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Just a Little White Lie(63)

By:Lynnette Hallberg


Lips, warm and soft, nuzzled the back of her neck as Jake’s big, strong hands moved around her waist from behind.

God, she couldn’t resist the man. She relaxed into him, a small, satisfied sigh escaping her.

His lips moved to her ear. “Hi, gorgeous.”

Zing! The arrow shot straight to her lower regions and would have dropped her right there if he hadn’t tightened his hold.

He lifted one arm to wave at the two diners in the window, then slid it back around her waist. She reveled in the unexpected possessiveness of the gesture.

“Wanna go in?” His voice rumbled through her, setting off serious shockwaves.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” He nibbled at her ear.

“Jake—” She tried to turn but he held her in place.

“Don’t move. Give me a second to, ah, regain my…composure.”

She laughed out loud. She could feel his “composure” pressing against her. “We can’t stand here in the middle of the sidewalk, Jake.”

“You’re right. But the view sure as hell is interesting. What do you think those two are up to?” Without waiting for an answer, he drew her away from the window, managing somehow to keep her nestled in front of him, hiding his composure.

“I haven’t a clue. I’ve been shopping with Chad and Marsha,” she said, “and realized I was starving.”

“With Chad and Marsha?” He sounded somewhat incredulous. “Strange bedfellows.”

She shrugged. “Long story. I’ll tell you about it while I let you buy me something to eat.”

He chuckled. “Did Birdie go with you?”

“Ah, no. She was, um, busy.” Oh boy. Should she tell him? Was it her business or did she just stay out of it? A little later, maybe. She nibbled her bottom lip while Sally Kay, one of the waitresses, showed them to a table. Thankfully, one across the room from Donald and Wanda Sue.

More than one head turned as if everyone was aware of Lucinda’s relationship with Donald and of Jake’s past relationship with Wanda Sue and were curious about what was going to happen. She felt her face heat up.

Jake squeezed her hand. “It’s okay.”

“I know. Still—”

“Let it go.”

She nodded and ordered unsweetened iced tea.

“You know, it’s close to a sin here in Georgia to go unsweetened. Sweet tea’s the state drink.”

“I’ve noticed.” Lucinda removed the wrapper from her straw and took a cool, refreshing drink. “Sammy’s got a game tonight. Birdie wondered if maybe we could make it. She’s working the concession booth and thought it would be nice to have us in the stands rooting him on.”

“Can do.” He reached across the table and linked their hands.

Heat ripped through her again, rushing to her center. She had it bad if a simple touch set her off. How would she handle the frustration, the loneliness when Sunday came and she had to leave this man?

“Want to ride with me?” he asked.

“What?” She’d gotten lost in her thoughts, her awareness of Jake.

“To the ball field.”

“Oh. Sure. That would be good because I don’t have any idea where it is.” As casually as she could, she asked, “Jake, will you bring my ring when you come?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no.”

“But you have to. Birdie noticed I wasn’t wearing it today. It’s supposed to be the one you gave me. If you really want to continue this—”

“I tossed it.”

“What?” She stared at him and sucked in a breath.

“I didn’t think it meant that much to you.”

“Well, you thought wrong. Do you have any idea what that ring would have meant to a charity? Something like Make-A-Wish? I could have sold it and donated the money.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He held up his hand. “I was kiddin’, Luce. I’ll bring it when I pick you up tonight.”

She scowled at him.

“Jeez, lighten up. Though I gotta tell you, I’m not in a big hurry to see that jerk’s ring back on your finger.” It was his turn to scowl, first at her, then at Donald across the room.

“It means nothing, Jake.”

“Won’t you change your mind and come home, Luce?”

Home. Her throat clogged. “Jake—”

“Yeah, yeah. You made it clear. My home, not yours.”

And she couldn’t believe how incredibly sorry she was about that. That the little white bungalow on Black Cherry Lane wasn’t her home either.

She scrubbed at her forehead.

“Headache?”

“No. Just—” She waved a hand. “I don’t know.”