I don’t want to write about it.”

“Well,” Lassiter said, “I’m not a very good writer myself.”

“I knew you’d understand.” Maggie smiled.

“I hope you’re glad you’re here now,” Lassiter said. “I’m getting just a bit fond of my redhead.”

Maggie closed her eyes, absolutely charmed by his words. She didn’t dare tell him that if she couldn’t remember the recipes, then the dream was lost.

They’d be packing up the blue Oldsmobile and heading back to Florida right after she took off the mayor’s top hat and ribbon, and following the parade right out of town.

“I thought maybe you were kidding about bug spray.” Sugar waited on Jake, practically sprayed within an inch of her life with chemicals guaranteed to keep all insect, animal life and mankind away.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Jake dragged his canoe from the back of his truck, which they’d picked up on the way. He wore what he called a muscle shirt, so she had a great view of muscular arms as he carried the canoe to the creek. He’d changed into khaki shorts, eschewing jeans, saying that if her legs were bare for skeets, he’d man up.

He had a really great set of nice, athletic legs. When he’d pulled off his shirt and changed, she noticed the marks of the military: ripped, strong chest muscles, corded back. A dragon tattoo on his right shoulder.

“Does Vivian know about the tat?”

“Hell, no.” Jake began fumigating himself with bug spray. “Not that I care if she does. She wouldn’t approve, mind you, but Vivian and I understand that approval isn’t part of our relationship.” He studied her legs. “Now, I want you to close your nose and hold your breath and spray the bejesus out of yourself one more time. Pretend you’re in a windstorm, and the goal is to keep the toxins from penetrating your nostrils.”

“You’re scaring me.” Sugar studied the can. “This is just plain ol’ garden-variety Off, isn’t it?”

“No. This stuff is powerful. The goal is to keep from getting insectus problemus.” He watched her as she began to spray. “You have no idea how bad you do not want mosquito-borne crap.”

“We get an occasional bite at our house,” Sugar said.

“Yeah,” Jake said, “but notice it’s only occasional. I get the area sprayed regularly with garlic.”

“Very eco-friendly of you. And yet now I’m covered in toxins.”

“Only for a few hours. Here’s your paddle.”

She took it from him. “I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s not that hard.” They got in, she more gingerly than he, conscious of trying not to tip before she got her first canoe ride. Jake shoved off, and they floated downstream. “Just paddle opposite me, so the boat moves smoothly.”

“It’s beautiful here,” Sugar said, soothed by the overhanging willows on the banks. She mimicked Jake’s paddling motions, and soon they had the canoe moving through the water.

She had a great view of his back, much of which the white muscle shirt didn’t conceal.

This is the best day of my life, Sugar thought. I love it here in Pecan Creek.

I think I might be falling for Jake.

Chapter Eleven

Jake glanced at Sugar as he dragged the canoe ashore twenty minutes later, lodging it on the bank. “I’m going to show you my secret hangout.”

She tugged at the canoe with industrious good cheer, and it came to Jake that Averie had never enjoyed canoeing, bug spray or sweating, as it appeared Sugar was doing.

It made him smile. She was so unselfconscious. He really didn’t think Sugar knew how appealing she was, how feminine, how sexy-as-hell.

She turned his crank like it had never been turned before.

“This is your secret hangout? What do you do out here?”

He secured the canoe and pointed to two tire swings and a wooden bench underneath a large weeping willow with tendrils that draped beautifully near the water, like a leafy green veil inviting peace and serenity. “I do nothing but sit. No one comes here but me. So sitting is just about all I do. Kind of crazy, I guess.”

“I don’t think so.” Sugar smiled at him, not complaining about the smelly bug spray nor the heat, nor the fact that her blouse stuck to her in all the wrong places. “We came to Pecan Creek for peace and serenity.”

He took her hand and pulled her over to the tire swing. “I could have told you that PC was fifty percent small town, fifty percent drama. But I’ll share my serenity with you.”

Jake tucked Sugar into the tire swing, her feet standing in the tire. He placed her hands on the rope. “Now, hang on.”

“What are you doing?”

He pulled her tire swing back as far as he could. “Hang on, beautiful. I’m about to share my secret of serenity with you.”

He let go of the tire, and Sugar swung over the creek.

“Let go!” he called to her.

“No! Jake!” Sugar let out an impressive squeal.

He laughed and jumped on the other tire swing, running as fast as he could to guide the tire into a long loop over the creek. He released himself at the apex, falling into the cool, cleansing water.

A moment later, Sugar fell beside him, making an ungraceful splash and surprising him. “You did it!”

She came up for air, pushing water at him. “I had no choice. It was let go and cool off, or stay sweaty and hot.”

He grinned. “I thought you might see it my way. Now you feel the peace, don’t you?”

She nodded, pushing her red hair out of her eyes. “This is beautiful, Jake.”

“Yeah. It is.” He floated on his back, staring up at the tree canopy overhead. Sugar pushed him under, and he grabbed her ankle as she tried to escape her misdeed. “Oh no, you don’t. You play, you pay.”

Sugar laughed. “That sounds like something one of your guy friends would say. Larry, Curly or Moe.”

Jake pulled her to him, giving her a slight dunk just for fun, mainly to hear her squeal, with which she obliged him. She shocked him by coming up for air and launching herself at his back, sinking him.

Okay, he’d forgotten she’d spent time in the military. She could take care of herself.

“Hey,” he said, holding her against him as tight as he could so she couldn’t attack him again, “I think you lost your top, doll.”

She looked down, and he dunked her. This time Sugar jerked his shorts half off his butt, and he figured as badly as he wanted to reciprocate, it would not win him any prizes with Sugar.

Instead, he tugged her to him, kissing her the way he’d been dying to do for weeks—ever since she’d shown up at his house, sassing him and daring him to call bullshit on her attitude. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth—God, she was sweet—and when she wrapped her long legs around his waist, Jake was pretty sure he’d died and gone to hell.

Because that was where men like him went when they had bad intentions. “God, you’re fine,” he said, and she kissed him till he was breathless and she was gasping with heat. God, he wanted her right here and now, in his hidden sanctuary, but it wasn’t time. He couldn’t throw himself on the fire of his horniness, because she was the kind of girl who had to be romanced and respected.