It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) (25 page)

She swallowed. “You know, taking orders from you has gotten infinitely more enjoyable than it was at first,” she panted out.

His mouth came down on hers, and she couldn’t think beyond what was happening right then. He thrust inside of her hard and fast, the pictures on the walls banging with each unyielding stroke. And all the while, he stared down into her eyes like he could see into her soul.

Her body responded to him, molding and unfurling around him until she was on the brink again. He must have seen it in her eyes, because he buried his face in her hair and said her name.

“Miranda.”
It came out like a whisper, each syllable entwined with emotion, and he kept driving into her.

It pushed her over the edge into oblivion, and she fell into the abyss with a shout of pleasure. He followed her, pulsing inside of her.

He kept her pinned against the wall for what seemed a long time. Their hearts beat against each other, their breathing slowly returning to a normal rhythm. The sheer, raw desire that had just swirled around them threaded through every muscle in her body, making her limp and satisfied. It was potent and powerful, and Miranda would never forget it. She melded with him and wrapped her arms around his head.

With tenderness that didn’t match the sex they’d just experienced, his lips feathered up her neck to her mouth and he gave her a soft, affectionate kiss.

“See the difference?” he asked, then gave her another lazy kiss.

“Oh, yeah.” Her voice was raspy like she’d just run a marathon. “I can see how both methods serve a valuable purpose.”

He chuckled.

“I didn’t even get all my clothes off.” She looked down at her rumpled top, now damp from working up a passionate sweat.

“Uh-huh.” He nipped at her bottom lip, then slid out of her.

She gasped, already missing the sensation of him being inside of her.

“That’s the point. It’s unpredictable and you just go with it.” He lowered her to the ground.

She tried to push him away so she could get to her pants, but he held her in place. “I’m game to try the other method.” Naughtiness gleamed in his eyes. “So you can compare.”

She pulled a lip between her teeth, which made desire flare in his eyes again. “I’m in.”

With a dip of his head in agreement, he had her top and bra off in a nanosecond and swooped her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder and breathed his manly scent in—soap mingled with the dewy sweat he’d just worked up. A scent she had gotten used to.

A scent she wanted to enjoy forever.

C
hapter
T
wenty

Miranda stood on the announcer’s stand at the edge of Brandenburg Park for the festival run-through and tried not to think about the inspectors who were at the inn at that very moment deciding if she could finally launch her dream and fly. She also tried hard not to think about the conversation Talmadge kept trying to have with her. She could guess what was coming. Knew he was either going to end it or suggest a long-distance relationship that wouldn’t last, because how could it?

She ran a finger down the list of parade entries on her clipboard.

Less than most years, but enough to put on a decent parade.

Every restaurant, café, ice cream shop, and bakery in Red River was busy decorating booths along the edges of the park. Artists from all over the Southwest would display and sell their work. Several wineries and breweries around the state had reserved booths and were getting their spaces ready.

Up and down Main Street red-white-and-blue pleated flags were going up, windows were being spit-shined, and shop owners were gearing up for the influx of vacationers who would flood in for the festival that kicked off the summer tourist season.

For the kids, Miranda had lined up face-painters, a caricaturist, and even Pebbles the Clown who was driving in from Albuquerque to make animal shapes out of balloons. She shivered, hoping that wasn’t a mistake. Because, let’s face it, clowns could be creepy.

Best of all, the gorgeous man on the other side of the park, a fluffy poodle strapped to his back, was putting the finishing touches on the gazebo the town had worked so hard to raise money for him to build. And he was hers. For a little while longer. He promised even the landscaping around it would be complete by festival day, so he hadn’t looked up from his work all afternoon. She’d stolen looks at him every chance she got, though. Especially when he bent over.

She’d done it. She’d organized the best damn Hot Rides and Cool Nights Festival yet. Without the almighty Mrs. Wilkinson’s help.

And speak of the she-devil, here she came, marching toward the announcer’s stand with a sour look on her face. Her cross bounced more than usual today. Miranda looked heavenward and sent up an apology for Mrs. Wilkinson’s poor example. Just in case. Because Miranda was pretty sure the cross was a disguise to distract from her forked tail.

Clydelle and Francine, who shared a sixth sense as big as their attitude, hurried across the street on a collision course with Mrs. Wilkinson. Clydelle’s cane steadily thumped against the pavement, and Francine’s purse steadily thumped against her leg.

“
You
have a problem,” Mrs. Wilkinson spat.

Yes, Miranda’s biggest problem was standing in front of her wearing her Sunday best, even though it was a weekday. “What would that be, Mrs. Wilkinson?” Miranda did her best to sound civil.

“
You
don’t have enough entries for the parade.” Old Lady Wilkinson let loose the first sincere smile Miranda had yet to see on her bitter, pinched face.

Miranda held up the clipboard. “I have them right here.”

“Count them.” Mrs. Wilkinson tapped her foot.

An uneasiness settled in the pit of Miranda’s stomach. She counted the entries one more time. “Sixteen.”

“The festival bylaws say there has to be at least twenty.” Old Lady Wilkinson crossed her arms.

There were bylaws?
News to Miranda.

“And you just happened to forget to mention the bylaws?” Clydelle accused. “You’ve been in charge of the festival for years, and no one else has a copy, I’m guessing.”

Mrs. Wilkinson ignored this. “Twenty is the minimum by the day of the festival.”

Before Miranda could ask “Or what?” Mrs. Wilkinson gushed the answer. “Or you have to cancel the whole thing. Instead of cavorting around in public like a hussy, maybe you should’ve researched the rules.” Mrs. Wilkinson turned on her heel and marched off.

Francine made a gesture with her bony finger at Mrs. Wilkinson’s back.

“Now, ladies.” Miranda tapped her clipboard, fighting off the urge to use some sign language of her own. “No need to give her more ammunition. I’ll fix this.” Even if it was the last thing she did in this town.

“Darn right, we’ll fix it.” Clydelle waved her infamous cane in the air. “Count us in for the parade. We’ll get the senior center’s van to drive us, and we’ll decorate it up real nice.”

Miranda wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. These two characters might end up driving down Main Street with a float carrying the Chippendale dancers, but she’d chance it if it meant not having to cancel the festival.

Miranda narrowed her eyes as the wicked witch of the Southwest stomped down the street. Miranda hadn’t come this far to fail now. The whole town was behind her for the first time in her life. Or at least that’s how it felt. She’d
earned
their respect, and she wasn’t going to give up easily.

She pulled her phone from her back pocket and dialed her mom’s number.
Come on, Mom. Come through for me just this once.

Talmadge found himself whistling as he directed his crew of volunteers to paint the gazebo and finish shingling the roof.

Hell.
He didn’t whistle. But life was good here in Red River with Miranda. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled as she walked toward him. If she got much hotter his work goggles might fog up. Rounded hips sashaying, wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders as the sun glinted off of it, lips parting into a knowing little smile when her gaze caught his, the dimples that appeared on each cheek when her lips curved up. All of it, the entire package that she’d kept wrapped up tight and had saved all these years for only him . . .

Stunning. Scrumptious. Sexy as hell.

That was the problem. He cared about her so much that he’d been selfish and hadn’t wanted to jeopardize their bond, their connection. But he couldn’t stay quiet any longer. Tonight he was going to tell Miranda everything when they were done with the long day’s work and alone. And to hell with his inheritance. He really was going to forfeit it for a rec center here in Red River, regardless of what happened with Trinity Falls. Then his lie would become the truth, albeit after the fact. But he still planned on telling Miranda everything, because she deserved to know.

He swiped at a bead of sweat on his forehead as she approached. But then she didn’t just approach. She walked right up to him, leaving no space between them.

“Hi,” she said, with a sultry look and sexy tone.

“Hi yourself. How’s it going?”

A glimmer of worry raced across her face, but then it was gone. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She was somehow different than she’d been several weeks ago. Oh, Talmadge had always seen her strength. How could he not? But now she saw it too. He was proud of her and what she’d accomplished in such a short amount of time. More importantly, she was obviously proud of herself.

“I checked on the inspections a little while ago. Seems to be going well,” he told her.

“Thank you.” The amber flecks in her eyes glowed.

“Are you ready for the festival?” he asked. A gentle breeze blew a lock of wavy hair across her face, and he tucked it behind her ear.

“Ready,” she said with confidence.

“Felix is coming by the inn again tomorrow to film the last of the renovations, and the home show is going to call you to set up a date to film the rest after you open.” He adjusted the straps of Lloyd’s carrier on his shoulders.

“Thank you again.” Her gaze fell.

“You’re the one knocking them dead in front of the camera. I just made a few calls.”

“Why didn’t the home show film the whole thing?” Her brow wrinkled.

Because he needed to keep his presence in Red River low-profile and out of the news until he could get back to Washington in a few days. Another little detail he had to disclose tonight. “On sabbatical to rehabilitate his injured arm” was the only comment his firm would make to the reporter sniffing around. If his investors knew he’d been renovating an inn and building a gazebo in New Mexico, they’d be pissed, especially after that reporter ran a story about him neglecting the very thing he was trying to prevent—an environmental catastrophe.

He smiled down at her. It took a hell of a lot of willpower not to kiss the heck out of her right there in broad daylight. “I’ll tell you all about it tonight. When we talk.”

Her smile faded.

He took in the flurry of activity going on around them as he spoke. “I’m a patient man, Miranda. I’ve been waiting to talk to you about some important things.” He hadn’t really put up much of a fight when she kept shutting him down. “But it’s time. You might not like what I’ve got to say, but we’re going to talk. Tonight.”

She pursed her lips, trying to hide her emotions, and the faintest hint of her dimples appeared. That was nearly his undoing. He’d give anything to make this right.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve arranged an interview with the
Record
.”

Good. That would give her another opportunity to showcase her intelligence. Her skills. Her worth in the community that had been overlooked for far too long until now.

“You’re doing this one, Talmadge.” The happiness in her eyes returned, setting his heart on fire. “The planning committee and the city council have decided to award you the key to the city during the festival celebrations.” Her smile widened.

His didn’t. He’d managed to keep what a shit he really was a secret for years. Buried the truth about his parents and pretended to be the good boy who would make his grandparents proud. Hell, that’s why he’d devoted his career to environmentally conscious building projects. It was a way of doing penance, giving something back because he’d so selfishly taken so much.

He had an office full of awards back in Seattle, all to recognize his accomplishments for blazing the trail in sustainable designs and environmentally friendly building. HGTV practically stalked him to do one feature segment after another.

But the key to the city? In Red River, where he’d hurt—was still hurting—the people he loved most? Even though they didn’t know it, his conscience had limits, and he’d reached them.

“Who made that absurd decision?” His voice was harsher than he’d intended.

Miranda’s eyes widened. “I . . . I told the planning committee your plan to build a community rec center in Bea’s honor.”

Did she mean the rec center he’d twisted the truth about to get what he needed from her? Yeah. That was probably the one she was talking about.

“Why would you do that?” His volume and tone were close to a bellow.

“It’s a great thing you’re doing for Red River,” she said. “We want to recognize it.”

Talmadge shook his head. “No.”

Miranda’s face blanked, communicating her confusion. She meant it as an honor. A show of gratitude. But he couldn’t accept it.

“Find someone else to give it to.” He pointed to Miranda. “You deserve it. I don’t.”

Before she could respond, he turned and trudged to his truck. It was time to man up. First, he’d pick up some flowers and spend some time at the cemetery. Then he’d finally tell Miranda what a selfish asshole he was.

So much for life being good. His life was shit right now, no matter which state he was in. And it was about to get even worse when Miranda heard him out tonight.