His Southern Sweetheart (6 page)

“Seven hundred?”

“Eight hundred.”

Great. Now he was up in the dancer's range. He moved to the right side of the stage and unbuttoned his jacket, driving up the price to a cool grand. When he tossed his jacket over his forearm and loosened his tie, he garnered more catcalls, whistles and a two-thousand dollar bid. Nate had watched enough of Philly's pageants to understand how to work a crowd. He moved to the front and center of the stage.

“I've got two thousand. Do I hear a—” the emcee began.

“Twenty-two hundred.”

A bidding war began in four different directions of the downstairs dance floor. Heads bobbed from the left to the right like at a tennis match as the price went up with every wave of the paddle. Nate caught the voice of one woman, a mom from Philly's pageant team. This same woman had pushed her hotel key card in his hand and whispered her child's nap schedule. The other woman's bidding came from the bar and Nate was pretty sure it was Brittany. She came from money, plenty of it. Did he need to guess what she wanted from him for a week? The bidding between the two women slowed down as the price went to five thousand dollars. A lot of
ooh
s and
aah
s filled the room. Their shouts to outbid each other were crisp and angry.

“I hear five thousand. Do I hear fifty-one hundred?”

All eyes turned toward the pageant mom. Her kid needed braces soon. She pressed her lips together and gave her head a quick shake.

The emcee continued his countdown to close the bid. “That's five thousand going once.”

Nate pictured himself swiveling on the round bed in Brittany's dominatrix bedroom. He'd been to her two-bedroom apartment downtown, but he'd never been led back to the second bedroom with the padlocked door. Once she'd run into the room to get some more condoms and Nate had spied a lot of leather, whips and chains. As sex-crazed as he could be, that was not his scene. The thought of being held captive sent a faint ache to his wrist. Or she'd want something worse—for him to take her to the Keaton wedding as his plus-one.

Nate didn't do monogamous relationships but he also did not lead women on. Taking a woman to a wedding was a gateway to commitments and complications. Nate didn't have time for either.

“Ten thousand dollars!”

The emcee dropped the gavel on the podium and let out a few words of shock. “I'm sorry, ma'am. Did we hear correctly?”

The voice came from the second level. Nate glanced upward but his eyes watered under the light. He lifted his free hand to block it in an attempt to check out the highest bidder. Red dress, curves for days, the swell of ample breasts, luscious red lips which curved into a devilish smile. Nate's pulse began to race realizing he knew the body—biblically. Another spotlight flashed on Amelia, making them the only two in the room. He gave a prayer in thanks that he'd remembered to loosen his tie because he almost could not swallow.

“Ten thousand dollars going once,” the emcee counted. “Going twice. Sold to the lady in red,” he cheered and banged his gavel down.

An uncomfortable silence pierced the night club. Someone cleared their throat and someone dropped their keys. From the bar Stephen and Lexi stood up straight and began clapping their hands over their heads. A slow, reluctant applause broke out from the crowd, all remembering tonight's cause.

The emcee leaned into the microphone once more. “Four Points, thank you for your generous donation. Might we learn the name of our benefactor?”

From the stage Nate finally noticed the other woman with Amelia. She rose from her seat and leaned across the banister. “Her name is Amelia Marlow.”

“Amelia?” the emcee repeated. “Oh, snap, one of Southwood High's own?”

Amelia lifted her arm in the air without smiling. Nate's brow rose to meet her...
glare
? An icy chill crept down his spine. On many given occasions, Nate had pissed a woman off and had resorted to feigning cluelessness. He recognized the look she gave him—he recognized it well—but this time, he didn't deserve it. She left him at the hotel with no notification that she wanted to see him again.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee announced, “this concludes our evening for real this time. We'd like to thank you once again for your generous donations this evening from all our ladies, as well as our participating bachelors. Feel free to stay around and enjoy some drinks and we hope to see you next week.”

Nate turned to exit the stage with his mind still wondering what bothered Amelia. A round of applause greeted Nate backstage in the dressing room area. He made his way against the men who'd already changed out of their outfits and were about to meet their parties. All he wanted to do was get into something more comfortable and meet Amelia outside, preferably in his car on the way to her place. The sooner they started this weeklong venture, the better. Where did she live? One of the Four Points? Forty hours was not going to be enough time.

To no surprise, the ringleader started off the slow clap. Due to present company, Nate refrained from flipping his brother the middle finger. “Stephen, what are you doing back here?”

“I came to congratulate you, little brother.” Stephen clapped his hand on Nate's back. “I knew those green eyes of yours would bring in top dollar.”

“You're my pimp now?”

“Hey.” Stephen shrugged and laughed. “You're the one out there with the ladies about to fight.”

“Only one winner tonight, though,” teased the fireman who'd gone first.

Nate threw his black jacket down on the bench by the locker containing his favorite jeans and T-shirt. He considered tossing his overnight bag into the back of his SUV and leave wearing his slacks and shirt.

“She may have won tonight.” A female's voice penetrated the room.

The men still dressing in the backstage area covered their modesty as Brittany waltzed through the room, her eyes boring holes in Nate's. Shirt on but unbuttoned, he still felt naked. Nate shrugged his shoulders, trying to indicate his indifference, but she kept coming toward him.

“And this is my cue to leave.” Stephen bailed on his brother. “Miss Brittany, I trust Philly and I will see you on open house night at the school?”

“Perhaps.” Brittany gave Stephen a sweet smile, warranting a whistle from a few of the guys. Nate shot a glare around the room, not as protection but to dissuade any encouragement. Brittany did not need to leave here thinking there was hope for them. She just needed to leave—period.

One by one the men began to leave, allowing them privacy. Nate had no desire to deal with Brittany tonight. His pulse raced with the idea of being with Amelia. Still, she stalked closer, one black-heeled foot in front of the other in a straight line, licking her mauve-tinted lips.

“The forty hours you have to put in doesn't mean in a row,” she purred, stopping her pointed heels in front of his shoes. “You can work ten straight hours each day and then in four days I can have you all to myself.”

“But judging from the busy workload you presented at Philly's orientation, I am sure you'll be too tired.” Nate ducked his head to the side before she attempted to kiss him. The only lips he wanted were Amelia's. “We can catch up next week at the school.”

“There's always the Keaton wedding.”

Hell no
, he thought.

“I'm not sure I can wait that long,
papi
.”

Nate tried not to cringe at her fetish nickname for him. He certainly wasn't her daddy. “I need to get going.”

“Oh, yes.” The corners of Brittany's mouth turned upside down. “To meet Amelia Marlow. How did the two of you even meet? You know we went to school together. I thought she'd never have the nerve to step foot in Southwood ever again.”

He couldn't miss the disdain in her voice but he tucked it away to question Amelia over dinner one night this week.

“Tell her, Nate,” said a voice from the back door.

Brittany spun around and stiffened against Nate's body. The wisps of her hair against his face made him want to sneeze. Amelia Marlow leaned against the door with a slight grin and a raised brow. Her long, slender arms folded across her chest, just under the swell of her breast. Nate's mouth went dry, while the rest of his body went into full-blown adolescent desire.

“This isn't what it looks like,” Nate blurted out, gently pushing Brittany's shoulders off him to step out from behind her. In four long strides, he crossed the room to embrace Amelia, but her scowl stopped him from proceeding.

“You don't have to explain a damn thing to her,” Brittany growled.

Nate ignored the schoolteacher and embraced Amelia, well aware of the stiffness of her body. “Darling, I cannot express to you how glad I am to see you again.”

“Afraid you exhausted all your connections in Hollywood to find me again?”

Sarcasm dripped from her red lips. His eyes widened. The gig was up. His mouth opened but no words formed. Perhaps now was not the time to confess he'd gone straight to the star herself for the information on Amelia.

“Close your mouth, dear,” Amelia sneered. “For the record, your stunt got me fired and now I'm going to lose my apartment.”

The left corner of her luscious mouth twitched. Nate licked his lips to refrain from grinning. She'd done the same thing their night together when she said she needed to leave after round one. “Fired, you say? Are you sure it was wise to invest your money in me?”

“I have a use for you.”

“I had a feeling you'd be back for more,” Nate said, baring his teeth and leaning forward. “But you didn't have to pay a dime.”

The pulse against Amelia's neck quickened against his tongue. Nate grinned into the kiss he planted against the curve of her neck. She tasted as sweet as he remembered—maple-y. He could eat her right here and now. But Brittany's irritating foot stamp and annoying sigh reminded him they weren't alone. Nate pulled his face away but not before capturing her bottom lip between his lips. Amelia mewed a slight moan. Whatever ailed her, he knew how to fix. Without thinking, Nate reached for Amelia's thigh. The hem of her dress tickled against his fingers as they snaked for a touch of her petal-soft skin.

For a brief moment Amelia seemed to relax against his body. She turned her face away from his kiss and winced as if in anticipation of his touch. Again Nate grinned, but this time he blew out a breath of relief knowing he still had her. His laugh killed the moment, as did the sudden straightening of her back and the slap across his face. Nate touched his burning cheek and watched Amelia storm out. In his other hand, he realized, she'd somehow pressed the address where she was staying. Things were beginning to get interesting.

Chapter 4

N
ate turned his SUV onto the gravel driveway off County Road Seventeen. Before tearing out of the parking lot he followed the closest car speeding away and took the chance that Amelia was the only one leaving the party early. Judging from a half glance at the address given to him, this was the place she wanted to meet him.

The tires crunched across the pebbles. The pulse at his wrists twitched against the black leather steering wheel as his eyes focused on Amelia's shapely legs swinging out of her vehicle with the rented tags. The silhouette of his headlights caught the angle of her feet in her spiked heels. As his body stiffened, he was reminded to go ahead and turn off the engine and unbuckle his seat belt. So focused was he on getting to Amelia that he'd forgotten to take his keys out of the ignition when he opened his door. The sharp dinging reminder echoed against the side of the barn attached by a breezeway to the two-story home.

Amelia stood to her full height at the driver's side. The interior light of her car shone on hips encased in her red dress. He'd never loved a color so much. He couldn't wait to rip the material from her body. Nate stepped out and stalked toward her. Gravel scraped the bottom of his black dress shoes. A defiant smile spread across her face when he neared her body. Women did not challenge him. He loved this prelude to a proverbial dance they were about to do. Nate closed her driver's-side door behind her, pinning her against it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting a start on whatever it is you want me to do to you.” The light in her car died off, leaving them alone in the night air. An owl hooted off in the distance over the sound of a diesel truck entering one of the back roads. With all the nighttime orchestra, Nate still heard her gulp, not in fear but uncertainty. Had she bitten off more than she could chew by bidding on him tonight?

“Are you going to tell me what you have in store for me now?” Nate asked. His eyes focused on her plump lips. She'd reapplied a layer of gloss during the ride over here because he knew he'd kissed off the strawberry flavor back at the club.

“In a rush to get back to Brittany?” Amelia countered. She pressed her manicured hand against his chest in a seeming attempt to put some space between them, but he felt the way her fingers lingered against his pecs.

Nate cocked his head to the side to study her face for a moment under the half-moon's light. “Babe, you've got me for a full week.”

“And then?”

He grinned. “Planning on keeping me around longer than the forty hours?”

The light caught the slight red tint to her high cheekbones. “Already narrowing the amount of time you have to spend with me?”

“You paid for forty hours.” Nate dropped one hand from the car and traced the length of her left arm with his forefinger. “I'm staying for a week, 24/7.”

“When you see what I've planned for you—” she licked her lips and batted her lashes “—you'll want the break in between.”

“Now you're talking.” Nate lowered his face to hers; his lips hovered near hers as he breathed in the distinct, fresh strawberry scent. Her breast lifted forward with a deep breath of anticipation of a kiss; he decided at the last moment to not give in. It wasn't just the lingering sting on his cheek telling him something was bothering her. She held him responsible for her getting suspended and he needed to fix this. It took all his might to tear himself away from her, but he pushed away from the car and took a step to the right. “But first we need to talk.”

Had he not been standing there so acutely aware of her body, he may have missed the way she slightly leaned forward. She caught herself and pressed her backside against her door, hiding her hands behind her tail. “What?”

“Is this your suitcase?” Nate asked, peering into her backseat. Before getting an answer, he opened the door and took the black canvas bag out. “All right, where are we headed?”

He moved toward the walkway to the house. Where the driveway was gravel, a cemented walkway provided a sturdier pathway to the large wooden steps of the front porch. Earlier when he pulled into the driveway, he thought he spied a rocking chair when his lights flashed on the house, but found a set of four instead. For some reason he imagined a younger version of Amelia shelling peas into a pot as a child. In his career as a real estate agent and contractor, Nate had an eye for homes, especially ones that told a story. Even in the dark, he knew this was a colonial plantation house; the wide porch and tall pillars clued him in. He couldn't wait to get inside. Speaking of which, he realized Amelia was slowly walking up behind him. Why so shy now?

“Don't tell me you're worried about spending the night with me,” he asked with a teasing grin.

“I'm not,” Amelia said, standing at the bottom step, “because you're not staying in the house with me.”

“Excuse me?” The house was so far out, it was too damn late to drive back to Southwood now and not wake the girls when he got home.

“Well, I'm staying in the house—” Amelia pressed her hand against her breast “—but you're staying there.” Her manicured hand pointed toward the barn.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“The barn. I hired you to work forty hours for me.”

Nate dropped the bag and leaned against a white pillar. “So I'm here as your farmhand?”

“I figured it's only fair.”

“I don't get it.” Nate walked down the steps until they were face-to-face.

As if to distance herself, Amelia folded her arms across her chest. “Don't play me for a fool, Nate. Not again.”

He cringed.

“Yeah, I talked to Natalia. I'm not just a field producer, Nate, I'm also her friend. You knew exactly what you were doing when you bought me that drink last week.”

“Amelia,” he tried.

“Save it.” She hushed him with a wave of her hand before securing herself against the frame. “I was a fool to ever have a drink with you and a bigger fool to bring you back to my room. You wanted me distracted? Well, you got it. I was so distracted, as you planned, that I didn't get the footage of Natalia and your brother talking.”

“They needed privacy.”

“She signed a contract to have her life videoed 24/7,” she said, “thus making me miss an important turning point in the show.”

Nate shook his head. “I'm sorry you feel that way, but my brother's life is not part of the show.”

“Well, neither is mine now.”

“You were seriously fired over missing one conversation?”

Amelia rolled her eyes before biting the bottom corner of her lip. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Well, tell me why I'm here.”

“Like I said, you will be my farmhand here for a week. My grandmother had an accident and you're going to help me.”

So revenge was on her mind? Nate's eyes narrowed down on hers. “You do realize these forty hours are causing me to miss my nieces' first day at school on Monday.”

“Well, looks like we're both missing out on important benchmarks in our lives. Good night, Nate Reyes.”

* * *

Thanks to the sound of someone's rooster serenading him at the crack of dawn, Nate woke up a few hours earlier than he was used to over the summer. The beat of his heart settled when a shadow of the feathered friend walked past the thin crack between the wooden panels of the barn. At least the door to the breezeway remained closed. He didn't want to start the day losing any cool points by tangoing with the thing. God only knew if Amelia had rigged the barn with hidden cameras just to enjoy the torture. Wasn't it her profession to capture every moment of someone's life on television? His eyes peered left and right and in all the corners of the barn. A small camera could fit somewhere in the rafters or in the bales of hay. Shouldn't he see a red light flashing if he was being filmed? None captured his attention.

With a groan he rose from the lumpy, plaid, orange-and-brown couch he'd slept on and stretched, feeling every bit of his twenty-eight years. To be kind, the old double-crib barn was cozy. These buildings housed livestock back in the day but the latest trend was to convert these two-story structures into livable spaces to rent out for extra cash. Last night had not gone according to plan, at least not Nate's plan. The old army blanket and sheets folded on top of the glass coffee table indicated the night had gone as planned for Amelia. Her idea of revenge was buying him for forty hours of what? Community service? For a chance to be with her again,
he
would have paid.

The pressure of the springs against his back relieved once he rolled his head from side to side until a crack sounded off. A water heater set up in one of the corners of the barn cranked to life, flushing water from the pipes. Outside the dusty window of the barn, Nate spied a light coming from a rectangular window upstairs. He moved from the couch to the window.

In an unfair torture treatment, Amelia's naked frame crossed by the window. She had to be unaware of the view she gave him. In the reflection of the mirror, a perfectly shaped breast bounced as she fingered her strands of hair underneath a pink shower cap. As she stood in front of the mirror, making sure none of her strands were exposed, Nate enjoyed the image of her heart-shaped behind facing him. His fingers tingled with the memory of her delicate, soft skin against his rough hands. One caress of her skin soothed him to the bone. Speaking of, Nate glanced down at himself and shook his head at the uncontrollable desire she evoked from him with the distant observation. He couldn't recall the last time his body responded to a woman without her touching him. And given the cold shoulder she'd presented to him last night, touching him seemed to be the last thing on Amelia's mind.

Nate considered ducking from the window when Amelia turned from the mirror, but realized she couldn't see him being a peeper. Once the reflection of the daisy-patterned shower curtain moved, steam stained the mirror.

A breeze blew from the screen door of the breezeway. The scent of strong coffee flowed from the open window in the house next door. Nate rolled his head around on his neck and tried to recite the starting lineup for the Miami Marlins to take his mind off the adolescent effect of Amelia's nudity. Once he was able to walk straight, he grabbed his Timberland boots, jeans and red-and-white striped shirt before heading off toward the scent. Nate always kept a spare change of clothes in his gym bag in the trunk of his car on the occasions he needed to spend the night elsewhere.

Like the barn, the breezeway seemed to have become a storage space for old things. The screen siding of the outdoor hallway did not seem like a wise place for an old juke box or records. Southwood wasn't too far away from the Florida border and still received torrential downpours of rain during the hurricane season. Whatever Amelia had planned for him, he made a mental note to move the equipment to a drier space.

Four steps led up to the kitchen door. A small, square doggy door flapped as he opened the door. If the size of the pooch door gave any indication, there wouldn't be a monster inside waiting to eat him for entering unannounced. But then again, didn't the pot of coffee brewing on the marbled countertop seem welcoming? A circular table sat with the leaf side against the wall for more space in the kitchen. The wood flooring appeared to be in good shape, not creaking when he stepped farther inside. A significant amount of care had gone in to the wooden cabinets. Brass knobs new and shiny. A blacktop gas stove matched the specks in the marble counters. Two red mugs sat upside down in the sink; he grabbed both and wiped them off with the red-and-white dishcloth hanging from the door handle of the black refrigerator.

The first sip of coffee was always Nate's favorite, the first jolt of caffeine flowing over his lips.
She made a mean brew
, he thought with a twinge of a smile. After his first few sips he moseyed over to the table and picked up the top of the envelopes on the table. In the state of the table, the condition of the breezeway and the rickety shape of the furniture, Nate half expected to find a red stamp with “past due” on the front of the envelope. There was none; just a lot of bills for Helen Marlow.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Nate glanced up and grinned at the sight of Amelia standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Her bare feet teetered against the plush beige carpet and the hardwood floors. Her toes were painted red, different from the French manicure he'd kissed not too long ago.

“Helping myself to a cup of coffee,” he answered and moved back toward the pot. “I set aside a mug for you but I realized I didn't know how you like yours. Had you not left the hotel room last week, I might have learned what you liked—coffee-wise, that is.”

Amelia's hand closed the slight opening of her yellow bathrobe. Water trickled down her shapely legs and her hair was now free of the shower cap. Dare he mention what he saw?

“You got what you wanted that night.”

Since he had no reason to lie, Nate nodded his head. “I did get a lot more than what I wanted, Amelia. I never intended for you to get fired. Natalia assured me she was able to get private time after hours.”

“Whatever.” Amelia shook her head. “I don't have time to rehash the past.”

“A week ago was the past?” Nate half laughed.

“In my world you're old news.”

Ouch
. He managed not to wince at her harsh words. Growing up in Villa San Juan with his first cousins, Marisol and Lourdes, he'd seen firsthand how ruthless women could be when hurt. “Okay, I'm old news. What kind of headlines can I make for you today? You have me all to yourself for a week.”

“Forty hours.”

Nate nodded. “I stand corrected. Do you have a time clock you'd like me to punch?”

“I'd like to punch something,” Amelia mumbled, turning her head toward the living room.