The Sex Solution (9 page)

Now all she needed was the man.

Unfortunately, it looked as if history was repeating itself. A deep breath blew past her lips. At least she’d smartened up some in the past twelve years. She’d given Austin the benefit of the doubt an hour and a half before facing the truth back in high school.

But now… She checked the clock. After forty-five minutes she was calling it quits.

“Looks like you’re on your own,” she murmured to herself.
Again.

“I know the feeling, gal.”

Madeline glanced up to see Uncle Spur standing in the kitchen doorway, his hat in his hand, a frown on his face. A gurgle sounded and she grinned.

“You sound hungry.”

He rubbed his belly. “Huntin’ for a wife is hard work. I had barbecue over at the diner for lunch with a nice little filly by the name of Myrna Beth Standley, but I ain’t had nothin’ since on account of a little mishap.”

“Would that be
the
Myrna Standley? The preacher’s mother? Don’t tell me you propositioned Pastor Standley’s mother.”

“I did no such thing. She propositioned me.”

“She asked you to marry her?”

“Hell’s bells, no. She propositioned me, girlie. As in
s-e-x,
” he said, spelling the last word.

“No way.” At his vigorous nod, she added, “She just came out and asked you? Just like that?”

“Right there between the barbecue sandwich and the homemade onion rings.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her no can do since I left my Viagra back at the ranch, and I ain’t even one-hundred-percent sure it works since I haven’t actually tried it yet. I’m sure it will, mind you. It’s just a matter of getting the right dosage. Anyhow, I told her I’m looking for a wife not a one-night stand.”

“What did she say?”

“That got her all the more revved up ’cause I said one night, which she took to mean
all
night. So she kept after me, scooting across the seat and rubbin’ my leg underneath the bench. I finally had to call for help, which wasn’t too easy considerin’ I was wheezing something fierce ’cause I couldn’t breathe. She’s a big woman and she was taking up all my space. The sheriff came and threw her in the pokey and I spent all afternoon filling out an incident report so he could keep her there and teach her a lesson.”

“You’re pressing charges against the pastor’s wife?”

“Damn straight. A man my age could have had a heart attack from all that rubbing. She’s dangerous.” He leaned down and picked up one of the saucers. His nostrils flared as he took a whiff. “Lordy, Lordy, I ain’t smelled a good vanilla pudding in a helluva long time.”

“It’s a mixture of water, propylene glycol, cornstarch and magnesium silicate.”

“That a fancy name for vanilla pudding?”

“It’s the primary base for my new lotion.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Looks like vanilla pudding.”

“It’s the cornstarch and the propylene glycol. They give it a full-bodied appearance.”

He took another whiff. “Smells like vanilla pudding.”

“It’s scented with vanilla. I added a few drops to a mixture of sandlewood and jasmine, which I then added to the odorless gel. The result is a sweet, sugary fragrance.”

He dabbed a finger and touched it to his lips. “Tastes like vanilla pudding.”

“Don’t—” she began, but he’d already fingered a huge dollop and plopped it into his mouth.

“Mighty tasty, indeed.” He reached for a spoon. “’Course, it ain’t anywhere near my granny’s pudding. Lordy, but that woman could cook.”

“It’s just for testing the scent. I haven’t converted to an all-edible base yet.”

He spooned another bite. “She was a looker, too, back in her day.” He pointed his spoon at her. “Not an ounce of extra baggage on her hips, even after three boys. She could spit, too. That’s where I inherited my natural talent the likes of which the Waller County Spit-Off ain’t seen in a long, long time. ’Cept for my two brothers, that is. They inherited the talent, too, and carried on the winning tradition once I retired from the sport.”

“Cheryl Louise said they beat you and took over, which forced you into retirement.”

“That gal ain’t playing with a full deck.” He glared before turning his attention back to the lotion sample. “Anyhow, it’s no wonder I’m talented, and as fit and trim as a man half my age. It’s just good breeding.”

“You really shouldn’t—” she said as he spooned in another heaping mound.

“Why, you would never have seen my granny lollygagging around with all these fancy schmancy machines.” He pointed to her microscope and the row of burners and petri dishes. “She did everything the old-fashioned way. With lots of elbow grease. She wasn’t like the women today, all spoiled and pampered.” He gestured around the kitchen again. “No wonder you cain’t shed that extra baby fat.”

“I’m not trying to shed anything anymore. I’m all about preventative maintenance.”

“You could take a lesson from a real prime specimen of a ladies’ man like myself. Lose the fancy dress and get yourself some work pants and a nice, comfortable shirt. That way you can move around, get a little exercise, work up a sweat.”

“I’m not trying to sweat. This is a project for work. Speaking of which, you really shouldn’t eat that.” The danger of consumption had become apparent when Duane had mistaken one of her gelatinous bases for raspberry yogurt. Another reason for the no-food rule now in place in her laboratory. According to Duane, the gel had worked like a triple dose of fiber. “This stuff is not ready for consumption.”

“That’s what you need, gal,” he went on as if he hadn’t heard her warning. “A little sweating and you’ll work off all your extra weight in no time.”

Madeline drew in a deep breath and did her best to keep from reaching up and grabbing Uncle Spur by his white pearl buttons.

“And those shoes,” he went on in between mouthfuls. “Ain’t a woman alive could cross a pasture wearing those things. It’s no wonder the weight’s just sitting there.”

She smiled and picked up another saucer. “Here, try this one. It’s plum.”

“Mighty obliged, gal.” He grabbed the other saucer and headed up to his room. “If the pastor calls, tell him I ain’t here. He’s been hounding me ever since he found out his ma was in the pokey. And if the sheriff calls, tell him I’ll be in first thing tomorrow to finish the rest of that dadblamed paperwork. A man can only write so fast…” His words faded along with the steady thud of his boots.

Madeline glanced at the clock again and bypassed the three remaining saucers in favor of the Oreos sitting on the kitchen counter.

She took a bite of cookie number six and ignored the urge to cry. She wasn’t getting all teary eyed over an insensitive jerk who didn’t know a good deal when it stared him straight in the eye. So what if Austin Jericho didn’t want to have sex with her? It wasn’t like he was the sex guru, or anything.

Okay, so in Cadillac he was definitely considered a guru, but in the rest of the world?

Her mind rushed back to their kiss and her lips tingled. Okay, so he might even qualify as a world-class guru. But that was still no reason to cry.

Now, a bunion and pinched toes stuffed into shoes that could double as torture devices…there was a reason to shed a few tears.

Another cookie and she wobbled upstairs. A few minutes later, she slid off her slut shoes and shoved her feet into a pair of furry bunny slippers. Fuzzy warmth welcomed her and she breathed a sigh of relief. Being seductive eye candy required a high tolerance for pain.

She felt her eyes burn and reached for another Oreo. Chocolate ecstasy exploded in her mouth, sending a flood of comfort through her body. She blinked and reached for the straps on the dress. The doorbell shrieked from downstairs and her hands paused.

Her heart jumped excitedly for a few frantic moments before reality settled in. No doubt it was the sheriff wanting more information on the pastor’s mother. Or worse, maybe it was the pastor come to have it out with the “prime specimen” of eighty-something man that snored loudly from the room down the hall.

The snoring didn’t even pause when the doorbell screamed again. Madeline shook her head and started downstairs, her heart pounding.

Pounding? She had to get a grip. Hadn’t she learned her lesson all those years ago? It had been over an hour. It couldn’t be him.

While
she’d
changed in the past twelve years—and she was wearing the dress to prove it—
he
was still the same guy he’d been back in high school. He was hot and handsome and completely uninterested in Maddie Hale.

And he was standing at her front door.

S
HE WAS PRACTICALLY NAKED
.

The thought registered in Austin’s brain the moment Maddie opened the door.

The dress was short and tight, cut down to there and up to here. Red spandex hugged her voluptuous curves and left little to his already overactive imagination. And where there wasn’t red, there was skin.

His gaze shifted up before sweeping back down. At least, he tried for a clean sweep, but his attention seemed hell-bent on pausing at several interesting spots along the way.

The smooth column of her throat. The frantic beat of her pulse. The bare curve of her shoulder. The deep swell of her breasts. The press of her ripe nipples beneath the thin material of her dress. The flare of her hips. The long, bare legs that seemed to go on endlessly.

Practically naked, but not completely. All the major parts were covered. It wasn’t as if she’d opened the door wearing nothing but a ride-me-cowboy smile.

“You’re here,” she blurted as if the fact surprised her. Her full breasts heaved and the dress tugged and his heart stalled. “I mean…” She licked her lips as if fighting for her composure, then pinned him with a stern expression. “You’re late.”

“Another calf got caught in the west fence.”

Her sternness faded into compassion. “I hope it’s okay.”

“She’s fine. A little scratched up, but nothing some liniment couldn’t fix.” That and an extra hundred acres.

He focused on the thought and forced his attention away from her chest. His gaze lifted and collided with hers, and damned if the lush green of her eyes didn’t take his breath away almost as much as the sight of her voluptuous body in the skintight dress.

Almost.

But Austin was a bad boy from way back. Not the sort of man to be undone by a pair of green eyes, even if they did remind him of a soft bed of freshly watered grass.

“I’m not too late, am I?” He eyed her again. “You’re not heading out?”

“Out?”

“On a date.” He frowned, the notion bothering him a hell of a lot more than it should have considering he had no serious intentions where Maddie was concerned. “You look like you’re on your way to meet someone.”

“I do?” She glanced down. “You mean this old thing?” She shook her head. “I always dress like this when I’m working.”

“It’s a little revealing for your line of work.”

“Actually, it’s perfect. Being minimally dressed tends to keep my senses on alert, and what I do is all about the five senses.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “It’s not going to work. I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Actually, sleeping isn’t what I had in mind.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you mean sex, just say sex.”

“Okay, I’m not having sex with you. No way. No how. It’s not happening. You’re not my type.”

“If that’s true, then it shouldn’t matter what I’m wearing.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why are you so worried about it?”

“I’m not.” He shrugged. “I hate red is all. It’s my least favorite color and I wouldn’t want to be distracted by my least favorite color when you probably need all of my attention for this sampling thing. So are we going to do this or not?”

“Come on in while I head out to the kitchen and get another batch of samples ready.”

“What happened to the first ones?”

“Uncle Spur ate them. Well, only two of them. It won’t take long to whip up another batch of each.” She shifted again, her long fingers playing at the doorknob as if she weren’t standing there tempting him in a sexy little red number and a pair of white bunny slippers….

His gaze dropped and, sure enough, her feet sported pink bunny ears, a pink nose and long black whiskers.

“Nice shoes.”

“What?” Then she looked down at her feet and her cheeks fired a bright red.

“Do those stimulate the five senses?”

“Yes. No. Sort of.” She ditched the shoes behind the door, revealing delicate feet and red-tipped toes. “They, um, relax me.”

“Meaning you’re nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Because I’m here and you want to have sex with me.” Funny how the word came easier when he took the offensive.

“Sex does not make me nervous.”

“But I do.”

“Once upon a time, maybe. But not anymore.” He had the feeling she said the words more for her own reassurance than his. “I’m just tense because of work. I’ve got a lot riding on this new product.”

“Then let’s get to it.” He referred to the testing, but damned if the word
it
didn’t bring to mind a completely different image.

One of Madeline all soft and sweet with her sexy red dress bunched around her waist. Madeline reaching up, sliding her arms around his neck, her silky thighs parting, welcoming him inside her wet warmth for a hard, deep stroke.

His eyes locked with hers and it was as if she read his mind. Her eyes rounded and he glimpsed the old Maddie. Even more, he heard her in the sudden tremble of her voice.

“After you.” She pulled open the door and motioned him inside. With a quick “Be right back,” she disappeared into a doorway leading from the foyer.

He walked into the small living room, his boots slapping the hardwood floor. He stared at the wall of photographs, and his eye caught on a large framed portrait of two small girls, one holding a beat-up brown teddy bear. In the photo, Cheryl Louise had the same white-blond hair she still had. Her older sister Sharon was a direct contrast, with her thick, dark hair and even darker eyes.

His focus shifted to another picture, the girls a few years older. Then another and another before zeroing in on a small photograph of two teenage girls, books clutched to their chests as they stood in front of the science building. He’d seen Sharon hundreds of times while growing up. They’d attended the same elementary school. The same junior high. The same high school. She’d been a permanent fixture, just like the brown-haired girl who stood next to her.

He stepped closer, peering at Madeline in one of her familiar flower-print dresses. She had the same dimples she had now, the same expressive eyes, the same full lips. The package was the same, but the force inside seemed completely different.

Bolder.

More provocative.

Dangerous.

At least to a man who’d vowed off one-night stands and gone without sex for over six months. For him, there’d be no more hot, sweaty, forget-your-name sex. Like the sort he was sure to have with sweet Madeline.

Easy there, Hoss.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to ease the sudden pounding of his heart. “Nice picture,” he said when he heard her moving around the dining room to his left.

“Sharon’s mom took that right after we won the science fair our freshman year,” she said as she walked up beside him. “We made glue out of all-natural ingredients—honey, flour, cooked sugar. It wasn’t such a big deal except that it formed a nearly unbreakable bond of atoms when the concoction reached a certain temperature.”

“Like superglue?”

“Supercement. I bet Mr. Vincent is still trying to get that stuff off his counter. Anyhow, we made a mess, but we also won. We actually had a write-up in the national science journal because of it. I was thrilled about the discovery, but Sharon was more jazzed about the picture that went with the article. Exposure, she called it.” At his questioning glance, she added, “She liked getting all dressed up and having her picture taken. She wanted to be a model.”

“Sharon?”

“I know she seemed very plain-Jane to everybody in town. It’s hard to change your image with people who’ve watched you go through baby fat and braces and bad haircuts. But she had really great features.”

He zeroed in on the picture again, and for the first time, he noted Sharon’s high cheekbones and nice smile. She was pretty, all right, but not half as pretty as the girl standing next to her.

“She was going to move to Dallas and sign with Ultra, the biggest modeling agency in town. They book every major runway show in the Southwest.” She stared at the picture and her eyes clouded. He sensed her loss even before he heard it in her words. “She never had the chance.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you have modeling on your mind?”

“Me?”
She shook her head. “I thought about it, but only as something that could never happen except in my head. I thought about a lot of things like that. Like being a rock star or a famous actress.”

“Or the Incredible Hulk.”

She turned on him, a smile on her face. “You wanted to be the Incredible Hulk?”

“When I wasn’t dreaming about being one of the brothers from
Bonanza.
” He nodded. “I kicked a lot of ass in those dreams.”

“I know the feeling. I had this one fantasy where I could outsing and outdance Madonna. Reality-wise, I was more interested in cooking up new recipes for my dad.”

He turned and eyed the display of colored saucers spread out across the dining-room table. “Looks like you’re still cooking.”

“In the lab. I don’t get into the kitchen much anymore. I don’t have time.” He could have sworn he saw a flash of regret in her eyes.

“I know the feeling. I’m not much for cooking, but I can eat. There’s nothing like a bowl of candied sweet potatoes.”

A wistful smile touched her expression. “Sharon’s mom used to let us lick the bowl when she whipped the candied sweet potatoes the night before Thanksgiving.” She shifted her attention to the photograph. “Sharon would have been so jazzed that I’m working for V.A.M.P. She lived for their lipsticks when we were teens. She would get her aunt from San Antonio to smuggle in a whole box every Christmas—V.A.M.P. isn’t a brand you can find down at the Piggly Wiggly. Only in finer department stores.” She smiled. “We would try on every color.”

Silence settled in for a long moment before Austin asked, “You were with her that night, weren’t you? The night it happened.”

She didn’t answer. She simply stared at the picture for a long moment.

“It was just the two of us,” she finally said. “We were so excited about graduation the next day. It was the first day of the rest of our lives—that’s what Sharon said. We were out riding around in her daddy’s old boat of a car, talking about all the things we were going to do with our lives. Sharon was doing most of the talking—she always did the talking because she had so many things she wanted to do, and I was listening and then…” Fear flashed in her eyes and she shook her head, as if to rid herself of the sudden memory. “There’s really no use in talking about it. It’s over and done with.”

He nodded. “Maybe. And maybe not.”

Her gaze collided with his. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That sometimes things live on inside of us. They keep going, on and on, until we say, ‘Enough.’ That’s the way it was when my dad died. I watched them put him in the ground, but that wasn’t the end of it.”

He turned and stared at the photograph, but he didn’t see the two smiling girls. He saw his dad and the rage and resentment that had lived and breathed in his glazed eyes. He heard the hate in his voice.

“He lived on inside my head for a good long time. I still hear him sometimes.
‘You’re worthless, boy. Worthless and useless, just like your mama’.”
Not that it bothered him anymore. Not like Maddie’s memories obviously bothered her. He’d come to terms with his dad’s death. The old man and his opinion no longer mattered because Austin knew better.

“You’re not worthless.”

Even though he’d already come to know that on his own, hearing her say it sent a spiral of warmth through him.

“Not anymore.”

“You never were.”

He grinned. “I think your memory’s a little warped, Thumper.”

She cut a sideways glance at him. “My memory’s just fine. You were wild, not worthless. There’s a big difference. And don’t call me Thumper.”

“If the bunny slipper fits…”

“I hate you.”

“Good. Then maybe you’ll forget all about having sex with me.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t have to like you to want to have sex. I just have to be turned on.” She licked her lips and his groin throbbed in response.

“So do I, and I’m not.”

She frowned at him before her expression eased into a challenging smile. “Not yet.”

Before he had a chance to say anything, she motioned toward the dining-room table and the five saucers filled with various colored substances.

He had the sudden urge to turn and get while the getting was good. The less time he spent with Madeline Hale, the better. His head knew that, but damned if he could get his boots to turn the other way. They followed her into the dining room. Her hips swayed to and fro beneath the fitted dress and his mouth went dry.

Soon Austin found himself seated at the table, his heart beating a furious tempo as Madeline walked from one side to the other, leaning this way and that as she arranged the saucers and launched a full assault against his good intentions. She teased him with a cleavage shot, then a slow, lingering brush against one arm and then the ever-popular hair toss. All moves he’d seen time and time again. But damned if he didn’t react like a hot and horny fourteen-year-old seeing his first full-grown woman in action.

“Okay,” she said a few moments later as she retreated just enough to give him some breathing room. “This is a basic sample test for smell, which means that we’ll be focusing on this particular sense only.”

“Just smell.”

She nodded. “That means we have to eliminate as much stimulation as possible to your other senses. No seeing or hearing or touching or tasting. You need to be completely centered on this one sense. Clasp your fingers together and hold out your hands.”

She lifted a red silk scarf and an image flashed in his head of Madeline wearing nothing but that single red scarf around her slim wrists. His groin tightened and he shifted in his seat, searching for some extra room in his jeans. He didn’t find any, however. She was still too close. Too warm. And she smelled too good.