Authors: Dawn Atkins
“Right. On pain meds? Pretty ridiculous.”
“Not at all. It was charming and sexy and very you.” He
stepped closer so the light struck his face and turned his black Moons T-shirt and jeans a soft gray. He looked so good to her. Dangerous and wild, but also safe. Emotion shone in his eyes. “You had me so hot I could hardly see.”
“You threw me over your shoulder like a child.”
“So I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”
“I wasn’t that loaded.”
He reached for the switchbox against the wall. She thought he was going to shut off the light, but instead he pushed a button that started the disco ball spinning, sending white circles of light everywhere, turning the stage into a magical snow globe. “Why don’t you dance for me?”
“Dance? I can’t…I’m not—”
“Sure you are. You’re very good.”
“You make me feel that way.”
“You don’t need me for that. But I’ve been glad to be along for the ride.”
The ride. It had been wild and wonderful. Like roaring through the city in his exotic sports car. Maybe Jackson was saying goodbye, too.
“Dance for me. The stage is all yours. And this time you won’t get dizzy.”
“If you’ll pick out my music.”
“Hear the music in your head.” He stepped onto the stage, keeping his eyes on her the entire time, making her feel like the sexiest woman alive.
When the mirrored cube was the only thing between them, he sat on it, legs apart, palms on his knees, braced to watch. “Just dance, Heidi.”
She began to sway, slowly at first, intimidated by the dark seats beyond the stage. They were empty, but she could picture men staring, expecting erotic moves, splits, spins, pole work.
“Look at me, Heidi. I’m the only one here. Dance for me.”
So she did. Staring into his fathomless eyes, her only mirror, she performed an instinctive undulation, a wave of motion from the top of her head to a little kick of her toes in her kitten heels.
“Nice,” Jackson breathed, warm light reflecting in his eyes like candle flames in each pupil. She was turning him on.
More confident now, she went on tiptoe and spun—these shoes didn’t slip off her heels as Gigi’s oversize ones had. She went to the pole, leaned her head back and did a slow turn. Jackson smiled.
She wanted more hunger in his eyes, so she tugged the leotard off both shoulders, revealing the tops of her breasts. He inhaled sharply, so she slowly removed her arms from the long sleeves of the leotard, pushed it down to her waist and stood for him in the black-lace bra.
“You are so beautiful,” Jackson said, the heat from his gaze hotter on her body than the light burning down on her. She felt free, standing there, all woman, and sexy as hell.
She danced backward to the pole and slid slowly down, her thighs aching. She kept her knees apart as the dancers did, deliberately showing the space between her legs, covered by her leotard, but she felt wanton and raw all the same. Could he tell how aroused she was?
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Jackson ground out, wanting her in a way that sent fire through her.
A fire she had to have put out. And there was only one way. This dance would become something more. A lap dance and then sex. One last, lovely time. Right here on this stage. Something she would remember forever.
She pushed to her feet. “I can’t stop yet, Jax. I haven’t showed you all my moves.” She danced over to him, un
tying her skirt as she went. She whipped it off her body and draped it over his shoulder. She didn’t need codeine to loosen her inhibitions because she had the confidence of all the great sex they’d had together.
“What are you doing?” She watched a shudder roll through him.
“What you want me to do,” she said, moving closer. All that covered her now was her bra and the bottom half of her leotard. Her legs were bare in the low heels. Under the leotard, she wore a black-lace thong the girls had talked her into. She hadn’t liked the feel of fabric between her cheeks, but now she was glad. A thong was much sexier than her flowered granny panties, though Jackson claimed they turned him on.
“Heidi,” he said, hungry to touch her, she could tell from his tone. She’d missed that sound in his voice these last weeks. He seemed to hardly breathe.
Still swaying, she pushed the leotard the rest of the way off her body, kicking it up to land in Jackson’s lap. He made no move to catch it, his eyes glued to her body, and it slid to the floor of the stage. She stood before him in her tiny thong and bra and shoes, staying brave, feeling sexy.
“You have to stop,” Jackson said very low.
“But you wanted me to dance,” she teased. “To move however I feel. This is how I feel.” She ran her hands across her stomach and then up to cup her breasts. His rapt expression convinced her she was as sexy as she felt.
“If you keep that up…” Jackson held very still, his hands on his knees, not moving, only taking her in with his eyes, but he wanted to take her, she could tell by the way his breaths came ragged and rough and his eyes burned into her.
She was so excited she could hardly stand. She’d never felt more desired in her life. She closed the inches between
them until she stood between his parted thighs and took off her bra. “If I keep this up,” she said slowly, teasing her nipples with her fingers, “what will you do?”
In answer, Jackson grabbed her shoulders and pulled her onto his lap, crushing her mouth to his.
She kissed him back, her heart thudding in her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears, adjusting herself so she sat on his lap, legs on either side, feet on the floor. His jeans scraped against her panties, his erection a solid bulge against her sex.
Jackson tore his lips away. “I can’t stop wanting you.” He grabbed her bottom, his fingers digging in, straining her sex, his palms warm, owning her. He seemed so desperate and lost. He wanted more than sex and she welcomed it. She wanted more, too.
“Let’s keep on,” she said. “We’re good together.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes begging her to be.
In answer, she tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and yanked it up and off and tossed it to the stage. Now they were both naked to the waist.
Jackson ran his thumbs over her nipples, giving her a delicious rush. She caught sight of herself in the mirror to the side. Jackson’s fingers on her breasts in the white-hot cone of light looked so erotic, and she liked how small and pale her hands appeared on his broad, strong back.
As she watched, he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She arched her back, the sight thrillingly erotic in the mirror. They were half naked and making love on stage, exposed to the room, the sparkling lights turning it into a performance. She pictured people watching them, admiring their incredible passion, envying their desire for each other.
She looked like a woman who knew what she wanted and was certain to get it right now with this man.
Jackson lifted his mouth from her breast to take her lips, kissing her deeply. She wanted more and rubbed herself against his zipper. “Touch me,” she whimpered into his mouth.
Obeying her, he slid his fingers up her legs, skimmed her inner thighs and stroked her with his thumb. The thong gave him easy access. “It’s been killing me not to touch you like this.”
She trembled helplessly, electrified by the delicious pressure of his thumb on her clit. He rubbed her up and down, slow and even strokes, knowing exactly what she liked.
How she’d missed this.
She reached down, going for his zipper, but he stroked her even more deliberately. “I want to watch you come.”
She was helpless to stop him and writhed against his thumb.
“Is this how you like it? Tell me.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Farther inside, too.”
He pushed a finger inside her, hooking a spot that sent up a throbbing rhythm of urgency, while his thumb circled her clitoris, brushed it, then went away, then repeated the move, nudging her closer and closer to orgasm.
Jackson bent his head to lick a nipple, the tip of his tongue curling, pressing tight against it, intensifying her response more and more.
“Oh, oh…Jackson.”
“That’s right. Come for me.”
The wave hit and she closed her eyes, flying off, twining and twisting on Jackson’s fingers, which held her in place, while the rest of her spun through the circles of white light in this snow-globe of a stage.
Gradually, her movements slowed and she fell forward so Jackson could hold her against his warm chest. She felt
his pounding heart against her own and heard his labored breathing in her ears.
She wanted him to feel this kind of pleasure and she wanted him inside her. She went at his zipper, pushing to her feet so he could raise up enough to shove his pants off. He gripped her bottom, gasping for breath and she lowered herself slowly, letting him fill her up and make her ache all over again.
Now they faced each other, joined at the groin. They’d had sex in this position on a bed, but never with both sets of feet flat on the floor so they could push with maximum power. She half stood, then sat, then did it again, feeling each inch of him on the way up and back down again.
“You feel so…good.” Jackson’s voice was strangled. She loved the power she had over him, loved the way his need built as she rode him faster and faster. He was ready to come….
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said on a gasp. “I’m lost in you.” He released himself and she joined him with her own climax.
They held each other as the waves slowly passed. Heidi watched them recover in the mirrored wall, holding each other, encircled by each other’s arms, their bodies swaying from the force of what they’d shared. “I can’t believe we did that right here in Moons.”
“With you, I believe it,” he said, looking mystified. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Me, either.” She was lost in Jackson, too. He made her feel safe and sure of herself, not anxious or scared. With Jackson, she could rest. She refused to think beyond that.
They helped each other dress, then Jackson surprised her by lifting her into his arms. The first night at Moons, when she’d had blisters, he’d tried to help her out of the
bar, but she’d refused. Why had she fought so hard? Why not enjoy the relief? Tonight, she let him carry her. She could be independent and self-sufficient tomorrow.
Jackson carried her around the bar turning off lights and checking locks as they went. Soon, only the soft security lights lit their way to the back door. Outside, Jackson’s feet crunched on the gravel as Heidi rocked gently against his chest. He carried her to the van, which he’d driven instead of the sports car to hold the band’s equipment. The ridiculous women airbrushed on the side of the vehicle seemed charming to her now.
Jackson lowered her gently to the seat, then leaned in to kiss her with a warm, all-encompassing embrace, lips and tongue and arms and chest, holding her close. This was how it felt to be the one woman in Jackson’s life—the center of his universe, the home of his hope, the hope in his heart.
Jackson climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car, pausing to squeeze her knee. “You okay?”
“I’m great. You?”
“Never better.”
She smiled so big her cheeks hurt. They talked, mostly about the show—Nevada’s determination, Jasmine’s new focus, Autumn’s enthusiasm, the band’s possibilities—eventually falling silent under a blanket of intimacy like the lightest, warmest fleece.
“I kind of wish my parents could have seen that,” Jackson said. “The strippers would have shocked Mom at first, but she’d be cool. She always loved my dad’s music. When she watched him play, she used to get this…I don’t know…glow.”
“I bet your father courted her with music.”
“Probably.”
“He’d be proud you started the band.”
“When I was a kid, I wanted talent like him, but didn’t have it. I think it disappointed him, but he never showed it. Mostly, we worked on engines together.” The light went green, but Jackson didn’t accelerate. There was no one behind them at 4:00 a.m. He sighed. “Yeah. I wish he could have seen that tonight.” His voice shook a little.
“Maybe he did,” she said, her heart aching for him. “Maybe your parents were sitting right there in the audience, clapping and cheering and proud as hell of what you’ve begun.”
He turned grateful eyes to her. “Sounds like wishful thinking to me, but I’ll take it.” He gave her a long, quiet kiss full of tenderness and connection. The light turned red and green again before Jackson drove them across the intersection.
When they pulled into the townhouse driveway, Heidi got such a rush of familiar joy she could hardly breathe. She’d felt this way about Copper Corners. And now she felt it about this tiny town house in this grungy neighborhood. Even the ratty sofa on the neighbors’ porch seemed welcoming. Heidi was home. She hadn’t even met the neighbors—she’d been too wrapped up in Moons and Shear Ecstasy and Jackson. She’d have to take over a batch of brownies and say hi. She’d get to know them since she’d be staying.
They made love once more and it was wordless and sweet and intimate. They’d slid from having sex to making love as easily as breathing. That meant something, didn’t it? It had to, because it changed everything.
I
CAN’T LET HER GET AWAY
.
That was Jackson’s first thought in the morning.
“I have to get ready for work.” Heidi’s soft voice in his ear was full of laughter.
He came to and realized he’d locked her body in a wrestling hold, legs scissored tight. “Not yet,” he murmured, pulling her on top of him, pretending it was just sex he wanted, when it was really her. He wanted to take care of her, help her, protect her, have her all to himself.
“I’d love to stay, Jax, believe me, but I’ll miss my bus.”
“So miss it. Drive the van. No, you’ll look better in the DB6. Take it.”
“Really?” She slid off his body onto her side to look down at him. Her face looked so soft from sleep he had to reach up and cup her cheek. “But that’s your baby.”
“So are you,” he said, pretty sure he shouldn’t have said that, but too groggy to hold back. Besides, she smiled the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her face.
Then she kissed him and he wrapped his arms around her tight, slid his legs between hers so they were twined together like positive-negative wire leads, and just held on.
After a bit, they made love, slow and relaxed, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this great—comfortable, easy and alive. He craved her sweet body, those slow-
blinking eyes, that creative little tongue of hers. She practically purred under his touch, wanting more and more, wanting all he had to give. She was so eager, so fresh, he just wanted to bury himself in her as deep as he could go.
This was fine. This was that love thing. That bond you felt. Something itched in him, some worry, some warning. But he pushed it away. She needed his help. He’d gotten her work and a home and he’d helped her bounce back from the robbery, so why couldn’t he go on doing it? He’d never hurt her. He was in love with her.
“What are you up to today?” she called to him from the shower, a few minutes later. She’d banished him from the shower stall, claiming she’d never make it to work, so he sat on the hamper just watching her gorgeous body move.
“Practice with the band. We’re kicking around names.” Last night, they’d sworn it would be something with “Moon” in it.
He followed Heidi to the garage to watch her leave like some lonely puppy. So what? He didn’t even care when she rabbit-hopped off in the DB6, didn’t even grimace at the gears she was stripping. She looked damn fine in it. Freshly laid and cheerful, wiggling her pretty fingers in a wave. He wanted to run after her down the hill just to keep her in sight till the last second.
This wasn’t like him, he knew—this moon-eyed kid thing he had going on. But then he’d never been in love before.
And he felt good. Better than he had in years.
Maybe your parents were sitting right there in the audience, clapping and cheering and proud as hell of what you’ve begun.
Her words about his parents played in his head, making him feel downright peaceful. And damn positive. That was good.
He pushed aside that niggling doubt, that sense that he was missing something important about all this and just rode the wave.
E
ARLY
M
ONDAY MORNING
, Jackson cuddled Heidi on the couch. They’d just made love. He’d been minding his own business, working on a calendar for MoonDanz—as the band had named itself—while Heidi cleaned, but the way she dusted turned him on and they’d gone at it again.
“This is taking over our lives,” she said, laughing, cozying into him.
“So what?” Maybe it wasn’t natural to want to be in bed with her 24/7, but he didn’t care. The good feeling had stayed. Being with Heidi had started a shift in him. He thought he knew why.
Losing his parents, then losing their money had sent him low. Made him sluggish and grumpy…dead inside. Heidi woke him like an espresso right out of bed. Life surged through him and he was wide, wide awake. He didn’t even mind her questions so much. It was as if she’d shoved him out of a dark cave into the sunshine with her small, strong hands.
“It’s crazy, don’t you think?” She squeezed him tight. “But I love it.”
And I love you.
The words were on his tongue to say. She probably already knew it. Where was the harm in putting them out there in the warm air they were breathing together?
Something. Something made him hold back. There was a dreamlike quality to what was going on that made him feel as if he were holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Ri-i-ing.
Or the doorbell to chime. “You expecting anyone?”
“No. You?”
“Nope, but I’ll get it. You get dressed.”
She grabbed her clothes and hightailed it down the hall. He zipped himself up, stepped into his flip-flops and headed to the door. Through the peephole he saw two earnest-looking, clean-cut guys. All they needed were white shirts and name badges to be missionaries. But they wore golf shirts. Salesmen, maybe? He opened the door, braced for a pitch. He was in such a good mood, he just might buy. Brushes, time shares, Tupperware, he didn’t care.
The men looked startled to see him. “Sorry, um, we’re looking for Heidi Fields?”
“You’re in the right place.” He froze for a second, something making him hesitate. “And you would be?”
“Mike and Mark Fields…her brothers.”
Her brothers? The guys who wanted to carry her piggyback through life? The guys who thought she was living with Tina instead of him?
“May we come in?” the lead brother said impatiently.
He realized he’d been staring blankly at them. “Sure. Come in, come in.” This was no time to introduce himself as her roommate, let alone her boyfriend. Hell, he hadn’t even thought of himself that way yet. What reason could he have to be in her place this early on a Monday? “I’m Jackson McCall…Heidi’s landlord.” The crescent wrench on the entry table, which he’d been using to tighten the screws on a mic stand, caught his eye. He lunged forward and grabbed it. “Plumbing troubles.”
“Who is it?” Heidi stopped dead in the entrance to the hall. “Mike and Mark?” Her eyebrows shot up.
“I was just telling your brothers that your bathroom sink is leaking and I’m fixing it.” He signaled her with his eyes. “Being your ever helpful landlord and all.”
She looked puzzled by his words, opened her mouth as if she wanted to correct him, then faltered. “Right. My ever…landlord…right.”
“So, I’ll get on that now.” He waved the wrench in the air, then headed down the hall, hoping he hadn’t overdone it.
Once in the bathroom, he turned the water off and on, then banged on the faucet. Hell, it did leak. He put his ear against the door to listen, clunking the U-joint now and then to sound busy.
He couldn’t make out the words, just Heidi’s husky voice high with nervous cheer, then low responses from her brothers. At least no one was yelling. Yet.
Was there evidence of their lovemaking in the house? Heidi had been cleaning, so probably not. On the other hand, why was he sneaking around like a criminal? He should just walk out there and tell them, “Look, I love your sister. You don’t have to worry because I’m taking care of her.”
But standing there under the alarmed stare of her earnest brothers, he’d felt like some creep who’d corrupted their sweet little sister and couldn’t have said a word if his life depended on it.
H
EIDI’S FACE FLAMED
as she watched her brothers take in the living room decor. Twin sets of eyes roved from the Marilyn Monroe velvet painting to the bimbo poster, the nude in the pole lamp, the hula girl on the tiki bar and the pièce de résistance, the pink-nippled cocktail table.
“Interesting,” Mark said, staring at it.
She’d meant to ask Jackson if she could tone down the nudes, but she’d grown used to the campy art.
Mike’s gaze shifted from the row of engines to her face. “So…is this Tina’s stuff?”
“Jackson’s. We, uh, let him leave it here and he takes a bit off the rent. Plus, I kind of like the look. It’s…different.”
The brothers looked at each, then at her, puzzled, not quite believing her.
Why had she lied exactly? And why hadn’t she corrected Jackson, told her brothers that he was her boyfriend? Or at least her roommate?
Because Jackson would seem like a liar? Partly. But mostly because, seen through her brothers’ eyes, the arrangement would seem tawdry, hasty, out of character, downright bizarre.
There was so much about her life she had to explain to her brothers before she could discuss her relationship with Jackson. Hell, she wasn’t ready to discuss it with Jackson yet. And now the poor man was banging around in the bathroom pretending to fix the plumbing.
She had to buy herself some time to figure out what to say. “How come you just popped by, anyway?”
“I mentioned the Arizona mayors conference, didn’t I? On water quality?”
“Maybe…” She had a vague memory of a comment.
“And I decided to do some networking,” Mark added. “There’s some interest in developing Copper Corners as a retirement community, so I just thought I’d come along.”
“To check on me, right?” They were both acting too sheepish for it to be as simple as they pretended.
“We miss you, Bunny.” Mike’s eyes warmed. Mark’s, too, as he nodded. They stepped forward to hug her, one after the other. She was swamped with homesickness. She loved her brothers, missed their solid selves.
“I miss you, too,” she said, forcing her words to come
out lightly. “And I’ll be coming down in a couple of months. Thanksgiving, remember?”
“You said Halloween,” Mark said. “I promised you’d judge the pumpkin carving contest.”
“You have sounded strange over the phone,” Mike said, “Nervous and jumpy and right now your eyes are darting all over the place. What’s the matter, Heidi?”
Everything.
Getting caught. Jackson hiding. Seeing them again. The startling homesickness she felt. “You just surprised me. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have—”
Not been making love on the sofa with my landlord
. The thought of what her brothers had almost interrupted mortified her completely. She hardly recognized herself. “Let me make you some breakfast.”
“We ate on the road. Coffee would be good. We thought we’d take you out to dinner tonight, if you’re free.”
She was working tonight. At Moons. A strip club. The last place she wanted her brothers to know about. “I, um, have plans. How about brunch tomorrow?”
“Plans? With Tina?” Mark asked hopefully.
“Tina’s in California.” Which was true.
“Is the woman ever in town?”
“I like being on my own.”
“So, you have a date tonight? Is it someone special?” Mike probed.
“What’s with the third degree? Come into the kitchen and I’ll make some coffee. I have cinnamon bread.”
“Mmm.” Mark rubbed his hands together. “Sounds great. We really miss your cooking.”
She laughed and led them to the kitchen, where she busied herself putting the filter in the coffeemaker, her hands shaking, her mind racing. It was cowardly to keep lying to them. Should she just tell the truth?
Jackson’s not just my
landlord, guys. He’s also my roommate, my boss and my lover. It all started when the Outback got stolen
.
Yeah. Right.
She would sound hopelessly unstable. She wanted her life all straightened out before she broke the news. From her brothers’ respectable viewpoint, she’d been living like a self-destructive runaway.
She hadn’t thought past the moment in weeks. Doubt poured hotly through her. If they knew the truth, they’d never stop hassling her.
She sliced hunks of cinnamon bread, slathered them with butter and popped the plate into the microwave, feeling her brothers’ eyes on her back, their worry heavy in the air.
“So, how’s the salon?” Mark asked with false cheer. “You getting lots of new clients?”
“Slowly, but surely,” she said, taking the bread from the microwave. Most of her work came from Moons and the discount she’d so readily offered was costing her a fortune in hair color, mousse, extension wax and other products.
“And you’re starting school next semester?” He spoke too urgently.
“That’s the plan.” She put the plate on the table. Though with all that was going on at Moons and with Jackson, she hadn’t thought much about it lately. “I have some textbooks to get a head start.” Which she’d barely cracked. Right now,
Basic Psychology
was propping a wobbly leg in the break room. “Everything is completely under control.”
A horrible hissing sound made her turn. Coffee grounds and water slopped over the sides of the angrily steaming machine. She hadn’t gotten the filter fully in place. “For Pete’s sake.” She jumped up to fix it, rescuing enough cof
fee for two half mugs. She picked them up, then noticed the naked women on the sides, so she fished out two plain Moons mugs and transferred the drinks, hiding the bawdy ones in the sink. She carried the mugs to the table.
Mark and Michael took big sips. “Mmm,” they said, then tried to hide the fact they had to pick coffee grounds off their tongues and lips.
“Try the bread,” she said. “I made it with the bread maker you gave me.”
“I picked that out for you.” Mark beamed.
“The microwave was my idea.” Mike nodded at it.
“I told him the TV was overkill,” Mark added. “Mmm. Bread’s great. Make some of this when you come down.”
“We already had a TV set, but I appreciated all the gifts,” she said, not wanting to give the pair ammo for the who-knows-best brotherly competition.
“And some pie, too?” Mike added. “Pumpkin for Thanksgiving?”
“And peach,” Mark threw in. “Your peach is the best.”
“Sure. Pumpkin, peach. Mincemeat if you want.” Her heart swelled with love. Her brothers were pretending it was baked goods they missed. “How’s Celia doing?” she asked.
“She’s swamped,” Mark said.
“But she wrote me about the new hairdresser.”
“She’s good, but she’s not you,” Mike said with an indulgent smile. “That’s Celia’s real complaint. She misses you.”
“Everybody does,” Mark added. “Every time I walk by the Cut ’n’ Curl someone pops out to ask when you’ll be back. For a visit, of course.” But he clearly hoped she’d return home.