Tempt Me Tonight (36 page)

“Thank you.” He eased his arms around her, pulling her close.

Her whole body tingled with the scope of their conversation. “I can’t believe this—it feels surreal to me.”

“What?” he said on a short laugh, suddenly seeming happier than he had in a while. “The idea of staying with me? Or that we’re sitting in the woods stark naked like it’s normal?”

She smiled. “Both.”

“I
love
you naked, honey,” he said, his voice gone leathery and hot.

She found herself running her hand up his thigh and thinking about what lay mere inches higher. “I like you naked, too.”

“But don’t let that make you think I got enough of you in your naughty little lingerie. I’ve been thinking about that. Thinking you looked goddamn phenomenal in it, and that I wouldn’t mind another chance to take it off you again—more slowly this time.”

Another chance. For lingerie. For love. One so playful, one so serious. Still, they coincided perfectly. And at least in that moment, Trish’s doubts—so deep-rooted and long-standing—finally began to melt away. She was supposed to be with him. She’d known it with certainty at seventeen. And it had taken her a hell of a long time to accept that she’d been wrong about that. Maybe she hadn’t been.

And yet, she had to be smart here. Smart and safe. Well, as safe as she
could
be. She locked those words in her mind and tried to focus on them—
smart and safe, smart and safe—
even as she suddenly became aware that, like almost everything else about the person she’d grown into over the years, it was just one more defense mechanism, one more routine designed to keep anyone from hurting her.

So, for just this moment, she allowed herself to abandon
smart,
abandon
safe,
and just go for
sexy.
“Well, maybe if you’re a good boy…you’ll get that chance.”

“Mmm,” he growled, sounding pretty sexy himself. “I think I’m sensing a little of that biker chick in you, cupcake. I sure would like her to come out and play.”

The crux of her thighs rippled softly and she flashed her naughtiest smile—something she’d never even possessed before Joe had come back into her life. “Like I said, if you’re a good boy…”

“You’ll be a
bad
girl?”

“Something like that. But…”

“But what?”

But the time for dirty talk is over and the time to come back to reality is now.
Because one minute of lingerie chat hadn’t quite made her forget the much more serious words they’d just exchanged. “But I think we should get dressed and you should go home,” she said quietly. “I need to think.”

Joe nodded, then wasted no time passing her panties and reaching for his briefs. “Take all the time you need, cupcake.”

Trish felt darn proud of herself for backing away like this, putting some distance between them, instead of simply throwing herself wildly into his arms and professing her undying love. Even so, as she slipped on her underwear, she watched him in silence, drinking in the beauty of his body in shadow, and as she eased back into her dress, she couldn’t help feeling a bit sad that their tryst in the woods was coming to a close.

A minute later, Joe gathered the quilt in one arm and, with his other hand, reached for hers. Their fingers laced as he led her quietly from the trees and up through the big yard, finally stopping at the back door. “I was wrong,” he told her, leaning his forehead against hers. “I thought if we went outside and had sex, it would make it easier for me to go home without you. But I still don’t want to.”

She tried to smile, yet the emotions between them right now simply ran too deep. All smart and safe tactics aside, she didn’t want him to go, either. She lifted one hand to his cheek, felt the stubble bristle against her palm. “I know. But we’ll…talk soon. And you know…well, you know you’ll be on my mind. A lot.”
Every second. I want to kiss you from head to toe right now. I want to wrap myself up in you.

She caught her breath, wondered if her skin was flushed.

But then she realized there was one more thing she needed to say—something dreadfully important. “What you told me about your mom, Joe—please, please know you aren’t responsible.”

He looked down toward their feet, then raised his gaze back to hers. “One of the hardest things is…that’s my last memory of her. That we were screaming at each other. That she hit me and I threw those damn keys at her.”

Seeing that pain etched into his handsome face, Trish still wanted desperately to fix it, at least ease it somehow. “I hope you have more
good
memories of her than bad ones. I hope you can focus on
those.
”

He glanced toward the ground again, but a hint of a smile reshaped his face. “Do you remember the time she got the bright idea to make M&M pancakes?”

Trish laughed. “God, yes. What a mess.” They’d discovered that M&Ms and hot griddles didn’t mix.

“That’s the kind of stuff I try to remember,” he told her, but then grew solemn once more.

“She loved you. You know that.”

Joe looked into her eyes, and she was struck, as she was so often, by the way they penetrated her every defense. “And
I
love
you,
Trish,” he whispered. Then kissed her on the forehead and disappeared into the darkness.

A short while later, she turned back the covers and lay down. Time felt strange—slowed, her movements mechanical. So much hinged on the coming hours, days, weeks. She knew she had to go home—to Indianapolis—there was no getting around that. But the question now was—would she stay there? Or would she change her life radically, irreversibly, and come back here to her hometown, to her family and friends, to Joe?

As she lay looking up through the leafy branches of the oak tree just outside her window, she found herself searching out the moon. It was difficult, but she finally caught sight of it and was surprised to be reminded how bright it shone when it managed to weave its beam through the thick leaves and heavy limbs. It made her think of all the muck she’d had to look through to really see Joe, and how tonight she’d seen so much more of him than ever before—the heart-and-soul part.

She closed her eyes, remembering all the other nights she’d lain in this bed thinking of him. In the past, it had been girlish passion and excitement over what to wear on their next date. They had already promised to marry each other then, yet this somehow seemed much more serious. He was asking her to stay. To give up the life she’d built on her own and stay here to be near him.

It was scary how much that appealed to her—in so many ways.

The fact was, she would love being close to her parents. She could eat her mom’s home-cooked meals. She could help her dad with farm work, and she knew Joe would, too. She could…simply be a bigger part of their lives.

And then there was the diner. Which, frankly, just
wasn’t
a diner anymore. She’d felt some separation anxiety coming on the longer she’d worked on it, and once or twice she’d even found herself imagining if she kept it, ran it. She knew exactly how she’d do it, too. It would become Trish’s Tea Room and Café. Mornings would feature muffins and danishes and coffees. Lunches would be deli sandwiches on specialty breads, and salads made to order. A wide menu of teas and coffees would be served all day, with an easel out front featuring the day’s special in colored chalk. She’d close early on weekdays, like the rest of Main Street, but weekends drew more people through town, so she’d stay open as warranted then, especially in the summer. When she imagined someone else running the place now, it seemed like, well…sort of like giving birth to a child only to let someone else love and raise it.

And maybe she could still use her legal expertise, too—in small ways, working out of the back office privately, taking on cases like Marjorie and Jeremiah’s.

Oddly, she thought it was…exactly the existence she might have had—minus the law work—if life had gone as planned, if she’d come home from college and married Joe. And maybe that should sound disappointing on some level, like a step backward, but it didn’t. As proud as she was of her achievements, was there something…wooden about it all? Perfunctory? Had she gone through the motions of law school and building her name as a defense attorney
only
because she’d been running away from everything that hurt, every plan that had gone awry, to become someone completely new? Someone who
couldn’t
be hurt? Someone who built walls around herself? Maybe her whole adult life had just been about building walls, making sure no one ever hurt her again.

She’d never planned on a law degree; she’d had an eye more toward retail and marketing. But somehow she’d drifted right into law school after running away from Eden. She supposed after what had happened with Joe that she’d just been unable to see herself coming back here, being that same small-town girl. She’d needed to reinvent herself—make herself into a city person, a career woman, someone who didn’t need a man, didn’t need a home, didn’t need anyone to lean on.

She recalled the words that had almost slipped out when she’d been explaining her job to Joe that night at the Burger Barn, when she’d been telling him it was only about winning, about being competitive, that she didn’t care about anyone’s guilt or innocence. She’d nearly said,
Being a lawyer keeps my head and heart separate.
She’d stopped herself, though, because the truth in it had struck her.

Maybe that was why she’d turned to law, because it was so cut-and-dried, because maybe that had helped her not feel things quite so much as she had as a girl.

Only…since she’d come home, she’d started feeling things again. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

And to think Joe had said he would leave Eden and come with her to Indianapolis if that was what she wanted! It had floored her. But it had also instantly felt so wrong—she would never take Joe away from fresh air and open roads. She would never take Joe away from the business he’d built and was such a part of. The moment she’d seen him in the garage bent over that fancy car, she’d understood he was part of the fiber of the place, as integral to it as the tools or the lifts or the building itself.

It wasn’t that way with her and Tate, Blanchard & Rowe. She worked hard, she did a good job, she was a valued member of the team. But even if she made partner—well, it wasn’t the same. It just wasn’t part of her soul.

She hugged a pillow to her chest, aware she was on the verge of making the biggest decision of her life.
Please, God, help me make the right choice.
She didn’t pray much—her life in the city kept her too busy and on edge to remember even the occasional silent plea for help. But here, it was easier.
Everything
was easier.

On Sunday morning, Trish went to church with her parents—for the first time since high school. Partially, it was an appeal to God—to forgive her for not going to church forever, and to remind Him she was in need of His help at the moment. She sat in the pew, praying silently.
I know, God, I know, it’s been way too long and I wouldn’t blame you if you struck me down with a bolt of lightning or sent a pox upon me or something. But I’ve mostly been a good person all this time, and now I’m trying to figure out the best way to live the rest of my life. And yeah, I know I’ve been having a
crazy
amount of sex with Joe out of wedlock, but…does it help that I love him? And that I probably always have? I’m hoping that earns me some points, since I really need some guidance right now. I’d be giving up a lot to come home. But I’d be gaining a lot, too. So…if you could just send me a sign or something, that would be great. And I promise I’ll try to get back here before another fourteen years go by.

Okay, so she was rusty on praying. But at least she was trying.

She’d also gone to church because she knew it would please her mother. And it had.

What she
hadn’t
expected were all the people from her past—older now, of course—who wanted to give her hugs and say they’d missed her and how wonderful it was to see her. Old Mrs. Whitaker from her Sunday school days, Mr. and Mrs. Greenwell from up the road, Reverend Harris and his daughter, Melissa—whom Trish used to babysit on occasion, but she was all grown up now. The greetings truly warmed her heart and reminded her how much she missed the sense of community a small town provided.

After church, she took her parents to the diner. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but the time had come to unveil her work. She spent the drive preparing them for the changes, explaining her views on shifts in the area’s consumer base and what would work best with the other businesses currently residing on Main Street. But when the three of them stepped inside, the bell above the door tinkling, her mom and dad still couldn’t hide their shock.

“Well, I’ll be horn-swoggled,” her dad said. Since she’d never heard him be horn-swoggled in her whole life, Trish knew he was stunned.

“This is…different.” Her mother looked like she might faint.

Despite herself, Trish’s stomach churned with defensiveness. “It’s
supposed
to be different. More modern. More of a café or coffeehouse. Don’t get me wrong—I loved the old diner. But the current vibe in the area calls for something updated—a friendly, funky place you can pop into for a quick drink or snack or sandwich.”

“Funky,” her father repeated numbly. Another word she’d never heard him use.

“I really think this will work,” she went on—without adding that the changes would garner a quicker sale, since at the moment, she wondered if
she
might be the buyer. She didn’t want to tell them yet and get their hopes up. So she changed the subject instead.

The only real remaining fixture from the diner was the old jukebox. “I think you guys should take that home,” Trish told them, pointing at it, “find a place for it, and think of it like a souvenir from all the years you ran this place.”

Her parents exchanged looks and she suspected they liked the idea—better than they seemed to like her alterations. “Guess we could find a spot for it,” her dad said.

“There’s that alcove off the dining room. We’ve been meaning to get rid of that old table there,” her mom chimed in.