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“Hats are festive. I want everyone in the party mood. I want tonight to be special.”
“We’ll all be together for the first time in twelve years. It’ll be special.”
“Except that Cheryl Louise is bringing her poodle, Tilly. Remember? She’s the one that farts when she wags her tail. Every time she wags her tail.”
“We’ll make the best of it. Focus on the positive.”
Madeline had learned that all-important lesson when she’d left Cadillac and headed for the big city. One of her first life-changing vows had been to stop stressing over the fact that she wasn’t thin enough or pretty enough or outgoing enough, and do something about it.
She’d done just that and changed her life forever.
“Girl, you’re absolutely right. She may be bringing Tilly, but at least she’s leaving Twinkles at home,” Janice sighed. “Otherwise, we’d all end up covered in dog hair. That blasted thing sheds like—ohmigod! Peanuts!” she shrieked. “You can’t forget the peanuts. Cheryl loves peanuts and I want to have all of her favorites tonight.”
“Got ’em.” So much for a pep talk. “See you in a little while.” No sooner had she punched the off button than the phone rang again.
“A black laundry marker,” Janice quipped. “Do they have one?”
“Skeeter’s has everything.”
It was the typical old-time drugstore that carried everything from small hardware items to makeup, canned goods to candy. They even had a pharmacy in the back where Ben Skeeter had been filling prescriptions for as long as Madeline could remember.
“Good. Now hurry up. Sarah just got here with the cheese dip.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She dropped the phone into her purse.
A few minutes later, after retrieving the requested marker, she headed for the pharmacy counter at the rear of the store where a silver-haired woman hoisted a large box onto the counter next to the cash register.
“Maddie Hale?” Camille Skeeter pushed her wire-framed glasses up onto her nose for a better look. “My word, is that you?”
“It’s me, all right. Madeline Hale.” She’d left the name Maddie behind with her geeky image.
The older woman smiled as she yanked open the box and reached for her pricing gun. “My, my, you’re a sight. I wish Ben were here to see you, but he’s over at the community center leading the dedication for the new monkey bars.” She tapped the button pinned to her white smock.
Ben Skeeter’s image stared back at Madeline along with the phrase printed around the edges that read Ain’t Nothin’ Sweeter Than Electin’ a Skeeter.
“Ben’s the mayor now,” Camille told her. “Second term.”
“I heard through the grapevine. Congratulations. So, are you handling the store all by yourself now?”
“Sure am.” Camille wiped the sweat from her brow, hoisted the box to the side and reached for Madeline’s basket. “But a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do and I always stand by my man. So—” she started ringing up items “—how are your mama and daddy doing? Haven’t heard much from them since they retired down south. How do they like Port Aransas?”
“They were a little bored at first, but they’ve fallen into a nice routine. Dad spends his days fishing and doing his best to steer clear of anything that even smells like a doughnut. Mom opened a seashell shop.”
“Sounds like they’re having a ball.”
“Finally.” Her mother had spent twenty years as a high-school science teacher while her father had run the local doughnut shop. Her mother had been an academic, content to study life rather than really live it, while her father had been a workaholic who’d observed it from behind a counter.
Until last year.
Her mother’s diagnosis with chronic heart disease had helped them realize what Madeline herself had learned that fateful day she’d lost Sharon—life was simply too short to waste. They’d sold their house and the doughnut shop and headed for the Texas coast.
“Mom’s making conch-shell necklaces and Dad’s catching giant redfish.” And Madeline had a full jewelry box and an overflowing freezer to prove it. “They’re really into this new phase of their lives.”
“That’s because it’s fun. Ben and I need more fun in our lives, but his schedule is so demanding and the store needs me practically twenty-four/seven.” She sighed, then smiled. “What about you, sweetie? I hear you’re working for one of those fancy cosmetic companies up in Dallas.”
“V.A.M.P. Cosmetics.” Madeline rummaged in her bag. “Here are some samples of our new berry-flavored lipsticks.”
Camille dabbed on the color and licked her lips. “My, my, but this tastes good. Whewee! My taste buds are in overload. I bet Ben will love it. He hates the brand I wear now. Says it tastes like wax.”
Marketing objective accomplished.
V.A.M.P. Cosmetics had grown from a small business to a major corporation by focusing on the sensual nature of their products. They had lotions that tingled when applied. Mascara that made even the skimpiest lashes look lush and sexy. Bath gel that smoothed over the skin like a lover’s silky touch. And lipsticks to spice up every kiss. Seduce your senses. That was V.A.M.P.’s creed.
“So is it true that you actually mix all this stuff up yourself?” Camille asked as she started to bag Maddie’s purchases.
“I sure do.”
“Amazing.”
“I suppose so.” Considering the only thing Madeline had mixed up way back when had been batches of muffins and glazed fritters in the kitchen of her dad’s shop.
“So what are you cooking up right now?” The woman’s eyes lit. “Is it a new lipstick? Why, I’m just a sucker for lipstick.”
“Actually, my next project will be for our skin-care line. I don’t know very many details yet—it’s still in the developmental stage—but when I get something mixed up, I’ll drop by a few samples.”
“Would you? Oh, I would love that!” Camille slid the mini lipsticks into her coat pocket and stifled a cough. “Excuse me, sweetie. I just can’t seem to get rid of this danged old croup.” She reached behind the counter for a glass of water. After taking a sip, she cleared her throat and smiled. “So what else can I get for you today?”
Madeline glanced past the woman to the condom display and pointed to an extralarge blue box. “I’ll take a pack of those.”
“Sweet and smart.” Camille winked and rang up the last item.
“More like afraid.” At Camille’s questioning glance, Madeline added, “We’re decorating for Cheryl’s bachelorette party. If I show up without the condoms, Janice will tar and feather me. She’s a little obsessive.”
After paying for her purchases, Madeline gathered up her bag of goodies and started for the front of the store. She’d made it two steps before her cell phone rang again. She shifted her bag to one arm and rummaged inside her purse for the blasted phone.
“Trojan,” Janice said the moment Madeline managed to say hello.
“Got ’em,” Madeline rounded the corner. “Would you please stop worry—hmmph!”
Her breath caught as she came up hard against a solid mass of warmth. Her heart stalled. Her phone took a dive for the floor. Her purse hit with a solid thunk. Her bag crashed and the contents scattered.
“I’m so sorry,” she started. “I didn’t see—”
You lodged behind the sudden lump that blocked her throat. Her head jerked up and she found herself standing chest to chest with Cadillac’s most notorious bad boy.
2
AUSTIN JERICHO’S EYES were even bluer than Maddie remembered. Deeper. More unnerving.
They pulled her in and sucked her under like a cool river on a hot summer’s day. Sensation washed over her body, skimming her ultrasensitive skin, sneaking into every hot spot until she felt completely submerged and temporarily paralyzed and…ahh.
“I thought I recognized you.” His voice, so rich and husky, slid into her ears and prickled the hair on the nape of her neck. Her attention shifted to his mouth.
He’d always had great lips. Slightly full on the bottom. Sensuous. Just right for kissing, or so she’d thought every time he’d folded himself into the desk opposite hers and opened his book for their daily algebra les—
“You recognized me?” she blurted as his words registered. “You recognized me?” Sure, they’d spent every afternoon together for most of their senior year, thanks to Marshalyn Simmons, the high-school librarian, who’d recruited Madeline to tutor Austin. But otherwise, he’d barely acknowledged her existence.
Except once.
Standing in the shadows outside the football stadium on a Friday night when the Cadillac Coyotes had been slaying the Hondo Hogs in a record-breaking game. The first and last football game Madeline Hale had ever attended.
She’d given up her usual Saturday night at the doughnut shop in favor of the chance to see Austin somewhere other than the school library. Not that it had been a date or anything like that. Just a chance meeting that she’d taken great pains to plan. They’d happened into each other near the concession stand.
She could still smell the fresh buttered popcorn and hear the roar of the crowd and feel the wild air emanating from the boy who’d walked up to her. He’d stared down into her eyes and she’d stared up into his, and they’d had nothing short of explosive chemistry.
For a few precious seconds.
But then the moment of truth had come and she’d learned one of life’s biggest lessons—geeky good girls like Maddie did not end up with cool bad boys like Austin. She wasn’t brave enough, bold enough, bad enough.
Then again, she wasn’t plain old Maddie anymore. She was Madeline Hale. Sophisticated. Worldly. Bad.
But with Austin so close and overwhelming and still sexy as hell, it was hard to remember that.
“When I spotted you through the window,” he told her, “I said to myself, ‘Why, that looks like Maddie Hale’ and sure enough—” he gestured to her “—here you are.”
“You saw me through the window? You saw me?” Even as the question passed her lips, she knew she should bite it back and think of something witty to say. But it was hard to think with his heat surrounding her.
And his scent filling her nostrils…the musky smell of horse and leather and warm male that made her drink in a deep breath.
And his smile right there, directed at her…
As if he read the thoughts racing through her mind, his lips parted, his grin widened and her heart stalled.
Yep, that smile could do enough damage all by itself. Add it to everything else wreaking havoc on her senses and she was a lost cause.
“You saw me,” she said again, as if repeating the truth would help it to sink in. “You saw me.”
“You look really good.”
“I look good?” She shook her head. Goober alert! “I mean, uh, yes, I do look rather good.” Conceited goober alert! “Um, so do you. Look good, that is. You look really good.”
“I look more wet than anything else. It’s hot enough to fry eggs outside.” He glanced down and plucked at his damp T-shirt. “But thanks anyway.”
“Even all dusty and sweaty you look really good,” she rushed on. “Especially all dusty and sweaty.”
He grinned again. “I could use something cold to drink. Say—” he looked at her as if an idea had just struck “—maybe we could grab a root beer float over at the fountain. I mean, if you’re not busy.”
“You want to have a float? With me?” Here comes the goober again. “I mean, of course you want to have a float with me. I like floats. I mean, I used to like floats. I stick to diet sodas now.”
“Diet soda?” He gave her a puzzled look as he studied her. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or anything when we collided, did you?”
“I…” Boy, he smelled good. And felt good. And looked good.
She found herself wishing that she’d worn her black slacks. Black was slimming and her thighs needed all the help they could get.
The thought drew her up short and she stiffened. “I’m okay.” She was, and she didn’t need black slacks to prove it. Mind over matter, she told herself, and her mind was much bigger than her matter, even if she’d barely managed to squeeze said matter into the size-ten jeans hugging her thighs. She was no longer fat. She was voluptuous. And proud of every inch. “I’m fine, really.”
“That’s good news.” He shifted his attention away from her then, thank goodness, and glanced around them.
Reality zapped her and she followed his gaze to the spilled contents of her bag. “That’s what I get for being in a hurry.” She dropped to her knees, grateful for a distraction from Austin and the all-important fact that he was standing just inches away from her.
She forced the notion aside and concentrated on gathering up her stuff. “They don’t make bags like they used to….” Her words faded as her attention snagged on the worn tips of his boots.
Boots were good. Totally nonsexual. They shouldn’t inspire lewd thoughts. Unless, of course, they drew to mind a vision of him so strong and powerful and naked, except for the boots….
Her nipples tingled. Her thighs trembled. And she felt dampness between her legs.
She drew a deep breath and reached for a canister of peanuts with one hand and a pack of batteries with the other.
“Good choice.”
“Thanks. You can recharge these if you want…” Her words faded as she realized he wasn’t talking about the pack of AA’s, but the box of Trojans he’d retrieved.
Embarrassment flooded her. “Those aren’t—” she started but then her eyes collided with his.
Hunger.
There was no mistaking the sudden flash in his deep blue stare. For several fast, furious heartbeats, she was seventeen all over again, staring at him over an open algebra book, wanting him and wishing that he wanted her the way he wanted the blueberry muffin she’d brought for him that day.
But this was no daydream. And there was no blueberry muffin. He was looking back at her now, and he wanted her just as much. It was right there in his eyes. In the way his gaze hooked on her lips…
“You always invest in such a big box?”
“They’re not—” she started before common sense kicked in and she bit her tongue. “Um, bigger is always better.”
A sexy grin tugged at his lips. “And here I thought size wasn’t a big issue with women.”
“Small is okay, but big is more economical. You get more bang for your buck.” Heat crept up her neck and she drew in a steady breath. “Especially with this brand. They give you three free.” Okay, she’d wandered into the land of goober again. Here she was discussing condoms with Austin Jericho.
“I’ve always bought the red pack myself, but maybe I’ll give these a try.”
“They’re much better.” As if she knew. “Better value and they’re, um—” she glanced at the colorful package “—lubricated.”
He nodded. “Lubrication’s good.”
“And they have spermicide. You’ve got to have that.”
“Absolutely.”
