Closer To You (Tales of the Sweet Magnolia Book 1) (3 page)

She was a siren—seductive, sensual, sexy.

The power behind that wicked little thought caused the juncture of her thighs to tingle.

“Meow.”

Her insistent three-legged feline rubbed against her bare leg, pulling her out of her torrid daydream. “Wyatt, you’re such an attention whore. You should have enough food in your dispenser to last you a month. Have you eaten it all already?”

The long-haired tabby ignored the endearing term and continued to weave between her ankles.

Lil sighed, glancing at herself in the mirror. In truth, there wasn’t anything wrong with her. She was sexy. She could have fun. She had an adventurous spirit. However, she was also studious, quiet, and enjoyed staying home rather than going out all the time. Did that make her a boring catch? She’d just about given up hope that there was someone out there who could appreciate the many sides of her, someone man enough to enjoy her quiet side, but who could be as appreciative of her passionate wicked side. She resigned herself to the idea that she just hadn’t found him yet, and that such a man truly existed beyond her imagination.

Feeling brazen and ignoring her cat’s curious looks, she padded through her apartment in her scandalous lingerie. She caught sight of the black leather bag where she’d dropped it by the door. An odd curiosity drew her to it. She picked it up, and rifling through it, found both the book and box. Pulling them from the clutter in her bag, Lil turned the box over, hands trembling, careful not to disturb any of the ornamentation. She tucked the book under her arm, telling herself that she was interested solely in its possible historical value, not whether she would experience the strange tingling sensations she’d had back at the library. Delicious warmth began to heat her palm, seeming to melt through her skin, seeping into her blood. She held the box in awe-struck wonder, aware of little else as she walked back to her bedroom.

Absent-mindedly, she reached out and flipped on her stereo, the small room coming to life with the
Dixie Chicks
singing about wanting her cowboy to take her away. The words had become her fantasy, her deepest desire, and she found herself humming along to the tune.

She tossed the book on the bed and grabbed one of her lace pillows, plumping it before she crawled to the center of the bed and nestled in its cushy softness. The waning sun, shadowed by the increasing clouds, dimmed the light in the room. She reached over to turn on the rose Tiffany lamp on the nightstand. The antique light had belonged to her grandmother and its muted glow, the color of a summer dawn, evoked a feeling of serenity as much now as it had when she and her gran would sit and read by it.

Lil settled onto the pillows, puzzled how the box felt warm to the touch, like a soothing cup of tea. A peaceful calm washed over her, coupled with an unmistakable energy that she could not dismiss. Surprised once more by her overactive imagination, Lillian chided herself mentally.
Did she wish for her life to be different, so much that she was conjuring these strange sensations?

She held the box up to the light, searching for some mark of its origin, a copyright date, or shop name. Gently, she worried the corner of her lip, inspecting the small latch, debating whether it was wise to tamper with something that was not her property. Her fingers twitched as she neared the tiny lock holding the lid in place. A quick electric spark snapped her fingertip and she let out a gasp, holding the box away.

Too far to back down now.
She swallowed and flipped the metal latch and her entire body trembled with anticipation to find out what lay inside. Perspiration beaded on the sensitive flesh between her breasts and her breathing grew labored as she cautiously lifted the lid. Her eyes widened at what lay on a tiny tuft of white cloth. She slid her fingers beneath the delicate gold chain and lifted the necklace, letting the ruby red heart dangle in midair. Shards of color seemed to wink at her as the light touched the surface. Lillian had never seen anything so beautifully ornate. Uncertain whether the gemstone was real or not, there was certainly no question as to the exquisite detail of the metal filigree work around it. It appeared to be very old and she pictured it worn by a bordello madam, as a gift, perhaps from an appreciative client. Whether real or a reproduction, she couldn’t imagine that its owner wasn’t frantic to get it back. Come morning, she’d call the authorities and perhaps put out a lost and found ad in one of the local papers.

Nudged by curiosity, she pushed to her knees and placed the necklace over her head. With little else to impede its beauty, the red gem lay perched just above the fleshy swell of her breasts. She fingered the cool stone, noting the subtle heat where it had touched her skin. Mesmerized by the twinkling jewel, her eyes lifted to her reflection, seeing a startling transformation. Suddenly, she saw how beautiful she was, not only on the outside, but inside as well. Her eyes welled with the stark clarity of what and who she saw. A nervous giggle escaped her lips. The courage to revel in this newly found sense of self-appreciation sent a scintillating thrill through her, causing her to laugh again, this time out loud, as she cut loose with a couple of provocative poses in the mirror. She’d never felt so empowered by her womanly prowess, had never felt so confident. Seated at the head of the bed, surrounded by the heap of opulent pillows, she imagined herself in another time, another era.

“
Cowboy take me away
….” the woman crooned on her stereo. For an instant, Lil saw herself as the madam of a tainted little parlor house—a bordello of the Old West.

She smiled at the image, but reality seeped in, tarnishing her thoughts, and she wondered what the odds were of finding a man, especially back then, who wouldn’t stereotype her any less than she felt pigeonholed in this day and age.

Like a deflated balloon, Lillian glanced at her reflection again. Where indeed had all the heroes gone, she wondered wearily, punctuating that thought with a yawn. She scrunched down, exhausted by her musings, and picked up the book about Lucky Lil she’d brought home. With a brief look at the faded front cover, a black and white picture of an old clapboard house with a group of people standing on the front porch, she flipped to the forward and read the dedication. “
To all God’s children, who are equal in His sight.”~R.E.S.

Lil turned the page and the scent of musty leather and flowers brushed past her nose. She thought it odd, though dismissed it quickly, understanding that libraries and books, especially older copies, possessed a unique smell all their own. To Lil, aging paper was a comforting scent. She closed her eyes for a moment, the stress of her week overcoming her.
The last things she remembered were the gentle whirl of the ceiling fan overhead and the soft sounds of music playing in the back of her mind.

A thunderous pounding on the bedroom door startled her from a deep sleep. Lillian bolted upright, her head still groggy. Through hooded lids, she noted the last dredges of sunlight filtering through gauzy white curtains. She frowned, not recalling when she’d opened the window. Slow and easy, the wind lifted them as though waving at her. Cool, fresh air, the scent of earth and sweet prairie grass, skimmed across Lillian’s face, creating even more confusion to the thoughts whirling in her mind.

“Miss Lillian! Dammit, are you in there?” The pounding resumed with the fierce command of someone decidedly irate. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Lillian blinked as she fought the deception of her senses. What was going on? When had her mini-blinds been replaced by thin, worn curtains? She scanned the room’s interior. Was this even her room? Though the coverlet and pillows resembled those she remembered on her bed, little else was the same. Against the opposite wall, she saw her reflection in an ornately carved oval mirror attached to a beautiful matching vanity. Displayed on its smooth marble surface was an array of small French perfume bottles. A small woven basket held a handful of soft colored ribbons. An overly large oval hairbrush lay beside it. Her eyes drifted to the low back wooden chair with its white-tufted seat cushion and the twin rose hued lamps that flickered on either side of the vanity. The fact that Lillian recognized the piece as well over a century old caused her to sit up and blink a few times. Unsure if this was a dream or not, she took a better look around her, noting that her walls once painted conventional beige were now covered with a rich olive brocade wallpaper.

Am I dreaming?

“Miss Lillian? You best open this door right now, or I’m aim to kick it down.”

The voice on the other side of the door, however, did
not
sound like a dream, at least not a very happy one. She patted the mattress in the shadowed room, searching for some clothes. At the end of the bed, she found a robe, very sheer in

a lovely pale lavender and fluffy matching trim. With little choice at how gaudy it was, she hurriedly slipped it over her arms, fearful that the irate man on the other side of the door might follow through with his threat. She glanced down realizing with muted brain cells that, in fact the covering—or lack thereof—had rather the opposite effect. Instead of concealing her scanty, leopard print ensemble, it enhanced it in such an explicit manner that she had to clutch the lapels in effort to hide the large amount of her exposed flesh.

“One…two….”

The man sounded as though he meant business. Still in a daze, Lillian scooted off the bed, closing the fabric around her as best she could. “I’m coming, hold your horses.” She struggled to remember whether she was late again in paying rent to her persnickety landlord thinking how very real this dream seemed to be. “Ow!” She let out a yelp stubbing her toe in the dim light. The room seemed far smaller than she remembered. The dream was getting stranger by the minute.

Lillian grabbed the brass lock, twisted it and, as any sensible woman would do, opened it just enough to see who it was, while bracing her body against the other side of the door in case she needed to push against it. Nonetheless, what she saw standing in the shadowy hallway rendered her limbs virtually useless. Now, she was certain this was a dream, one that she hoped she might get to enjoy a little longer.

Unless the building’s manager had made an instantaneous and decidedly better change in both stature and clothing, she had no idea who this hunk of a cowboy was. She stared at the man with his back to her. His shoulders, broad from her viewpoint, fit nicely into a long, butter-colored duster, just like a gunman in a western movie. Carefully, she eased the door open for a better view. She cringed when the hinges squeaked, causing the tall man to whirl fast on his heel and pin her with a stern look. Her breath caught in her throat. Good lord, it was
him
! Her dream cowboy! He was even more handsome than she remembered…but he’d never appeared so unhappy.

“What the Sam hell does ‘hold my horses’ mean?” His words clipped short as his gaze dropped to where her hands clutched the robe over her breasts.

Push-up bra notwithstanding, Lillian wrestled with having the formidable stranger staring openly at her cleavage and the fact that she rather liked it. She’d never seen before the combination of arousal and nervousness etched on a man’s face— in her presence, at any rate. “May I help you?” It seemed like a reasonable question.

“Lil—Miss Lillian.” He shook his head as though assembling his tongue back to its proper function. “My apologies ma’am, for disturbing you, but what I came here to say can’t wait.” He planted his hands on his lean hips, setting his jaw firm. He peered at her with eyes that sparkled dark as a cool desert night. His dusty black Stetson sat low on his forehead, making his eyes even more menacing.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m slightly confused why it is that you’re dressed well, like a…” She knew what she wanted to say, but her brain was having trouble convincing her to say the word aloud. It just sounded impossible.

In sheer frustration, based on the sigh he emitted, he raked his teeth over his provocative lower lip and pushed the hat back off his forehead, revealing a handsome rugged face.

“Like what, Miss Lillian? Like
the sheriff
?” he asked, shooting her a wary glance. “You seem a might pale tonight. You sure you’re feelin’ well?” He reached back and scratched his neck, eyeing her with a look that made her question her sanity.

As if she needed any more help in that department. Tongue-tied by his formidable presence and the way he looked at her like a man eyeballs a steak, she drew the robe closer, realizing his gaze had dropped below her eye level once again.

“Uh, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Sheriff…?” Even as she addressed him with the term he used for himself, she couldn’t grasp what was happening to her. Though she’d had few dealings with legal officials before, he certainly didn’t fit the mold of anyone from her neighborhood beat. An instant, troubling thought attacked her muddled brain. Had Burt turned her in because she’d chosen to take the necklace home with her instead of putting it in the library’s security vault? Surely not! Lillian made a mental note to give Burt a call just as soon as her unexpected visitor left.

She gasped when the man leaned forward, studying her with those intense orbs. His dark brow arched as though he was waiting for her response, successfully disarming what little calm she had left in her.

“Sloan. Miss Lillian. Sheriff Jake Sloan. You act like you don’t know who I am.”

A nervous laugh escaped her throat, but Lillian followed it with a brave smile. This was only a dream. She could handle a burly cowboy. She’d fantasized about meeting one forever, hadn’t she? Her hand flew to her throat, twisting the jewel at her neck. She wet her lips and stared right back at him until he inched away, the corner of his lip curving in a slight smile.

“Of course,” she lied. “Sherriff Sloan. I thought that title was only reserved for small, rural communities.”

Given the strange look on his face, this would have been as good a time as any for her to awaken from the dream. Though it seemed he was willing to accept her apparent loss of memory, it was obvious he wasn’t ignoring the rest of her. The blatant attention sent an odd flutter through her belly.

“Can’t say I get what you’re talking about, Miss Lillian, but the point of my being here is to give you a fair warning.”

“Me? A warning?” She’d just opened the door and was already in trouble with the law?

“Your girls were seen shopping downtown during daylight hours again.” He shifted his weight to his other leg, however his attention stayed on her cleavage.

Desire, powerful and bold, snaked through her and caused her blood to warm.
The girls?
What girls? Could it be that he was referring to—she looked down at her chest—no, that was impossible. A sudden thought snapped her head upright and she peered at his ruggedly handsome face. If this was a dream—her dream— of a gorgeous cowboy and her body, scantily clad in an outfit that certainly the man before her appreciated, she shouldn’t hesitate to do something about it. After all, this might be the only chance she’d have to seduce her fantasy. Instead of fighting what was logical, Lillian chose to embrace her inner hussy, let go of her fear and get a little unruly. She slid her hand up the doorframe, letting her robe fall open as she struck a provocative pose. “Tell me, Sheriff, how do you feel about quiet women?” Her fingers itched to touch the black waves of hair sticking from beneath his Stetson.

Heat ignited in his gaze. His eyes raked over her, singeing her from the inside out and suddenly he doubled over, his arm covering his mouth as he collapsed in a fit of coughing.

Rats. Not the effect I was going for.

Lillian rushed to his side, forgetting the robe, that this was a strange man, and that she was barely dressed—standing in full view of her apartment hallway. She patted him on the back feeling a tad guilty that she’d caught him off-guard like that, even if it was her fantasy.
Good lord, what was the smell radiating off his coat? Was that the scent of a horse?

She quickly scoped the hallway to see if any of her nosy neighbors had heard the ruckus going on. No one had, but it was then that she realized the wallpaper was a scarlet red with large white magnolia flowers. She must have missed that notice. 

“Good God in heaven woman.” He tossed her a side look, giving a quick scan of her fleshly appeal. “Are you trying to solicit an officer of the law?”

His suggestion jerked her from her decorating reverie. Wasn’t her attempt at seduction obvious? This was the strangest fantasy she’d ever had. “Well, I…perhaps was….” She shot him a side look. “No, no, of course not. I haven’t even touched you.” She was flustered, no big surprise there since she was relatively new to the whole “playing out your fantasy” thing.

“And that’s’ how it ought to be.” He nodded firmly. “And for God’s sake, Miss Lillian. Will you please cover yourself?” He reached out, snagging the edge of her flimsy robe, his fingers brushing across her skin.

“I beg your pardon?” She attempted to snatch the thin robe from his hand, but he held tight, his assessment of her underclothing creating a delicious shiver up her spine and a few other places as well.

“Is
that
one of them fancy French numbers?” He nodded toward her, his eyes locked on her bra and skimpy thong. The hunger in his eyes caused her skin to burst into flame. About damn time this little dream went her way, but first she intended to clear up a few minor details.

Lillian swallowed. “Sheriff, you said something about
my
girls shopping? Since when is shopping a crime? And what
girls
are you referring to?” Not that it mattered a great deal. She had no idea what he was talking about, but for the chance to have a man like him stare at her with pure desire glittering in his eyes, she’d be happy to shoot the breeze a while longer. It was certainly creating a fabulous sexual tension between them.

He stepped back, squaring his massive shoulders and dropped his hand to his side. “Have you hit your head on something? Now, you and I, we had an agreement. They could come into town, late afternoon, between five and six, that’s when your women are allowed to shop for your—” His Adam’s apple bobbled on his unshaven throat. “You know…your womanly things.”

His gaze snapped to hers tilting her world on its axis. Those cool, dark eyes filled with determination held hers in an all-business-and-no-fun look.

Hardly the direction she’d hoped for with this fantasy. 

“Mark my words, Miss Lillian”

“You can call me, Lil, everyone else does.”

He pointed a finger at her nose. “Listen, I want no trouble. You talk to those gals. Remind ‘em of our little agreement. That way the townsfolk get what they want, and y’all get what you want.” He ripped the hat from his head and pushed his long fingers through his wave of thick, black hair. “Damn, it sure is hot in here.”

He was sweet, gorgeous, and Lil had to admit she enjoyed watching him battle between lust and being a gentleman. She was usually the one ill at ease around men, not knowing what to say, how to act. She smiled, touching the gem at the base of her throat. An instant surge of brazen confidence welled inside her.

“Is there anything else you needed, Sheriff?” She laid her carnal suggestion out like a royal flush, finding the more she gave into her fantasy, the more empowered she felt. “Anything I can do for you?” She shifted one shoulder, allowing the robe to slide to the crook of her arm and curled her hand over his broad shoulder. She sensed the all-male strength that lay beneath the soft leathery coat. Thoughts of where else he might be as firm flooded her mind and caused her body to heat.

Lil circled around behind him, trailing her fingers across the width of his back.

She indulged in her fantasy of a man with large shoulders, brimming with masculinity and strength, held in his capable arms, soothed by his velvet touch. She breathed in his scent, the smell of the rugged outdoors mingled with leather and, yes horse, but she was willing to overlook that for the sake of her fantasy.

She arched a brow as she came around to face him. Playfully, she rested her arm on his shoulder, allowing him full view of the magic of her push-up lingerie. She curled her finger around a ringlet of his ebony hair, jutting out just below his ear. His shoulder flinched briefly as he fought for control. Lillian smiled, appreciating the power she seemed to have over him. Only in a dream would she have the audacity to come on like this to a man like him. She ran her fingertip along his chiseled jaw, over his firm, kissable lower lip.