Downhome Darlin' & The Best Man Switch Read online

  And ever since he’d left her off at home after watching the sunrise in the hayloft, she’d felt on the verge of getting into her car, tracking him down and jumping his bones wherever she found him, just to get some relief from the constant yearning for him that he’d left unsatisfied that morning.

  She was hot for the man. That’s all there was to it.

  Well, maybe not all there was to it. But she was hot for him; there was no doubt about that Hot and anxious to feel his naked body against hers. To feel his hands on every inch of her flesh. To feel his mouth on hers. On her breasts. On other parts it embarrassed her to even imagine. She craved the weight of him on top of her, the fullness of him inside her. Curiosity made her wonder if the explosion of ecstasy he’d bring her to could possibly be as incredible as she kept fantasizing it would be....

  “So much for baking to take my mind off him,” she muttered to herself as she slipped the brownies into the oven.

  With time to kill while they baked, she fixed herself a glass of iced tea and sat on one of the tall stools at the worktable in the center of the room, trying consciously to clear the man out of her thoughts.

  But it didn’t work.

  He was still there. Smiling that alluring smile of his. Beckoning to her...

  She really did like him on top of everything else. She loved spending time with him. Loved the sound of his voice, the sense of adventure he brought into her life. She loved talking to him, listening to him. She loved his enjoyment of the sunset, the sunrise. She loved that he brought her out of herself, out of the shell of shyness that Bill Snodgrass had complained of.

  But all of that notwithstanding, she just plain lusted after him in a way no one—not even her—would believe she could lust after anybody. It was as if she hadn’t known real passion until meeting Cal.

  And if anything was a recipe for disaster, she thought that was.

  Because she was so hot for him and because each time those desires reached a higher level without being satisfied, she was getting more and more ready and willing to throw caution to the wind the way she might have the previous morning if he’d just restarted what the kittens had stopped. She was increasingly tempted to forget all the shouldn’ts. To ignore all the red flags that common sense kept raising at saner moments. To turn her back on the wiser route of avoidance and just give in to what she craved. To what she lusted after. To Cal.

  And if she never found out what it was like to lie naked in his arms, to have him make love to her, she thought it would be something she’d regret the rest of her life. Something she’d wonder about. Dream about. Yearn for with a secret hunger that never quite managed to be sated.

  And somehow that possibility seemed as frightening as anything she could think of.

  But what if a moment’s rapture was all she ever had with him? she asked herself. She knew he wasn’t the marrying kind. And it was highly likely that he was just enjoying her company for the time being.

  But maybe that moment’s rapture would be enough.

  Because being with him now felt so good. More than good—it felt great.

  And if she couldn’t have forever with a man like him, maybe she should grab on to at least that moment’s rapture.

  It was a thought that terrified her. And set her blood into a rush of excitement at the same time. Just the way he did.

  He made her feel alive, she realized. More alive than she had since growing up and becoming responsible, steady, predictable Abby Stanton.

  And for once she wanted more than one helping of that feeling. Of all the feelings he raised in her. She wanted to help herself to all the courses right to dessert. And she wanted to gorge on that dessert....

  The timer went off to let her know her brownies were baked, startling Abby out of the thoughts of Cal. But not too far out of them.

  What was she going to do about the hots she had for him? she asked herself as she tested the brownies, found them done exactly right and took them out of the oven.

  “How about getting in your car, tracking him down and jumping his bones,” she muttered under her breath.

  “They put people away for mumbling to themselves, you know. Or am I missin’ somethin’ and there’s somebody in there with you?”

  She really jumped that time, knocking the side of the pan on the edge of the oven with a bang.

  Spinning around to the rear door she’d left open so the night air could come in through the screen, she found Cal himself standing just outside in the alley that ran behind the shop, once again making it seem as though mere thoughts of him were enough to conjure him out of thin air.

  “You scared me to death,” she said, her heart racing so fast it pounded in her ears.

  “I’m sorry. I knocked on the front door and then back here, too, about the time that buzzer went off. Guess you didn’t hear me.”

  Abby set her brownies on the rack to cool and then headed in Cal’s direction.

  “What are you doing out there?” she said, recalling that it was the same thing she’d said to him when she’d discovered him outside her bedroom window the previous night. The man made a habit of showing up at the oddest moments.

  “I couldn’t sleep again. Decided to take a drive and saw the light on in here when I came by. I know you guys start early, but a quarter to three in the morning? Isn’t that a little odd?”

  She unlatched the screen so he could come in, seeing the proof that this was an impromptu visit in the shadow of his beard darkening his face and the slight unruliness of hair that looked as if it had been raked through with his fingers once too often.

  Not that he didn’t still look terrific. A little rumpled, a lot rugged and all the more sexy for it.

  “I couldn’t sleep, either,” she said, explaining her work hours and watching him step into her kitchen.

  He was dressed in his usual cowboy boots and tight jeans, but tonight he had on a sky-blue henley T-shirt with the placket open tantalizingly down his chest and the sleeves rolled high enough to show bulging biceps.

  To distract herself from the sight of that chest and those biceps she went on to tell him about the mayor’s special order, omitting the fact that thoughts of Cal had been what had changed her original plan to fill that order.

  “They smell like heaven,” Cal said when she’d finished, taking a long whiff of the brownies.

  “I think I could probably spare a couple for you to taste, but you’ll have to wait for them to cool slightly before I can cut them.”

  He flashed her one of those smiles that lit her on fire. “Got nowhere pressing to go,” he assured her.

  “Would you like some iced tea while you wait?”

  “Love some.”

  While Abby filled a glass with ice and the last of the tea she and her sisters kept on hand for themselves, she could see Cal surveying the kitchen.

  “So this is your bakery,” he said when she’d handed him the glass.

  “This is it, all right,” she confirmed, sweeping a hand around the big, open space with its worktable, commercial stove and ovens, dishwasher, sinks, cooling racks and the enormous cupboard where they stored their bowls, measuring cups, pots, pans, baking sheets and other utensils.

  “What’s upstairs?” he asked with a nod toward steps that could barely be seen rising from a corner alcove.

  “An apartment. When most of the buildings along First Street were built, folks ran the shops on the ground floor and lived above them.”

  “Anybody live up there now?”

  “No. We keep it clean and furnished because sometimes family will come and stay in it for an extended visit. Or if the weather turns really bad, my sisters and I will use it rather than going home and coming back again in a blizzard. But right now no one’s up there.”

  Which meant they were all alone here.

  And realizing that gave Abby visions of taking him upstairs. Of showing him the apartment. Of pausing in the bedroom. Of him leading her to the bed...

  “Want to see it?”
she heard herself ask, feeling her pulse race all over again, though this time fright had nothing to do with it.

  Cal cast a glance at the stairs, and she had the sense that he was debating with himself about going up there, almost as if he knew what she had on her mind.

  But in the end he said, “Nah, that’s okay. If we leave this kitchen unmanned, somebody might sneak in and steal those brownies.”

  He took a long pull of his iced tea, set the glass down on the worktable not far from the cooling confections and wandered into the storefront. “This the day-old stuff in the bags on top of the case out here?” he called back to her.

  “Mm-hmm,” she answered, watching him. Mostly his derriere. Imagining how it would look without those jeans encasing it. Wondering what kind of underwear he wore. If he wore underwear...

  “Aren’t you tired?” she asked in a second attempt to distract herself since no matter what she’d decided before he got there, she wasn’t altogether sure she really could bring herself to jump his bones. “You were up all night last night. I’d think you’d be beat.”

  He shrugged a broad shoulder as he came through the connecting doorway again, stopping there to lean against the jamb and look in at her. “I’ve never needed a lot of sleep. And after seein’ you through the window, I perked up as if I’d been drinkin’ coffee by the pot. You’re a hell of an insomnia inducer.”

  “Am I?” she said, surprised by the coyness in her own tone.

  He grinned at her as if it pleased him. “I know you’re what’s been keepin’ me up nights. But why couldn’t you sleep?”

  “Why have I been keeping you up?” she asked with more of that coyness.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Must have somethin’ to do with the fact that I can’t seem to stop thinkin’ about you.”

  “Maybe thinking about you was what kept me awake.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Maybe,” she repeated firmly, unwilling to give him more than that. Then she said, “We can probably cut the brownies now.”

  “Gerat.”

  She went to work, but he stayed standing against the jamb, watching her. Studying her every movement with a penetrating aquamarine gaze that Abby began to think she could actually feel on her hands as she wielded the knife. On her hair. On her face. On her mouth. On her breasts...

  “Is it warm in here?” she asked as she stacked brownies on a tray, feeling more than hot. Steamy, in fact.

  “Pretty warm,” he agreed, pushing off the jamb and crossing to her on long, confident strides that matched the sound of his boot heels to her heartbeat.

  He stopped close beside her at the worktable and took an ice cube from his glass where it still sat waiting for him.

  Abby thought he was going to eat the ice to cool himself off but instead he touched it to the uppermost curve of her ear, running it lightly along the outer edge to the lobe, then along the column of her neck to her collarbone and downward, stopping it just above the lowest dip of her tank top, where he let a drop of water fall into her cleavage.

  A tiny shiver shook her from the inside out, but it wasn’t from the cold. It was from who was applying it and from yearning for him so much she could hardly breathe.

  Then Cal followed the path the ice cube had left, blowing softly on the wet trail in a way that was teasing and oh-so-sensual, stopping at the base of her throat rather than following that last droplet.

  “Better?” he asked in a whisper against her skin.

  Better? She was hotter than ever!

  “It’s the ovens,” she said when she could gather enough voice to speak. “They heat things up a lot.”

  “And here I thought I might have somethin’ to do with it,” he joked with a low rumble of a chuckle, straightening up to look into her eyes. “But if it’s the ovens, then maybe we should take our share of the brownies out somewhere cooler.”

  “Good idea,” she said in a hurry because she felt that she might melt if she didn’t get out of metre. Besides, if she was going for the moment’s rapture, she didn’t want it to happen in an already overheated kitchen. Or even upstairs in the bedroom that kept flashing through her mind, where the heat had risen to undoubtedly make it overly warm, too. She wanted somewhere more comfortable....

  “Know a spot?” he asked.

  Lost in her own musings, for a split second she thought he was asking if she knew a spot where they might go to make love. Then she realized he couldn’t know what was on her mind, what had been on her mind before he’d arrived tonight.

  Reminding herself that he was only asking if she knew a good spot to cool off and eat brownies, she said, “I could deliver these things to the school—I have a key to the cafeteria door so I can leave them inside. Maybe we can come up with a place from there.” Like his place...

  “Okay.”

  Abby put a few of the brownies on a paper plate, loosely covered the tray for the picnic with foil so they wouldn’t get soggy and did a quick cleanup.

  When that was accomplished, Cal carried the tray out to the front while Abby locked the back. By the time she’d followed him through the bakery, he was waiting with the black Corvette’s passenger’s door open for her.

  It occurred to her that if her sisters came into work in the morning and found her car in the alley but her nowhere around, they might be alarmed. Yet it was a brief thought she put aside to deal with later as she slipped into the leather seat and let Cal set the big tray in her lap.

  “We won’t have a night watchman or a janitor shooting at us for this, will we?” he joked as he started the car and eased away from the curb.

  “There isn’t a night watchman, and the janitor is only at the school in the day.”

  “No alarms to set off this time of night?”

  “There isn’t any alarm at all. This is Clangton, remember. Speeding is the biggest crime we’ve seen in the last five years. The sheriff doesn’t even patrol at night. We’re probably the only two people out. And I have a key,” she repeated, dangling it at him. “We’ll just pop in, leave the brownies, lock up and be out again before you can say boo.”

  They made it to the school in five minutes flat because it was only two blocks from First Street.

  A single-story, blond brick structure, the school was built in a U-shape in order to keep the three levels of education somewhat separate. The youngest kids attended classes in the center section so they could be closest to the gym, cafeteria and main office; the middle-school and high-school kids were put in opposite wings.

  Cal pulled into the circular driveway in front, but Abby directed him around the flagpole to another portion of the driveway that took them to the rear where the playground was just behind the building and beyond that was a football field.

  One of the football field’s eight tall lights was left lit at night—the only concession to security—so it was easy to find the cafeteria door and let themselves in.

  Another five minutes and the brownies had been left among other picnic supplies already accumulated, and Abby and Cal were back out in the night air.

  But rather than head straight for his car the way she thought they would, Cal paused to look out at the manicured lawn of the football field.

  “How ’bout we eat our brownies on the fifty-yard line?” he suggested.

  What could she say? I had a more romantic spot in mind—something along the line of your bedroom maybe....

  “Okay,” she answered on a quiet, disappointed sigh that made him frown slightly at her.

  But he just went to the car for their share of the brownies and then came to lead her out to the middle of the athletic field, where they sat on the grass.

  “Ah, that’s nice,” he muttered, stretching out long legs to cross at the ankles and leaning on one elbow.

  Abby had her legs curved to the side and underneath her, bracing her weight on a single hand, looking down at him.

  The gold dusting of that single light didn’t reach all the way to the fifty-yard line, so they were in the sha
dows.

  But still she could see his handsome features, not marred by the day’s growth of beard that shaded his face. And she had to admit that it was nice to sit there with him, surrounded by the scent of freshly mowed grass and summer leaves, all alone.

  Maybe not as nice as being in his bedroom. But nice just the same, with a certain element of privacy in the darkness of night and the fact that all of Clangton was so quiet, so still, they really did seem to be the only two people awake. Certainly the only two people out and about. And it occurred to her that being anywhere with him had a special quality all its own.

  “I used to come here to blow off steam when I was a kid,” she said as she handed him a still warm brownie and then took one for herself.

  “Blow off steam? You? As in temper tantrum?”

  “Mmm.”

  “I never pictured you havin’ a temper.”

  “I don’t really. Not now. But you know how kids are. I’d get into trouble or be sure there was some injustice being heaped on me, and then I’d go off in a huff.”

  “What kind of trouble did you get into?” he asked, as if he didn’t believe it was possible.

  “I got into my share of mischief,” she said defensively.

  “Like what?” he challenged her to convince him.

  “Like bombarding a birthday party I didn’t get invited to with water balloons from over the backyard fence. And booby-trapping a bully’s doorstep with open cans I’d filled with paint so when he came out he tripped over them and splattered paint all over himself. And the stoop. And the door. And his mother, who’d followed him out to see who had been calling him names from behind the bushes to get him outside in the first place.”

  “Abby,” Cal admonished. “I never imagined you as an ornery kid.”

  “Well, I was. But I didn’t really start coming here to walk off my mads until I was a teenager. Usually after fighting with my sisters about something and having my parents come down on me for it because I was the oldest and should have known better. Then I’d head over here and sometimes, if I was really peeved, I’d climb up onto the top of the equipment shed and scream at the top of my lungs.”