Talking Dirty Page 11

  This was the part she had been hoping not to have to explain. “Because I kind of told Mrs. Butler and Mrs. Browley that you guys were?”

  If he laughed at her, she was going to kick him in the shins. Guaranteed. Luckily for him, he kept it together—barely. His lips were twitching bad. “And I suppose now you want us to really do something. To save your pristine reputation from being tarnished, I’m sure.”

  Why did it sound like there was an edge in his voice on that last bit? “I would, yes. Call it whatever you want, but I do have a certain keen desire to keep my job. If word got out that I made a sex pact with you in regard to the library like Mrs. Browley inferred . . . well, I’m worried about my position here.”

  Again, something flickered in his gaze. Something deep in the shadows. Her belly tightened in response. “Right. It wouldn’t do well for the good town folk to think you might have something going with me. Underneath the Bachelor of Fortune label and the heaps of money, I’m still nothing more than Crazy Verle’s misfit son.”

  Apple’s heart sank, and she instantly felt terrible. “That’s not what I meant, Jake. You know me better than that. I don’t feel that way. I never have.”

  He stood quiet for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision, shaking it off. “Don’t worry about it. If you need the guys and me to do something for you, let me know. I’d hate to see your reputation ruined by the likes of me.”

  Though he tried to say it lightly, Apple could hear the underlying emotion and knew he wasn’t really joking. Still, if he was offering . . .

  “I would very much like you guys to do something for the kids. Perform a concert, put on a play, do puppetry—anything. The town’s biggest gossips have already been bugging me every other day for info, and I’ve got enough on my plate as is. I could use the help if you’re really offering.”

  Jake looked out the big window as dusk slowly fell on the far river bank, and Apple’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him in profile. How one man could be so gruff and rugged, and yet so incredibly sexy at the same time, boggled her mind. But more than that—and this was what really got her—he had a steadiness, a centeredness that had never waned. For as long as she she’d known him, he’d been like the Rock of Gibraltar. How he’d wound up like that with a recluse grandfather and drunken dad was beyond her.

  However he’d done it, it said a lot about Jake.

  He’d moved to stand directly next to her. “You’ve got it. The guys and I will figure out something fun for the kids. When would you need us?”

  She hadn’t actually expected him to agree so readily, so she wasn’t sure. “Can I take a look at the event schedule and get back to you?”

  He nodded, his arms crossed. “Sure, sounds good.”

  Feeling oddly bereft, Apple glanced at her bare toes. “You still haven’t told me why you swung by.”

  He reached into the back pocket of his faded jeans with the ripped knee and pulled out a small leather-bound book. “I did, actually. I said I came here to give you this. I was up at the old man’s place going through some of Harvey’s things, and I found this on a shelf mixed in with a bunch of books. I thought you might like to have it for your project.”

  Apple took the small brown book, read the cover, and raised a brow at Jake. “The Bible, Jake? Really?” If he was making some sort of commentary about the state of her virtue, she was not going to be happy.

  “Somebody’s got to look out for your moral integrity, you little hussy.” He grinned down at her and winked.

  Her mouth dropped open in immediate outrage until she noticed the twinkle in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Shush,” she said, instantly blushing.

  Jake must have decided to take mercy on her because he tapped the book, turning the topic. “But seriously, take a look inside the front flap. You’re going to like this.”

  Apple tossed him a skeptical look, but did as he suggested and opened the cover. Inside was written in jet-black ink on the blank page: Jesse Stone, 1875.

  Jake’s ancestor. One of Fortune’s first settlers. Oh, she loved having the real-life artifact in her hands.

  Oh, she could just kiss him!

  Elated at the unexpected gift, Apple beamed up at Jake and rose on her toes and kissed him. Right smack on his firm, stubborn mouth.

  “Oh my God, thank you!” she said as she dropped down to the flat of her feet, hugging the worn little piece of Fortune’s history gently in her hands.

  But before she could do so much as peek at the almost-150-year-old signature again, Jake grabbed her chin with his hand and demanded, “Again.”

  His mouth covered hers, hot and restless. Taken by surprise, Apple gave a muffled sound. But then Jake’s big warm hands were cradling her head, his thumbs on the underside of her jaw, and his tongue brushing hers once, twice. When she moaned breathlessly, he smiled against her lips. “I’ve been thinking about the taste of you for a week now.” He brushed his lips against hers again. “This is better.”

  Totally.

  Because she couldn’t help it, Apple flung her arms around his neck, the old Bible dangling precariously from her fingertips before it dropped to the floor with a thud. Throwing herself into the kiss, her body went pliant when his big, hard hands gripped her hips and slowly stroked down. Trails of heat marked her, making her body go soft and hot all at once. And when his hands cupped her ass cheeks, squeezing with barely restrained strength, something rather feline rose up inside her—something that made her arch into his palms, silently asking for more. She let out a little sound that was suspiciously like a contented purr.

  She couldn’t help it. Jake’s hands were magic. Hot and hard and confident.

  Just like she’d always known they would be.

  Streaking her hands into his luxurious hair, Apple sighed against his lips at the silky feel. Finally, after all these years, she knew how it felt. And it was just as good as the rest of him. Teenage Apple melted into a pile of giddy hormones.

  Adult Apple embraced the heat in the pit of her stomach and craved more.

  “I love the feel of you,” she whispered, lost in the size and heat of Jake’s sensational body. His chest was hard; his thick cock brushing against her belly even more so.

  He growled low in his throat, and his hands flexed on her ass cheeks, gripping hard before they slid down to her thighs and wrapped them around his lean waist. He tore his lips from hers and trailed his mouth along the sensitive skin of her neck, the tip of his tongue against her skin making her shiver. Surrounded by the scent and feel of Jake, Apple moaned when her core came into contact with his rigid erection. Lust slammed into her, and she went achingly, shockingly wet. She gasped and squeezed her thighs in response.

  “Christ, Apple,” he rasped against her collarbone. “I knew,” he said, his breath coming in short bursts and filled with emotion. “I knew it would be like this with you.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes at the unconcealed yearning she heard in his voice, and something inside her responded in kind, knew exactly the longing he felt.

  Because it was the same one that was in her.

  “Oh, Jake,” she cried when his mouth covered her nipple through the fabric of her dress and sucked, using his tongue and teeth together on her in ways that made her head go floaty and her body taut with heightened desire. His mouth was quickly driving her to the brink of explosion. Chemistry sparked like fireworks between them, pulling them into each other—their energies, their passion, their very souls merging.

  Jake made a restless sound and pushed her against the circulation desk, one hand letting go of her ass long enough to yank her dress and bra down to free her breasts. Then his mouth was on her bare skin, and they both groaned—in pleasure, in desire, in something else that she couldn’t define. But it rocked her.

  His tongue flicked over her hard nipple. Once. Twice. Three times. And Apple felt her core start to tremble as the orgasm built, only a few sensations away from exploding. “Jake!”

  The sound that cam
e from him was one of such hungry, passionate male that her pussy quivered in response. “Give it to me,” he demanded, his mouth never stopping on her breast. “I need it, Apple.” He thrust his cock into the valley between her thighs, rubbing hotly against her, and splayed his fingers under her until they just touched her crotch. Until he found the heat there and groaned, long and low. “You’re so wet. God, you’re so wet.” He pushed a thick finger into her, rubbing her slit back and forth through her drenched panties. “So beautifully, gorgeously wet.”

  Never had she felt anything like this. Dropping her head back, Apple dug her fingernails into his shoulders and whimpered. What was happening to her?

  “Come for me, Apple.” His words coaxed, and his mouth persuaded. “My sweet, beautiful queen.”

  That did it. His words unlocked something inside her, and Apple felt tears well in her eyes again. Felt herself surrender.

  Yes.

  Her body coiled and heat flooded her, stars bursting behind her eyelids as the orgasm came, hard and intense and soul-shattering. Apple cried out and clung to Jake, holding him as the current swept her away. It was the only place she wanted to be.

  For long minutes they stood there in that position, their breathing shallow, their chests heaving from exertion.

  What had just happened?

  Just as she was coming back to herself, or as much as she could considering her world had just been rocked three ways from Sunday, he set her feet on the ground and stepped back, his face set in tense lines. His eyes were darkly intense. “I have to go.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. In seconds the front door was clicking shut behind him. Apple blew out a breath and let the tears fall.

  Whatever had just happened changed everything.

  Shaking her head, emotions cascading through her, Apple stared blankly at the entrance door where Jake had just stalked through. God, he was such an illogical, infuriating man.

  But he’d called her his sweet, beautiful queen.

  Her heart seized and then did a long, slow nosedive into the waters of emotion, swimming alongside those feelings of love and attachment. And that was probably not good. Not good at all. Jake was a one-way ticket to heartbreak town.

  Sighing, Apple looked down at the book she’d dropped on the floor and picked it up. With unsteady hands, she opened it and gently flipped through a few pages, skipping to the end.

  And she frowned.

  Stared in puzzlement.

  Forgot for a moment that she might have just fallen in love with Jake Stone.

  Because there, in the upper right-hand corner, was a small symbol sketched in black ink of two crossing pickaxes and a bumpy rock in front of them. It was one that she didn’t know but could swear she’d seen before, and it sent nerves darting down her spine. It felt so familiar—and like it meant something. Where had she seen it before?

  Maybe if Jake hadn’t just given her the orgasm of her life and left her an emotional roller coaster she’d be able to think better.

  But one thing was for sure as she looked at the small unfamiliar, yet familiar symbol: she suddenly felt very much like she’d been dropped into a treasure-hunting adventure without a single guide map. Or even a damn compass.

  Chapter Ten

  AIDAN WALKED INTO the brewpub the next day just as Jake was struggling to carry multiple pitchers of beer.

  “Here, take this.” Without waiting for his friend to reply, he practically tossed Aidan a full pitcher just as another slipped from his grip. “Shit. Okay, got it? Help me get these to the party out on the patio, will you?”

  “Your moves are slacking in your old age, my man,” Aidan said.

  Jake chuckled, but he knew someone who might disagree with that. In fact, he’d demonstrated some mighty fine moves on her just recently. He could still remember the dazed and sexy look on Apple’s face when he’d pulled back from their kiss. Yeah, she might disagree all right.

  Satisfaction warmed his chest. It spread up his neck until he was grinning like a fool. Then he remembered what he’d said to her and bobbled a pitcher.

  What the fuck had gotten into him?

  Setting the pitchers down, Jake shook off the thought and made sure the customers had everything they needed before heading back to the bar, making his way around a water fountain centered in the brick patio.

  Aidan was right behind him. “Apple tells me you’ve finally decided to stop being a stubborn ass and answer her questions. It’s about time, man.”

  “I do what I can.” Still, it nipped his conscience that what he was really doing with Apple was stalling because he’d made a promise to his pop and couldn’t share the truth. Especially now that he’d owned up to some complicated feelings for her. The guilt that was chewing at him and his feelings were the reason why he’d given her the old miner’s Bible he’d found out at the shack. In his way, it had been a sort of a peace offering.

  Only she had no way of knowing that.

  Once they reached the bar, Jake stepped behind it as Aidan slid onto a stool. The contractor nodded toward the beer taps. “I could use one of those.” His normally clear hazel eyes looked troubled. “Have you heard the news?”

  Grabbing a pint glass from the shelf below the bar, Jake slid a glance at his friend, noting the tenseness around his mouth. “Depends on the news. But I haven’t heard anything bad if that’s what you’re getting at. Why? Did something happen?”

  Jake handed the pint to Aidan, who promptly took a prolonged drink. When he’d downed half the glass, he set it on the mahogany bar top with a sharp rap and then pushed a strand of auburn hair away from his face, sighing heavily. “Shirley Hardy died yesterday.”

  Jake went very still. “Shit, man.”

  “Yeah.” Aidan grimaced into his beer.

  Needing something to do with his hands, Jake located a bar towel and began wiping down the counter. “When’s the funeral?”

  “Whose funeral?” Sean asked as he pulled up a stool next to Aidan and sat down, wearing his favorite Irish wool cap. “And why do you look like you’ve swallowed a frog, mate?” That question was directed at Aidan.

  Jake took mercy on his friend and answered for him. “Shirley Hardy. She was the librarian before Apple took over.”

  “I’ll have a pint too,” Sean said to Jake before turning his attention to Aidan. “Was she special to you?”

  Jake noticed the slight tick that was starting at Aidan’s temple, but his voice was carefully neutral when he replied, “Not especially. But her granddaughter was.”

  “Hey, man. Even if she does show back up in town for the funeral, you don’t have to talk to her. Besides, she was never the type to stick around for long.” Jake could feel the old anger for his friend start to bubble. He’d never forgive that granola-eating tree-hugging hippie for what she did to his best friend.

  Before the anger could grab hold, he changed the subject. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he leaned his elbows on the bar and looked from one friend to the other, his gaze assessing. “How do you guys feel about putting on a puppet show or musical performance for the kids at the library in a few weeks? Personally I’m leaning toward a play. Apple thinks it would be a great way to draw people to the place.” At least that’s the story he was sticking to. He’d promised her. And for some reason, it really mattered to him that he not break that promise. “I figured you wouldn’t have an issue with it, Aidan, since she’s family and I know you won’t say no.”

  His friend raised a brow. “Only if I get to pick the play, man. Your theatrical knowledge is sincerely lacking, Stone. Left up to you, we’d end up doing A Streetcar Named Desire with Muppets to a bunch of three-year-olds.”

  “Now that I’d pay to see.” Sean laughed, his green eyes lit with amusement.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Aidan suddenly said, his eyes narrowing on Jake. “When did you talk to Apple?”

  “So, it’s agreed then?” he said, ignoring the question. “I can tell her yes?”

  “Is t
here something going on with you two that I should know about?”

  Looking his friend square in the eye, Jake swallowed hard and lied, “Nope, not a thing.”

  THAT SAME DAY, Apple stepped through the side door to her parents’ house, her mouth watering instantly at the scent of cinnamon and spice that greeted her. Steady and predictable as the snow that fell in January, she’d always been able to count on something deliciously home baked by her mom. Her entire childhood was cocooned in a warm, homey glow because of it.

  One day she was going to give that to her own kids. Just memories upon memories of wonderful, cozy moments of home created by her and her One True Love. Even now thinking about it, her pulse was beginning to speed up and her breath was going shallow. It was her deepest desire to be a mom, just like hers had been.

  All she needed was Mr. Right.

  “Hey, Mom! I’m here.”

  An image of Jake popped into her mind. Now, there was a perfect example of Mr. Wrong. Sexy and dirty in all the right ways.

  He called me his sweet, beautiful queen.

  “I’m in the back, darling, just finishing cleaning up. Come on out!” Sedona Woodman called from the backyard. “You just missed Nell. We had a fantastic kiln session today. It’s amazing, really, how quickly she’s taken to our lessons.”

  Apple made her way through the big old Craftsman bungalow that was her childhood home, noticing a few new ceramic pieces sitting on the mantel above the fireplace in the living room. One of them she could definitely tell was her mother’s sculpting, but she wasn’t sure about the other one. Which meant it must be Nell’s.

  The piece was a graceful flame dancing, sinewy and sensual at the same time. The multilayered red and orange glazes melted together flawlessly, gorgeously. Her mom was right: her best friend had the gift.

  Stepping through the airy kitchen with its glass-front painted cabinets and out the back door, Apple was greeted to the same sight that had filled her with joy for most of her life: her mother’s gardens. Like a fairyland, flowers sprung from the ground everywhere, creating hidden pockets of grass lawn around the yard just waiting to be discovered. Her mom had liked to place special things in the secluded spaces too. Apple’s favorite tucked-away spot had a beautiful painted bench and stone birdbath underneath a peach tree that produced the most succulent fruit.