Rhyannon Byrd - Waiting For It (4 page)

She looked back at Jake to find him watching her, a strange expression of hunger and tenderness burning in his eyes. “How do you know I did this?” Her voice held a subtle note of suspicion. “Maybe I bought it somewhere.”

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but notice that his smile looked just a tad guilty. Her eyes narrowed, but Jake only laughed and said, “Just because I barely talked to you doesn’t mean I didn’t watch you like a hawk. You always had a sketchbook under your arm and paint on your fingers.”

Her lips twitched. “Are you by any chance calling me an art geek?”

Jake held up his hands in surrender. “Art goddess, honey.” His smile widened. “Definitely a goddess.”

She shook her head at his outrageousness. “I still could’ve bought this painting from another artist. I might not even paint anymore.”

Jake snorted, taking a long look around the beautiful kitchen. “Living in a place like this? I’m not buying it. No way in hell could you afford this on Mitch’s sheriff’s salary. I’d say you’re not only still painting, sweetheart, but that you’re making a shit load of money at it.”

“Maybe I’m a scorching day trader,” she countered, but her eyes were shining with laughter.

He took a step closer, and then another. “Yeah, and maybe I’m a ballerina.”

Her brows lifted in mock surprise. “You don’t think I look like a scorching day trader, Jake?”

His eyes did another blazing inspection of her body, ending on her lush, petal soft lips. “I think you look like you could be anything you wanted to be,Taylor.”

And fuckable. You look very, very fuckable. “But I already know you painted it, ‘cause I recognize your style.”

Uh-oh. “Yeah? Did you used to sneak peeks at my sketchbook when I wasn’t looking?”

“Naw, I just used to snake the ones you’d given to Mitch outta his room. Used to piss the hell out of

him.”

“I always wondered what happened to all those sketches,” she admitted in a quiet voice, her eyes

softening to a warm, liquid brown. “Mitch said he lost them or they’d gotten thrown away.”

Jake moved forward, only a few remaining feet separating them. “I still have them, Taylor,” he admitted with that small, crooked smile of his. “I even had them framed and hung them all over my house.”

Oh, Jesus, she didn’t know what to say. All that would come out was a soft, breathless, “Jake,” and they could both hear the heartache and need in his name.

He rubbed his hands together, then shoved them back in his pockets, the front ones this time, before he did something stupid and grabbed her again. “Hell, I’m going to go now, while I still can. I’ll be back at six to pick you up and we’ll grab dinner somewhere.” His breath expelled on a harsh sigh. “Some place nice and crowded so I know I won’t be able to grope you. That way maybe we’ll be able to get everything said first.”

“And then what?” The minute the words left her mouth, she wanted to die. She sounded far too  anxious about what they were going to be doing after they ate dinner together. And Jake was studying  her with the hungry anticipation of a man looking forward to a juicy steak after years of nothing but  bread and water. Should she warn him she was more of the saltines variety, bland and dry and  uninspiring?

But then again, just looking at him made her feel wet and needy and deliciously warm.

His killer smile flashed this time, the same one that had made all the girls chase after him when they were younger. It was just as potent. Still just as dangerous to her equilibrium.

“Then I get to grope you.” Yeah, then I get to cram you full of my cock and we can spend the rest of

our lives fucking like minks.

Taylorsmiled despite herself. “You always did have a way with words, Jake Farrell.”

Oh babe, he thought.
If you only knew.

“Gimme a break here, all right,” he teased, shaking his head at his own inability to be smooth around  the one woman he’d always wanted to smooth-talk. “It’s hard to be witty and cool when all your  blood’s rushing outta one head and into the other.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh this time. When was the last time she’d felt like this? Had she ever felt like this? No, nothing in life had ever come close to being near this man. Not even winning the prestigious  Caldecott Medal, her most prized moment, the only thing in her life until now that had given it substance and validation. But Jake could give it meaning, if he’d let her love him. It was a foolish thought, but one she couldn’t help entertaining. A girl had to have her dreams or she just shriveled up and died, didn’t she? And her dream had always been Jake.

Maybe it was time to just dive in and grab hold of him. If she didn’t, wasn’t she going to hate herself for the rest of her life, knowing she’d just let him walk away from her a second time? Hadn’t she always known, deep down inside in that sweet place of dreams and longing and intuition that he was going to walk back into her life one day, claiming what was his? And it was her. She was his. She always had been. It was just Mitch who had always stood between them, and now he was gone.

“Do you like Italian?” she heard herself ask. It was amazing she was able to sound so calm when her  heart was racing, pounding with need and anticipation. “Angelo opened a restaurant over in Pressmore,  off ofChester. It’s lovely if you’d like to go there.”

“Angie? I can’t believe he’s hung around here all these years.”

“He married Sandy Fuller and they’ve stayed here ever since. They have five kids and she’s pregnant

with their sixth.”

Jake shook his head in amused horror, thinking of the hulking tight end who used to swear he’d never settle down. “Damn, that bastard’s been busy.”

The corner ofTaylor’s mouth lifted. “Yeah, well, so hasSandy.”

And just like that they fell into another one of those weird silences, just staring at each other like they wanted to eat the other person alive. The sexual tension arcing between them could’ve powered the whole blasted town it was so electric. It was a giving, living force that moved from one to the other, gaining intensity with each rebound. A charged, pulsing glow that she could feel raising the baby fine hairs along her body. She was even sweating despite the early morning chill still in the air.

She broke before he did, cringing when she heard herself suddenly ask, “What are you going to do today?”

Holy cow! Where in the hell did that come from? It was so strange, this possessive little bug creeping beneath her skin that didn’t want to let him out of her sight. She’d never felt it before, not even with  Mitch. He’d always been more of everyone else’s before he’d ever been hers, not that she’d ever really wanted him. But Jake had been gone for over a year when Mitch proposed, and her domineering mother had pushed her to settle for what she could get. God, she’d been so incredibly stupid. So miserably stupid and young and naïve.

If she’d ever asked Mitch what his plans were, he’d have told her to mind her own business. Jake just smiled though, as if he could see straight through her and knew she wanted him to stay with her. As if he wanted the same thing, or really wanted to drag her along with him. He looked so cocky and self-assured and arrogantly pleased by such a stupid little question.

“I’m going to drive out to Pressmore and check into the Hilton they have over there, then drop by my  uncle’s place. I haven’t talked to him since he tracked me down two days ago to tell me he’d heard you  and Mitch were divorced. Then I’m going to pace my hotel room waiting till it’s time to come pick you  up.”

“Oh.”

Oh? What was it with her and these stupid comebacks? The man was going to think she was an idiot if she didn’t start stringing more words together. Problem was, it was hard to get your tongue to work right when it kept wanting to hang out of your mouth and pant like a dog. She wanted him so bad she could practically taste it.

Who was she kidding? She wanted to taste it—every single beautiful, muscled inch of him!

And what was he talking about? Why had his uncle had to track him down? Why had he thought Jake would even care she was divorced in the first place? And what in the hell was she supposed to do now?

“I mean—” She broke off, shifting from foot to foot, her whole body itching with need. She wanted to  rub up against him like a cat, stroking her body against his own, skin to skin, and scratch this itch once  and for all.

Mmm. Wow. Jake Farrell as a boy had been her ideal, but looking at him all grown up was almost too good to be true. “What I mean is—why don’t we talk now?” she asked, knowing her voice was getting huskier by the second. “I trust you to be able to control yourself.”

“That makes one of us,” Jake muttered, his eyes dropping to her chest again, fascinated by the sight of  her nipples poking against the starched white cotton of her shirt. How in the fuck was he supposed to  control himself when he knew she wanted him, was getting aroused, was probably already nice and  wet? Shit, he couldn’t do it. He had to get the hell outta there.

“No. I’m not going to rush you right into this,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, barely holding  himself together. “We’re going to do it right, damn it, because after tonight, there’s no going back,  Taylor. I’ve waited too long for this. I want you to be right there with me, with everything out in the  open. No secrets, no lies. Just you and me and everything else that’s going to come later on.”

Like marriage and family and staying together till we die, he thought. Hell, even death wasn’t going to keep him away from this woman. He needed to give her this last day to come to grips with what he’d just landed at her dainty feet. But that was all the fair warning he was willing to give.

She nodded in fascinated agreement, clearly not knowing what to make of him. Probably not believing a word he said.

“And for God’s sake, don’t wear anything too sexy or I’ll lose it and all my good intentions will fly

right out the fucking window.”

“I, um, think you’ll be safe.” She tucked a glossy strand of hair behind her ear and sent him a wry

smile. “I seriously doubt I own anything a man like you would find sexy.”

Jake ground his jaw, unleashing a frustrated groan. “Hell, you don’t have a clue, babe.” His eyes flicked over her casual clothes, lingering on all the sweet spots. “You’re not even showing me any skin and I’m already aching. Just try to have mercy on me, okay?”

Big brown eyes blinked in awe. “Uh, okay.”

He looked like he wanted to kiss her again, but forced himself to the door instead. Once there, he turned back, treating her to another long, lingering, hungry look. “And Taylor,” he growled, unable to tear his eyes from her denim covered crotch.

“Yes?”

“Pack a bag, honey. We’ll come back for everything else later.”

Chapter 4

Taylor’s heart nearly jumped out of her throat when the first knock sounded. Yikes! It was only a quarter to! The blasted man was fifteen minutes early on the most important night of her life. How could he? It was unforgivable, she thought desperately, running around her bedroom wearing nothing but her brand new, midnight-blue lace bra and panties set and a light brushing of make-up. She wanted—no, needed—to look her absolute best and here she was not even dressed yet!

Running to the window—the one that looked out over the bougainvillea covered, latticed arch of her front doorway—Taylor looked down through the diamond openings and violet blooms to see him raising his fist for another round of shake-the-walls-down knocking. He looked too sexy to be real, wearing soft, faded khakis, a hunter green polo, and brown work boots. Oh, God. She wanted to wring his neck for being early and throw herself all over him for looking so delicious all at the same time.

His fist lifted to knock again, and she could see from the set of his broad shoulders that he was starting to get worried. Did he think she’d run off? Stood him up? Hah! She may feel sick to her stomach with excitement, but she wasn’t a moron. If Jake Farrell wanted to use her for a night, or a fling, or whatever the hell he wanted, she wasn’t going to argue. She didn’t for one moment believe he wanted anything emotional from her, but she was willing to take what she could get and wring it of pleasure.

Actually, she was going to grab hold with both hands and hang on for as long as she could, then live with the heart-stopping memories for the rest of her life.

She’d cherish them.

Savor them.

Survive on them.

The next round of vigorous knocking jolted her out of her lovesick stupor. She quickly wrapped her champagne satin robe around her and threw open the window. “Jake, I’m here,” she called down, feeling like an idiot for letting him knock for so long. Where in God’s name had her mind been? On  Jake, that’s where. She clutched the robe tight across her chest as he stepped back off the porch, far enough to see her over the flower-covered arch. “I’m, um, sorry, but I’m not ready yet.” Then, with a pointed stare, she muttered, “You’re early.”

Jake’s eyes moved over her like a brush on canvas. They stroked her skin, painting her with beauty—making her feel like a sexy, desirable woman for the first time in her life. She flushed again, wondering if she was always going to look sunburned around the man. Thank God she’d gone easy on the blusher or she might start looking like Wanda, and then she’d have to kill herself. There wouldn’t be any other option.