Naturally Naughty (8 page)

“You’re such a phony, Katherine Jones,” he replied. Then he stepped closer and took her in his arms, hugging her close. Kate allowed herself to be comforted, burrowing into Armand’s hard, masculine chest the way she would with an older brother.

“It’s really a shame you don’t like women,” Kate said, looking up at him. “You’re funny, loyal and a total hottie.”

Armand smiled, a heart-stopping smile that could make women try to reform him and gay men sit up and beg. “I
adore
women. I just don’t want to sleep with them. Besides, I wouldn’t want to be one of those men you push away as you close yourself up in your prickly, tough shell, keeping out anyone you think could hurt you. This way we can love each other without any sex or commitment stuff getting in the way.”

“I love you, too,” she said with a gentle smile, not acknowledging his probably all-too-accurate description of Kate’s views on trust, love and relationships.

Before they could get any mushier, the phone rang. Kate answered, smiling as she heard her mom’s voice. The smile faded as Edie told her some bad news about her Pleasantville house.

“Vandalized? How? Did the Keystone Kops do anything?”

“Sheriff Taggart assures me he’ll do everything he can to catch those who did it,” Edie said. “Tag’s a nice young man, you’d like him. He and your cousin have apparently already met.”

Kate snorted, still unable to believe Cassie had gone to Pleasantville. “Yeah, the son of a…I mean, the sheriff, gave her a ticket last night, her first night in town. Sounds like Pleasantville’s as pleasant as ever to the Tremaines.”

“It’s not the whole town, Kate. Only a few bad apples.”

“Enough to fill Mrs. Smith’s pies for a decade.”

Her mother tsked. “Obviously your cousin disagrees with you, since she’s decided to spend the summer there.”

Kate could have told her the
real
reason Cassie had gone to Pleasantville. But the cousins had agreed not to. Edie and Flo didn’t need to know that Cassie was, in essence, hiding
out from a troubling situation. A possibly dangerous situation.

At least Pleasantville is better than dead. Kinda.

“In any case, the real estate agent is having a handyman repaint,” Edie said. “He also tells me he had a call asking if the house was available for short-term rental. What do you think?”

Kate, the accountant-at-heart, nodded. “Good idea. If you can rent it out to cover the mortgage until it sells, then do it.”

After a few minutes’ conversation she hung up and told Armand what had happened to her mother’s house.

“What a horrid little burg,” he said. “Who would paint graffiti on Edie’s door? She’s the nicest soul I know!”

Kate nodded, agreeing. Her mom was genuinely the nicest person she knew. Patient and understanding. Sweet-natured, helpful and modest. All the qualities Kate had wanted as a kid—which she now knew definitely had
not
swum across that gene pool from mother to daughter. She’d tried to pretend they had, while growing up in Ohio. But the sweet, modest, quiet genes had eluded her. She had to admit it…she liked herself better now that she was free to be herself. Prickly tough shell and all.

“I can’t believe Cassie’s vacationing there. Couldn’t she have gone
anywhere
else but Nastyville?”

Kate shrugged. Yes, Cassie could have gone somewhere else, but fate and circumstance had pointed her to Pleasantville. There was Cassie’s personal situation. Edie’s departure. Flo’s affair and decision to give Cassie several properties in their hometown—properties left to Flo by some of her more affluent lovers. That had amused Cassie to no end. And the diaries.

Kate had mailed Cassie’s diary to her immediately after her return from Ohio, and the two of them had sat on the
phone for two hours one night, talking about them. They’d relived all the slights, the hurts and their infamous prom night. They’d even read over their “revenge lists.” Then and there, Cassie had decided the best place to hide out was in a town that had never really seen her anyway. It made sense, in a sad, twisted way.

T
HEIR DIARIES
were still on Kate’s mind late that night when her phone rang at home. Cassie, needing a friendly voice. They talked for several minutes about the pricey house on Lilac Hill, which Flo had given Cassie. Then Kate asked the inevitable. “So, did you go by Pansy Lane today?”

When Cassie went silent, Kate sighed. “You saw.”

“Yeah. Your mom called, and I went to see how bad it was.”

“And?” When Cassie hesitated, Kate said, “Come on, Cass, do you think I’ll be shocked by anything the people there do?”

“It’s pretty bad. Horrible, ugly words, spray-painted across the front of your mom’s house.” Cassie gave a humorless chuckle. “And a few for Flo’s house, just for good measure.”

Kate muttered an obscenity. “I’m thinking Pleasantville could really use a High Plains Drifter,” she muttered. “Mom says the agent’s going to have the damage fixed. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me how it’s going for you.”

Cassie chuckled. “Did I tell you about the other building Flo gave me? It was Mr. McIntyre’s shop on Magnolia.”

Kate gasped. “McIntyre’s? No way! I never knew Flo was involved with Darren’s father. No wonder Mrs. McIntyre hated us. I guess that’s why the men’s shop closed down.”

Kate should have expected what came next. Cassie had
come up with the crazy idea to give Kate the building to open a store, a Bare Essentials, in Pleasantville! She laughed, loudly, as her cousin launched into reasons why it was a good idea.

They lightheartedly argued about it for a few minutes then Cassie said, “And besides, it’s right downtown. Right next door to the Tea Room. Are you following me here?”

While they kept discussing it, Kate’s mind was somewhere else. Thinking of Edie. Of the vicious words that day in the Tea Room. Of the spite. Of the silly Clint Eastwood poster. Of the big overstock she had piling up in the backroom of her store, because of the going-out-of-business sale of a sex toy supplier from Texas. Of a big empty building and storefront, which, Cassie said, needed only a little elbow grease to get it ready to open. Which Cassie wanted to provide, if only to keep from going crazy with boredom. She thought of the cute girl she’d met in the nail salon, who’d longed for something to happen.

Mostly, she thought of Cassie. Alone, a sitting duck, in a town that didn’t care a rat’s ass for any of them and wouldn’t lift a finger to help if her trouble followed her to Ohio.

Cassie urged, “Come on, Kate. Opening a porn shop in Pleasantville. It doesn’t get better than that.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Bare Essentials is not a porn shop. But you’re right, it sure would cross number one off my revenge list, wouldn’t it?” Then she chuckled. “And some of the Winfields are still in town to get even with, right?”

Cassie obviously understood. She knew what had happened on prom night, just as Kate knew what had happened to Cassie. They’d shared their most anguished secrets one night a few years ago over a bottle of cheap tequila and an entire key lime cheesecake. Then Cassie gasped. “Oh, I
can’t believe I forgot. Did your mom tell you someone wants to rent her house?”

“Yeah. I guess
if
I come back to town, I’d better ask her not to so I’ll have someplace to stay.”

“Don’t be silly. You can stay with me. It’s too late, anyway, your mom told me she heard from the renter today. It’s J. J. Winfield. He’s renting her place in a couple of weeks.”

Kate reeled. J. J. Winfield was going to be living in her mother’s house? Why would he stay on the
seedy
side of town when his family lived on the sunny one? “Impossible!”

“Swear to God. Your mom seemed really touched by it.”

Kate wasn’t surprised her mother hadn’t called her back to tell her. Kate had never admitted knowing about her affair, but Edie knew she couldn’t stand the Winfields, anyway.

Kate suddenly saw an opportunity. Mayor John Winfield was gone, but there would soon be another John Winfield in Pleasantville. Could she possibly get vengeance on the late Mayor Winfield through his son? Seduce him, break his heart, get some serious payback on behalf of the Tremaine women?

She wondered if she could really go through with it. Physically, yes. Kate wasn’t vain. But she knew something about sex and seduction. It was her stock in trade. So yes, she could do it. It was the emotional part she worried about.

But men did that kind of thing every day, didn’t they? Look at what had happened to her in good old Pea-Ville ten days before. A man had taken what he wanted—admittedly giving her some pleasure, too—and walked away without a single word since. Hurting her. Though, damn it, she’d never admit that to anyone!

Her decision was easy. With a few shipments of goods,
and some vacation time this summer, she could look out for Cassie, give a major screw-you to the old guard in Pleasantville…and seduce and break the heart of the son of the man who’d broken her mother’s. Throw in a humiliating moment for Darren and Angela, and she’d make all her teenage dreams come true.

“Cassie,” she finally said, knowing her cousin awaited her decision. “Do you think Flo would let me stay in her old place?”

J
ACK COULD HAVE CHOSEN
the master bedroom when he moved into Edie Jones’s house. Since he’d be in town for at least a month settling his father’s tangled financial affairs, he probably should have made himself comfortable in the larger bed. He didn’t, for several reasons, but mostly because of the image of his own father—and Edie—in it. He shuddered at the thought.

He still couldn’t believe it. His father and Edie had been lovers for two decades. He hadn’t just taken Angela’s word; his mother had admitted it. That was when he’d decided he couldn’t stay in his parents’ house during his trip home this summer.

Most sons would probably have felt as much anger toward Edie as toward his father. Jack felt only pity and regret for the woman, who’d been the kindest part of his boyhood. His parents’ marriage had been as convoluted as his father’s finances, and Edie had been a victim more than anything else. Looking through his father’s records, it became obvious the pittance he’d left Edie in his will didn’t come near to covering her paychecks, some of which she hadn’t cashed over the years.

His family owed Edie something. Staying here, fixing up her house, doing repairs and maintenance so she could sell the place and make a new life for herself, was the least Jack could do.

“Sleep, Jack.” He glanced at the clock, which showed
the hour had moved past one. Sleep proved elusive here, especially because Kate had told him how she’d spent her last afternoon in this house. Lying on her bed. Thinking of him. Touching herself. “Knock it off, moron,” he said. He couldn’t allow himself to think about Kate. Not until he’d figured out how to make up for the damage his parents had caused to her and her mother.

“God, I’m sorry,” he muttered. Sorry for Edie, who, he’d learned, had been ridden out of town like a scarlet woman by the old guard of Pleasantville. Sorry for Kate, who’d grown up in this tiny house, on Edie’s small income, made smaller by his parents’ selfishness. Sorry for himself, because what he wanted more than anything was to find Kate and to tell her how hard he’d fallen for her on the day they’d met, just over a month ago.

But he couldn’t. His family had done enough to hurt the Jones women. Until he could find some way to right the wrong, he couldn’t let himself see Kate again.

It had been impossible to stay away from her. He’d been drawn to her, easily locating her store on Michigan Avenue. Twice he’d watched her from outside, trying to figure out how to go in and face her. The second time he’d had his hand on the door handle, prepared to go inside. Then he’d seen her in the closed shop in the arms of a tall, dark-haired man. He’d driven away, never finding out whether the guy had been friend or lover. But the image of her with another man had given him some long, sleepless nights.

Like now.

He closed his eyes again, determined to sleep, then opened them as he heard a noise through the wall. A bang. A low curse. Both came from next door, inside what should have been the
empty
half of the duplex, which belonged to Edie’s sister.

“Son of a bitch.” Jumping up, he grabbed some sweatpants and ran downstairs, figuring the vandals had returned.

Whoever the vandals were, they weren’t very smart. The front door to the adjoining unit was wide open. He easily made out the beam of a flashlight moving around upstairs. Ready to transfer all his unexpended sexual energy into some violence against the intruders, Jack took the stairs two at a time. In the upstairs hall he turned toward the room directly beside the one in which he’d been lying next door. As he burst in, the beam of a flashlight, held by a dark-clothed person, swung toward him.

“Stop right there, you rat bastard,” Jack snarled as he tackled the person and took him to the floor.

“Ow, get off me!”

A female voice had spoken. Definitely a soft, curvy female body cushioned his against the hard floor. A mass of thick, dark hair spilled across his hands and brushed against his bare chest. Catching the achingly familiar sweet scent of lemon, he knew even before he saw her who it was. “Kate?”

The flashlight thunked as it rolled out of her hands, swinging around to shine on her face.

She stopped struggling beneath him and stared up, finally recognizing him in the shadowy darkness. “Jack?”

“I’m sorry.” He rolled off her. “Did I hurt you?”

She sat up, sucking in deep breaths, but didn’t answer. When Jack reached toward her, to make sure she was real and all right, she flinched away as if she couldn’t bear his touch.

He probably deserved it. He couldn’t imagine what she’d made of his silence since their meeting. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she finally answered, her voice shaky and her breathing still shallow. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“This is my aunt’s house. She knows I’m here, she told me I could stay for a while.”

Kate staying right next door? Sleeping in this room, directly next to the one where he’d be sleeping? Moving around in this house behind one all-too-thin wall so he’d be able to hear her sigh in her sleep or step into the shower?

God help him.

“Now, answer my question, Jack. Why are you here in the middle of the night?” She glanced down, as if just noticing his bare chest and loose sweats. Her eyes immediately shifted away, but not before he saw her lips part so she could suck in a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m staying here.”

She jerked her attention back to his face. “Staying?
Here?
”

“I mean, next door. I’m renting the duplex next door.” He paused. “Your mother’s place.”

“My mother’s…wait, you know my mother?” She paused. “You know who I am?”

“Yes. To both questions.”

“How? And what do you mean, you’re renting Mom’s duplex? That’s not possible. You can’t be living in her house.”

“You didn’t know she’d rented it out?”

“Well, of course, but to J. J. Winfield…” Her voice softened. Even in the low lighting provided by the flashlight and the moon shining in through the bare front window, he saw her cheeks go pale and her mouth drop open. “Oh, no. Tell me your name is not J. J. Winfield.”

He shook his head, sending a bolt of relief shooting through her body. “No, it’s not.” Her relief quickly disintegrated when he continued. “No one except my parents
and your mother have called me J.J. since I was a teenager. I go by Jack now.”

Kate couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Certainly she couldn’t speak. The man she’d had fabulous sex with in the theater several weeks ago was J. J. Winfield—the son of Mayor John Winfield? The man she’d come back to town to seduce and to destroy was the one who’d already hurt her so badly by breaking his promise to call after their amazing encounter? She covered her eyes. “This is a nightmare.”

“Kate, I’m sorry, I had no idea you were coming back to Ohio. Your mother never mentioned it.”

She didn’t know which was worse. That he was here and she had to face her inattentive lover, or that he was John Winfield Junior. Somehow, the memory of all those long, silent, lonely weeks since she’d seen him last seemed the more devastating now.

“No, of course you didn’t know I was coming.”

Her mother couldn’t have told him, because even
she
hadn’t known. Kate and Cassie hadn’t told Edie because Kate knew her mother too well. She’d be on the first plane back here if she thought Kate was coming to stay in town.

Cassie was one thing—everyone in the family knew Cassie could take care of herself. With her looks, brains and her self-confidence, Cassie had never really had to rely on anyone for anything. Except love and loyalty, which the Tremaine women were always quick to provide to one another.

But, to Kate’s eternal annoyance, her mother seemed to think Kate was too easily hurt, too vulnerable, and in need of protection. Which really sucked when she wanted people to see a hardworking, intelligent, kick-ass businesswoman. Not the girl who’d cried into her teddy bear after so many childhood hurts, the girl who’d hidden in her tree house and
made up stories about how her father hadn’t really died and would one day come back.

Not the girl who’d been dumped on prom night.

Jack couldn’t have heard about her return from anybody else, either. Kate and Cassie had been careful to keep their plans quiet, to avoid the inevitable protests and backlash. She was sure many people had known Cassie had been working in the old storefront for the past three weeks, preparing to open a ladies’ shop, but not the exact
nature
of the ladies’ shop.

“No, you couldn’t have known I’d show up. You never would have stayed here, in this house, had you known,” she said. “Because, you couldn’t very well avoid me if we were practically roomies. And obviously, you had no intention of seeing me again. Right?” She couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice. She wondered if he heard the tinge of hurt there, too.

She waited for him to run the usual male line.
I meant to call you, babe, just lost your number…forgot to pay my phone bill…broke my dialing finger…was sent away on a deadly, top-secret government mission.

“I should go,” he said, not even acknowledging her justified anger.

His lack of response angered her even more. He couldn’t even
attempt
to make up a lame excuse? He wasn’t going to be courteous enough to give her the chance to tell him what she thought of him? Wasn’t going to try to sweet talk her so she could tell him he could touch her again when hogs started flying over Pleasantville, leaving the appropriate droppings right down the middle of Magnolia Avenue?

That wasn’t how the game worked. Uh-uh. No way was he getting off so easily. “Oh, sure, I know you must be a busy man. Too busy to even, oh, I dunno, pick up a phone once in a while?”

“Kate…”

“What, Jack? You expect me to be like your Lilac Hill girlfriends? Like your sister,
Angela?
” She spat out the name, not caring if he heard her dislike. “I’m supposed to be brushed off quietly, like a lady, not bring up the fact that I’m
unhappy
you lied?”

“I didn’t lie…”

“You shouldn’t have promised, Jack. You shouldn’t have made a big deal out of swearing you’d see me in two days. I was willing to let it end right then and there outside the Rialto. But you had to be Mr. Noble, Mr. Good Guy. You made me think of what happened as something more than it was. You hurt me and, damn it, you have no business hurting me!” To her horror, she heard her voice break. If one tear fell down her cheek, she mentally swore she’d poke her own eye out.

“Kate, honey, I’m sorry. Listen…”

“Forget it,” she snapped. “Forget I said anything.”

“I thought about you all the time,” Jack said, his voice low and throaty in the near darkness. “But things got…complicated.”

She snorted. “Complicated. Uh-huh.” She started to rise. “Look, I don’t really care. You shouldn’t have said you wanted to see me again if you didn’t plan to, that’s all.” Swallowing hard, she continued. “We’re both adults. We both knew it didn’t mean anything.”

Her words seemed to anger him. He grabbed her wrist and held her, not letting her get up beyond her knees. “Like hell. It meant a lot, Kate, and you know it.”

His green eyes sparkled with intensity in the near darkness, and she could almost believe him. Then she remembered his name. His lineage. And knew she could never trust a word that came out of his heartbreaking mouth.

“No,
Mr. Winfield.
It didn’t mean anything more than
any other sexual encounter between two strangers.” She jerked her arm away, stood and brushed off her jeans, wincing as she realized he’d knocked her hipbone right into the floor with his tackle. It already ached.

“We’re not strangers.” He stood, as well, standing so near she could feel his warm breath against her hair. She bit her lip, trying not to look at him, trying not to remember the feel of his hot, hard chest pressing against hers. Trying to erase the mental picture of him standing above her, his face filled with need and passion, as he thrust into her while she lay on the table at the Rialto.

“We recognized something in each other from the minute our eyes met,” he continued. “That’s never happened to me before.”

From out of the near darkness, she felt his hand move to her cheek. She pushed it away. “Back off, J.J. Don’t touch me.”

“Ouch. I don’t know which is worse, hearing you tell me not to touch you, or hearing you call me J.J. Please call me Jack.” His voice moved lower. She realized he’d bent to pick up the flashlight only when he brought it up and shone it on them both.

The light looked pretty damn good on him. His chest. His tousled, right-out-of-bed hair. His thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders. His green eyes, not twinkling with humor now, but dark and confused. His mouth…

She gulped, then crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking for a defense mechanism when there was really none to be found that could halt her physical attraction to him. Finally she said, “What kind of stupid nickname is Jack, anyway?”

“What?”

She knew she sounded like a belligerent kid, but couldn’t help herself. Sarcasm was her only defense. “I mean, come
on, aren’t nicknames supposed to
shorten
your real name? Like Kate instead of Katherine? What genius decided to change a four-letter word like John into a four-letter word like Jack?”
Four-letter word being the operative phrase, here.

She saw his lips turn up as he shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle.

“Oh, I amuse you now? You break in here, tackle me, almost break my back…”
Almost break my heart
…“And now you’re laughing at me?”

“No, I’m actually agreeing with you. It doesn’t make much sense, does it? But anything’s better than J.J.”

“So what’s wrong with plain old John? It’s good enough for your average, everyday toilet, isn’t it?”

“Ouch. You’re really pissed.”