It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) (2 page)

No, Talmadge hadn’t known she existed. Except for that one time seven years, three months, and twelve days ago.

Pressed between them, Lloyd yapped at Talmadge, who loosened his hold on Miranda but didn’t let go.

“The dog needed a potty break.” Miranda glanced at the trembling dog folded under her arm.

Talmadge’s mouth curved just a tad. “That’s a dog?”

“Um, yes. He’s a poodle.”

Surprise flared in Talmadge’s expression. “That’s a
he
?”

Lloyd’s trembling slowed to a quiver. Like her stomach every time she looked at Talmadge Oaks.

A glint of mischief danced in his eyes. “It looks like something you found in a trap nibbling on a piece of cheese.”

“He belonged to your grandmother.”

Talmadge’s brows slid together. His stare flitted to the dog, then back to her.

“His name is Lloyd,” Miranda explained. “As in Frank Lloyd Wright.”

Talmadge’s eyes softened.

Which turned Miranda into a blubbering idiot.

“Because Frank Lloyd Wright’s work is what inspired you to become an architect, and Bea said you used to study his projects in a book she gave you, and . . . um, yeah.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Miranda almost made the sign of the cross. Instead she pulled her lip between her teeth and bit down to shut herself up.

“I didn’t know Bea got a dog.” That almost-smile that never quite formed into a full-on grin and always seemed to hold a hint of sadness appeared on his lips, and Talmadge stared at Lloyd like he’d missed an important detail.

The bright blue bows in each of Lloyd’s ears trembled in unison with his whimpers. When he pawed at Miranda’s arm, his blue nail polish shimmered against the afternoon sun.

“She needed a companion since your grandpa’s been gone and you stopped coming home.” Miranda bit down on her lip again and nearly drew blood.

The hint of a smile on Talmadge’s lips melted away, and something flashed in his eyes, turning them darker. He released her and took a step back.

Dang.
Apparently some things never changed. Every time she was around Talmadge Oaks, her IQ somehow dropped to the level of a rock, vanishing along with her self-restraint. Good thing she hadn’t spent a lot of time with him in the past. And even better that she didn’t plan on spending any with him in the future.

Miranda Cruz wasn’t a bouncy, gum-smacking kid anymore.

That fact had been hard to ignore ever since Talmadge first saw her standing in front of his grandmother’s casket, tears flowing and black pants clinging. Every swipe at the wetness on her soft cheeks distracted him from her killer body and made him focus more on the woman she’d become. There for his grandmother when he wasn’t. Even hosting the wake to honor Bea’s memory and offer support to everyone at the funeral.

Except him.

Miranda Cruz was hard to ignore, period.

Impossible now that he’d walked outside to enjoy a few minutes alone in the frosty mountain air and had been greeted by her black panties and a firm, round bottom that would fit nicely in the palm of his hand.

“I mean it’s none of my business that you stopped coming to visit Bea.” Miranda plowed on, her unusual gold-brown eyes widening at her own words. “Um, I just meant she loved the dog, and she missed you.” Her teeth caressed her bottom lip.

She turned her full attention to the shivering rat-dog, who apparently had belonged to his grandmother. Another detail in Bea’s life she’d left out, always so careful not to make him feel guilty about his infrequent visits home. Always so mindful to not seem lonesome, even though she’d obviously been lonely enough to get a dog.

The secure, self-reliant mask Miranda had worn all day evaporated. Her free hand went to the hem of her sweater, and she tried to pull it down in the back.

Talmadge curbed a smile. From what he’d seen, she’d need a knee-length robe to cover the gaping hole in her pants. Not that he minded the view.

“Sure.” Talmadge let that one word hang in the air. She looked at him as though she expected more. He just gave her a lazy stare, which made her sink her straight, white teeth deep into that pink lip.

He pointed to Lloyd. “You sure he’s not a rat? Bea didn’t see all that well the past few years.”

“How would you know?” Miranda blurted. “I mean, you haven’t been home, so . . .” Her big brown eyes slid shut for a beat.

He didn’t care what Miranda Cruz thought of him.

He didn’t.

The burning in his stomach was probably indigestion.

“I called Bea every week.” Why the hell was he explaining himself? “And I called Uncle Joe to get insider information because Bea always said she was fine.” Bea understood how demanding and important Talmadge’s environmental projects were. How hard it was for him to come back to Red River and face the memories of his parents. How he needed to give something back to the world. She just never knew exactly why.

Success had a price. Being an international leader in sustainable green architecture didn’t leave much time for visits to Red River. Bea never put a guilt trip on him, never made him feel like he’d deserted her. Hell, she was proud of his accomplishments.

Yeah, he’d just keep telling himself that.

Now that Bea was gone, he didn’t owe anyone else an explanation. “Calling was the best I could do because of all the building projects I’ve had going on.”

Dammit.

His free hand involuntarily went to the deep, radiating ache in his shoulder and he rubbed.

He cursed his inability to stay off a building site and let the contractors do their jobs. But he had a financial stake in the Trinity Falls project—a big one—and letting others do all the labor wasn’t his style. He was a roll-up-your-sleeves-and-get-’er-done kind of guy. The on-site work was the fun part. Watching his designs take shape and come to life, even swinging a hammer once in a while, made his job so much more worthwhile and personal.

The sweat of hard physical labor required to construct his environmental building projects eased the regret of all he’d destroyed in his selfish youth.

Miranda held up a palm. “You don’t have to explain.”

Damn straight he didn’t. “I just thought you should know that I didn’t abandon my grandmother.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Miranda studied the dog as though she didn’t know what to say. Well, hell. He didn’t know what to say either, now that she had firmly established what a crummy grandson he was.

“Sorry about your arm.” She pointed to the sling. “I saw the accident on the news.”

Who hadn’t? The footage of the ground caving in on him while he directed the heavy earthmoving equipment in the first phase of the Trinity Falls development had been broadcast around the country. Was still airing on most channels in the Pacific Northwest just for shock value.

“You’re lucky.”

Right. Lucky. That was his middle name. Lucky that the engineering firm he’d hired to assess the feasibility of Trinity Falls had used cheap equipment and missed the existence of ancient tribal ruins before Talmadge had sunk his entire fortune into the project? Lucky that he’d staked his professional reputation on a project that was about to ruin him? Or maybe she thought he was lucky for losing his grandmother during the most difficult time of his professional life.

“I mean, that tractor, crane thingy—”

“Excavator,” he said flatly.

She flinched at the harsh edge of his tone. “Um, yeah. That excavator could’ve killed you. It fell right on top of you.” She fidgeted with the bows in the dog’s fluffy ears. “At least that’s what it looked like on the news.”

It
should’ve
killed him. No
could’ve
to it. And he didn’t really want to talk about it.

“So the rat-dog,” he said. “He looks pretty skittish.”

A dimple appeared on each cheek when Miranda smiled, and the iciness in Talmadge’s heart thawed.

“Maybe we should feed him cheese instead of the expensive dog food Bea usually bought.” She gave a small, throaty laugh.

He remembered that laugh. And the dimples. Definitely the dimples. And the way her glossy lips shimmered under the afternoon sun as she spoke made Talmadge go still. They were just so nice and pink. And ripe like a juicy piece of fruit he’d like to taste.

And for a second, time stood still.

She drew in a deep breath of fresh mountain air. Even under the heavy sweater, he couldn’t help but notice how her full breasts swelled.

The creaking chairlift passed overhead and the chatter of two skiers drifted down to them.

He gave himself a silent kick in the pants, and Miranda looked away, clearing her throat. He was pretty sure getting turned on at a funeral was inappropriate. Although Bea probably would have cheered him on. She had sung Miranda’s angelic praises during every weekly phone call since they’d become such good friends the past few years.

If only Bea had known how well he and Miranda really did know each other.

“Well, I suppose he’s your rat now.” Miranda pulled at the back hem of her sweater again and closed the space between them to hand him the . . . uh,
dog.

“Oh, no.” Talmadge took a step back and shook his head. No way was he getting stuck with a pet to take care of. “I can’t take care of a dog. Can’t he stay with you? I have a life.” Okay, that might have come out wrong.

Her mouth tightened, and she gave him a glare as sharp as broken glass. “Of course, nothing I have to do in this Podunk town could be important, right?”

Definitely came out wrong. Always had when he was around Miranda.

He drew in a breath. “I won’t be in town for long.” Now that the biggest and financially riskiest project of his career had ground to a halt, he had to get back to Washington and figure out a solution before all of his investors pulled out. “When I go home, I won’t really be
home
. I’ll spend most of my time on the jobsite.”

The smile she flashed at him matched the defiant look in her eyes about as well as a male dog matched bows and nail polish. Only the lightning-fast pulse that beat where neck met shoulder gave away her nervousness. Her hitched-up chin and proud, level stare hid it well.

“Since you think he looks like a rat, he’ll make a great pet for you. A perfect match, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.” He stared down at her. She was a breath away. Close enough that her sweet and savory scent made blood rush from his head to his groin.

Still holding out the dog to him, her eyes narrowed, and an inexplicable thrill of challenge bolted through him. The same thrill he got every time he was faced with a new environmental building project the experts said couldn’t be done.

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need your permission to speak,” she said.

“Still just as sassy as I remember.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and his eyes wandered over her pretty face.

A breeze kicked up, sending a chill all the way to his bones in Red River’s high mountain altitude. Miranda shivered against the cold blast of air, and the tiny dog wiggled, trying to escape from her grasp. She lunged forward to catch him just as Talmadge did the same. They collided, his good arm sliding around her waist again to steady her.

Sandwiched between them, Lloyd whimpered. At least he’d helped save the dog from falling even if Miranda was trying to level him with a badass stare.

He should let her go.

But hell no. She felt too right against him. His head dipped, and he inhaled a big dose of the tasty scent of her perfume . . . or soap . . . or shampoo . . . or whatever made her smell so delicious that his mouth watered like a Pavlovian dog.

Not smart.

That had gotten him neutered once before. His balls were probably still mounted on Miranda’s wall like a trophy she’d taken down on safari.

But having her so close surprisingly eased the ache of sadness over losing the only mother figure he’d ever really known. And the guilt over having left Bea behind to save the world, one environmentally conscious building at a time.

Miranda pulled out of his embrace, her long, silky hair bouncing around her shoulders. He instantly regretted letting her go. Her warmth drained away from him, replaced by coldness both in his limbs and around his heart. The ache in his chest and his shoulder throbbed even more, or at least it seemed to, without her softness pressed against him.

She clutched for the backside of her split pants, no doubt trying to cover herself. Waste of time, because that part of her very feminine anatomy was forever burned into his memory. Had been long before today. Ever since that one time . . . her first time . . . and the only time for him that was worth remembering.

C
hapter
T
wo

“Lloyd is yours now.” Miranda tried to hand Lloyd to Talmadge again, but he took another step back. She splayed a hand across the gaping hole in her pants. Dang, it was cold out.

“No. He’s not.” Talmadge absently rubbed his shoulder. “I can’t take care of a dog.”

“He’s sweet, but I can’t take care of him right now either.” The renovations, a contractor who rarely showed up for work, and a dwindling bank account occupied every minute of every day. She was running short on both time and money. If the Closed sign in the window didn’t turn to Open soon, she’d end up right back at Joe’s waiting tables for the rest of her life.

Fear sliced through her.

More tears of grief threatened.

She beat them back, because as much as she missed Bea, she would not show weakness to anyone in this town again. She’d weathered the fiery looks of condescension and the gossip from a certain group of Red River’s population because of her mother’s reputation. She wasn’t about to go weak and needy now that she was so close to her dream of independence. Or her dream of becoming a respectable business owner and proving that she was nothing like her mother.

Two skiers slid past and disappeared behind the crop of evergreens, heading toward the lodge. Miranda turned away so they couldn’t see her butt. Which meant her butt was pointing toward Talmadge.
Sheee-ut!
She spun back around to face him. Why couldn’t he just go away? Leaving hadn’t been a problem for him in the past. At the very least, he could go back inside the inn and leave her alone.

She gave him the same wicked smile usually reserved for the occasional drunken tourists who got too fresh when she’d waitressed at Joe’s. She’d perfected that look early in life because of the boys who assumed she was easy like her mother. That look said “cross me and die.” She closed the short distance between them, grabbed Talmadge’s good hand, and placed the toy poodle in the center of his large palm.

His eyes rounded, a horrified expression capturing his perfect features. “But—”

She held up a hand, silencing him.

Nice
. Surprising too. Seeing Talmadge Oaks look so vulnerable and unsure of himself must be a rare occurrence indeed. And it only took a six-pound poodle with nail polish to do it. Served him right to be stuck with a fluffy, bow-wearing pooch after insinuating that his life was more important than hers. His life might be more high profile, but it certainly wasn’t any busier. Or any harder.

“No buts.” Mr. Greenpeace had already been allowed one too many butts for today. Hers, to be exact.

He pulled Lloyd into the crook of his arm. The panicked look Talmadge gave the dog said he might as well be holding a baby alien. Talmadge flexed the hand that protruded from the sling, and a deep grimace captured his face.

A pang of guilt stabbed at Miranda’s chest. She did love that little dog. And forcing a prissy, high-maintenance poodle on an injured man who probably couldn’t zip his own fly right now wouldn’t make Bea too proud.

“Can you just take him for a sec so I can adjust this sling?” Talmadge gritted his teeth as he spoke.

With a hand on her hip and the other covering her butt, or trying to, she studied Talmadge. “Okay, fine.” She stepped toward him and took Lloyd, cuddling him against her chest. His trembling had spiked when she’d handed him over to Talmadge, and Lloyd buried his nose in the crook of Miranda’s arm.

“He’d be better off with you. He’s scared of me.” Talmadge’s hand slipped under his jacket. He adjusted the sling around his shoulder. Another pained scowl flitted across his face, and his eyes dilated until all the blue was gone, and only large, black pupils remained.

An annoying pinch stung Miranda’s conscience.

“Why can’t you take care of a little dog?” The pain in his expression seeped into his words and turned his voice ragged. He rubbed his shoulder like it was hard to concentrate because of the discomfort.

The heat of rising irritation evaporated most of Miranda’s compassion. Obviously, he hadn’t gotten the memo that he wasn’t the only one with a life. “Shouldn’t you be inside getting more slaps on the back for your latest architectural award? And I didn’t see you with a date. Where’s the requisite hotel heiress?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and released in a steady cadence. “I wouldn’t bring a date to my grandmother’s funeral.”

No, she supposed he wouldn’t. “Ah, that’s right. It was a wedding, if I remember correctly.” And she definitely remembered correctly, even if it had been seven years, three months, and twelve days ago.

Her hand went to her hip, and she notched her chin up to stare him down with silent ’tude.

He looked away. “I didn’t invite her. She just showed up on her own. We . . . forget it.”

The familiar weight of disappointment and heartache crushed Miranda’s chest just like it had back then. Her gaze shifted to the jagged tops of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, mostly blanketed in snow this time of year.

“What are you doing out here, Talmadge?” Miranda loved to say his name. Just like him, it was unique. It caressed her lips like warm butterscotch every time she said it, which she’d purposefully kept to a minimum over the years.

Because she adored butterscotch.

Dammit.

“Just getting some fresh air and looking around the place. I did spend a lot of time here with my grandparents when I was growing up.” He surveyed the weathered siding of the inn, his eyes traveling up to the roof that was in desperate need of new shingles. “It’s really decayed.”

She stroked Lloyd’s head, but the cold air nipped at her exposed bottom again, and her hand shot around to her backside. “Bea tried her best to keep the inn looking nice, even after your grandfather passed and she had to close it. But the last couple of years she didn’t have the same strength she used to. That’s why she sold the place to me.”

Talmadge flinched, and Miranda wasn’t sure if it was because of his injured arm or the truth about his grandmother and the inn.

“Sounds like you did a pretty good job keeping Bea company in my absence. Why is that?” He looked up at the squeaking lift, the muscle in his jaw working again.

Miranda’s rhythmic petting of Lloyd’s head slowed. “What do you mean?”

Talmadge turned expressionless eyes on her. “I sent money to help Bea out. I’m sure you were well compensated for all the help you gave her.”

Miranda’s jaw locked down so tight she thought it might come unhinged. “I did not take money from Bea.” Miranda may have grown up dirt poor, but she’d never taken a thing she hadn’t earned. She certainly wouldn’t have taken money from a sweet old woman like Bea, who had taken Miranda under her wing and encouraged her to do more with her life than wait tables and live on tips.

Of course he wouldn’t think so highly of Miranda. He had become accustomed to crusading celebrities who poured money into his environmental projects. He was also no stranger to young, beautiful women who had the same last names as hotel chains and were remodeling and trying to “go green.” If the celebrity magazines were accurate, he had become well acquainted with a few over the past seven years.

He shrugged with his good shoulder. “But you did let her loan you the money for the inn.”

“It’s an owner-financed contract.” Miranda’s voice had gone low and shaky. “And Bea was my friend.”

“Don’t you have friends your own age?”

“Of course I do.” Her teeth ground. “But your grandmother needed someone to schlep things around, and I was it, Talmadge.” This time his name didn’t roll off her tongue like butterscotch. Her words were more like a steady flow of hisses.

“Was there another reason you spent so much time with my grandma after I moved away?”

“Just what are you suggesting?” And there went another hiss. Miranda slid the tip of her tongue against her teeth just to make sure it hadn’t forked.

He lifted a shoulder. “Just gathering information, that’s all.”

“Bea was like a mother . . .” Miranda’s eyes started to fill, and her voice went all croaky. The grief over losing Bea—the best parental role model Miranda had ever had besides Bea’s brother, Joe—was finally rising to the surface like a storm churning over the ocean. Finally catching up to her. A tidal wave of tears surged toward her.

“You know what?” She leveled a hot glare at him. “Bea and I signed a contract. I gave her money down. A lot of it, and I haven’t missed a payment.”

Yet.

She hesitated.

“I’ll pay you every penny.”
Or die trying.
“So if you’re implying that I took advantage of Bea somehow, then you’re insultingly mistaken.”

He studied her, a torn expression on his face. “I wasn’t—”

“If you’d been around, she wouldn’t have had to depend on me.” She stepped up to him, the tips of her high-heeled boots almost grazing the toes of his expensive wingtips. Her stare met his chest, so she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

His eyes went dark and stormy as they caressed down her face to linger on her mouth.

As hard as it was, she tried to ignore the hum of electricity in the air between them. “Bea left what little she had to you.
I
was her witness. So if you’re angry that Bea sold the inn to me instead of leaving it to you—”

“I’m not—”

“—then too bad. If it meant that much to you, you should’ve shown more interest.”

His gaze didn’t leave her lips. “I did—”

“Legally it’s mine unless I default on the payments.”

Their eyes locked, and the hum of electricity turned to a high-voltage current that snapped between them. The woodsy scent of his cologne fogged her brain for a second, and she swayed into him.

When Talmadge’s muscular neck flexed and his head tilted forward, Miranda let out a tiny, almost inaudible squeak just as his mouth covered hers. To say she was surprised that he kissed her was an understatement. Like saying that thing Miley Cyrus did with her tongue was only mildly unattractive.

But good God, he
was
kissing her. His lips moved over hers, warm and smooth but patiently in charge at the same time.

She should push him away. She really should.

He must’ve sensed the tremor of hesitation, because his kiss grew more demanding. She sighed and parted her lips. His warm tongue eased inside to caress hers, and a shudder of desire stormed through her entire body.

This was so not a good idea.

This was
Talmadge Oaks!
The guy she’d longed for and avoided—mostly—for years.

She went rigid from head to curling toes, but his kiss grew deeper, and he slid his free hand around her waist to pull her closer. She followed his lead, allowing her lips and tongue to match his, stroke for stroke.

He just tasted so damn
good.

The way his commanding mouth was on hers sent searing heat through every nerve ending in her body, and her hesitation ebbed. The rhythmic caress of his lips and tongue against hers soothed her doubt. The cold air turned sizzling hot around them. He sighed against her mouth. The last of her resolve tumbled like an avalanche at the top of Wheeler Peak, and she settled into him.

His freshly shaved jaw flexed as his kiss grew more demanding, his mouth leading and coaxing her into doing his will. She adjusted Lloyd under her arm and relaxed against Talmadge. With a sigh, she slid a hand up his chest, over his neck, and into his soft, straight hair.
Finally.

Just as she remembered it, that sandy mane was the only soft thing about the man.

When his tongue caressed hers with just enough firmness to let her know he was in charge, a fire ignited down under. He fanned the flames by using the tip of that very clever tongue to trace her bottom lip. Nipped at it, then pulled it between his teeth and suckled.

Good God.

Her girl parts went nuclear, and she nearly buckled at the knees. He must’ve felt her legs go slack, because his good hand sank to her bottom and he caught her. His strong fingers flexed into the bare flesh at the top of her thigh, and his thumb caressed the silk of her panties.

A sigh whispered through her, and she went slack. He steadied her by pulling her tighter against his muscled chest.

Good Lord, what he could do with just one good arm, a tongue, and two lips.

Caught between them, Lloyd yapped. Miranda broke the kiss. As she came back to reality, her eyes fluttered open. Talmadge’s hand cupped her ass. Outdoors. For the entire town to see.

So
not a good idea.

She needed to stop this foolishness before a compromising photo showed up in the
Red River Rag
. As Red River’s newest entrepreneur, she absolutely did not need to be the subject of the new Tumblr blog that featured all of the town’s juiciest gossip. Whoever the blogger was must work for Homeland Security. They seemed to have hidden cameras all over town, e-mail hacking capability, and they probably had some illegal wiretaps going on, because they knew
everything
!