Mocha Latte (Silk Stocking Inn #3) (4 page)

Chapter 9

We rode back, mostly in silence. I’d learned a few things in the half hour ride with Jackson, revelations that hadn’t occurred to me until tonight. I’d convinced myself that I’d handled the break-up stoically, that I was certain everyone was marveling at just how unflappable I was. It had been important to keep a stiff upper lip at work. I was the producer, the person everyone came to with problems, and I didn’t want to appear weak by falling apart at the seams after Nate left me. I hoped that I’d been imagining the empathetic smiles and glances from the cast and crew. But all along, it seemed, I’d been wearing my broken heart right on my proverbial sleeve. Jackson had seen it the moment I walked into the bakery, and he’d known nothing about me or the break-up.

I’d also realized that I badly needed to move on. It was time to shove the Chunky Monkey and Mocha Swirl back into the freezer and get serious about dating again. Going home to an empty apartment had been the hardest part of all. I needed to know someone was waiting for me to come home. I needed that again.

My biggest fret, now, was how the heck I was ever going to trust anyone with my heart again.

We reached the barn. I watched as my extremely appealing trail guide jumped down from his horse. Jackson was, of course, the last thing I needed. A man like him would have no shortage of women. But I wondered if a flirtatious, sexy weekend away from home with a man who I would probably never see again, would be just what I needed to restore some confidence. I climbed off Archie and followed Jackson and his horse into the stables.

We put the horses in cross ties. “You’re the only guest this weekend. If you like, we can take a longer ride tomorrow.”

I tapped my chin as if I was actually trying to decide. “Let’s see, a scenic horseback ride with a very hot cowboy—uh, yep. That works.”

I could see a crease in his cheek as he stifled a grin. “Very hot cowboy, I like that.”

I unfastened the cinch on my horse. “That can’t be the first time a woman has referred to you as a very hot cowboy. I mean, you are western calendar material, my friend.”

He shrugged as he hauled the saddle and blanket off his horse. “Calendar material.” He laughed, and shook his head as he disappeared into the tack room.

I pulled off my saddle and followed him.

He lifted the saddles back onto their racks. Before I could walk back out, he took hold of my hand. He turned me to face him and pushed my chin up with the side of his finger. His focus went straight to my lips again. I crossed my toes in my boots that this was leading to the much anticipated kiss.

“Two rules for this weekend.”

“Yes?” The waver in my voice caught me off guard just as the moment had.

“These lips—” He brushed his thumb across my bottom lip. “Are mine for the next forty-eight hours.” He dropped his brazen gaze to my body. “This delectable set of curves are mine too. And, most importantly, you leave here forgetting everything about that dimwit asshole except that he is a dimwit asshole.” He lowered his mouth to mine and pressed it over my lips. It was a gentle, teasing kiss that did not disappoint and left me nearly frantic with wanting more. Just one, easy kiss and my mind fuzzed up with erotic urges and images.

He lifted his face. I opened my eyes and gazed up bleary eyed at him. “Three,” I said on a sigh. “That was three rules.”

“Was it? Lost count.” He lowered his mouth to mine again. He smelled of man’s soap, hay and the sweet grit of the work day. It was the best damn fragrance in the world.

“See what you’ve already done to me, woman? And I’ve only kissed you. You just might have my head spinnin’ before this weekend is over.”

Chapter 10

Jackson had things to finish up in the barn and I, feeling beyond giddy from the flirting, something we’d quickly gotten down to an art, headed back to the inn for a much needed shower and rest.

Coco was just coming down the stairs as I reached them. “I just put some fresh towels and a little something for sleep time in your room.” She was always wearing a smile that seemed to indicate that she knew even my innermost thoughts. “Sometimes it’s fun to wear something that feels just a bit naughty, don’t you agree? It’s a luxury we girls should never ignore. I’ve made some chocolate chip cookies. I’ll bring you up one. I’ll leave it outside your door in case you’re in the shower.”

“Thanks so much, Coco. This place is wonderful. Five star all the way. Actually, your baking might even be in a star rating system of its own.”

“Well, good night then, Becca. See you in the morning.”

I stepped inside the room. It looked even cozier in the deep shadows of night. I walked to the window to lower the drapes. In the distance, I could see Jackson walking out of the barn. His broad shoulders and cool swaggering stride unfurled heat in my pussy, a profound reaction I hadn’t expected. I dropped the drapes and wondered where the man slept. I supposed it was possible that he had a room downstairs.

The bathroom had been updated with the glass and tile of a modern bathroom. The shower was spa-like, and I spent far too long in the warm mist, not wanting to leave its comfort. I’d needed this, all of this, cowboy included. In one short evening, Jackson had restored some of the confidence I’d lost.

I coaxed myself out of the shower and was reminded that Coco had left something for me to wear to bed. I patted myself dry. Even her towels were ethereal. I walked into the bedroom and saw, for the first time, a shimmery pink puddle of fabric sitting on the antique dresser.

I hurried over, excited to see what she’d left for me. I lifted up the light-as-air garment. Although, calling it a garment might have been a stretch. It was more a whisper of satiny material held together by gossamer and lace. The nightie was in the short baby-doll style one might wear on a wedding night, with two panels that opened down the middle. The satin panels were attached to a bra-like top that was made from a material so sheer, it wouldn’t conceal the tiniest freckle. The straps were spaghetti thin, and the matching panties were a thong consisting of thin lace and a pink satin triangle. I was standing alone in a room and only holding the lingerie, but it made me blush pink to think of wearing it.

Then Coco’s words came back to me about wearing something naughty now and then just because. It was certainly overtly sexy and feminine. And I needed to feel sexy and feminine. What could it hurt? Not to mention, my work clothes and the jeans and shirt that I’d worn to the barn, weren’t really suitable or comfortable for sleeping.

I dropped the towel and slipped it on. I allowed myself a few minutes of modeling the itsy bitsy nightie in the mirror. It was definitely the height of provocative. Instantly, it made me feel, just as Coco had suggested, naughty. And I had to admit, I looked pretty good in it too. I briefly imagined myself taking a selfie and sending it to Nate. Just as quickly, I wanted to kick myself for even thinking it. Nate had lost his privilege of seeing me in see-through lingerie. I so needed to get that asshole out of my head for good.

The scent of brown sugar seeped under the door, and I quickly remembered the promise of a chocolate chip cookie. I looked down at my attire, or lack thereof, and reached for the shirt I’d worn down to the barn. It smelled distinctively of horse, and I was flowery fresh from my shower. The cookie was right outside the door. Chocolate chip was well worth the risk.

I opened the door and peered out, keeping my scantily clad body hidden from the empty hallway. I leaned my head out farther. Unfortunately, the cookie couldn’t be reached from where I stood. It looked utterly delicious, and I had no intention of leaving it in the hallway.

I looked both ways, as if crossing a busy street rather than stepping into a completely deserted hallway. I heard some light rustling in the room across the way, which was unexpected because Jackson had mentioned that I was the only guest this weekend. I dashed around the edge of the door and leaned down to pick up the plate. A breeze, an unexplained movement of air, brushed my half-naked bottom, and my bedroom door snapped soundly shut.

The cookie nearly slid off the plate, but I caught it before tragedy struck. I hadn’t locked the door. I reached for the knob with my free hand. The knob turned, but the door was stuck. I rocked it with one hand, sure it would pop open. It didn’t.

Always being the multi-task type, I slid a buttery edge of the cookie into my mouth, put the plate on the ground and used both hands to open the door. It didn’t budge. I shook it wildly, sure that there had to be some way to open it. The knob was turning, assuring me it wasn’t locked.

I heard a door behind me open, and another cool breeze tickled my naked ass and lifted the shimmery panels of the nightie up like wings. I froze in horror, sure that I’d turn around and face some nice elderly couple who had decided to stay the night, or worse, two teenage boys who were just running down to the kitchen to get cookies.

“Need some help with that door?” His deep, already familiar voice should have calmed my earlier terror, but the feeling only intensified. Had I been delusional about the way I looked in the scant piece of satin? I was suddenly feeling more ridiculous and self-conscious than I had in my entire life.

I turned around, so worried about the lingerie that I’d completely forgotten about the cookie dangling from my mouth. I bit down and the rest of the cookie dropped to the floor. I stared down at it, and temporarily wondered if I could apply the five second rule at such a vulnerable time. Probably not a good idea. I slowly lifted my gaze.

Jackson had taken time to pull on his jeans, but he hadn’t bothered to button the fly. My eyes traveled along the black line of hair as it dissolved away to naked skin beneath the opening on his pants. I swallowed hard as I took in the rest of him. His bare chest and shoulders were taut with the muscles of a man who didn’t shy away from hard work . . . and hard play, no doubt. I curled my fingers to keep from reaching out and running my hands over his tanned skin.

“Holy shit, woman.” Jackson’s green eyes darkened to emeralds as he boldly looked me up and down. “You trying to send me to an early grave?”

I lifted my hands hesitantly to my sides. “Do you like it?”

He stared far longer than would be considered chivalrous at my nearly naked breasts and then lifted his heavy, heated gaze to my face. “What the hell do you think? Came out to help you with your door, but sure didn’t expect this kind of a thank you. You just made my night, Spunky.”

My body was trembling with nerves, but my mind was telling me to take the chance. It was my weekend away, away from everything that had happened. My new welcome to a decidedly more exciting social life.

“I’d invite you in if I could get the door to open.”

Without hesitation, he reached past me, shrouding me with his incredible body heat as he leaned forward stopping just inches from me. Behind me the door clicked easily open.

His smooth brow arched, and he grinned down at me as if this had all been an act.

“I promise you it wouldn’t open.”

“I believe ya. I got the door open. Is the invite still good?”

I hesitated, naturally. I hadn’t been with another man in six years. My confidence in that area was lacking completely. After so many years with the same man, sex had become rather pedestrian, unfortunately. We followed a plan, almost as if our entire sex life had been outlined and we had to stick to that outline or risk an unhappy ending. Maybe it was that routine in bed that had pushed Nate out the door? Even though I hadn’t been solely to blame for our dull, predictable sex life.

Jackson took my hesitation as a no. “Well, I’ll leave you alone then. Just thought you might be up for some fun.” He glanced pointedly down at my erotic sleepwear. “Shame to waste that patch of satin on a night alone though.” He turned to walk back to his room. The smooth, well-toned expanse of his broad back made my pulse race.

I took a deep breath. “Jackson?”

He turned back to face me. A little shortness of breath accompanied my racing pulse.

“The invitation still stands—if you’re interested.”

“Interested?” A short laugh followed as he raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Looking at you standing there in that sexy nightgown, Becca, gives
interested
a whole new meaning.” He took hold of my arm and pulled me into his strong embrace. His mouth came down hard over mine.

It was as if his kiss had lifted my feet from the floor and stopped time and motion. I hadn’t even felt myself move. I hadn’t heard the door shut behind us. By the time I’d gained my composure long enough to open my eyes and find out if I was dreaming or not, I was standing in Jackson’s arms inside the solitude of my lushly furnished bedroom. 

Jackson’s mouth stayed pressed against mine as he lowered his arms and slid his hands between the panels of the nightie. He stopped long enough to gaze down at the skin he’d exposed. “Every inch of you is fucking priceless, Becca,” he muttered quietly.

His words made me smile. “I’ve been called many things,” I sighed as his hand smoothed over the skin of my stomach. “But never priceless.”

Jackson lowered his head as his hands came up along my arms and slid the thin straps off my shoulders. The nearly transparent lace fell beneath my breasts.

He pressed his mouth on the round swell. “Fucking priceless,” he muttered again.

My arms wrapped around his head as I held him against my breast. His tongue flicked against my nipple, teasing it to a hard, tight bud. I ran my hands down over his rock hard shoulders and back. The muscles in his body tensed and stretched as he kissed and caressed my skin.

My pussy was aching to be touched, kissed and caressed as well, but he took his time, almost as if he didn’t want to scare me off. A breath of disappointment ushered from my lips as he lifted his mouth away from me. His green eyes were enough to melt me into a puddle at his feet. But I held it together, even with the pulse between my legs nearly screaming out for him.

“I meant what I said in the barn.” He reached up and dragged his callused thumb along my bottom lip. “These lips.” He dropped his gaze to my body. “These curves. Mine for the weekend.”

A shiver of excitement coursed through me as he spoke, confident, demanding and impossible to say no to.

“Do you trust me enough to give yourself to me for a weekend, Rebecca?”

“Trust you? Heck no.”

His face smoothed in disappointment.

I reached up and curled my hands around his neck before he had a chance to pull away. “If I did, then this wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”

His mouth tilted slightly. “Is that a yes?”

“You have forty-eight hours, cowboy, to make me believe that I’m
truly
priceless.”

Jackson’s hands came up, and he took hold of my face. “Easy as buttermilk pie.” His mouth pressed against mine.