“Surely you already know the answer to that.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
They stood in her small kitchen, bodies still entwined as they stared at each other.
Liza wanted more than anything to ask him to stay. But it’d been a long night. And she liked the anticipation of seeing him in a few hours, when she was totally sober and
refreshed from sleep. Maybe freed of the awkwardness and fear she felt from settling
into a new life.
This time, when he stepped away from her, she didn’t protest.
“I’ll be by around ten,” he said.
“Perfect.”
He continued to gaze at her a few moments more, as though committing her face to
memory. Then he grinned again, his eyes dancing in the soft light. “I’ll see you a little later.”
“Thanks for the ride,” she said with a smile.
“Anytime.” He turned and walked toward the front door. Before passing through
it, he shot her a look over one very broad shoulder and winked at her again. “Lock this behind me. Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
“Right back at ya, cowboy.”
When the door closed, Liza reached for the counter to steady herself as a long
breath escaped her body. It took a few minutes to get her bearings. Then she wiped up the water she’d spilled on the floor before setting the deadbolt on the front door.
Afterward, she entered the bedroom and changed into a short satin nightgown.
As she settled into the comfy bed with the crisp white sheets and the velvety,
crimson-colored duvet, she thought about the Devil. She closed her eyes, glad to be
spending her first night in Wilder in a place she could call her own. Not surprisingly, Jack’s gleaming white teeth and obnoxiously tempting dimple flashed in her mind.
She smiled as she thought of him while counting the hours before the sun would
rise and she’d see him again.
Maybe this was more than she could handle, more than she’d bargained for. Who
knew? She sure as hell wasn’t looking to get played again. But she had to admit, the
things Jack Wade did to her body were exactly what she needed.
39
Calista Fox
Question was, could the new Liza Brooks keep her heart out of the sexy equation?
40
Devil in Texas
Chapter Four
“Why the hell wouldn’t you run for City Council?” George Mills demanded.
“Because I don’t need any more complications in my life?” Jack countered as he
cleared away remnants of the evening’s Texas Hold ‘Em tournament he’d hosted in the
back room of his saloon. A strictly invitation-only event he organized once or twice a month on the sly. Otherwise, Reverend Bain and his most staunch followers would be
outside Jack’s door setting up a picket line.
“But I thought the reason you hired Josh to manage the bar was to free up some
time so you could campaign,” George said. He collected an empty pitcher of beer and
five mugs and deposited them on a round tray set up in the corner.
“I hired Josh so I could work on the expansion project for the saloon. But the recent changes in town are having a negative impact on my bottom line, so that idea is now
shot to shit.”
“Precisely why you need to take my suggestion more seriously. You could help to
change the town back, Jack.”
The recent curfews and the ban on alcohol sales on Sundays was, of course, a source
of contention with Jack. Not just as a saloon owner, but as a man who enjoyed a few
shots with a good buddy at the end of a long week. Or a glass of fine wine with the
Sunday night special at Pietro’s in town.
“You’re going to have to make your decision soon to get on the ballot,” George told
him. “And I’ll manage the campaign.”
“You’re wildly optimistic, my friend.” His large hand swept across the green felt
covering the poker table, pushing discarded peanut shells into a bowl.
“There are a lot of people who will stand by your side. And, to your extreme
advantage, you’re good friends with Mayor Grant. “
Ah yes.
“Kindred sinners, we are,” Jack said.
In fact, the mayor of Wilder had put in an appearance at tonight’s game. Not the
first time he’d accepted Jack’s invitation. Grant was no hypocrite, didn’t mind the
townsfolk knowing he liked his Scotch neat and his thoroughbreds to be of the winning variety. Unfortunately, his backbone wasn’t as stiff as others in this town and that made him too malleable when it came to squaring off against the saints.
The reason they kept him in office.
“With the mayor in your back pocket—”
41
Calista Fox
“Mayor’s not in my back pocket, George.” Jack was quick to add. “He covets his
cozy position in this town, make no mistake about that. Makin’ waves isn’t up his
alley.”
“Yes, but,” George countered with a mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes.
“Making waves is up your alley.”
“For a good cause,” Jack would allow. Manhattan certainly fell into that category—
and he’d gotten one hell of a ribbing from his poker mates when he’d returned from
“dropping her off”.
“You think we don’t have a good cause on our hands now?” George interrupted
Jack’s thoughts before they went the way of long, naked limbs and slow, hot kisses. It was all he could do to keep the sound of her sexy moans and the feel of her tight, wet pussy from running through his mind. He’d wanted to give her a hell of a lot more than one orgasm—he wanted to do a lot of more than just finger-fuck her cunt.
“For God’s sake, Jack!” George continued his rant. “Your head’s not buried in the
sand. Things are getting weird around here.”
He couldn’t argue that point even if he wanted to. But the situation was more
delicate than George seemed to understand. “Grant and I may be of like minds,” Jack
contended. “But the saints and I aren’t so tight.”
“Lydia Bain adores you.”
“And her husband, Reverend Bain, who’ll have a seat on the City Council ‘til hell
freezes over, wants to put me out of business. Like he’s done to every other bar owner in town. Tips the scales a bit. And not in my favor, you can clearly see.”
“This is absurd,” George said. He was a sturdy sort both by way of stature and
conscience. At six-feet tall, he was a few inches shorter than Jack and much thicker from head to toe. They were the same age, thirty-one, but George already had strands of gray woven through his dark brown hair. Though the distinguished look lent to his