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“I already know you’re a gentleman. Well,” she amended with a flash of lust in her deep green eyes, “sometimes.”
He grinned. “Haven’t heard any complaints so far.”
“Doubt you will,” she said with a suggestive wink.
Keeping his mind off sex with Manhattan was going to be right up there with running for City Council. One hell of a battle.
As they fell into step together on the sidewalk, he took her hand in his.
She faltered a bit, either from his intimate gesture or her shoes, he wasn’t sure. Once again she wore shoes that made him question their comfort and overall practicality.
“You don’t mind people thinking we’re an item?” she asked.
Jack didn’t give a rat’s ass what people thought. They tended to make up their own minds no matter what you did, so what was the point in trying to appease them?
Bending his head close so that only Liza could hear him, he said, “After the way we just fucked, aren’t we an item?”
It was an aggressive, possessive move. Right up there with the way he’d marked his territory last night at the bar or carried her up to the cottage when her spiked heels had stuck in the ground. He hadn’t thought he was the Tarzan type, but clearly he’d dispelled that personal myth. Not a big surprise, really. Jack would never be accused of not going after what he wanted with gusto and determination. His father had taught him that. Sam Wade had butted plenty of heads in this town when he’d had a point to get across. Unfortunately, the forces working against him had gotten the best of him. Including Jack’s mother.
He’d almost let her get the best of him too, years ago. But Jack had taken a stand against his own family in order to break the cycle and restore a little bit of order to the town. Getting elected to the City Council would help him to hold the ground he’d gained.
He knew the reverend would try to sabotage his chances. Jack’s uncle wasn’t the live and let live type. He wanted what he considered to be “his town” to conform to his ideal of small-town life. That meant church and picnics and family-type activities…and no public drinking. What the reverend called carousing even when it was just a couple beers with friends at the end of the work week.
Sanctimonious bastard, Jack thought. He’d been Sam Wade’s biggest opponent and never-ending nemesis. And he’d transferred his animosity to Jack after Sam had left town.
Jack pushed the past from his mind, even though it was still a part of his present. Looking down at Liza, he found her staring up at him with a breathtaking smile, her green eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, apparently pleased with what he’d said about them being an item.
“Well, if you’re okay with it.” She gave a quick shrug of a shoulder, as though attempting indifference. But that smile was a dead giveaway. She looked thrilled that he’d hooked them up both in and out of the bedroom. Salving the sting of the one-night stand stigma, he suspected.
Jack didn’t mind, either. There was no need to say out loud it was a temporary arrangement. The writing was there on the wall, what with his reputation—which he didn’t intend to hide from her—and her uncertainty of whether she was staying or going. Admittedly, it’d been a long while since he’d wanted to be a couple. Longer still since he’d met a woman he’d pursued with this much enthusiasm. The pretty New Yorker made him a little less cynical about life in Wilder and did some seriously amazing things to his libido.
So he wasn’t looking to unhitch the wagon just yet.
With their fingers twined—and yes, each passerby did eye them curiously—they walked a ways down the street. Jack noticed the head-to-toe assessments Liza received from the good citizens of Wilder. Her apparel seemed to be as shocking as she and Jack holding hands in broad daylight. Jack didn’t care. Just wished people would mind their own business.
“Everyone’s staring at me,” she said, obviously feeling self-conscious.
She wore a turquoise summer dress that looked better suited for the runways of Milan than the sidewalks of small-town America. The heavily beaded neckline rounded her neck and clasped in the back, leaving her shoulders and back bare. The top was billowy, gathering tighter at her slim hips and then transitioning into a curve-hugging skirt that ended mid-thigh. She’d paired the dress with white sandals comprised of flimsy-looking straps and turquoise stones. She carried a matching handbag.
Personally, Jack thought she looked sexy as hell. He’d never seen a woman dress like this one and he found that he liked the classy, yet provocative look. He wouldn’t change a thing about her.
Seemed she wasn’t feeling quite so confident about her selection, though, as she said, “I’ve owned this dress for two seasons, but…some people consider it too flashy for their conservative taste.”
He suspected she was speaking of someone in particular. But he didn’t pry. Whatever or whomever she was running from, Jack figured she’d spill the beans to him eventually. When she was ready.
“Guess this is what you’d call a subconscious, double-fingered kiss-off,” she mumbled beside him.
Jack grinned. She was working her way through whatever plagued her. That was a good sign.
To calm her obviously jangled nerves, Jack said, “No one’s staring at you, darlin’. You’re okay. They’re just noting what a fine-looking couple we make.”
She laughed. “Sure, I can see that.”
Admittedly, there was some serious gawking going on. But Jack didn’t want her to feel awkward. He hated narrow-mindedness and didn’t want anyone making Liza question herself because the people of Wilder weren’t accustomed to big city clothes and attitude.
“I’ll try to tone it down in the future,” she said in a low voice.
Jack shook his head. “Not on my account. I like how you dress.”
