Pure Temptation. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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Tess felt her face heat, and she didn’t dare meet Mac’s gaze. “Right.”
“Look at you!” Janice exclaimed. “You’re burning up! Better get on home.”
“What’s wrong with Tess?” called Sam Donovan from his stool at the counter.
“Flu!” Janice called back.
“Flu?” asked Mabel Bellweather, popping up from the booth where she’d been sitting with her sister Florence. She hurried to Tess’s side. “Should I call your mother, honey? She’d want to know if you’ve come down with the flu.”
“I’ll call her, Mrs. Bellweather,” Mac said.
Mabel patted his arm. “You’re a good boy, Jeremiah MacDougal. Anybody’d think you were kin to Tess, the way you’ve watched out for her over the years. I know she’ll be in good hands.”
Tess looked at the floor, at the walls covered with Frederic Remington prints, at the golden light of sunset outside the café windows. Anywhere but at Mac.
“Just get along now,” Janice said, guiding them toward the door.
Although she wanted to run out the door, Tess made herself walk like a sick person as she preceded Mac through the restaurant. They exited to a chorus of get-well wishes.
Mac helped her into the truck. “Well, at least we’re being inconspicuous about this.”
“We can’t go through with it,” Tess wailed. “Soon everybody in town will know that you took me home from the Nugget, and—”
“And what?” He started the truck and switched on the air-conditioning. “You’re letting a guilty conscience run away with you. They aren’t the least bit suspicious of us being together.” He backed out of the parking space and headed down the street toward her house.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. You saw the way Mrs. Bellweather patted me and told me I was a good boy.”
Tess glanced over at him. “And is that what you intend to be?”
He pulled up at the town’s only stoplight and gave her a look that threatened to fry her circuits. “Depends on your definition.”
STAY COOL, Mac told himself. He was supposed to be the experienced stud, the one who knew the score. If he gripped the wheel tightly enough, Tess wouldn’t know that his hands were shaking. And if she noticed he was sweating, then he’d blame it on the hundred-degree temperature.
The reaction they’d gotten at the Nugget had convinced him of one thing—nobody would suspect that he and Tess had progressed to more than friends for the same reason he’d taken so long to come around to the idea. It was totally out of character for both of them. Even the Blakely brothers wouldn’t guess, if he and Tess could keep from tipping them off.
But oh, God, what had he done? His whole world was turning upside down. If Tess agreed, then they would become lovers this summer, assuming he didn’t turn out to be like his old dog George, who’d been taught to stay out of the living room when he was a puppy and now couldn’t be dragged in there. Mac wasn’t sure how deep his hands-off conditioning ran, but he might find out soon.
He’d already discovered he was more possessive about Tess than he’d ever dreamed. If he made love to her this summer, that possessiveness could get out of control. And he couldn’t allow that, because she was going to New York, and she’d meet other guys there. And that would lead to…he didn’t even want to think about where that would lead. He was setting himself up to go crazy, that’s what he was doing.
But he couldn’t see any other way around the problem.
“Are you really going to take me to my house?” she asked.
He glanced at her. She still hadn’t committed to anything. “Do you want me to?”
“Not really.” She was staring straight ahead, holding on to her little straw purse for dear life. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but her cheeks gave her away. They were the deep pink of the sunset lining the horizon. Her chest rose and fell quickly, making the pearl quiver in the valley where it lay against her golden skin.
The air in the cab grew sweet and thick with desire, until Mac felt as if he could lick it like a cone of soft-serve ice cream. “So you want to take that drive?” His voice was slightly hoarse.
“Yes, but I’ve figured out what we should do. Let’s go to my house and sit in the driveway for a little while, in case anybody notices. Then I’ll get down on the floor of the cab, and we can drive away to… wherever you had in mind.”
Instantly he became aroused. Apparently the old dog would be able to learn new tricks. “All right.”
She still didn’t look at him. “You know, we might not be able to do anything. We might start laughing or something.”
“Laughing’s okay. Laughing usually means you’re having a good time.”
“I mean because we feel ridiculous.”
That hadn’t occurred to him. “Do you think you will? Feel ridiculous?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should pretend you’re someone else.”
“Don’t do that.” The idea incensed him more than it probably should have. “That would be insulting.”
“Okay.”
He pulled into her driveway and glanced at her. The pretending statement had him going. “Who would you pretend I was?”
“Nobody, because you don’t want me to.”
“Yeah, but if I didn’t care, who would you superimpose over my face? Brad Pitt?”
She turned to him and took off her sunglasses. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. Forget I said anything.”
“Tom Cruise?”
“Mac, I won’t be doing it, so let’s drop the subject.”
He couldn’t drop it. He had to know who she thought was sexy. “Antonio Banderas? Mel Gibson?”
“All of them!” she said, clearly exasperated. “In a rotating sequence! With Leonardo DiCaprio thrown in for good measure! There, are you happy now?”
He stared at her. Good Lord, he was jealous that she’d imagine a movie star making love to her instead of him. He was in big trouble. “Sorry,” he said. “Feel free to imagine anybody you want.”
She looked at him as if he’d gone around the bend, which was pretty much true. “Okay.”
“Just don’t tell me about it.”
“If you say so. But if you’ve never tried it, you might want to reconsider. Some men get very turned on by hearing their partner’s fantasies about other men.”
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