Devil in Texass(9)
Lake Lane, right.” It wasn’t a question, since he already knew their destination.
He spared a glance her way and everything inside him went tight and
uncomfortable. He was seriously aroused. So easily. His gaze slid over her body as the smell of her wafted through the cab. A light, breezy fragrance that reminded him of
lilacs in spring. The scent filled his nose and infiltrated every nook and cranny inside him, stimulating his senses even more.
“Correct,” she said, distracted by the seatbelt she attempted to latch. A tricky
maneuver given the way her body seemed to squirm and vibrate in the seat as though
she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.
His doing, he hoped. Reaching one hand toward her, he helped her insert Tab A
into Slot B. He couldn’t help but think about doing that very thing on a much grander scale. Especially when the simplest of touches—like his hand on hers—made him want
to explore every inch of her body. And not just with his fingers.
Damn, this was going to be one hell of a drive. Likely followed by a world-record-
setting cold shower.
24
Devil in Texas
Jack hit the open road, keeping his eyes straight ahead. To distract himself from a
dilemma he’d never faced before— should he or shouldn’t he?—he said, “You oughta call and cancel the taxi, darlin’. Tell Mrs. Simpson I appreciate the cherry pie she brought by on Tuesday.”
Manhattan retrieved her phone from the small leather bag she carried and hit a
speed dial number. “Hello, again,” she said. “I just called for a cab at Wade’s Saloon.
I’ve got a ride home now, so there’s no need to pick me up.” A brief pause, then she
added, “Oh um… That’s a good question.”
Shooting a look Jack’s way, she eyed him a moment, then hit what he guessed to be
the mute button on her phone and asked, “Who are you, anyway?”
He grinned. “Thought we were aiming for mysterious and enigmatic this evening,”
he said in a nonchalant tone.
She smirked at him—that playful expression that made his gut clench in a purely
primal way. “Did you seriously just use the word ‘enigmatic’?”
“I did. But you can tell Mrs. Simpson you’re with Jack.”
“Jack,” she repeated his name.
He resisted the urge to close his eyes and ask her to whisper it softly. Her voice, her sassy smile and the smell of her kept him hard. Thank God the cab of the truck was
dark.
Unmuting the phone, but keeping her eyes on him, she said, “Yes, Mrs. Simpson.
I’m still here. I’m with Jack…Wade. Correct?”
He nodded.
She conveyed Jack’s gratitude for the culinary treat, then listened for a few seconds.
A soft laugh followed. “I’ll be sure to mention it. Goodnight, now.”
“What’d she say?” Jack asked as she disconnected the call.
“She’s bringing an apple pie by in the morning. With strudel in the crust.”
He whistled under his breath. “My favorite.”
“Recently divorced or eternal bachelor?”
“Never married,” he said and was damn proud of that fact. “But don’t get any ideas
about an unkempt bachelor who only gets fed by the local housewives. I can cook.”
“Oh?” she challenged with a jerk of her eyebrow, which he caught as he slid glances
her way.
“Yeah,” he countered. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night and I’ll prove it.”
As she considered his proposal, Jack made the turnoff that led to the winding, tree-
lined Wilder Lake Lane where they both now resided. Hell, maybe having her as a
tenant wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He could certainly keep a better eye on her, make sure anyone who might have missed his borderline dog-marking move at the bar
kept their distance.
25
Calista Fox
Not waiting for her to acquiesce to his dinner date suggestion, thereby making it a
foregone conclusion they’d be dining together tomorrow night, he said, “So you’re one up on me. Actually, more than that.”
“Not really,” she countered. “You know I prefer wine and that three shots of tequila
and one beer are more than I can handle in an hour and a half. Or however long I was at your bar. I’m in Texas purely on a whim, don’t know a soul. Well, aside from you,” she added with another soft smile. “Think that puts you in the lead.”
He shrugged in a noncommittal way.
“Liza Brooks,” she introduced herself with notable panache. Adding a lilting accent
to the “i”.
Interesting.
“Nice to meet you, Liza.” He grinned at her. A flash of headlights caught his
peripheral vision and he returned his attention to the road. The lights piercing the
darkness made Jack swear under his breath. “What the hell,” he muttered to himself,
“are you doing out here?”
“Excuse me?”
Jack shook his head as a sedan approached in the opposing lane. There were no
street lamps to illuminate the road, and the tall pine trees almost eclipsed the
moonlight, but Jack recognized the vehicle as his own headlights flashed over it.
“Everything okay?” Liza asked as he scowled.
“Just busybodies,” he grumbled as he gave a three-fingered wave to his uncle, the
Reverend Bain, as the car passed. The rest of his hand remained wrapped around the
steering wheel. “People should mind their own business.”
Unfortunately, Jack was reminded again that Liza’s association with him would
define which camp she resided in with the townsfolk. Unless he could somehow keep
her in neutral territory. She shouldn’t have to take sides with the saints or the sinners.
Nothing in Wilder was her doing or her concern, really. She was just visiting, wasn’t she? Nothing permanent.
Hell, according to his property manager, they’d modified the rental agreement to a
four-week term instead of the six months Jack had initially specified when he’d decided to put the place up for rent. Not that he was complaining. Four weeks of rent helped to keep Josh on the payroll until Jack could figure out his next move.
What the morality sanction was doing to his profits, however, wasn’t something he
wanted to think about at the moment. A mile or so down the road, he turned onto a
tree-lined dirt path that led to a large white farmhouse illuminated by porch lights and, further down, a matching cottage nestled on the shores of Wilder Lake. He pulled the
truck alongside a flashy red convertible Mercedes and whistled under his breath.