Tempt Me Tonight (6 page)

“Just grabbing a little breakfast before I drive a car up to Brookville. What are you and your gramps up to today?”

She rolled big brown eyes. “Yard work.”

He cast a playfully scolding look. “You’ll survive.”

“Darn right she will,” Beverly’s dad, Willie, replied, landing a hand on her shoulder. “Little hard work never hurt anybody. Just ask Joe here—he knows all about it.”

Joe and Willie had always gotten along—Willie was one of the few who knew about Carissa’s paternity, and Joe realized the man respected him for helping out where he didn’t have to. As for how a decent guy like Willie had raised a girl like Bev, Joe didn’t know the whole story—only that her mom had never been around and Willie had worked a whole lot back then, too. “Your grandpa’s right, Care Bear. Working builds character.”

The statement earned him another eye roll. “Yeah, it’s real hard driving some fancy car around. I feel
so
sorry for you. What is it? A Porsche? A Jaguar?”

“Porsche,” he acknowledged with a soft grin. “A special-edition Boxster.” He didn’t usually work on weekends
or
deliver cars back to their owners. But this particular customer’s wife was battling cancer, so when Joe had sensed that finding time to pick up the car was an issue, he’d offered to make the drive and enlisted Kenny to follow and drive him back.

“Must be nice,” Carissa said, eyebrows lifted.

“Yeah, I live a charmed life,” he assured her.

“Waffle for you, Care?” Beverly asked.

She nodded as Willie said, “Me, too,” and they started talking with Beverly until Joe zoned out, concentrating on his eggs, his sausage…and Trish. Damn, he still couldn’t believe she’d just waltzed into the Last Chance out of nowhere. He was usually too tired on Friday nights to socialize, but he’d wandered in knowing Kenny and Debbie would be there, his main purpose reminding Kenny about today. He’d never imagined that before the night was through he’d be holding Trish in his arms again.

Just then, Kenny walked in and took the stool on the other side of him, exchanging greetings all around but looking a little worse for wear. “Hangover?” Joe asked once Carissa and her grandpa were back out of the conversation.

Kenny sighed. “You could say that. And by the way, it was pretty damn cheap to challenge me at pool when you knew I was drunk.”

Joe gave his usual easy shrug. “I saw an opportunity.”

“Made you cocky,” Kenny said, then switched his focus to Bev, who was looking his way, order pad in hand. “Just a couple of scrambled eggs and toast.” Then he drew his gaze back down to Joe and lowered his voice. “That’s the only reason I can figure for you putting the moves on Trish so hard. I mean, all things considered. Like that you hadn’t seen her in a thousand years. And the last time you did you were an asshole. What were you thinking, man?”

Joe thoughtfully chewed a bite of sausage, then shoveled some hash browns into his mouth. “Yeah, that didn’t go real well, did it?”

Kenny lowered his chin. “Unless you consider it a big success to send her stomping out of a bar in a huff.”

He didn’t, but he couldn’t help taking a little masculine pride in recalling just how
long
it had taken her to reach the stomping part, and how
close
she’d come to giving in to what they’d both wanted.

Joe didn’t answer, but his best friend knew him well enough to read his face. “Man, you kill me. You
do
think it was a success.”

Joe chuckled softly, although without much amusement. “No. But there for a few minutes…” He sighed, letting the memory of her soft body moving against his stay private before moving on to how things had ended. “I went too far too fast, but hell—I was just following my urges.”

Kenny cocked his head derisively. “Following urges has been known to get you into trouble a time or two.”

Joe couldn’t deny that. A mere glance at his waitress served as a grim reminder. But he’d meant what he’d said to Trish—he hadn’t planned it, it had just happened. She’d looked damn good, all grown up. And she’d felt even better. Somehow his body had taken over—it had remembered the pattern of him and her, together, and he’d fallen instinctively back into an old, familiar rhythm. “A little warning might have helped,” he pointed out to Kenny.

“I forgot.”

Joe raised his eyebrows. “You
forgot
my old girlfriend was about to walk into the bar
I’d
just walked into?”

“I was drunk, remember?”

Joe shrugged in understanding, then found himself reliving the moment he’d first seen her, the liquid heat that had rushed through his body, the quick flash of memory and regret and yearning.

“So what now?” Kenny asked.

Joe glanced toward his buddy. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you last night.” Kenny gave his head a rakish tilt and spoke in a deep, hokey voice. “‘This isn’t gonna go away. We both want each other.’”

Joe rolled his eyes in reply.

“What’s your plan, dude?”

Last night, his general plan had been hot pursuit—he’d quickly realized he wanted her just as much now as he ever had. But this morning, well…he’d screwed up, and in the light of day he figured the best thing to do was leave her alone. “Nothing.”

Kenny blinked and drew back as if Joe had just spouted something crazy. “Nothing?”

Joe forked the last bite of eggs into his mouth. “Maybe I’ll…give her a call or something, apologize for last night.” But even that seemed worthless, considering that he’d just apologized to her for his
last
mistake—right before making the next one. “Other than that, I’m gonna let it go.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin.

Kenny’s eyes narrowed in doubt and surprise. “Really?”

And Joe understood why. He wasn’t the kind of guy who usually shied away from what he wanted. But he lowered his voice again to say, “Even if things were good for a little while, that was just about lust.”

Kenny tipped his head back, eyeing Joe warily. “Since when are you against lust?”

“Never. But after last night…well, if she didn’t hate me
before,
she probably hates me
now.”

As Beverly lowered Kenny’s plate to the counter with a “Here you go,” Kenny grimaced at the eggs, still looking sick.

“Hate’s a strong word,” Kenny said. “But in this case…you might be right.”

Trish sat in a red vinyl booth in her parents’ diner, combing over contract changes. And nibbling on a chunk of chocolate fudge she’d picked up at Sweetie Pie’s candy and ice cream shop three doors down on impulse. Damn impulses.

She’d needed to get out of her motel room—where she was staying because her Aunt Alma was currently bunking in her old bedroom at home, recovering from emergency bypass surgery. There was still room for Trish if she’d wanted to stay at her parents’ house, but she couldn’t help imagining them all tripping over one another and waiting in line for the bathroom—so she’d opted for the Red Roof Inn in town until Aunt Alma headed home in a few days.

She’d told her mom and dad she’d stop by the diner, take a look around, maybe start cleaning and breaking things down—so she’d simply come early and brought the contract with her. But now things felt bleak.

The place she’d known all her life as a busy, bustling restaurant seemed almost dead with quiet. The last daily special,
OPEN
FACED
ROAST
BEEF
AND
MASHED
POTATOES
, was still spelled out in little plastic letters on the sign behind the cash register, the laminated menus still lay stacked on one end of the counter, and chrome napkin dispensers still graced every Formica table, but seeing the place closed for business made her sad in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

And that wasn’t the only trouble. No way were these contract changes going to fly. Clearly, the buyer thought her parents were a couple of desperate suckers. The woman had demanded a number of repairs and overhauls, and in a couple of cases even new equipment, all of which would cost thousands of dollars and greatly reduce her parents’ profits—which they simply couldn’t afford retiring on a fixed income. On Monday she’d have to call Lois Faulkner, her parents’ real estate agent, to place a counteroffer—but she wasn’t willing to give much. All of this stuff should have been addressed during the initial bidding, not now, weeks later, in the contract.

The contract problems had personal ramifications, too. She’d planned to come here, close this deal for her parents, spend a few more days with them, then hightail it back to Indy. How big of a crimp would this put in her plans?

And sure, she could head back anyway and return to Eden once the deal was worked out, but one quick look around the diner had made something clear. Her parents weren’t as young as they used to be. Which she’d known, but…she’d quickly realized equipment her dad had claimed was clean actually was not—not clean enough, anyway. Things didn’t look as good around here as they could. Her counteroffer was going to include a thorough scouring of the place that might make some of the older equipment appear a lot more promising. And she had a feeling she was going to be needed—if not to do the cleaning herself, then at least to supervise. She sighed, a sadness settling in her bones. Her parents were aging; life was changing.

And all of this meant two big things: She’d be gone from work—and her shot at partner—for longer than planned. And she’d be here—closer to Joe, and his hands, and his mouth—for longer, too. She scarcely knew which worried her more.

No, wait, yes she did. Joe.

She
should
be paralyzed at the thought of being an absentee attorney at the firm where she was trying to build her future, but the real terror coursing through her veins was combined with a hot dose of lust.

Last night had been…overwhelming. Nearly. She
had
gotten hold of herself eventually, of course—but just barely. And the truth was, given how the juncture of her thighs tingled even now, just remembering everything about him—the broad shoulders, the captivating eyes, the bulge in his jeans—she wasn’t sure she could turn him down a second time.

Of course, she could just stay away from him. Just like if you stayed away from fudge—you weren’t tempted if you kept your distance. She licked a bit of melty chocolate off her thumb and realized that Eden held all
kinds
of temptations she hadn’t expected.

But she had a feeling staying away from Joe was going to be harder than staying away from fudge—and she hadn’t even done very well at
that
so far. After the things he’d said last night, she fully expected him to track her down and attempt to seduce her before she left town. Couple that heated threat with how weak and hot he got her and this was a problem—a big one.

She
refused
to let herself be seduced by him. And yet, what chance did she have of escaping his heat a second time if put in a similar position? She’d always thought of herself as a strong, capable woman, yet last night she’d felt helpless with the same temptation still flooding her right now.

Sex. With Joe.
The very thought made her heartbeat pound in her ears.
Skin. Sweat. Hunger. Bodies interlocked, moving as one.
She bit her lip.
His hands, touching her. His muscular arms and thighs wrapped around her. That weirdly sensual snake mesmerizing her with its every sexy ripple.

Let me show you what you missed.

Nope, she sincerely doubted she had the strength to turn him down again.

That boy’s trouble. Pure trouble.

She’d just reached for another bite of fudge when she spotted Debbie peering in the window, her face stuck between the words
PIE
and
BURGERS
painted on the glass. Seeing her inside, Deb waved and Trish motioned her in.

“I saw your car,” Debbie said, then looked around the diner. “Wow, this is weird. It’s so…empty.”

Trish nodded. “I know. I guess it’s no different than being here after hours, but…it still
is
in some way, isn’t it?”

Debbie tossed her purse in the seat across from Trish and sat down, then spied the fudge. “Oooh, Sweetie Pie’s!”

Trish shoved the fudge toward her. “Here, eat it. Get it away from me. I don’t want it.”

Debbie didn’t argue, diving right in to pinch off a bite-sized chunk and plop it in her mouth. “Mmm,” she sighed in sugar-filled ecstasy, but then she focused tightly on Trish. “So…about last night.”

Trish narrowed her gaze on her friend. “I really
should
kill you.”

Deb flashed an oh-come-on-now smile. “Why? You looked like you were having fun.”

“Before I made a spectacle of myself by storming out, you mean?”

Debbie shrugged. “This town needs some spectacle every now and then.”

And Trish sighed. “So glad I could provide the entertainment.”

Debbie leaned over the table, looking conspiratorial. “So…spill.”

“It’s pretty simple.” She tapped the end of the ink pen in her hand on the table. “He tried to seduce me and I said no. Eventually.”

Debbie nodded, seeming to understand—until she said, “Why?”

“Why?”

“You’re two consenting adults, right?”

Trish blinked. “
No.
Because I don’t consent.”

Deb gave her head a knowing tilt. “Oh, come on—I saw consent written all over your face in big, bold neon letters.”

Trish flashed a pointed look. “What’s written on my face now? Annoyance, I hope.”

“Among other things. But I think I still see consent, too.”

“You’re very wrong about that. Lust, maybe.” She stopped, snatched up a bite of fudge. “But consent, no way. No way can I let him seduce me. It would be too much like…he finally wins or something.”

Debbie scrunched up her nose. “Is this a game?”

That’s when it hit Trish. Maybe it was. In a way. She’d never in her life thought of sex as a competition, but maybe if she did…it would solve all her problems. Or at least one of them. The Joe problem.

“Here’s the thing. After what happened when we were young, if I let him seduce me
now,
especially now that I’ve just turned him down rather profusely…well, it
will
be like he wins, like he wore me down, like I’m just another conquest, another bedpost notch. And I couldn’t
stand
that, Deb. It would reduce me to…well, to the girl I was back then.”