Sweet Return (34 page)

Joanna forced herself not to try to calculate just how many months out of a year he had been at home and sharing a bed with Candace. Every cell in her body wanted to continue to believe him, but why bother? Taking men at their word hadn’t worked out that well for her. And if she did let herself trust him, she might be an even bigger fool than she already had been. He still hadn’t explained the
darlin
’s, the
babes
, and the
sweeties
. “I’ve heard you call her endearing names.”

“Darlin’, I call all women names. It’s a habit. A way to smooth over the rough spots. Sometimes my words come out sounding more abrupt than I mean them to be.”

“So what are you telling me? That underneath your crusty self you’re a softie?”

“Well…yeah.”

That
, she wouldn’t buy.

She forced herself to chuckle. “This is crazy, Dalton. You just want someone to fill your time and your bed while you’re here. I’m not that person. Hatlow’s full of single women. They might like being called babe and sweetie and darlin’.”

“You must think I’m a real shit-heel.” He grasped her elbow and they resumed walking along the parking lot.

“I didn’t say that.”

They had reached the dark green pickup Joanna recognized as Clova’s. He propped a boot on the bumper and braced his elbow on his knee, placing his eyes level with hers. “I’m gonna tell you about Candace. Her name’s Candace Carlisle. She’s a wannabe actress. That and how she looks is all, and I mean
all
, she cares about.

“She continues to stay at my house in LA because if she didn’t, she’d be homeless. I couldn’t come to Texas for an unknown length of time and leave the house empty. Hell, in LA, somebody might steal it off its foundation. She called me yesterday morning because there’s a problem with my swimming pool and she didn’t know what to do.”

Joanna’s skepticism still rode high. She crossed her arms over her chest. “If that’s all it was, why was it necessary to go outside so I couldn’t hear you talk to her?”

“I don’t know why. I don’t think about shit like that. It was just a thoughtless reaction. She’s broke. She doesn’t have a job that amounts to shit. She doesn’t have a damned thing. I didn’t think it would be right to get into her private problems in front of somebody else. If she meant anything to me in the way you’re thinking…if I felt any kind of special loyalty to her or to
any
woman, do you think I would’ve let Monday night take place? I’m not sixteen, you know. I do have a little self-control.”

Unable to come up with a quick rebuttal, she glared at him, though there wasn’t enough light for him to see her skeptical expression.

“The whole damn thing in LA—it’s got nothing to do with you and me, Joanna.” He sliced the air with a flattened hand. “Nothing.”

Joanna heard a plea in his raspy voice, but the “whole damn thing in LA” wasn’t that simple. Too many unanswered questions loomed in her mind. “No matter what you say, you’re soon going back to California. And to her.”

Now he laughed and straightened. “You’re a hard woman, Joanna Walsh. This is Mom’s truck and I’m freezing my ass off. Let’s sit down inside.”

She drew in a great breath and let out a sigh.
Why not?
She, too, was cold. “Okay.”

He took her beer bottle from her, poured the remaining contents on the ground, then placed it along with his in the dually’s bed. She thought of the West Coast influence in his life. Most of the guys she knew in Texas would have thrown the empty bottle into the brush without thought. Another blatant reminder of the difference between his experience and her own.

They walked to the pickup’s passenger-side door. He bleeped the door latch and opened the door for her. She started to climb in but missed the step and lurched against him. He caught her and she found herself in his arms, looking into his face only inches away. She ducked her chin.

“Joanna,” he said softly, “look at me.”

She didn’t dare raise her head. She shook her head.

Seconds passed.

“Coward,” he said.

She shook her head again. “You’re right. I’m really bad at games. Things mean things to me. I can’t just…just have a fling and forget about it. I think I should go back inside.”

His knuckle came under her chin and raised it until her face, her mouth, were inches from his. “I told you, you think too much.”

His lips brushed hers, then hovered there. She breathed in the scent of his breath. How could she not kiss him back after the intimacy they had shared? She might be afraid of him, she might not trust him entirely, but she loved his kisses. Fool that she was, she touched his lips with hers tentatively, opened her mouth cautiously, but he responded as if she had said
Take me, I’m yours.
His tongue slid into her mouth and his arms came around her. Pressing her tightly against him, he kissed her in a way that felt even more savage than before. Or maybe it seemed so because tonight she was sober.

They broke for air, their breathing audible. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he said. “I can’t even get any work done.”

Her heart warred with her head. Her body fought for its own needs. They stood without speaking for a few beats until her good sense won the upper hand. “Dalton, see how bad this is for both of us? We need to stop it. Let me go back inside.”

“Do you think I can’t tell that you like kissing me, Joanna? Listen to me. I didn’t plan for this to happen, but I’m not sorry. I haven’t met a woman in a long time I wanted to try something with.”

And what the hell is “something”?
“What am I supposed to say to that?”

“You’re supposed to cut out the bullshit and admit you like me. And you liked Monday night as much as I did.”

“Okay. I admit it. But so what?”

His mouth came down on hers again. Against her better judgment, she slid her palms over his shoulders until her arms went around his neck and answered him with her kiss. His hands found the hem of her top, slipped underneath and clasped the sides of her breasts. His mouth dragged from hers, over her cheek, down her neck. “You feel so good,” he said softly, “And you taste so good.” His lips found hers again. His thumbs began stroking her breasts through her bra. Her nipples grew rigid, and that traitorous urgent need for more began crawling around inside her.

He was the one who finally broke away. “God Almighty,” he growled.

His hands moved down her sides, over her hips, and at the same time he sank to his knees, pulled her hips forward and buried his face in her skirt just at…
Oh, God…
“Dalton. Someone could see.”

She felt the heat of his breath through her skirt, there on her most intimate place, and memory of his clever mouth and agile tongue heated her blood. Her pulse leaped to a rapid cadence. His hands worked their way beneath the hem of her skirt. They slid up the sides of her thighs, cupped her bottom and gently kneaded. “I do love your ass,” he whispered.

Desire threatened to drive her to reckless abandon, but she gained control and glanced around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching them. She felt his fingers in the waistband of her bikini panties, felt the flimsy garment slip off her bottom and renewed heat surged within her. “Dalton…”

The panties fell down and caught on her boot tops. She was as trapped as if she were tied with a rope. Panic exploded inside her. Her heart began a tattoo, like a snare drum in a parade. She had never felt so paralyzed, torn between wanting him and not trusting him. And fearing someone might walk up on them. “Dalton. We can’t do this. People are all over the place.”

He lifted her foot and slid first one leg of the flimsy bikini over her boot, then the other. She grabbed for it but missed. He got to his feet, stuffing the panties into his jeans pocket. “Let’s get in the truck,” he said huskily.

“Oh, no.
Nada.
We can’t do this. Give me back my—”

“Shh, shh. Baby, it’s okay. It’s dark out here. Nobody can see us. Just get in the truck.”

She was so rattled she couldn’t think. How could he affect her this way? She hefted herself up onto the running board, believing he would go around to the driver’s side. And they would talk. And she would convince him how wrongheaded this was. Instead of walking around, he somehow slid under her and somehow his hands were under her skirt caressing her bare bottom again. “This is crazy,” she said, her voice quivering. “We can’t do this.”

But even as she protested, she was helping him arrange her knees astraddle his lap. She felt her bare genitals open wide, and the very idea sent an explosion of heat to the heart of her sex, and all she could think about was feeling his touch there where she wanted it. She settled onto his lap. He was hard and the rough denim of his starched jeans rasped her tender flesh. Another wave of pure lust shot through her.

“Lift up a little,” he whispered on a heavy breath.

Unable to tell him no, she complied. His fingers came between them and began to slowly stroke her. She was so wet, and his thick fingers knew just where to travel. “You’re shaking, darlin’,” he said softly as he deftly moved his fingers. “Just take it easy.”

She closed her eyes and drew a shuddery breath. God, she wanted this. She wanted more of everything that had occurred in his bed Monday night. But most of all, she wanted
him
.

“See?” he whispered. “It’s okay. Nobody’s watching…. Lift up a little more, sweetheart.”

This is worse than teenagers,
her Good Girl persona screeched, but she had stopped listening to that side of herself. Though her right knee was trapped between the seat and the console, she braced her hands against his shoulders and somehow rose slightly on her knees.

Just the little extra space allowed two of his fingers to slip into her while his thumb fit perfectly into a place that destroyed all of her will. “Oh,” she squeaked.

“Feel good?” he whispered, moving his fingers and thumb. His other hand slid under her top and his fingers found her nipple.

Ohgodohgodohgod
. That weird tightening in her belly flared and demanded satisfaction. Her neck bent forward, her eyes squeezed shut. Her deep muscles began to flex against his fingers.

“Good?”

“No,” she whimpered.

“Liar.”

His fingers worked, and their breathing filled the pickup cab with heavy, humid air. She could come. She was on the edge. Just a few more seconds. She clenched her teeth to hold back the animal noises she now knew he could draw from her.

“Go ahead,” he whispered. “Let it happen.” His free hand cupped her neck and pulled her toward his mouth.

Just then the crunch of footsteps on gravel came alarmingly near and a couple approached the pickup parked beside them. She sank to Dalton’s lap, his fingers still inside her.

“Evening, folks,” the stranger said, bleeping his pickup door.

Dalton buzzed down the window. “Evening,” he said in a normal voice, while she sat there shaking worse than a scared rabbit.

“Good jukebox, huh?”

“Yeah. We like it.”

“Not as good as the band,” the woman said.

The two strangers continued a conversation about the music as they climbed into the pickup on their respective sides. As soon as they backed out, Joanna lunged for the door latch and clumsily freed herself before Dalton could stop her. She scrambled out of the pickup, at the same time adjusting her clothing.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, breathless and backing away from the door on shaking knees. “I mean it. I’m
not
doing this.”

He didn’t try to stop her. He just sat there on the passenger seat, his boot heels hooked on the threshold, his elbows braced on his knees. The overhead light shone on his face, revealing a scowl and eyes boring into her.

When she reached the bumper, she turned, broke into a run and didn’t look back to see if he was behind her.

Inside the building’s entry, she halted, gasping for breath. Her heart pounded. She was shaking like a wet dog on a cold day. She adjusted her clothing again and straightened her hair. Her cheeks felt warm, her body felt hot.

Oh, crap
. Dalton still had her panties, and she was wet and slick between her thighs. When she had regained a modicum of composure a few seconds later, she skirted the far side of the tables and made her way to the ladies’ room.

After she had washed and dried herself, she returned to the table and her Hatlow friends, her insides still trembling.

“Where the hell have you been?” Shari asked. “We already sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and everything.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were ready to sing. I went out for a breath of air. It’s hot in here.” She glanced furtively over her shoulder to see if Dalton had come back inside, but she saw no sign of him.

She called on deep resources and fortified herself. Somehow she had to endure the remainder of the evening. Several guys, both some she knew and some she didn’t, asked her to dance. She had never danced in a public place with any man while not wearing underwear. She felt both terrified and erotic at the same time. Shari kept saying things like, “What’s wrong with you?” and “I must be drunk, because you’re acting funny.”

At convenient opportunities, she strained her sight watching for Dalton, but she didn’t see him again. To her dismay, she was disappointed.

Chapter 24

At eleven o’clock, after Shari climbed onto the wooden bench seat at their table and started to accompany the jukebox in a loud voice, Jay announced it was time for his wife to go home. Joanna was so grateful, she volunteered to drive.

“I’m okay to drive,” Jay said, grinning and helping Shari into her jacket. “I wasn’t about to drink much. I gotta work tomorrow. And I knew Shari was gonna get shit-faced and need taking care of.”

Joanna didn’t insist. This was the nature of Shari and Jay’s relationship. They looked out for each other. She suspected that if today hadn’t been Shari’s birthday, Jay would have been just as happy to sit at home in his recliner in front of TV, but Shari had had a party in her mind for days.