Tempt Me Tonight (3 page)

“Don’t kill me,” Debbie begged next to her, voice quiet. “I didn’t know, I swear.”

Trish switched her gaze to her friend and spoke low, through clenched teeth. “Too bad. You’re dead.”

Debbie tried to look hopeful, although her eyes were still bolted open too wide. “You look great, though—if it helps.”

Trish glanced down at her capri pants and sandals, fleetingly wishing she’d paid more attention to what she wore tonight. Not that she cared what Joe Ramsey thought. She most certainly didn’t. But thank God she at least had on a pretty top that showed a little cleavage.

At the other end of the bar, Joe set his beer down and leisurely pushed to his feet. Wow. If the profile had been good, the full frontal was no less than devastating. A snug white T-shirt bearing the Porsche logo stretched across his chest. He was bigger than in high school—not muscle-bound, but the kind of guy you knew could win a bar fight hands down and probably
had
won a few. And his eyes—oh God, his eyes were still just as blue, even from across the room. She stood frozen in place as he moved toward her, trying like hell to look as confident as she’d planned before coming inside. Of course, that had been before Joe.

His gaze paralyzed her further. “Hey, cupcake.”

Damn, his voice had gotten deep. And the old pet name was almost enough to bury her.

“Hey,” she managed.
Why couldn’t you be fat and bald and ugly?
And why on earth hadn’t Debbie told her? Debbie had told her a considerable number of things about Joe over the years, but she’d neglected to mention that he’d turned out sizzling hot.

He looked to Debbie. “Deb.”

“Hey, Joe.” Debbie lifted a hand but looked uncomfortable, even though Trish knew Debbie saw him all the time.

The most gorgeous blue eyes God had ever made turned back to Trish, reminding her once more—this really
was
God’s country. “Been a while.”

A lifetime.
Are you thinking of it, too? That last night? Hell, that whole last summer. All that kissing and touching.
“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go talk to Kenny,” Debbie said in a rush, then flitted across the room before Trish could stop her. She firmly planned to murder Deb for leaving her, but she had bigger things to deal with at the moment.

“What brings you to town?” He spoke in so unhurried a manner that Trish thought she must have imagined his surprise at seeing her—he was utterly cool and collected, his every word somehow seductive.

She swallowed, trying to clear the nervous sludge from her throat. “Just here to help my parents with some legal issues.”

He tipped his head back lightly. “Heard they’re selling the diner.”

She nodded. “Retiring. They’ll just be running the farm now.” Her dad had always kept a herd of beef cattle in addition to running the restaurant on Main Street.

“So…Deb says you live in Indy.”

Another numb nod on her part.

“And you’re a lawyer, right? She said you work at a big firm downtown. Sounds like things turned out good for you.”

“Yeah.”
Although you wouldn’t know from my sparkling conversation that I have half a brain in my head.
Time to rectify that, act more like a normal person just running into an old…
friend.
“She tells me you bought Shermer’s Garage.” He’d always loved cars and had worked there repairing them in high school. It’s where he’d gotten the money for the used Trans Am.

He nodded. “I specialize in foreign makes now, though.”

Yeah, she knew that, too. Given that he was still Kenny’s best friend, it was impossible not to know things about him. Not that she’d asked. Okay, maybe she had. Occasionally. Just casually, whenever his name came up.

But she didn’t see any reason to act like she and Debbie sat around talking about him all the time, so she didn’t admit she knew. And she even considered telling him she was happy he’d done well for himself—but instead she simply forced a small smile and said, “That’s great. So…how’s your family?”

He shoved his hands in his front pockets and she cringed inside, remembering. His mom had died. Less than a year after Trish had left Eden. A bad car accident. She’d cried for him when she’d heard.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I mean, Debbie told me about your mom back when it happened.” For some reason, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes any longer—the topic was too awful, and she’d just tossed it carelessly out between them without meaning to.

“It’s okay, Trish—it was a long time ago.”

She raised her eyes automatically—it was the first time he’d said her name. She sighed, bit her lip, and tried to move on. “Your dad? Your sister? She must be all grown up now. How are
they?
”

“Dad lives in Florida—he remarried. And Jana just moved to Ohio. She got a job there and met a guy. She’s twenty-five now.” He didn’t look particularly happy about any of it, but Joe’s family life never
had
been particularly happy, and she regretted bringing it up.

Time to go. “Well…it was, uh, nice to see you.” She pointed absently toward the pool tables. “I’m gonna go catch up with Debbie and Kenny.”

She started to walk away—when a warm vise closed around her wrist, stopping her. She glanced down to see Joe’s large, tanned hand—and dear God, moisture surged between her thighs, just from that.

She jerked her gaze up to his, still deep blue and penetrating.

“It was nice to see you, too, cupcake.”

Their gazes held for another scintillating moment.

And then he let her go, and she was treading across the floor, but she didn’t feel it beneath her, didn’t feel the greetings suddenly being passed her way by old friends or the hug from Kenny—all she felt was Joe’s stare on her backside and the tingling sensation still pulsing in her panties. And there suddenly wasn’t a
bleck
to be found in her mind. Nope, it was all about
wow
now. And
mmm.
And maybe
ah.

And as she went about returning all the hellos and trying to make sure she called everyone by the right name as she answered questions about her job and her life, she kept hearing the words her father had imparted a very long time ago, when Joe had first kissed her in the bleachers at a basketball game and asked her to the fall dance.
That boy’s trouble. Pure trouble.

He’d been so right.
And in more ways than you even know, Dad.

Who’d have thought
now,
though, at the age of thirty-two, Joe Ramsey would still be dealing out trouble to her? Yet here it was—a
lustful
kind of trouble, and an innately
adult
kind of lust, filling her body with a more consuming need than she’d felt in…oh God, maybe ever. How the hell had
that
happened?

“Wanna play, Trish?” Kenny asked.

She flinched, but then saw he held up a pool cue. For a second, she’d had the crazy notion he could read her mind and knew she was thinking dirty thoughts about his best friend. She lifted a hand to wave off the cue. “No, no thanks—I’ll just watch.”

“Aw, come on—I’ve already beat on
these
two guys.” Wiping thinning blond hair off his forehead, he motioned to his previous opponents, the vaguely familiar one donning a John Deere T-shirt, and another guy wearing a Ford cap over scruffy brown hair. She began to feel a bit overdressed, even just in capris and a silky camisole. “And I beat all the girls
last
week. I need some new blood.”

She laughed lightheartedly but was secretly thinking—
No way in hell.
She’d never played pool in her life, so she wasn’t about to start now in a room where she already felt uncomfortable. “Well, if you’ve beat all of
them,
you’d definitely beat
me.
Afraid I’ll have to be a spectator.”

“I’ll
play you again, honey,” Debbie offered, wrapping both her arms around one of his. She smiled up at him so dreamily—still, after all this time—that Trish suffered a small twinge of wistful jealousy over their happiness.

Kenny touched his finger to the tip of Debbie’s nose. “I’ve got different games planned for you later, lambchop,” he said on a slightly intoxicated chuckle. “But you’re no competition when it comes to pool. I need to find somebody I’ve never beat before. New blood. Fresh meat.” He spread his arms to the bar at large, starting in with more bravado. “Come on, who wants to get their ass whipped in a friendly little game of pool?”

“You’ve never beat
me.
”

Trish looked up to see that Joe had ambled across the room to make his way into the crowd. Crap. She’d thought she’d escaped him. Now, as she studied him, she wondered if anyone could see the waves of pure desire radiating from her. Or the fact that she was starting to sweat. She wondered if her nipples were showing through.

That boy’s trouble.

Pure trouble.

Kenny was laughing uproariously. “I’ve beat you plenty, man. Probably a million times.”

Joe pulled back as if surprised, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You’ve had one too many, buddy. You’re thinking of somebody else.”

But Kenny shook his head, trying to hide his own smile. “Come on now—admit it. I’ve beat the hell out of you at least twenty times at this very table.”

And Trish realized that as much as things changed, they stayed the same. Back in high school, Joe and Kenny had shared a running joke where they each claimed to be superior at whatever sport or game or skill arose. And on it went.

“Nope. Give me that cue and I’ll prove it,” Joe said.

“Careful, guys,” Debbie chimed in. “There are witnesses tonight—we’ll all
see
who actually wins.”

“That’s the point,” Joe replied, snatching the stick from Kenny’s grasp and reaching for a square of chalk. “Pretty soon, these guys’ll be wanting to hang with
me
on Friday night.” He motioned to Kenny’s pool buddies, no longer holding in his grin—and dear God above, Trish had forgotten how powerful it shone at full wattage. Yow.

As Kenny racked the balls and Joe took another drink of his beer, Trish moved toward Debbie, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her aside. She’d just made a decision. For the good of her mental health. She couldn’t stay here and keep torturing herself. It was like watching them make those enormous slabs of fudge through a window at a candy shop—but being allergic to fudge. Why watch Joe Ramsey move around that pool table in those perfect blue jeans with that snake twitching on his arm every time he made a shot when he was a total impossibility in her life?

“What’s up?” Debbie asked, all innocence, lifting a finger to push her much-daintier-than-in-high-school glasses up her nose.

“I’m taking off.”

Debbie blinked. “We just got here. You haven’t even had a drink.”

Oh yeah,
that
was what she needed right now—alcohol in her system, something to blur her judgment. “I’m exhausted. It just hit me. And I really need to start looking over the requested contract changes for the diner. I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll plan that potato-hurling dinner you offered me. I don’t get a lot of potato-hurling in my world, so it’ll be good for me.”

Slowly, Debbie’s mouth unfurled into a suspicious grin, and Trish realized maybe she’d been talking a little too rapidly, over-explaining her departure. “Is it that horrible?” Debbie asked.

She played dumb. “Is
what
that horrible?”

“The effect he still has on you.”

Deciding denial was futile, Trish let out a short little conceding
harrumph.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Debbie tilted her head, still smiling. “About?”

“You know good and well what about.” She glanced back to the pool table in time to see Joe draw back his cue and break, the balls scattering with a clatter. As predicted, the snake on his arm rippled, and for some reason, it made her flinch between her legs.

Debbie no longer feigned ignorance. “I didn’t see the point. Didn’t figure you’d enjoy knowing he was God’s gift to women.”

True enough. Yet Debbie had never exactly been known for keeping anything to herself. “Maybe not, but…since when did you learn to keep secrets?”

Deb sighed. “Maybe I was just trying to look out for your feelings or something—ever think of that?”

“Oh.”

“And besides, the fact that Joe is God’s gift to women isn’t exactly a secret around here.”

Trish spoke quietly, voicing the thought that had just occurred to her. “I bet there are a lot, huh?”

“Women?”

Trish nodded.

And Debbie’s eyes grew predictably wide as she said, “Well,
yeah.
I mean, look at him. He practically has to beat them off with a stick.”

Trish looked—again. This time he was smiling as he said, “Four in the corner,” then plunked the solid purple ball easily in the pocket.

“Easy shot, compadre,” Kenny said. “Snake didn’t even dance.”

So Trish wasn’t the only one who’d noticed how
active
Joe’s tattoo could be. She turned back to Debbie. “Does he? Beat them off?”

Deb tilted her head. “Not really. Not that he tells me about his sex life, but…his bedpost definitely has a lot of notches.”

Swell.

Not that she knew why she cared. In fact, she didn’t. This was ridiculous. This whole
night
was ridiculous. “Well, anyway, I’m going. Tell Kenny I said bye and that we’ll visit longer later.”

Only Debbie grabbed her arm. Seemed
everybody
was grabbing her arm since she’d walked in here. “You shouldn’t go. It’ll look like you’re running.”

That’s because I am.
“I couldn’t care less.”

“Come on, Trish—don’t be this way. Get over the past.”

But the past wasn’t the problem. It was the present. The present lust thrumming through her veins and into her most sensitive areas. The present fear that if he touched her again, she’d dissolve. She’d
known
she should have refused Debbie’s invitation tonight. “I’m over it. That doesn’t mean I want to socialize with the guy.”

Debbie started in with a knowing, repetitive nod. “Oh, I think you’d like to socialize, all right. I think you’d like to socialize him right into bed.”