Open Season (20 page)

He’d lifted his mouth as soon as she planted her hands against him. If his hand was slower to leave her
breast, she didn’t complain. As if every inch were agony, he eased away from her, putting a small space between them. Suddenly deprived of his heat, she felt as if the night had turned icy cold. It was a balmy summer night, but compared to Jack, the air felt almost wintry.

“You’re ruining all my plans.”

“What plans are those?” He bent his head and began nibbling at her jawline, quick little biting kisses, as if he had to taste her again. He didn’t touch her in any other way. He didn’t have to. She caught herself automatically leaning toward him, and jerked upright again.

She was distracted enough to say, “I’m hunting for a man.”

“I’m a man,” he muttered against her collarbone. “What’s wrong with me?”

Her neck was getting weak, too weak to hold up her head. It was as if she were Superwoman and he was Kryptonite, robbing her of strength. Desperately she fought back. “I mean a
relationship
man.”

“I’m single.”

She burst out, “I want to get married and have babies!”

He straightened as if he’d been shot. “Whoa.”

Now that he wasn’t touching her, she could breathe more easily. “Yes,
whoa.
I’m husband-hunting, and you’re getting in the way.”

“Husband-hunting, huh?”

She didn’t like his tone, but there was an oncoming car; she waited until it had passed before glaring up at him. “Thanks to you and your little show in the pharmacy, everyone in Hillsboro already thinks we have a—a thing, so no one there will ask me out. I
have
to go out to nightclubs now to find a man, but you’re still doing
the same thing, making people think we’re together and keeping other men away from me.”

“I’ve been keeping you out of trouble.”

“Last week, yes, but this week I wasn’t in any trouble, I wasn’t causing any trouble, I wasn’t even
near
any trouble. That man you ran off might have been the love of my life, but now I’ll never know because you told him I was with you.”

“He was wearing a ‘Party Hearty’ T-shirt, and you think he was the love of your life?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “That isn’t the point, and you know it. He was just an example. At the rate you’re going, you’ll have every man in north Alabama thinking I’m spoken for. I’ll have to drive to Atlanta to find someone.”

“Spoken for?”
he echoed, with enough incredulousness in his tone to make her want to smack him. “Do you know what century this is?”

She knew her speech patterns were a little archaic; that’s what happened when you lived with your mother and aunt, who were darlings but were definitely old-fashioned. She tried not to use their more dated expressions, but that was what she’d heard most of her life, so that was what came out of her mouth more often than not. She did not, however, appreciate his pointing that out. “It’s the twenty-first, smart ass!”

Silence.

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered, hand to her mouth. “I’m
so
sorry. I never say things like that.”

“Well, yes, you do,” he replied. His voice sounded strained. “I heard you. You just don’t say them very often.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I have no excuse.”

“Not even that I made you mad as hell?”

“You did, but I’m still responsible for my own actions.”

“God,” he said, looking up at the heavens, “why can’t all the bad guys be like her?”

God didn’t answer, and Jack shrugged. “It was worth a try. C’mon, get back in your car before I kiss you again.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t much of a threat. Daisy caught herself hesitating, then resolutely reached for the door handle, to find his hand there before hers. She seated herself, arranged her red skirt just so, buckled her seat belt, then remembered why they had stopped in the first place and narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t tailgate me again.”

He leaned forward, his eyes heavy-lidded and his mouth slightly swollen, reminding her what they’d been doing just a few minutes before. “I won’t. At least, not in a car.”

Her heart skipped a beat, then raced into double time. She licked her lips, trying not to form that image in her mind. It formed anyway. Her nipples tightened and peaked.

“Go!” he said harshly, slamming the door and stepping back, and she went. After a moment his car pulled onto the road behind hers.

He stayed a very safe distance behind her, all the way back to Hillsboro.

T
he next morning Daisy went to church as usual. She knew there had been talk about her during the week, thanks to Jack and the condom episode, and in a small town the best thing to do under those circumstances was to follow her normal routine.

Because she knew people would be watching her, she took extra pains with her hair and makeup; it was funny how fast it had become routine. The Weather Channel said that the day would be hot and humid, with temperatures climbing toward the century mark, so she dressed as coolly as possible, even leaving off her panty hose and dusting the insides of her pumps with baby powder so her feet wouldn’t stick to them.

It was already hot, probably almost ninety, at nine-forty-five when she left the house. She turned the air-conditioning in her car on “high,” but the church
was only two miles away, so the blast of air was just getting cold when she arrived. The church was nice and cool, though, and she heaved a sigh of relief as she entered the sanctuary and took her customary seat beside her mother and Aunt Jo, who both turned to her with beaming smiles. “You look great,” Aunt Jo said, leaning over to pat Daisy’s hand. “How did last night go?”

Daisy sighed. “I only danced three times,” she whispered. “There was another fight. I didn’t have anything to do with it,” she hastily added when both women’s eyes rounded. “But I think I may have to find some other club.”

“I should hope so,” said her mother. “All those fights!”

It wasn’t the fights that disturbed Daisy, but the fact that the Buffalo club seemed to be Jack’s hangout. She was an intelligent woman; she knew better than to borrow trouble, and after last night it was obvious that being any-where in his vicinity was a big problem. If he went to the Buffalo Club, she would go elsewhere. Period.

Someone slid into the pew beside her, and she automatically turned her head to smile a greeting. The smile froze on her face. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

Jack looked around at the altar and choir loft, the stained-glass windows, and asked, “Attending church?” then leaned forward to say hello to Evelyn and Aunt Jo. Answering smiles came his way, and Evelyn asked him to come to dinner after services. He pleaded a prior engagement, which saved his toes, because Daisy had been prepared to grind her heel down on his foot if he’d accepted.

Daisy imagined she could feel the gaze of everyone in church centered on her back. “What are you doing here?” she whispered again, more fiercely this time.

He dipped his head closer to hers so he couldn’t be overheard. “You didn’t want everyone to think you bought condoms for a one-night stand, did you?”

Her eyes widened. He was right. By his coming to church and sitting beside her, everyone would assume there was a full-fledged romance between them, because a man just didn’t go to a woman’s church and sit beside her unless they were seriously involved. By giving up one morning of his time, he had changed her status from suspect to understandable. In this day and age, a sexual relationship between two romantically involved adults was the expected thing, even if organized religion did frown on it.

Two hours later, Daisy was a nervous wreck. Knowing that the chief of police wanted to get naked with her wasn’t conducive to having a peaceful morning at church. She had tried her best to pay attention to the sermon, just in case it was aimed at her, but her attention had kept wandering. Specifically, it had wandered to the man sitting on her right.

Their intimacy of the night before had been startling. Even though they had done nothing more than kiss and a little light petting, it felt as if they had done so much more. She had felt almost incandescent in his arms, and there hadn’t been anything halfhearted about his erection. She couldn’t lie to herself; they had teetered on the brink of making love, and she had pulled back just in the nick of time.

She couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if she’d forgotten her morals, forgotten that he wasn’t her type, forgotten everything except satisfying herself. No, she didn’t wonder what would have happened, she
knew
—she just wondered what it would have been like.

She couldn’t get his taste out of her mind. Would the rest of his lovemaking have lived up to his kisses? He kissed like a dream, and tasted like a honeypot. Even if he were the world’s worst lover, which she highly doubted, that would almost be worth putting up with just to get those kisses. On the other hand, going on the theory that a good kisser was also a good lover—she’d read it somewhere—then Jack Russo was something else between the sheets.

Those were not good thoughts to have during a church service. She fidgeted restlessly, and every time she moved, her leg seemed to brush against his. The air-conditioned church was very cool, but she was burning up again and she felt an almost overwhelming urge to kick off her shoes and tear off her dress. Either she was in premature menopause and having hot flashes, or she was hot in a far more basic sense.

She kept sneaking glances at him; she just couldn’t help it. He dressed neatly, conservatively. His shoes were always polished, and that was important. After reading an article that said the state of a man’s shoes reflected his general attitude about himself and others, she’d always looked at shoes and was careful to keep her own footwear clean and polished.

His graying hair was way too short, but it looked good on him. There was just a hint of curl on top,
so
she suspected he kept it short to keep that curl tamed. He was big, but there was nothing clumsy about him; he moved with a sort of controlled, animalistic grace. And there was no extra weight on him; she’d discovered that last night. He was all rock-solid muscle.

She was spending way too much time thinking about a man who wasn’t her type.

He moved his hand, and the backs of his fingers
subtly rubbed against her thigh. Daisy swallowed and stared hard at Reverend Bridges, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but the reverend might as well have been speaking a foreign language.

Jack was seducing her, right there in church, and she knew it. He wasn’t doing anything much—though he was still rubbing her thigh—but then he didn’t have to. He was there, and that was enough. She was doing a very good job of seducing herself, remembering last night and working herself into a lather.

She had to be blowing this all out of proportion, because logic told her no kiss could possibly be as potent as she’d thought last night. It was just that Jack was the first man to kiss her in . . . she couldn’t remember exactly how long. Years. Which was entirely her fault, because she’d been sitting at home instead of getting out and doing something about her unkissed situation. But it had still been
years
since she’d been kissed, and the fact was, she had gone overboard in her reaction. It probably hadn’t been nearly as exciting to him.

Then she remembered the way his heartbeat had thundered under her hand, and the only way he could have faked that erection was if he’d had a flashlight stuffed in his pants. A big flashlight.

Oh, dear. These were not good thoughts to be having during a sermon.

At last, at last, the sermon was over and the last hymn had been sung. People milled around, shaking hands, smiling and talking. Jack stood at the end of the pew, blocking her exit, while everyone in the church, it seemed, came over to greet him. Aunt Jo and Evelyn turned around and went out the other end of the pew and Daisy turned to do the same, but without looking Jack reached back and caught her arm. “Hold on a
minute,” he said, then returned to shaking hands. The men wanted to talk about the police force and feel macho by association; the women merely flirted, even the great-grandmothers. Jack just had that kind of effect on women. Daisy had used to think she was immune, but learned that feeling superior set you up for a big fall.

When the crowd had finally cleared out some and they could make their way out of the pew, Jack stepped aside and let Daisy exit in front of him, his hand going to her waist. Her heart jumped at his touch. He was really getting into the “we’re a couple” act for everyone else’s benefit, but his main objective was to get naked with her; forget the couple angle. He didn’t want to get married and have children—come to think of it, he’d already been married, so he might already have children, too.

There was only one way to find out. She leaned forward and whispered, “Do you have any children?”

He gave her an appalled look. “Hell, no!” Then he remembered where he was and muttered, “Let’s get out of here.”

That was easier said than done. Reverend Bridges was still at the door, shaking hands and chatting with everyone as they left, and it seemed he had a lot to talk to Jack about. None of it seemed very important to Daisy as she patiently waited her turn, but the reverend was a man just like all the others, and he wanted to talk to the police chief. She wondered if it got on Jack’s nerves. No one ever buttonholed her because of
her
job, and she was just as glad. Did all cops have to put up with this?

But at last her hand was shaken and small talk was made; Reverend Bridges gave her a speaking look, making
her wonder if the sermon had been targeted toward her, which, after the talk of this past week, was certainly possible. She’d have to remember to ask her mother.

The heat was almost unbearable, rising off the street in waves. Men, Jack included, were shedding their coats and loosening their ties as soon as they left the church; the women, however, were stuck with bras and pantyhose, and Daisy was glad her legs were bare. The slight breeze was hot, but at least she could feel it.