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Backing the truck out of its designated parking spot, he said, “Cottage off Wilder 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.
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.
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?”
