The Sweetest September (Home in Magnolia Bend) (22 page)

“Did you go to school to be a farmer?”

He nodded, warming to the thought of her wanting to know about him and his passion for the land. “Sorta. I started out like most kids—majoring in business—but when a lot of graduating friends went to work at rent-a-car places, I looked hard at what I wanted. I loved living in Magnolia Bend. Since Rebecca and I were pretty serious, Hal steered me toward agriculture. I ended up with a masters, thinking that if things didn’t work out, I could work for an agriculture chemical company or do crop consulting.”

“So different from teaching.”

“Yeah, but I love being out there, love the challenge of trying new things. Farming is a science and a gamble. There’s something about that I love.”

“So you’re a risk taker.” She smiled.

“Most people think of farming as simplistic and benign, but at heart a farmer is a rebel, shaking his fist against nature while secretly on his knees praying. I love what I do.”

Shelby’s knees kept brushing his, reminding him that though they talked on the surface about generalities, underneath simmered a hunger he’d kept at bay far too long. The delicate turn of her wrist, the curve of her breast revealed in the snug dress and the way silken strands of hair caressed her neck at each turn of her head drove him to near distraction.

“So what will you do about Carla?”

That question threw ice water on his desire way more effectively than thinking about Mrs. Shipley and her bad breath.

“There’s nothing I can do about Carla. If she wants to hate our guts for...for...”

“Everyone hates guts. Think about it. Intestines and internal organs aren’t on the top ten list of things people like.”

“Only you,” he said, shaking his head. Again, she turned discomfort into amusement. “But she’s wrong about you. And me. We’re not going to allow her actions to color this new beginning.”

Shelby shrugged. “I don’t, but others will agree with her.”

Her words were true, and that alarmed him because he wanted her to stay. Once the truth about the baby was out, it would be harder. But the event in the bathroom that had created their baby was something altogether different than what heated the air between them tonight. That long ago night was about desperation, a need to feel comfort, a need to feel not so alone. But tonight was about fulfillment, about the need to be together.

“Do you want dessert?” he asked, changing the subject. He’d rather dance around what they would eventually face in order to get to what they would indulge in tonight.

Wrong or not, he wanted tonight with Shelby. Both of them needed to erase the booze-soaked desperation in their first hookup with tender, healing lovemaking.

“Do you want me to want dessert?” she countered.

“No.”

Shelby laughed. “Then get the check already.”

John paused, taking another sip of the watered-down bourbon. “We’re doing this.”

Shelby, the beautiful woman half the room couldn’t keep their eyes off, stilled. “Well, we can’t keep in a holding pattern. Eventually, we have to find out if what we have is worth it. Time to roll the dice on us. If we crap out, we crap out. But there’s a chance this could be something more than making do in bad circumstances. This could be...meant to be.”

Her words were ones he needed to hear.

John raised his hand and gestured to the waiter for the check. “Let’s grab the brass ring and go for broke.”

She smiled and it wasn’t the sassy, sexy grin she’d been giving him all evening. This one held warmth, perhaps even relief. “You have the money? ’Cause I ain’t cheap.”

He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a fifty-cent piece and flipped it to her.

Shelby turned it in her hand. “You actually brought it?”

“You know it’s just a joke, right?”

“Of course I do. Because if my body were for sale, it would be a helluva lot more than half a buck.”

“I’d take out a loan.”

“Damn straight,” she said, her eyes teasing him back.

He signed the check, pulled out her chair, inhaling the scent of her expensive perfume, and wondered about Shelby’s heart. She’d given it away several times before only to have it shattered. If her heart was up for grabs, the gift would be priceless.

He could accept her friendship, accept she would be the mother of his firstborn and accept her delectable body would be his tonight, but could he charge himself with safeguarding her heart?

She’d hinted he had the power to hurt her and that weighed on him. He was ready to move past grief, but was he really ready to fall in love again?

He didn’t know, and that itself was good reason enough to halt what was about to go down in the fancy suite at the Windsor Court Hotel.

But he’d rolled the dice, said he’d reach for the brass ring. The only way to know if he could love again was to move toward Shelby and pray he wasn’t screwing up.

With that thought, he placed his hand on Shelby’s waist and escorted her out of the restaurant.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

S
HELBY
FELT
LIKE
her dinner might make a reappearance. Not because she was sick. No, her nerves were going haywire. Somehow, John had gotten cold feet, or at least she felt he had. He’d grown still and thoughtful at the end of dinner and halfway into the cab ride, she wasn’t sure her sexy plan of seduction could work.

She might be ready to try for something more, but John had recently emerged from the shadows of grief. He might need more time...even if his kisses had said differently.

“We don’t have to do this,” she said.

His eyes widened, though it was barely perceptible in the dark cab. “I know we don’t.”

“Being with someone else is new to you. We shouldn’t rush it.”

“I want you.”

The cab driver nodded, obviously not shy about eavesdropping.

John gave the man a sharp look before continuing. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

Shelby glanced at the busy streets filled with people wearing party hats, carrying drinks and laughing as they ushered in a new year.

Hurt her? She’d already given him that power because she’d already fallen in love with him. It had happened slowly—over one of her inedible dinners or maybe standing with him in church on Christmas hearing him belt out a carol in a horrible off-key baritone. But the night in front of the Christmas tree had sealed it. So it didn’t really matter whether they made love all night or John slept on the suite sofa, the deed had been done. “I don’t want you to hurt me, either, but I won’t stand outside the fire because I’m afraid to get burned. Not a good way to live.”

He reached for her hand. “You’re a smart lady.”

“No, I’m a sucker for damaged guys. This had to happen. You’re my personal crack.”

“I’m trying to be the man you need me to be, but I can’t make promises.”

The cab pulled into the courtyard of the hotel and the driver pressed a few buttons on the meter, looked back over the seat and said, “I fulfilled my promise and got you to the Windsor. Remember, sometimes it’s not about the destination, it’s about the ride. That’ll be $8.50.”

Shelby slid from the cab, waiting as John paid the driver for the ride and unsolicited advice. After closing the door, he pulled her to him. “Our cab driver’s brilliant.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s he driving a cab and not performing heart surgery down the road? He’s a guy. He wants you to get laid.”

John laughed. “I gave him an extra ten dollars to say that thing about the ride.”

“You did not.”

“Okay, I didn’t, but it’s not bad advice. Tonight, let’s fix what happened in Boots Grocery.”

Shelby couldn’t help but smile. “So no more doubts? You’re up for the challenge?”

“
Up
is the key word,” he joked.

And just like that, the night went from uncertain to promising again. No more worrying about what the future would hold. “Then we better get upstairs.”

He took her hand and pulled her into a kiss. His lips covering hers were a sweet invitation, telling her how much he wanted her.

“Hurry,” he whispered after breaking the kiss. “It will be midnight in an hour, and I know the perfect way to welcome the new year.”

Minutes later, they stood before the French doors framing the Mississippi River wrapped in each other’s arms, dancing to jazz music filtered in through the expensive sound system. Champagne had awaited them, and Shelby had had a teeny sip, toasting the New Year that would ring in while she and John were busy doing other stuff.

The light in John’s eyes as she clinked her glass against his promised good things.

“I’m so glad we did this, Shelby,” he whispered into her ear, his breath soft and warm. He’d taken off his navy suit coat and rolled up the white shirtsleeves, revealing strong, tanned arms. His untied tie hung forgotten around his neck, his shirt collar open to the pulse in his strong throat. He took her glass and set it next to his before gathering her in his arms again, swaying to the sensuous saxophone.

Shelby laid her head on his shoulder and John’s mouth moved to the sweet spot just beneath her ear, sliding down to the curve of her neck.

“You taste good,” he said, his hands rucking up the fabric as he teased the back of her thighs. Shelby fisted her hands in his shirt, holding him to her. Tilting her head, she gave him the access he demanded with the nudge of his head against her jaw.

Shelby opened her eyes and the Greater New Orleans Bridge spanning the city tilted as John lifted her into his arms. “Oh.”

“No more waiting. I want you naked and spread out on that bed,” he said, stepping through the double doors leading to the bedroom. She teetered a bit in her heels when he set her down, but his arms came around her. The room was dark, but the window framing the moon gave enough light to see the intensity on his face.

Shelby unbuttoned John’s shirt, sliding her hands beneath the fabric to the T-shirt and warmth beneath, savoring the hard planes beneath her hands. “I never got to touch you that night.”

“We have plenty of time to make up for what we missed,” he whispered, catching her lips before easing the shirt from his shoulders, tossing it behind him. Next, he tugged off his T-shirt, revealing a torso hewn from long days in the fields. Muscled arms cradled her, as she ran her hands down his chest with the soft furring all the way down to the trim waist. She tugged at his belt.

“Not yet,” he said, unpinning her hair. How he knew where the bobby pins were she didn’t know, but seconds later her hair tumbled over her shoulders. “There.” He sighed.

Shelby stepped back. Grasping the hem of her stretchy dress, she pulled the dress off, tossing it onto his discarded shirt, and stood before him in her demicup red lace bra, red garter and silk stockings. The rest of her was bared to him, including the neatly trimmed juncture his gaze zipped to.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed, reaching toward the floor lamp and turning the knob. A soft glow filled the darkness. “You’re incredible.”

Shelby moved to toe off the high-heeled pumps, but he made a noise of opposition.

“Can you leave them on?” he asked.

“Fantasy?”

“You have no idea,” he said, and unhooked her bra. Before she got pregnant, she was easily a D cup. Pregnant, she was absolutely a double D. Her breasts fell free, lush and tipped with hard nipples.

“Holy—”

“Shit?” she finished for him, with a smile. Cupping her breasts, she smiled. “They’re sensitive so be nice to them.”

His hands replaced hers, cupping each one as his eyes took her in. “Just gorgeous. So very gorgeous.”

Shelby closed her eyes, swaying against him as he lowered his head and sucked one breast into the heat of his mouth. Pleasure poured over her. “Oh.”

“Mmm,” he murmured back, his mouth causing liquid heat to flood her center. Her knees gave and she sagged against him.

He lifted her, maneuvering her toward the bed. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she fell. He made a sound of displeasure as her breast popped free of his mouth. But since she fell gracelessly, sprawling with breasts jiggling and legs half-splayed, he didn’t complain long.

“I’ve never seen anything as sexy as you, Shelby Mackey,” he said, as his eyes traced every square inch of her body. She propped herself up on her elbows, but left herself wantonly splayed in her garter belt, stockings and heels, because here stood a man who’d not had a woman since that night in the bathroom...and that had been a disaster.

She knew the power of her body. She was made for sex, and if she hadn’t been such a good girl and so dedicated to being a teacher, she could have made a killing as a lingerie model...or porn star. So, no, she lay just as she was, spread out on the uppity French silk bed, a kinky fantasy for a farm boy.

She heard the clink of his belt. He moved fast, kicking out of his pants and shucking tented boxers. Then, man oh man, she discovered the gherkin theory was shot. She dropped back and opened her arms to him and said, “Silver lining on the pregnancy thing? We don’t need a condom.”

And then he covered her, tugging her legs so they fit on either side of his hips. His mouth found hers, his tongue insistent.

He made guttural sounds in the back of his throat that revved her blood. She thrust her hips upward, trying to establish the rhythm she so desperately craved, but he clasped her hips, holding her still.

“Not yet,” he said as he broke the kiss and moved his mouth down her neck. Hot and wet, he seared a path to her breast, taking several minutes to worship the lushness.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, sliding his mouth down her breastbone to the rounded belly. He dropped a dozen kisses there, even dipping his tongue into her belly button and making her squeal. “You’re just what I need.”

And then he moved down, sliding his hands beneath her bottom, nuzzling her pubic bone with his nose. His mouth dotted kisses across her pelvis before he lifted her bottom, using his shoulders to spread her legs wide. He lifted his head, eyes dilated. “I believe I owe you a little something for my bad manners that night at Boots.”

Shelby opened her mouth, but it was too late because he lowered his head and she couldn’t even think how to put words together much less speak as he did wonderful, magical things with his mouth. Before long, she shattered against him, hands fisted in his hair as she rode the sweetest orgasm she’d had in quite a while, and then damned if she didn’t have another one so excruciatingly pleasurable she could hardly catch her breath.

“Enough,” she said, tugging his hair.

He looked up, sex-drugged green eyes, that little white scar on his chin, a grin as big as the harvester he used to cut sugarcane. “Better than last time?”

Shelby struggled to sit up. “Total A game, farmer.”

He shimmied up, dropping a kiss atop each breast before wedging himself between her legs. His mouth caught hers and he tasted like sex and determination. He didn’t rush her, seemingly content to use his body as a tool to reawaken the need within her. His erection lay hard and heavy at the juncture of her thighs, and John rocked his hips so that he teased her slick entrance. Mission accomplished.

“Please, John,” she said, looking up at him.

His eyes looked almost sleepy, as if he were lost in some other plane of consciousness, but his body responded. With the slightest dip of his hips, he slid inside, filling her. Shelby’s head bucked, grinding into the pillows, in an immediate response to the pleasure of being claimed by him.

“Oh,” she moaned, her hand snapping up to grab the pillow behind her.

“Mmm,” he agreed.

He established a strong rhythm that increased in intensity as the seconds raced by, grasping her hips, tilting and lifting her so he hit that perfect spot.

Tension gathered again within her, building toward a huge crescendo. Shelby wrapped her arms around John’s neck, opening her eyes so she could watch him. He moved above her, his muscles taut, his face screwed in concentration as he drove them toward climax. She’d never seen anything so sexy in her life. He was beautiful, long, lean, his hardness such contrast to her softness. Something about the thought of his sheer masculinity made her dizzy with desire. She arched her back and angled her hips so he went deeper and then...she exploded.

“Ahhh,” she cried, arching back, her hands twisting in the sheet. John made a noise that sounded nearly as painful and then joined her, pumping into her body, head thrown back.

Seconds later, he collapsed atop her, breathing hard, sheened in the only perspiration that was remotely sexy. After a few seconds, he rolled over, taking her with him.

“Whoa, that was good,” she whispered, her head snug against his throat. She kissed the racing pulse and melted into him, completely worthless for anything. For at least a good thirty minutes.

“Beyond good.”

She smiled against his skin. “I’ll have to give you that fifty-cent piece back.”

The rumble of laughter in his chest warmed her. “I didn’t even have to work for it.”

She pinched him. “Are you saying I’m easy?”

“No, I’m saying that was all for me, baby.”

For several seconds, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms. Then she moved. “I really want to take my shoes off.”

John lifted his head, looking down at her legs on either side of his body. “I forgot you were being my fantasy girl.” He gently lifted her off, before rising and padding toward the bathroom. He brought her back a damp washcloth and then pulled on his boxers.

Shelby kicked off the pumps and made short work of postcoital cleanup, sliding off the silk hose and garter and tugging on the shirt John had abandoned. Turning, she caught him standing near the window, staring into the glittering night outside.

She tiptoed up behind him and looped her arms around his waist, following his gaze to the sparkling world gathered around the dark river. “It’s not midnight yet. We can still go on the balcony and catch the fireworks.”

“We’ve already had fireworks,” he said, pulling her around and cradling her backside against him. He set his chin on the top of her head. “I’m so glad we did this.”

“I am, too. Pregnancy does weird things to your body, and I’ve been strangely turned on in my dreams and at the strangest times of day. Weird urges. I needed that so I wouldn’t go humping fence posts or buying multiple packs of personal massagers at the pharmacy in town.”

He laughed and she liked the way it felt against her. “I can’t even imagine the talk that would generate.”

“About you,” she teased, twisting in his arms. “People would be saying, ‘Look at John Beauchamp. Got a loose woman up there at Breezy Hill and he can’t even satisfy her.’”

John lowered his head, dropping a kiss on the bridge of her nose. “I managed.”

“Oh, you more than managed,” she said as she rose on her toes to kiss the sweet dip at the base of his throat.

He kissed her, wrapping her tight against him. Soon the gentle kiss sparked something deeper. He broke the kiss and looked down at her with a teasing grin. “Wanna make some more fireworks?”

“Don’t you have a refractory period?”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t had sex in forever, well, outside of the ‘wham, bam, I’m sorry ma’am’ we had a few months back. I’ve been ready to go for the last five minutes.”