Heart of Dixie - Tami Hoag (1) (13 page)

"You look fine to me, honey," Dixie said with a heartfelt groan, eating him up with her eyes. She reached out to stroke him, finding him as hard and smooth as marble, yet hot and pulsing.

"I meant protection-wise," he said through his teeth.

"Oh. Oh, no." She looked glum as she pulled her hand back. Then she brightened. "Wait. Wait," she said, scrambling off the bed, her robe falling off her completely as she raced to the big cherry dresser along the wall.

She tried like mad to remember where she'd put the package. She was sure she'd brought it up here, unable to throw anything away but equally unable to face the embarrassment of having her cousin find it. She pulled open a drawer, flung a bra and a pair of pantyhose over her shoulder, then squealed with delight as she came up with her prize.

"You found the Holy Grail?" Jake asked, propping himself against the mountain of frilly pillows along the ornate brass headboard of the bed.

"A million times better," Dixie said, hopping onto the mattress. She snuggled up to him and dangled an envelope in front of him. "Free samples. They came in the mail."

Jake examined the contents of the envelope as Dixie set herself to the task of exploring his body with her hands and mouth.

"`At last protection can be playful and fun,'" he read aloud. "`Perky bright colors and patterns add a zany touch to practicality.'"

"Jake, honey," Dixie said, nibbling his belly. "I mean for you to use them, not read them. You're breaking the mood here, sugar."

"I doubt much of anything could break the mood quite like a candy-striped condom," he said dryly, then Dixie dropped her head a little lower and his whole body went as tight as a bowstring. "On the other hand, I'm always willing to try new things." Dixie stretched a leg over the edge of the bed and yanked the cord of the lamp out of the socket with her toes. Jake pulled her up into his embrace and rolled her beneath him, tangling them both in the sheets.

He eased into the heat of her slowly, savoring the union and fighting for control all at once.

Dixie sighed at the exquisite sense of being filled with him. Again she lifted her hips in invitation, accepting all he had to give her, taking him deep and hanging on for dear life.

She'd never wanted anything as badly as she wanted Jake Gannon to love her--with his body, with his heart. It had all happened so fast it had made her head spin, but there was no denying it. She was falling in love with him and nothing had ever seemed as right as this. And Lord have mercy, nothing had ever felt as good!

The passion exploded around them like a cloud-burst, sweeping away all thought and all control. Jake drove into her, the elemental need to brand her as his own driving him beyond finesse and self-discipline. He was dimly aware that this was the first time he'd ever lost all restraint with a woman and that awareness left him with a feeling of awe and wonder. But those sensations were overrun by others --Dixie, hot and tight around him; Dixie with tears in her eyes as she'd wondered aloud if he wanted her. Wanted her? Hell, he wanted to consume her, he wanted to lose himself in her, never to be found again. She was sweet wild heaven beneath him, giving herself without reserve, taking him with unrestrained joy. She called out his name and cried out her pleasure and arched up against him for more.

Dixie met his every thrust, straining into him, her hands clutching at his back and hips. She felt free, jubilant, on the verge of bursting into a million brilliant shards. The attraction that had buzzed between them from the moment they first met had frightened her and she had fought against it, but now she gave herself over to it and the thrill of surrender was incredible.

The old brass bed rocked and thumped and banged against the wall, shuddering and creaking under the onslaught of desire unleashed. A lamp tipped over on the nightstand, knocking a stack of books to the floor. But the storm raged on, unabated. Jake groaned and gasped out urgent words, pleas, commands. Dixie answered him with a chant that rose to a window-shaking crescendo as he drove into her in one last powerful thrust. The explosion stole what was left of her breath and Dixie felt her consciousness dim as kaleidoscopic colors swirled in her head. She clung to Jake with arms and legs, anchoring herself to him as the world spun crazily around her.

Her moans of ecstasy ebbed, until she was merely panting. An incredible laziness stole through her body and she felt herself sink deeper into the mattress. She opened her eyes and smiled up at Jake.

"Oh, my," she whispered.

He smiled a secretive lover's smile. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

He leaned down to kiss her again, but a thumping on the ceiling brought him up short. He turned onto his side, propped himself up on one elbow and cast a curious look upward.

There was another series of thumps, followed by an angry female voice shouting down through the plaster. "Hold it down, for crying out loud! Some people are trying to sleep, you know."

Dixie felt herself turning pink clear to her toes. She pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress an embarrassed giggle. Jake slanted her a look, raising one eyebrow.

"Dixie, honey," he said calmly. "Who's living in your attic?" EIGHT

"YOU HAVE TO swear you won't tell a soul. On your honor as a former Marine," Dixie said solemnly. She scooted up and nestled against the mound of pillows, tugging the sheet with her and tucking it demurely under her arms. She looked at Jake expectantly.

He rolled his eyes. "Dixie--"

"I mean it, Jake. I was sworn to secrecy and already I'm in trouble. You have to swear."

"Okay, I swear," he said, sitting up beside her. He leaned over and righted the lamp on the bedside table and turned it on. A little puddle of amber light spilled down from under the ruffled shade, leaving most of the room in shadow. The faintest part of the light cast itself over Dixie's sober features. "On your honor?" she said.

Jake sighed. "On my honor. Now, are you going to tell me or do I have to run up there buck naked and see for myself?"

Dixie gasped and pinched his belly. "Don't you dare! If you think I'm sharing you, you can just think again, Jake Gannon. I know you're from California where people are into all sorts of kinky stuff, but I don't go in for that kind of thing. I'm an old-fashioned girl, mostly--"

"Dixie!" Jake laughed in exasperation. "Tell me. Now. Before I grow old and die. Who is living in your attic?"

She took a deep breath and sighed, resigning herself to telling the tale. "It's my cousin Dee from Myrtle Beach. Delia La Fontaine. She's hiding in my attic on account of her fiance, Tyler Holt."

"Was he abusing her? Why didn't she go to the police?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that. I mean, Tyler talks pretty tough sometimes, but he wouldn't really hurt her. The thing is, Delia had this long, long blond hair and it was pretty enough on its own, but Tyler used to go on and on about how he wished it were more silvery and thick and wavy, how sexy it would be and how it would be just like--" She broke off and swallowed down the rest of that sentence, not caring to remind herself of her own unwitting role in the tragedy.

"Anyway, Dee got it into her head that she had to look whatever way Tyler thought was perfect, so she went on in to Miss Earlene's College of Cosmetology and had her hair bleached and permed, and I don't know if it was the combination of chemicals or what, but all her pretty blond hair just broke right off at the roots. Now she's plumb scared to death to let Tyler see her for fear he'll think she's so ugly he'll ask for his ring back."

Jake's broad shoulders began to shake as he struggled to keep his laughter locked in his chest. He tightened his lips and turned nearly purple, but lost the battle. As he brought a hand up to try to smother his chuckles, Dixie grabbed one of her trusty neck roll pillows and belted him with it.

"Don't you dare laugh! This isn't a bit funny. How would you like it if all your hair broke off?"

"I'd look like a Marine," Jake said, sputtering. "Does she?"

Dixie smacked him again with her pillow as he doubled over laughing. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're just mean, that's what you are. Here my poor cousin is, living in fear of rejection from the man she loves and you're just sittin' here laughin' like a big old donkey!" "I'm sorry," Jake said, gasping for air. He schooled his features into a look that was as close to contrition as he could get under the circumstances. "Really, honey, I'm sorry. It's just...a pretty odd story, you have to admit."

"It's a tragedy, is what it is," Dixie said glumly. She could only wonder how many other women were sitting around the world miserable because they couldn't get themselves to look like Devon Stafford.

Jake nodded slowly, sobering as he took in Dixie's expression, and thought about things she'd said over the past few days. He saw the whole picture with more clarity than Dixie could have realized. Tyler Holt was one of the many who had cast Devon Stafford in the role of the perfect woman, and Dixie, who so disliked the idea of the perfect image, blamed herself for what had happened. Through means he could only guess at she had once transformed herself into an icon of glamour. Her cousin Delia hadn't achieved that elusive goal, had in fact made things worse, and Dixie, who welcomed strays and misfits with open arms, had welcomed her cousin.

"So, she needed a place to hide out and you, my sweet little softhearted Dixie, took her in," he said softly, trailing a forefinger down the slope of her nose.

Dixie scowled, not comfortable with the implied idea that she was a kind of saint. She was trying to be a decent sort of person, that was all, trying to right a few wrongs.

"Well, shoot," she said. "The poor homely little thing needed someone to look out for her. You ought to see her with her wig off. She looks like she just escaped from a prison camp."

Jake lovingly brushed the tangle of bangs back from her eyes, his heart warming. "She can't look any worse than that one-eyed cat of yours."

"No, I don't suppose she does," Dixie admitted with a chuckle.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her lips and the tip of her nose. Dixie snuggled against him, burrowing her head into the hollow of his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him.

"It just about breaks my heart," she murmured sadly. "Dee knocks herself out to please Tyler. She ought to trust that man to love her no matter what. If he only loves her for her hair or her figure, then what kind of love is that? If that's the way he is, he isn't worth all the heartache. I wish she could see that. I wish..."

She let her wish trail off into nothingness and squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden wave of regret and misery. She wished so many things. She wished she'd never gone to Hollywood, that she'd never become so single-minded in her pursuit of fame that she had lost her perspective. She wished people had more sense than to think platinum-blond hair and a tiny waist could make them happy. She wished she could have made Dee see that before she'd turned herself bald. And she wished most of all that she could have made Jeanne see it before it had been too late.

"Hey." Jake tipped her chin up and stared down at the torment in her expression and felt something inside him tear in two. "It's not your fault, honey."

He wished he could tell her how much he meant it, but he couldn't tell her he knew she had been Devon Stafford. He couldn't tell her that the pieces of the mystery were finally starting to make sense, that he was beginning to have an idea of why she had left stardom behind. All he could do was hold her close and try to convince her by sheer strength of will.

Dixie mustered a smile for him, calling on talents she made little use of these days. "I didn't mean what I said about you being mean. You're about the sweetest man I know. Letting Eldon take care of your Porsche and letting Sylvie make such a fuss over you."

"I like Sylvie," he admitted. "I like all your friends."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Even Eldon?"

"Well...I'll reserve judgment on Eldon until I see what he does to my baby."

Dixie chuckled and hugged him. "You're a pretty decent fella for a California city boy. And so romantic, climbing up the side of my house like Zorro."

Jake made a face. "Next time I'm coming to the front door with flowers like any normal besotted man."

Dixie turned to face him, coming up on her knees on the mattress. She let the sheet fall away from her, her attention solely on Jake.

"Are you besotted? Really?" she asked, serious and so hopeful it scared her.

"You better believe it, lady," he said, stroking her short thick hair.

"I want to," Dixie whispered. "Oh, I surely do want to."

"Need some convincing, do you?"

Jake slid down, pulling her with him. He rolled her beneath him and distracted her by nuzzling her breasts while his hands swept the bedclothes, searching. He raised his head, grinning, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and dangled two little foil-wrapped packages over her nose. "Polka dots or paisley?" Dixie lay awake, listening to the rain pelt the window and Jake's peaceful breathing. She cuddled against him, her head pressed to his shoulder, one leg twined with his. Her arm had long since fallen asleep, but she couldn't bring herself to move away from him. He was so warm and solid. She wanted to cling to him as if he were a rock in a windstorm. Then again, the whirlwind swirling inside her was caused by him. How could he be both storm and shelter?

He was the last man she should have fallen for-- demanding, perfectionistic, everything she had run away from. But he was also the only man she could have fallen for --sweet, strong, honest. She wanted to trust him with her life, with her secrets, but she was afraid to.

It was too soon. Everything had happened so fast. She hadn't even been thinking about romance. The quiet calming routine of her life here had lulled her into forgetting about things like magnetism and chemistry. Then Jake had burst in, sending all kinds of ripples across the calm waters of her existence. Her instincts told her to trust him, to let go, to love him, but her instincts had been wrong before.