His Southern Sweetheart (10 page)

Helen Marlow rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth with the same sound he'd heard Kimber produce whenever irritated. “She's Cay Beaumont. I don't understand why you young women have to hyphenate your names.”

Tight-lipped, Cay Marlow-Beaumont patted her grandmother's shoulder. “Because we want to preserve the prestigious Marlow name.”

“Whatever.”

Nate hid his smile.

“Boy, you better hurry up and get over to the table,” Grandmamma Helen barked, “instead of standing over here drooling like a fool. Parker will done scoop Amelia right out from under you.”

“Grandmamma...” Cay said, frowning with disapproval. “I'm sorry, she's ready for her nap.”

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Cay wheel her grandmother away under loud protest. The commotion she caused captured everyone's attention. Parker Ward, the fireman, turned and nodded his head in Nate's direction. Nate scratched his beard, not sure what to do. Did he interrupt them? Now this was complicated. Clearly they had been an item once before. Was it puppy love or her first real love? Nate didn't want to find out. Instead of turning around like his brain told him to, he stalked across the room toward the table. Parker stood and extended his hand, probably to show he was being the bigger guy.

“I came to collect you,” Nate said to Amelia after showing he was the bigger man by shaking Parker's hand.

“Where has the afternoon gone?” Amelia clutched the pearls at her throat again and stood up. “Parker, I enjoyed catching up with you.”

“Maybe you'll save me a dance at Emily's wedding,” Parker went on. “She told me she ran into you last night.”

And wasn't it Emily who wanted to keep her visit to the pizzeria a secret? Nate smirked as a thunderous cloud darkened the window. “Hey, we better get going if we're going to beat the rain before it gets to the house.”

Amelia offered a wave goodbye before following Nate outside. He didn't slow his pace so she could walk beside him. Instead of walking to the beat of his heart, he stormed out to the beat of his pounding anger. Amelia's flat shoes walked quickly behind him.

“What the hell is your problem?” she screamed over another clap of thunder.

“I don't have one.” Nate maneuvered his way through the parking lot, hating himself. “Let's go.”

“I think I'll walk.” The patter of Amelia's flat shoes ceased. He turned to face her, finding her standing on the curb with her hand on her hip. Fat drops of water hit the ground, sizzling away with the heat.

Nate smirked. “Walk, or go inside and catch a ride with Parker. Maybe that's what you want.”

“I don't understand what's going on with you, Nate,” Amelia said. Rain began to fall harder. Nate stalked back toward her, damned if he let Parker save the day—again.

“I don't share.”

“We're not children and this isn't kindergarten.” Amelia squared her shoulders. Water pegged the two of them. His chest rose with desire as the material soaked her dress.

“I don't share,” he said again.

She opened to protest but he captured her by the back of her neck with one hand and dragged his face down to hers for a deep, soul-silencing kiss.

Chapter 7

T
he front seat of his SUV crackled with sexual tension. Like this morning, they drove in utter silence. Unlike this morning, Nate understood where this was going. The kiss he shared with Amelia generated its own lightning. He drove like a madman down County Road Seventeen to get back to the house. He thought nothing was going to stop them, but up ahead the red lights of the train tracks began to flash. Not wanting to chance the timing of the train, Nate veered to the right and pulled off to the side of the road into a cut of the woods in case other cars pulled up to the flashing lights. Heavy raindrops pounded the rooftop, filling the inside of the vehicle with a deafening noise when he cut off the engine. The darkness of the trees, thanks to the dreary clouds, helped conceal their position if anyone drove by.

Amelia turned in her seat to face him. The window behind her fogged with her body heat. Her red, completely kissable lips opened with question. Nate leaned across the console between them and pressed his lips against hers as if to answer. Her sweet breath touched the corners of his mouth. Aroused beyond desire, he pressed further into the kiss. The damn console prevented him from truly getting to her like he wanted, but he settled for a trail of kisses along her neck.

Amelia cupped his neck; her thumb traced his bulging vein, throbbing with desire. The material of her dress, now soaked, clung to her skin. A damn good way to find out she wasn't wearing a bra. Nate smiled and dipped his head lower, tracing a finger along the swell of the top of her breast. Her chest expanded, urging him to probe further. The side of his forefinger brushed against a bud and twirling it between his two fingers he manipulated it into a hard nub.

Soft fingers caressed against the nape of his neck. Nate dipped his head a little lower and captured her other nipple in his mouth. A mew escaped Amelia's throat. Hips thrusting forward, Nate took his cue and reached between her thighs. She propped one wet foot on the seat and opened her legs wider for him. A wave of desire washed over him as his fingers pushed aside her panties and sunk into the wet flesh. The shoulders of the white dress stretched and he pulled them down, exposing her deep pink nipples to him. His mouth watered. His other hand reached behind and to the side to lower her seat. From his new angle, he was able to have better access to her other breast and still toy with the wet folds. His fingers delved farther and the palm of his hand ground against her. She grounded her hips back. Harder. Longer. Amelia's hands grasped for the headrest.

Why she'd decided to hold out on him for the last few nights was beyond him, but this pent-up desire only proved his point.
She wanted him
. The strain against his jeans indicated how much he wanted her right now, but he was too busy watching the rise and fall of her chest from breathing so hard with each deeper stroke he made into her with his hand. They moved in unison just as he remembered at the hotel. Faster. Nate leaned back in his seat, watching Amelia's face as she came in his hands. The corners of her eyes crinkled. Her mouth made the cutest O shape and when she clenched against his fingers, her face softened angelically.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed. The raindrops slowed as her breathing regulated. Lazily she rolled her head to the left and opened one eye. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Because you're beautiful.”

Amelia covered her face with her hands at the reality of what they'd just done. “Oh, God, this is crazy.”

“Crazy is denying us this,” Nate said, taking her hand away from her face. He caressed her soft cheek.

“I didn't buy you for this.”

Nate's laugh reverberated off the interior of the car. “Thanks for making me feel sleazy.”

After a quick tug of her hand from his, Amelia playfully swatted his chest. “Shut up. That's not what I meant.”

“I know.” Nate recaptured her hand and kissed her fingertips. “You want forty hours of work from me and you'll get it.”

“It doesn't matter anymore, Nate.” She sighed.

“Why not?”

“Because we've crossed a line between us, and now what will everyone think?”

“What line? Between employee and employer?” he guessed. “This is ridiculous. What do we care whatever anyone else thinks? Who's going to know?”

“What about the last time something like this happened between us?”

“Do you regret it?” he asked of her.

For a heartbeat she waited to answer. A strange vise tightened around Nate's heart until she spoke. “Look where I ended up.”

“You mean, back in your hometown with me as your most prized possession?” Nate teased and tugged on her hand in preparation of her trying to pull away. “How 'bout I finish the work at your grandmother's house and then we can talk about us?”

“What
us
, Nate?” She pulled her hand away again and succeeded.

“Why not an
us
?” he asked, not sure if he truly heard the words coming out of his mouth. “It's not like you have a job to rush back to. Stay here in Southwood and at least see where we can go.”

Amelia stifled a laugh, covering the mouth he'd kissed, and glanced out the window. “Go where?”

“Emily's wedding, for starters.”

“Even if I wanted to,” Amelia groaned, “I didn't bring any sort of wedding attire.”

Glad she was beginning to warm up to his idea, Nate smiled. “Well, I have the perfect person for you to meet. You may already know her, she's from here.”

Amelia turned fully toward him. “Who?”

With the way her voice went up in question, Nate wanted to learn more about what made Amelia so distrustful toward the residents of Southwood. She told him the people had turned on her and her family, but he'd never understood how. So far everyone they ran into acted like they missed Amelia. Everyone had accepted him and Stephen—well, at least him—so easily. “My future sister-in-law, Lexi Pendergrass.”

“I didn't know her personally. She went to a different school,” said Amelia, the corners of her mouth turning downward. “My parents knew hers. Of course everyone knows her parents.”

He didn't miss the way Amelia rolled her eyes. Then again, Lexi did the same thing whenever someone brought up her parents. “I wonder what time it is. We can probably go back and see her at her shop.”

“What shop?”

“Grits and Glam Gowns,” Nate said proudly. “She has all kinds of froufrou dresses you might like.”

Amelia frowned. “I don't do froufrou and it's about four-thirty.”

Nate sat up and turned the engine on. The blue lights indicated the time and Amelia's correctness. He glanced over and caught her smug smile. “Hey,” she said, sitting up and readjusting her top, “that's how it is in the summer. Always carry an umbrella.”

“I'm a man, Amelia.” He gave a sideways grin and began backing out of the cut. “I always carry protection.”

* * *

Monday afternoon's shower halted any of the outside work Nate planned on doing that evening. But he continued clocking in his hours by helping her move the heavy things downstairs to her grandmamma's new room. By the time they completed their project, they were too tired to move.

Tuesday morning, Amelia woke up on one section of the L-shaped couch in the TV room, lying against Nate's broad chest while he stretched out on the other half. His soft snoring soothed her. A heavy arm draped protectively around her and his fingers spanned against her hips. Black stubble was sprinkled across his chiseled cheeks.

Between the opening of the kitchen and the stairs, the grandfather clock ticked away. If she were working, she would have been up before the crack of dawn, prepping her camera crew about what she wanted filmed. Sleeping in was not a luxury she could afford. She wondered what Natalia was up to or if she was getting along with William. Rory hadn't called to give her an update and the restriction on contact worked both ways. No one was to call her. She hadn't even heard her phone ring once.

Thinking of her phone, Amelia reached for hers off the square glass coffee table. She pressed the buttons for the screen saver to come to life. The half beat of the light flipped on, then turned off. She caught a quick glimpse of the problem. She needed to charge her phone; if only she remembered where she placed her bag with her charger.

Amelia peeled herself away from Nate's grip with a bit of ease. As she rolled over onto the white carpet, she went on her hands and knees, careful not to wake him. Thankfully the black leggings and the off-shoulder red Alabama shirt in which she'd fallen asleep absorbed the irritating material of Grandmamma's carpet. Nate shifted with a snort and his right hand sought the comfort of her body. Amelia reached up and grabbed one of the fluffy throw pillows braced against the back of the couch and slipped it under his hand. A pout tugged at the corners of her lips when the plump material seemed to satisfy Nate. His steady snore continued.

Jealous of a pillow? Disgusted with herself, Amelia headed off down the hall beyond the steps, toward the area now designated for the new study. They'd set up the room with a desktop computer; on the beige wall, Nate had hung one of the flat-screen televisions they'd found elsewhere in the house. A small leather couch folded out in one corner. Maybe this Christmas everyone would gather here for the holidays. Amelia stopped in her tracks. Since when did she think about coming here—period?

Just because Emily was courteous to her did not mean she was welcome back into the fold of Southwood society. Not like she wanted to be welcomed back. Amelia opened some of the drawers in hopes of finding a charger. She then headed into her grandmamma's new room looking for a charger. She didn't want to run up the stairs unless she had to. Since her episode in the car with Nate, Amelia doubted her legs would take the unnecessary stretching of the steps.

Hopefully Grandmamma wouldn't yell at her for searching her drawers. Nate had suggested they move the drawers down individually but clearly he did not understand how picky Grandmamma was. So completing the backbreaking task worked out better than being killed by Grandmamma for allowing a man to see her personals. Before she even delved into the big dresser drawers, Amelia sat on the edge of Grandmamma's queen-size bed. When she and her parents had come to live here, Amelia remembered sitting there getting life lessons. Of course, now Amelia realized Grandmamma's life lessons were more warnings about how to treat others and how she expected to be treated. Nothing stuck.

Sighing, Amelia reached for the drawer of the nightstand. Expectedly, she found a Bible. This was the same Bible her grandmother carried to church every Sunday. The cover was worn, the pages frail and filled with yellow highlighter marks. A faint trace of Chanel No. 5 rose from it. Amelia smiled and reached around in the drawer for anything feeling remotely like a cord. Some form of plastic scratched her fingertips. Amelia pulled her hand back to investigate the culprit. What she found caused her to jump off the bed. Condoms! She glanced down briefly and remembered this dresser used to be in her bedroom upstairs. Were these her condoms from years ago?

“Kill me,” Amelia groaned, shoving them to the back of the drawer.

“Everything okay?”

Amelia spun around and died a few more deaths at the sight of Nate's bare chest again, leaning against the doorjamb. How did one really say what she found? That she was having sex in high school in her grandmother's house? If her father didn't exist, Amelia would have been positive her grandmamma had never had sex in here. Now either she didn't know what the condoms were for or she left them in the drawer to one day fall down the steps, knowing Amelia would be the one to come here and move things around. Sure, the latter seemed more outrageous, but Amelia worked in reality TV; she knew crazy.

“Oh, nothing,” Amelia said sweetly, plastering a smile across her face. Her eyes traveled to the V stemming from the muscles of his stomach.

“Were you looking for something?”

In attempt to nod her head and shake it at the same time, Amelia ended up rotating her head in a circular motion. “Um, yes, but never mind. Good morning, did I wake you?”

“Yes, when you left my side.” Nate crossed his arms. The tribal tattoo seemed to ripple across his arm and chest. “Did my snoring wake you?”

“No, I'm used to waking up this early.”

Nate's eyes widened. “This is early for you?”

“Yes.”

“It's almost eleven,” he smirked.

Amelia widened her eyes the same way he had. “You're kidding me.”

He reached into the front of his jeans for his cell phone and swiped the screen. Besides the time, the first thing she noticed was the photograph of two adorable girls in a selfie pose with Nate. “Your nieces?”

“Kimber and Philly,” Nate said proudly. “They're in school now, or should be, provided my brother got up in time.” She must have squinted her eyes because Nate nodded his head and took her by the hand. “Trust me, it's happened in the past. Let's get some coffee in us and then we'll head over to Grits and Glam Gowns.”

Amelia sat at the kitchen table and watched Nate make his way around the room. She toyed with the vase holding the long-stemmed daisies he'd brought her yesterday. Will she ever be able to look at daisies again without thinking of him? Inhaling deeply, Amelia focused on Nate's backside. He was comfortable in here. He might as well be; he'd nearly set it on fire and then cleaned every spot like a professional. There was no trace of smoke at all. Grandmamma would never know what happened, let alone that someone else tried cooking in her kitchen. God, how the old woman complained whenever Amelia's mother tried to help out and prepare a meal, Amelia thought bitterly. When the coffee finished percolating, Nate poured them each a mug and joined her at the table.

“So when you're not sleeping in until eleven,” Nate asked, “what time do you normally get up?”