Falling for the Enemy (10 page)

Her mouth twisted into a self-conscious smile. “If you haven’t figured out by now, I’m not one to shut up, so…”

“So, you’re the bimbo running for mayor.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. I like to think Grandma wouldn’t put it quite that way.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud of you.”

Ginny glowed. “Just for that, I’m going to give you dinner.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, and the pure affection in the gesture caught him by surprise. His body’s reaction was significantly less surprising, but before he could catch her around the waist and pull her down on top of him, she bounced off the sofa. “Come on into the kitchen. Everything’s ready.”

Before dinner went on the table, he had some cards to put there first. He stood and snagged a couple fingers into the back pocket of her jeans, stopping her in mid-stride. She turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“I may not be pursuing many at the moment, but I know what goals are. I understand why running for mayor is important to you. I realize this”—he pointed to both of them—“is complicated, and risky, and a really bad idea, but we both know it’s going to keep happening. For some reason, right now, we both need this in our lives. I can’t explain why, but I can tell you one thing. Uncle Sam trusted me with all kinds of delicate situations, and you can, too. I know how to be discreet. I’m trained for stealth.” Time for the hard sell, because this mattered. Apparently he did have a goal, after all. “I can get you off like a personal toy all night, every night, and nobody in town will be the wiser.”

Big green eyes found his and held. “I’m counting on it.”

Chapter Eleven

Do I snore? Hog the covers? What?

Ginny scowled at the useless questions circling around in her head as she followed Melody out of the pew and into the line of congregants waiting to file past Reverend Carlson. He stood at the open doorway of Bluelick Baptist, wishing his flock a final farewell as they exited into the sunny Sunday morning.

“I can’t believe you were late for church,” Melody muttered. “Shameful.”

Ginny silently agreed, especially since she had no excuse for lingering in bed this morning, considering she’d woken up alone. Again. For the last week Shaun had shown up on her doorstep after sundown, sometimes with dinner in hand, sometimes just a hungry look in his eyes, and proceeded to rock her world in whatever way he saw fit.

She liked to think she gave as good as she got, and she certainly hadn’t heard any complaints out of him, but she hadn’t inspired him to spend the night either. The fact that she wanted him to aggravated her all the more, and explained why she’d feigned sleep last night when he’d slid out of her bed and dressed in the dark. It had been on the tip of her tongue to call him out on his disappearing act, but then he’d leaned down and brushed a whisper-soft, unbearably tender kiss on her forehead, and she’d kept her eyes shut and let him have his easy exit before she said something stupid like, “Don’t go.”

Because he needed to go, dang it. How could she convince the entire town it was time to get out from under Buchanan’s political agenda if people discovered she couldn’t get out from under her opponent’s oldest son?

“Tom was on time.” Melody nodded to the exit, where Tom stood between Justin and Brandi, shaking hands with Reverend Carlson. Ginny automatically searched for Shaun, even though she knew better. If he’d decided to take in the service, she’d have sensed his dark eyes on her from the back of the church, but he wasn’t the type to loiter on the front steps, chatting with the reverend. Unlike Tom.

“Bet he’s got a pocketful of talking points, too,” she muttered.

“That’s a safe bet,” Melody agreed. “Are you ready for a church-front debate?”

“Of course. I’ll be the embodiment of tact and diplomacy.” She winked at her friend, but said a silent prayer as she approached the exit.

Reverend Carlson smiled at her and took her hand. “Ah, here she is—our other candidate for mayor.”

At least he hadn’t said, “Speak of the devil.” She returned his smile, and expanded it to include Tom, who smiled back like a shark, and Brandi, who was absorbed in touching up her makeup, and Justin, who stared at her as if he could see through her clothes. Joy.

A cluster of the faithful gathered around, because hey, everybody loved a show.

“I enjoyed the sermon, reverend. It really spoke to me, especially your observation that the church, like society as a whole, thrives on new ideas, and should strive not to become entrenched in the status quo.” Of course he’d said it in the context of helping the stodgy, old ways-and-means committee figure out how to raise funds for new hymnals, because nobody needed another all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast or spaghetti dinner, but still.

“Really, Ginny.” Tom’s smile widened to the point she could count his teeth. “The reverend’s sermon covered many themes. I think his underlying message had something to do with the importance of supporting our leaders—the ones with the education and experience to vet ideas and execute on the ones with merit. A lesson with broader application, don’t you agree?”

So much for tact and diplomacy. “Gee Tom, are you suggesting
I
lack the education and experience to lead?”

“Why Ginny, you’re putting words in my mouth, but as long as we’re looking at credentials, I invite voters to consider whether they want to entrust the highest office in Bluelick to a hairdresser with a high school education.”

“Maybe doing hair isn’t rocket science, but we don’t need a rocket scientist, we need someone who understands the challenges our town faces and knows how people would like those challenges addressed. Because I own and operate a customer-facing local business—one where people settle in and talk for a spell—I listen to people’s opinions, worries, and issues all day long. I hear what’s working and what needs fixing. I know what’s important to the community, so I consider my job an asset.”

A few murmurs of approval came from the small crowd surrounding them. She spotted Mrs. Carter, her high school English teacher, standing to one side, nodding encouragingly. “As far as my education, I graduated with honors from the Bluelick public school system. If our schools aren’t good enough to produce our leaders, then I suggest the experienced, established politicians have some explaining to do, for letting our community settle for sub-par educational institutions.”

Her comment—okay, accusation—generated applause, and Tom actually looked a bit flustered. “I’m not suggesting our school system is sub-par. My son goes there, for God’s sake.” He pointed at Justin. “But politics can be very nuanced, and complicated. Someone with more extensive education is better positioned to manage all the intricacies, and has strategic advantages when it comes to negotiating.”

The reply garnered Tom some supportive comments. She didn’t have a college diploma. He had her there, but… “Tell me Tom, what’s your degree? The one that helps you understand all the nuances, complications, and intricacies of politics? Poli-sci? Government? Law?” Risky questions, because she had no clue how he’d answer, but when he turned red, she knew she’d hit her mark.

“Agriculture,” he mumbled.

“Agriculture? Learn how to negotiate a bumper corn crop, did you?” Around them, people laughed.

“It’s a very practical degree, which you might appreciate if you had one.”

His comment elicited a
point-scored
hum from the crowd, but before she could fire back, Brandi clicked her compact closed, dropped it into her handbag, and looked up. “Tommy, honey, I’m famished.”

He patted her arm and flashed his game-show-host smile. “Reverend, thank you again for a thought-provoking sermon. Ginny, always so…entertaining…to talk to you.”

“That went well,” Melody whispered as the crowd dispersed.

“Yeah, right, if you don’t count Tom getting the last word.”

Melody nudged her with an elbow, and started walking down Main toward the firehouse, where they were meeting Josh for lunch. “Yes, well, he’s got an agriculture degree, and he’s not afraid to use it.”

She laughed, despite herself, and nudged Melody back. “I don’t know who won our little debate. I don’t know who lost. All I know for sure is I’ve had my fill of Buchanans for today.”

At that moment, Shaun walked out of the hardware store across the street and their eyes locked. She stared at him for one beat…two…and then forced herself to turn away.

“Liar,” Melody said.

…

Shaun stepped from the ladder onto the roof of the cabin and watched Tyler Longfoot inspect the weathered shingles. The tall, rangy, dark-haired man Shaun remembered from a lifetime ago knelt and lifted a few loose shakes, then raised a brow at him.

“Yeah, I hate to break it to you, but you need a new roof.”

He’d been up there before, so the news came as no surprise. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. But I also know a roof is a grueling one-man project. I’ve ordered the materials, and I expect them Monday, along with the roll-off bin, but once I tear everything down to the boards I need to throw on the new roof pronto. So my real question is can you squeeze me in?”

Tyler squinted at the sky, adjusted his blue ball cap, and nodded. “My crew is pretty stretched, but this is a small job—smaller if you plan on helping. I can put a few guys on it later this week, assuming the weather holds.”

“Sounds good.” He stepped onto the ladder again. “I’ll give you a deposit. Just let me know the damage.”

Longfoot followed him down, descending the ladder with the ease of someone who did it routinely. Shaun flashed back to the summer between fourth and fifth grade, sneaking out of his house after dark by scaling the trellis outside his bedroom window to meet up with Roger Reynolds and some other guys in the neighborhood and explore the old Browning farm. What ten-year-old boys could resist a big, abandoned property? Some nights guys a few years older, like Longfoot and Junior Tillman, wound up there too, usually with a six pack of beer and a
Penthouse
. Good times were had by all.

“Straight labor?” Longfoot’s question pulled him back to the here and now.

Shaun nodded. “Supplies are covered. I’ve got an in at the hardware store.” His family owned it.

Longfoot laughed, and then quoted him a fair figure.

“Done. Come in.” He gestured to the door. “I’ll write you a check.”

He swung into the kitchen to grab his checkbook, and paused at the fridge. “Water?”

“Thanks.” Longfoot accepted the bottle Shaun held out to him and ran his other hand over the newly installed soapstone countertop surrounding the matching farmhouse sink. “Nice. You do this yourself?”

“Yep.” He opened his checkbook and started writing. “The slabs were a bitch to maneuver, but I got them in. I used two pieces around the sink rather than risk a break. If you look closely you can see the seams.”

The other man looked closely and ran a finger down one seam, testing the smoothness. “Tight. Did you install the floor, too?”

Shaun handed him the check and then glanced down at the ebonized, wide-plank floors. “I did. I thought about refinishing the original pine floors, but they were too far gone. Too thin in the high-traffic zone.”

Longfoot nodded while he folded the check and slipped it in the back pocket of his jeans. He stepped to the sink, lifted the single-lever faucet handle and let the water flow for a moment. Then he watched it drain, crouched down and looked in the cabinet under the sink. “Did your own plumbing?”

Shaun got the odd sense he was on a job interview. “I did. Here and in the downstairs bathroom.”

“You picked up some interesting talents in the SEALs.”

Shaun felt surprise lift his brows.

“Your father talks. He’s proud.”

“Well, I can’t give the Navy complete credit. I participated in some building projects here and there, mostly for charity.”

“What are you doing with yourself nowadays?”

Shaun pointed to the roof.

“That’ll be done by the end of the week. What then?”

Good question. One he’d been asking himself whenever Tom or his mom or somebody else wasn’t asking. “I’m weighing my options.” Sounded better than
fuck if I know
.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said my crew was busy this summer. We could use more hands, particularly skilled ones. If you’re interested, let me know. I’ll put you to work.”

The knee-jerk refusal leaped to his tongue, because he’d been drifting and dabbling long enough. He needed to figure out his next move, not find another stop-gap, but what came out of his mouth instead was, “Thanks. I appreciate the offer—”

“One of the projects is the old Browning place.”

“Oh yeah?”

Longfoot nodded. “I bought it. We’re salvaging and rehabbing as much as possible. Stop by the job site next time you’re down that way. I don’t guarantee beer and porn these days, but I guarantee you’ll take a trip down memory lane.”

He never considered himself particularly nostalgic about his childhood, so the allure of the invitation surprised him. The impulse to load Virginia into the passenger seat of the Jeep and take a drive out to the Browning farm some free evening surprised him, too. He could picture her sitting beside him, a breeze ruffling her hair. A nice visual. Too bad it could never happen. In deference to her desire to keep things between them under the radar, he always came to her place after dark, parked down the street, and left well before dawn.

“What if I bring the beer and porn?”

Tyler grinned. “Then you’ll be the most popular visitor we’ve had so far.”

…

Something soft brushed over the bare skin along the inside of Ginny’s arm. Since her wrists were tied to her bedposts, there wasn’t much she could do to protect the vulnerable flesh.

“Go for a drive with me Friday evening.”

Shaun’s voice teased the tiny hairs in her ear canal, but the pillowcase he’d knotted around her eyes like a blindfold prevented her from seeing him. He was resourceful with the bed linens. The SEALs would be proud.

The brush swept along the underside of her breast, and then up to her nipple. She gasped as tiny bolts of pleasure ravaged her nerve endings. “What?”

The wide, soft-bristled brush trailed down the center of her torso. She writhed under the torture.

“I like this thing.” He swept the brush up the same path he’d just traveled, and swirled it over her other nipple. “What’s it for?”

“Applying blush,” she managed, and then moaned as he feathered the mink bristles over her skin.

“I’m not even sure what that is. Tell you what, sweet Virginia, I’m going to use it to make you come.” To prove his claim, he stroked down her stomach and brushed her pubic hair. She dug her heels into the mattress and raised her hips. She couldn’t help herself.

“Now that’s a staggering sight.”

The soft fan feathered along her inner thigh. Up, up, up. She held her breath as he dabbed her most sensitive parts, and then painted her other thigh with the damp bristles.

“Please.”

The brush swirled over her center again, but this time he turned it around and used the thick, wooden end. He slid it into her, but before she could say a word about the unanticipated penetration, his tongue flicked over her clit.

“Oh, God.”

He rocked the handle into her, in quick, rhythmic strokes, as his mouth sucked her sanity away in long, deep pulls…sucked it right out of her body.

The brush disappeared. She had one bereft moment to cry his name before his hot, hard length filled the void. Her body clenched around him like a savior, and spiraled into ecstasy. In the midst of the chaos, he murmured something that sounded like, “Take a ride with me.”

The last aftershocks of an awe-inspiring orgasm rattled through her, and she wasn’t sure she heard him right. The blindfold loosened and fell away. She blinked her eyes open, and looked up at him. “Do what? When?”