Hot Ticket (34 page)

He disliked the ever-constant emptiness but figured it was part of doing business and doing it successfully.

Before he hit the sack for a catnap, a stack of manila folders awaited his review, preparation for the evening’s round of meetings.

He looked at the stack and then at the phone. Contrary to what Josh had told Lindy, he had tried calling her, but he’d gotten her voicemail both times.

He hadn’t left a message—other than he’d called. There was no reason to say more. He’d phoned simply to hear her voice.

Funny thing was, all Josh had to do was close his eyes, and there was Lindy.

He could easily picture her face, her brown eyes, the way she styled her fiery hair to skim her shoulders, the way she smiled when she was relaxed, the throaty way her voice sounded when she was aroused, and the way her skin felt baby smooth and silky under his touch. When he slept, in the fragile moments between dozing and full wakefulness, he could even smell the warm and enticing scent of her.

Glancing at the bedside clock, he calculated it would be a quarter to two in the morning her time. Way too early to phone. She’d be sound asleep.

He hung up his jacket, shed his tie, and loosened the top button of his dress shirt. Then he settled on the designer couch in the adjacent sitting room with his stocking feet propped on an expensive coffee table.

Two minutes later, Lindy’s voice, husky with sleepy dreams and so sexy, wafted through the telephone line and was a welcome balm to the loneliness eating at him of late.

“Good morning, beautiful. How’s it going?”

“Josh! You big palooka,” she said, and he grinned at the warmth in her welcome. He should have known she wouldn’t mind the early hour. “I’m sorry I missed your other calls. Where are you? Are you home?”

“No, Monte Carlo. I drove down yesterday morning from Nice.”

“Monaco?” He knew that would bring her fully awake. “Holy smoke, talk quick. This call is costing you a fortune!”

He chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s worth it to hear your voice. Everything doing all right there?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”

“No reason. How’s your family? Is your sis talking to you yet?”

In the wistful silence, Josh heard what sounded liked pillows being ruffled and fluffed as if Lindy were adjusting them to prop herself up in bed. He wondered what she wore in bed, if anything.

Then she chuckled and said, “Oh, sis can’t stay mad. She got over her tiff real quick. Is that why you called? To find out about her?”

“No, not exactly.” After an awkward hesitation, Josh added, “I’ve missed you.”

“Say what again?”

Louder, Josh repeated himself, “I said I’ve missed you!”

“Hey, no need to shout,” she said, and he caught the smile in her voice. “I heard you the first time. I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“You’re a little stinker, aren’t you?”

“I miss you, too. Don’t you just love mushy pillow talk?”

“I wasn’t going to say any mushy stuff.”

“Oh. You weren’t?”

Josh laughed at the childlike disappointment he heard in her tone and relented with, “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing much.” Her voice perked up. “Maybe that you’re calling so early in the morning because you can’t wait to talk to me?”

He was grinning like a fool. He couldn’t help himself.

“Okay,” he said, swirling his scotch in the glass. “What else?”

“That you can’t stop thinking about me?”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“Am I on track?”

“Maybe. Keep going.”

He lifted the glass to his mouth and took a big swallow.

“That I’m responsible for a good portion of your snooze-time stiffies?”

Surprised and embarrassed to admit she’d hit the nail squarely on the head, Josh burst out laughing and almost choked on his drink. As it was, he spilled more than half of the scotch down the front of his dress shirt and onto the waistband of his slacks.

Damn, it was the last clean shirt he had, too.

“Guessed right, didn’t I?” Lindy said. “Okay, cowboy, breathe. It sounds like you’re strangling.”

“Tell you what,” Josh managed to say after swallowing several times. “I’ll be home in a couple days, and I deserve a break. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you jump my bones. Deal?”

“Down boy. What you deserve is open to debate.”

His chuckles slid into the kind of easy tenderness that he found flowed so natural around Lindy.

“Seriously,” he said, “I’m a stand-up guy. How about I pick you up, and we’ll go out on the town?”

“Do I get to dress up?”

“Of course.”

“I’m in.”

They set a date and a few minutes later said their good-byes. Josh reluctantly hung up the phone and then found himself whistling as he stripped out of his soggy clothes and hopped into a cold shower.

 It was Mardi Gras day down at the bank, and by closing time, Lindy was running late.

She dragged in the front door to her townhouse, feeling as squashed as road kill. When her doorbell rang, she hadn’t yet changed out of her jeans and beads into her evening dress. She threw open the door, a quick apology ready to spill off the tip of her tongue, but she stopped short.

No apology needed. Josh was wearing jeans, too.

And he also wore a look in his eye that set her pulse pounding.

“Great,” he said, scoping her and her outfit up and down, and letting his gaze linger on her cleavage. “You remembered, and you’re ready. I knew I could count on you.”

Then he stepped over the threshold and swept her up in his arms and kissed her until her toes curled.

“Of course, I remembered,” Lindy said, too giddy to have the slightest idea what he meant. “Want to come in and tell me what I remembered?”

“No time to come in,” he said, checking his watch. “Kickoff’s in a half hour. Grab your coat, beautiful, and let’s go.”

“Kickoff . . . oh, right. Tonight’s football night, and you promised your cousin.” She had entertained visions of a candlelit steak dinner and maybe the symphony after, but it was a given in her neck of the woods that one never let down family. “Give me a sec to change my blouse. I’ve been in it all day.”

“Beautiful, you look great,” Josh said very softly, the passion flowing very warmly. “No need to change. I love you just the way you are.”

Lindy’s heart melted into a dollop of pudding. She decided the symphony was overrated and grabbed her coat.

They made the kickoff with time to spare, and in the opening minutes, the Moccasins went down field in two plays and scored a touchdown. Josh’s cousin was having a whale of a great season so far, and his future in the AFL was looking bright.

Because it was Mardi Gras, the civic center crowd was rowdier than usual. Members of various Krewes were scattered throughout the arena, having a good time and adding to the raucous noise. Purple, green, and gold flags were suspended from the ceiling and fluttered in the circulating air, and bunting in the same colors decorated every rail. Zydeco blared nonstop out of the speakers, and Hooters girls were stationed inside every entry door, catching
pneumonia in skimpy outfits and handing out cheap beads and moon pies.

Lindy had to give props to management—they knew how to promote.

Maybe all the commotion explained why she didn’t notice Casey until he trucked down the concrete steps to her section with a little friend in tow. Either that or she just couldn’t keep her eyes and overactive mind off Josh Weldon.

The evening wasn’t the dressy date she had imagined, but that didn’t matter. Being anywhere with Josh was special.

Casey gave her a hug and a quick peck on the cheek, shook Josh’s hand vigorously, and proudly introduced them both to his new friend Stevie, who was a little shy.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Josh said to Casey, sliding his glance to Stevie and back, “after . . . you know.”

“My television debut?” Casey said.

“Nice way to put it.”

“It’s cool,” Casey returned. “Mom’s changed the family motto to read ‘the family that’s bagged together stays together.’ ”

Josh lifted a hand to his mouth, covering a cough that Lindy suspected was really a very rude laugh.

“Is your mom here?” Lindy said before her nephew got carried away. “She didn’t mention she was coming.”

Casey shook his head and said, “Stevie’s dad brought us. We’re sitting on the other side with him. Josh? Can you do us a favor?”

“Anything, buddy. What can I help you guys with?”

“Can you ask your cousin Snake for his autograph for us?” And Casey nudged Stevie into holding up his program.

“We can do better than that,” Josh said, rising from his seat. “It’s almost halftime. Why don’t we all ease down to the locker room and pay Snake a visit?” He wrapped an arm around each delighted boy’s shoulder and winked at Lindy. “See you in a few.”

Lindy stared after them and sighed in wonderment.

Dependability, stability, integrity, romance . . . he was pulling out all the stops. Or was he?

When a man was as solid as Josh was, it was hard for a woman to think straight.

Maybe, at last, Lindy was learning to spot a good guy?

Seconds before the buzzer, the Moccasins scored another touchdown, and Lindy got caught up in the wave of excitement flowing through the arena like a living thing. She jumped to her feet to cheer and stomp in time to the syncopated rhythm of the music along with the rest of the crowd. Yea, team!

For a sport that carried zero appeal for Lindy, this game was starting to grow on her.

Lindy waltzed through her front door, exhilarated, pumped, totally wired, the sound of the arena football fans still roaring in her ears.

They’d won another game, she was taking tomorrow off, and Josh Weldon was hers tonight. Sometimes, all it took were the little things to make a girl happy in her own skin.

Lindy tossed her coat over the ladder-back chair by the door and headed for the fridge.

“Want something to eat?” she called. “Drink?”

“No, thanks,” Josh said from the living room, “I’m good. You’ve got a nice place. It has a real homey feel.”

She rounded the corner, a bottle of water in her hand, and tried to see her townhouse through his eyes. Her decoration was shabby chic—bright color to give the illusion of space, a facelift to flea market finds—and an assortment of photographs and mementoes that made the place hers.

“Glad you like it,” she said, grazing her fingers near his waist.
“Make yourself at home. Turn on the television to whatever you want. I’m going to run upstairs a minute.”

“Take your time.” He looked at her, and she saw smoldering embers in the depths of his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She climbed the stairs while he did as she asked: getting comfy on the couch and slipping off his shoes, taking command of the remote and propping his feet on an ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. From midway up, she paused on a step and looked down into the living room.

There he sat, the dream life she’d been fantasizing about forever.

The thought of making something new happen was exciting and daunting at the same time.

What if this didn’t work out?

Among all the “what ifs,” the single image she kept coming back to was Josh. Was it so bad to feel calm, happy, and energized for as long as it lasted? And it might last. Who knew?

There was only one way to know anything for sure, and that was to dive right in.

“Hey, cowboy,” she called down, leaning over the banister. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Are you naked and wet?”

“Not yet. Want to help with that?”

Without waiting for an answer to her brassy offer, Lindy sauntered up to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom. Josh was waiting for her when she stepped back into the carpeted bedroom after turning on the shower faucet to let the water warm up.

“Come here,” he said.

The dark throb in his voice shot heat straight to her groin. She kicked off her shoes and walked toward him like a cat on the prowl. He reached for her, yanked her to him from breastbone to pelvis, and kissed her, hard and deep and thoroughly.

“Wow,” she murmured when he let her up for air.

“And that’s just for starters,” he said.

“My house. My rules.” Lindy took a step back. “Off with the sweater first.”

“Whatever you want, beautiful,” he said, his eyes growing dark and hot. The crewneck sweater hit the floor in short order. “I’m here to serve.”

“That’s right. And what I want is to see you.”

“Promise you’ll be gentle?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good. Take me, I’m yours.”

With nimble fingers, she ripped open each button on his oxford shirt from the neck to the hem, dipping to sprinkle nipping little kisses on his exposed chest along the way. He had a scattering of soft curly dark hair that tickled her nose.

His shirt soon followed his sweater.

Lindy smiled at him, a seductive grin that drew an impatient growl from deep in his gut in response. With a palm to his chest, she backed him into the queen-sized bed, pushed him down atop the comforter, and knelt on the bed to straddle his hips.

“Jeans next,” she ordered, then leaned over and flicked her hair behind her shoulder so she could nibble his stomach muscles unimpeded.