Trace pulled his pickup into the parking slot behind The Upper Crust Bakery and Specialty Shoppe, stopped, set his brake and turned to face Lynn. Being so near her, holding her and kissing her, had his body pulsating with desire. The steam from his passion fogged his brain and made lucid thinking impossible. He wanted to lash out at the woman who sat so near him. He also wanted to take her in his arms and make passionate love to her.
"We did what we set out to do. Now get upstairs and take that ridiculous dress off and don't ever wear it in public again."
What was wrong with him? He was behaving as if he had every right to dictate to Lynn Evans what she could and could not wear. Quickly he apologized. “I'm sorry.” Damn. It seemed all he did lately was apologize.
Much to his surprise Lynn nodded her head in agreement. “You're right. I should never have worn it in the first place, but Ruthie said..."
Trace's head snapped back in astonishment. “Ruthie advised you to wear that dress?"
Lynn admitted reluctantly, “Well ... yes."
"Why would you take that girl's advice about anything? She's obviously not playing with a full deck."
Lynn came immediately to Ruthie's defense. “Don't make nasty remarks about Ruthie. She may be a little slow in some ways but she has her moments.” After an instant's consideration she added, “She knows how to attract men."
Trace couldn't believe that an intelligent woman like Lynn would take the advice of a feather-brain like Ruthie about anything.
"That's not knowledge, it's instinct.” Was it possible that Lynn was that ignorant about something as basic and elemental as how to get a man's attention? That didn't seem possible; at the same time it seemed to be true. He would think about that later when he wasn't so tense and aroused.
Lynn put her head to her hands. “I feel a little light-headed."
Trace wasn't surprised. Less than thirty minutes ago she'd downed a jigger of whiskey straight. He should put some distance between them by telling her to get out of his pickup, go upstairs and get in bed. He should, but he didn't. Instead he said, “I'll be here tomorrow at six-thirty to pick you up for your class reunion."
He felt his body tighten even more. In that dress, with a street light shining on her hair and spilling onto her face, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
Get out of here Randolph, while you still can
.
Lynn's breasts moved seductively as she reached for the door handle. “You won't be working here tomorrow?"
Trace swallowed deeply. “No, I have to complete a repair job over on Jasmine Street."
Lynn opened the door and got out of the car before once more putting her hand to her head. “Wow, that whiskey had a kick.” She walked toward the stairs that led to her apartment on unsteady legs. She was halfway up the steps when Trace spied her handbag on the seat beside him.
He grabbed it, jumped from his pickup and raced after her. “You left your handbag."
Lynn turned and almost lost her balance.
Trace shouted. “Stand still. Don't move.” He raced to her side, hooked her handbag over one arm and put his other arm around her waist. Her skin was warm and moist beneath the thin material of her dress. “Let me help you up the stairs."
Lynn grabbed the handrail with her free hand. “It's these damned shoes."
They maneuvered up the stairs and onto the landing. Once there, a winded Lynn leaned against the banister. “My key is in my handbag."
Trace fished around inside the bag, found the key and opened the door.
Lynn went inside and kicked her shoes off her feet. They flew across the floor and landed in a far corner. “I will never wear those uncomfortable things again."
Trace knew he should run, not walk, down those stairs, get into his pickup and hightail it out of there. What he knew and what he did were two different things.
Following Lynn into her apartment, he tossed her handbag on the table and laid her door key beside it. “What you need is a strong cup of coffee.” He moved in the direction of the kitchen. “I'll make some."
Lynn padded after him. “I could use some food, too. I haven't eaten since noon. Are you hungry?"
The hunger that gnawed at Trace had nothing to do with food. “I had dinner."
Lynn opened the refrigerator and leaned over to rummage around on a lower shelf. Her well-shaped derriere was abundantly displayed. “I don't see anything I want."
Trace saw exactly what he wanted. His mind argued even as his body yearned.
Don't even think about it.
When did passion ever heed the warnings of common sense? He moved to stand directly behind her. When Lynn turned he was so near they were almost touching. Inanely he uttered a breathy little “Hi.” He noted that she seemed much tinier without her stiletto heels.
Lynn held a package of cookies in one hand and a quart of milk in the other. Her voice was soft and seductive. “Hi yourself."
Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her dress. Good God! She was as hot and bothered as he was. Trace took the milk and cookies, and backed toward the table before turning quickly to set them down. Had she seen the obvious evidence of his arousal?
Lynn asked on the end of a caught breath, “Trace?"
With his back to her, Trace answered, “Yes?"
There comes a time in every situation when a man reaches a point of no return. Trace knew if he turned to face Lynn now, he would reach that point.
Lynn whispered, “Will you turn around?"
He couldn't, not until he was certain she wanted this encounter as badly as he did. “Are you sure that's what you want?"
Her hand was warm on his shoulder. “I'm sure."
That was all the encouragement Trace needed. Turning he swept her into his arms. Her body was soft and warm against his. For long moments he held her, intoxicated by her heady scent and captivated by her aura of femininity. His fogged brain chanted,
no, no, no.
His aching body knew only need and desire.
Lifting Lynn into his arms he carried her to the bedroom, set her on her feet and took her face in his hands. “I want you, Lynn Evans.” He added in a lower, huskier tone, “So very much."
A soft night light burning on a nightstand cast long shadows across her face, emphasizing the incredible sweep of her long dark lashes, and accentuating the soft lines and planes. “I want you too, Trace Randolph."
Trace drew her even closer and shaped the fullness of her lips with his tongue before asking, “How do I get you out of this dress?"
A shudder ran through her body as she rested her head against the wall of his chest. “Can you feel the little hook and eye at the neck?"
Trace found the neck of her dress. “What now?” His hands shook and his breath came in little gasps.
Lynn laughed deep in her throat, sending a wave of desire rippling through him. “It's really very simple, just take the hook from the eye, find the tip of the zipper beneath it, and pull down."
Trace unfastened the hook and was reaching for the zipper when the brightness of a sane thought pierced the fog of his passion-addled brain. Was he taking advantage of Lynn's slightly inebriated condition? He had to know, because if that were the case, as badly as he wanted this sweet coming together, he would be out the door and down the stairs in the wink of an eye. Leaning back he studied her face. “Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Lynn wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body into his hardness. “I know exactly what I'm doing, and I know exactly what I want. Make love to me."
Trace's last reservation fell away. He unzipped the dress and watched as she stepped back and slipped it from her shoulders. It fell around her feet.
She wore only a pair of bikini panties. Her large, perfectly formed breasts swayed seductively as she shed her panties and tossed them away.
Trace's breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful—all white and ivory, with that mane of red hair that matched so well the thatch of red between her legs. He yanked at the grippers on his shirt as the need to be near her, on her, in her, cast out every other thought and resolve.
Lynn tugged at one shirt sleeve. His arm slid free, first one and then the other. She tossed the shirt aside as Trace unfastened his belt.
Over the click of his buckle he said, “That dress didn't do you justice. My God, you are beautiful.” He shed his pants and underwear and left them where they fell. Lifting Lynn into his arms, he laid her gently on the bed before coming down beside her. He took her in his arms and brushed his lips through her hair. “I want to make love to you."
She ran one smooth hand over his shoulder and down his back. “That's what I want too.” Pushing back, she stared up into his eyes and said, “I hope you won't be disappointed."
Later Trace would look back and ponder those words. Now he was so lost in the magic that was spinning between him and this warm, willing woman that he brushed them aside without further thought. “I won't be, and neither will you, I promise."
The heat of passion that had been smoldering through the long evening ignited and burst into a flaming conflagration. They came together in a firestorm of need and desire. Their bodies moved in exquisite harmony as they climbed higher and higher until they reached a peak of fiery delight that exploded in a shower of sensuous fulfillment.
Afterward Trace wrapped Lynn in the warmth of his sheltering embrace. “Sleep now,” he whispered softly. The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he fell into a slumber reserved for those fortunate individuals who have experienced complete sexual satisfaction.
Chapter 11
Lynn woke with the feeling that all was right with the world. A bright sun shone through her bedroom window, spilling its brightness across the bed and onto the floor. Even before she stretched and turned to look, she knew Trace was gone. She wasn't surprised.
Pushing a pillow behind her shoulders she leaned against the headboard as a smile spread across her face. Last night she had behaved like some wanton seductress, taking a near stranger into her bed and letting him make passionate love to her; not once but over and over again.
Despite the possible consequence of such a foolish act, she couldn't stop smiling. She had responded by meeting his amorous advances more than halfway. Until last night Lynn had not imagined such deep and satisfying sexual experiences existed outside the realm of romantic fantasy. Was last night some mystical one-time happening, or was it possible that such intensely passionate encounters could occur on a regular basis?
How sad that she would never know, because as wonderful as last night had been, she must never let it happen with Trace again. She reviewed in her mind all the reasons why. Trace was a man she hardly knew and what she did know, she didn't particularly like.
He's stubborn, opinionated, arrogant, and egoistical.
Her foolish heart argued that he was also gentle, thoughtful, sensitive, and kind.
Sitting up she spied the note atop the pillow next to her. Catching it in her hand she read the message scrawled in bold masculine cursive across the back of an envelope.
You are amazing! I'm looking forward to our date tonight.
Lynn slipped from her bed and headed for the shower as her mind shifted to thoughts of her class reunion and seeing Joel again. Interestingly enough, the idea of him showing up with some curvaceous blonde seemed hardly worth worrying about.
Twenty minutes later she emerged from her bedroom and was almost to the front door when the telephone rang. Lynn's heart skipped a bear. Was it Trace? She hurried to answer the clanging instrument. “Hello?"
It was not Trace but Lillie on the other end of the line. Without bothering with so much as a hello, she demanded, “Where have you been? I've been ringing your phone for the past ten minutes."
Lynn swallowed her discomfort. “I was in the shower.” This was not a conversation she looked forward to with any degree of eagerness. “Mother, could I call you later? It's past time for me to open the shop."
Lillie's reply scorched across the wire and into Lynn's ear. “It is not, and you cannot."
There was no point in hedging any longer. “If this is about what happened at the Grange Hall last night I can explain.” She bit her tongue to keep from adding,
even though it's none of your business
.
Lillie replied “I don't need an explanation. I know what I saw.” Her tone shifted from demanding to wheedling, “Please promise that you won't see Trace Randolph again."
Despite her resolve not to argue with her mother, Lynn found herself doing just that. “Mother, I am twenty-nine years old. I can make my own decisions about whom I go out with.” She shifted the receiver to her other ear. “What would you say if I demanded you not see Ralph again?"
Lillie asked indignantly, “After what happened last night, do you think I would ever even speak to that despicable man again?"
Quite suddenly Lynn knew that she had to confess to her mother what she and Trace had done. “I'll be over tomorrow afternoon. I have something important to tell you."
Lillie moaned into the receiver. “Oh no, don't tell me you are contemplating something foolish like marriage to that terrible Trace person."
Lynn couldn't have her mother worrying needlessly. “Trace is my date to the high school reunion party. After tonight, I promise to break off my relationship with him. Bye Mother."
She hung up the phone and stood for a minute staring into space. It shouldn't be difficult to break off a relationship that had begun as a business deal and ended with a one night stand. Should it?
Saturdays were always busy at the Upper Crust Specialty Bake Shoppe. This Saturday was no exception. It was almost five o'clock in the afternoon before Lynn completed all her routine tasks. As she hung her apron on its hook, she rehearsed with Ruthie for the twentieth time the procedure for closing and securing the bakery. She ended by asking, “Are you sure you can remember everything?"
"Don't you worry about things here,” Ruthie replied. “I have everything memorized. First I check to see if..."
Lynn held up a silencing hand. “I don't have time to go through all that again. Goodbye Ruthie and take care."