Footloose

“Did it work?”

“Mostly,” she said. “My older sister is married with children. My younger sister is married. And I wouldn’t be surprised if my youngest sister gets engaged soon.”

“So you’re the maverick,” he said.

“I hadn’t thought of being dumped as being a maverick.”

“I’ve seen people do some crazy things after a breakup,” he said. “Hell, even the courts tend to go lenient on a broken-hearted woman when she goes berserk.”

“I have no intention of going berserk,” she said.

“I’m sure you don’t, but if you did,” he said, “you’ve got a socially acceptable excuse.”

“I’m not going berserk,” she said again, as much for herself as for him. “And for the record, Norman Rockwell was married three times. He was divorced from his first wife, so everything wasn’t warm and fuzzy for him, either.”

“Should have known. If it looks too good on the outside, there’s probably something fishy on the inside.”

“That sounds pretty cynical.”

“Hard lesson that has served me well,” he countered and pulled over to the side of the road. “I think driving a convertible is on your list.”

“It is?” she said as he cut the engine.

“Yep,” he said and got out of the car.

Amelia stared at the gear shift. He opened her car door expectantly. “I haven’t driven anything but an automatic.”

“Another thing to put on your list and mark off. Think of it as a test drive. You said you wanted a different car.”

“But this isn’t even your car. What if I leave the transmission in the middle of the road? This is a Porsche.”

“Ian won’t mind. He owes me a few favors. Scoot out, Magnolia. The secret to driving a straight is the clutch. No big deal.”

Amelia got out and with no small amount of trepidation, she climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted it to accommodate her shorter legs. He put his hand over hers to familiarize her with the position for changing gears.

She had to force herself to concentrate on his tutorial instead of on the way his hand swallowed hers in a gentle but firm way. The gear shift, stiff with a bulblike head, reminded her of—well, something besides a gear shift.

Jack spoke to her in a low, coaching voice, and her mind took a side-trip. She wondered what his voice sounded like when he got hot and bothered. She wondered what it would take to get him hot and bothered. Her peripheral gaze snagging on the sight of his hard thighs, she was pretty sure she would faint before she could find out if she had what it took to get him hot and bothered.

Feeling hot from more than the sun, she pulled her hand away from the gear shift for a second to push back a strand of her hair. She took a breath, then grasped the shift again. “Okay, this is Neutral, this is Reverse, Neutral, First, Second, Third and Fourth. I press the clutch and ease out when I change gears or stop.”

“When you stop, you hold in the clutch until you’re ready to accelerate again. Otherwise, the engine will die.”

“Okay, but if you need a whiplash collar after this, don’t come crying to me.”

“Go for it,” he said, smiling a little.

She started the engine and after nine attempts, she succeeded in getting the car from Neutral into First gear with only a few sputters and coughs.

Thrilled at her accomplishment, she glanced at Jack. “I did it! I did it.”

“Great. Now go for Second.”

She did, and soon enough they were flying down the highway toward Key West with the radio cranked up to the sound of The Rolling Stones. Jack’s choice, but she couldn’t fault it. With Jack beside her and Mick coaching her from the CD player, Amelia felt like she was headed down the road to perdition. It felt a lot better than it should.

CHAPTER FOUR

USEFUL AND AMUSING. That was Jack’s analysis of Magnolia. While he allowed Lillian Bellagio to wait for his response to her invitation, he wanted to gather as much information as possible about Bellagio’s grande dame. Of course, when his mother was alive, she’d only had bad things to say about Lillian. Although he knew he hadn’t escaped the bitterness she’d carried with her until she died, he’d moved on.

Having a mother addicted to meth had taught him early on that he wanted no part of the drug world. Instead of getting high after school or playing a sport, he’d worked. He’d wanted out of the bad neighborhood, away from the desperation and he would happily work 365 days a year to make it happen.

More than once before he’d graduated and left home, his mother had raided his earnings. It had taken him four years to earn enough money to buy his first business. Eight months later he sold it at a one hundred and twenty-three percent profit. Within a year, he’d caught the attention of Gig Marlin, a low-profile but highly profitable venture capitalist willing to share his knowledge, and Jack had started making money hand over fist.

Along the way, Jack had kept track of Bellagio and educated himself about the shoe business.

Every once in a while, he’d just gotten lucky, but most of his success had come from someone else’s lack of foresight or ineptitude and his ability to buy out of their weakness and sell into someone else’s greed. Fear and greed made the world go round, he’d discovered. Right now, Lillian Bellagio was probably sweating bullets from fear of what he could do to her and the Bellagio name.

Jack glanced over at Amelia as she fiercely gripped the steering wheel at the ten o’clock and four o’clock position, ever ready to reach for the clutch.

Her hair flying all over the place, she was so focused on the road ahead that she probably didn’t know her skirt had ridden above her knees. The wind whipped at it, giving him peeks of her pale thighs. The tops of her knees were pink, probably from exposure to the sun. She had incredibly fair skin. Further down, he caught sight of her painted pastel toenails and flip-flops that sported a pink sunflower.

He could see her hearth-and-home upbringing warring with ambition and desperation now that her marriage plans had fallen through.

Jack could tell exactly what she needed. She needed to untwist her panties and go a little wild, have some fun. Then she wouldn’t feel so sad about her loser fiancé. Jack could help with that in exchange for information about the Bellagios. As long as she didn’t ask too many pointed questions like she had earlier, both of them would enjoy the process.

Noticing that they were nearing Key West, he motioned. “Pull over, Earnhardt. I’ll take it from here.”

“Why? I like this,” she protested. “I can keep going.”

“You may not like it when you hit traffic, Magnolia. You’ll be using the clutch a lot more.”

Realization hit her face and she frowned. “In that case, you can have it,” she said and pulled to the side of the road.

He got out of his seat and stretched as he walked to the driver’s side of the car. Amelia stepped from the car and wove on her feet. He shot out his hands to steady her.

“Whoa. What’s up?”

She grinned, exhilaration flooding her face. “That was so cool,” she said.

Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks pink and she was licking her lips. She looked like she’d just had really good sex, he thought, and temptation rushed through him. He wondered how wild he could get her in bed. He might just find out after he’d gotten everything else he wanted from her.

TO EASE HER INTO KEY WEST mode, Jack bought her a margarita at an open bar, where they sat and did some people-watching. Afterward, they strolled through the Audubon House.

“Watches are outlawed down here,” he said, pointing to her wristwatch as she dawdled in the Audubon shop. “But we don’t want to miss the sundown celebration.”

“Okay. I’m just going to get a few of these for my dad. He loves birds,” she said and purchased several postcards.

She joined him in a fast walk to Mallory Square, passing by the sounds of Cuban and rhythm and blues music spilling from the bars. Food stands offered ice cream, drinks and hot dogs. A colorful array of characters filled Mallory Square, including a live tin man statue, a juggler and people hawking everything from hemp bracelets to hair braiding services.

“It’s like a carnival,” she said, doing a double-take when she spotted a guy with dreadlocks down to his hips.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Definitely not like your boss lady’s genteel home. No cucumber sandwiches here.”

Amelia smiled at his comparison. “She might be tough on the surface, but I think there’s more to her than the grande dame.”

“What makes you say that?”

“A few things she’s said. I won’t deny that she expects a certain performance level and good manners, but if you pass muster, I get the impression she can be a caring person.”

“Madame Bellagio—caring?” he repeated in disbelief.

“You shouldn’t be so prejudiced. Lillian really misses her son and hardly ever gets to see him. She doesn’t want to intrude in his life, but I can tell that it hurts her that he lives so far away and visits her so rarely. Just because she’s wealthy and she married one of the founders of one of the most successful shoe companies doesn’t mean she’s totally snooty.”

“It doesn’t?” he said, clearly fighting a grin as he rubbed his index finger over the edge of her nose.

“No, it doesn’t. Haven’t you heard that everyone is like a rainbow? More than one color? Some colors stronger than others?”

“No,” he said. “Did you learn that in Sunday School or Girl Scouts?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, forget it. You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, but accurate,” he said, slipping his hand around her elbow and guiding her toward the wrought iron fence at the edge of the Square. “Front row is standing room only, but it’s worth it.”

Leaning against the tall fence, she silently watched the orange ball of the sun dip below the horizon. She sighed at the beauty. “That was lovely,” she said, glancing at Jack. “Thank you.”

“There’s a custom,” he told her. “It’s like New Year’s Eve at midnight. You’re supposed to kiss at sundown.”

Quickly glancing around, she observed that no one else was kissing. She shot him a suspicious look. “And you also own some swamp land you’ll sell me at a discount?”

He laughed. “Had to try.” He circled her wrist with his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, Magnolia. Let’s see if we can work off some of your tension.”

“I didn’t say I was tense.”

“Trust me, babe, your body is screaming it.”

She scowled at him. “I’m dressed in very casual, beachy attire.”

“But your panties are in such a twist you can barely walk.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “That’s not nice.”

“It’s not terminal,” he assured her and guided her into a bar. “What would you like?”

“I’ve already had a margarita,” she said, her internal caution light blinking on at the devil in Jack’s eyes.

“Then how about lemonade?” he asked. “I don’t need help from alcohol to turn you upside down.”

She opened her mouth in surprise, but couldn’t think of a reply. His expression took her breath away. “Lemonade,” she finally managed, much more breathlessly than she would have preferred.

He ordered two and they listened to the Lynrd Skynrd–style band for a while then got up to explore more. People from a jam-packed bar spilled into the street. She heard screams and catcalls. “What’s going on?”

“This may be too much for you,” Jack said.

She frowned at him. “Too much?” she echoed and walked to the edge of the crowd. Inside the bar, five well-endowed young women were sprayed with water, turning their T-shirts to transparent strips of cotton.

“I warned you,” Jack said and covered her eyes.

Morbidly curious, she brushed his hands away and stared at the spectacle. “Do they really not care that everyone can see…”

“Apparently not,” Jack said.

“We have a winner!” a man joining the women on the table called out. He lifted the buxom brunette’s hand. “Sidney from Maryland!”

“Sidney,” Amelia echoed, bitterness rising from the back of her throat as she recalled the name of the woman Will had left her for.

“You know her?” Jack asked in surprise.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, wanting to brush off her sudden heavy feelings of inadequacy and discontent. “I think I want that margarita now. Is there another bar around here?”

“Only about thirty. You gonna tell me what this is about?”

“It’s nothing. Can’t a girl have a margarita?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. “Except you’re a terrible liar.”

“Does that mean I should practice?”

He shook his head. “No. Come on. Does this have something to do with your ex?” he asked as they walked.

“I don’t want to talk about it. This looks like a good place,” she added and ducked inside another bar.

“Hey, wait,” Jack called after her, but she disappeared into the crowd. Shrugging, Jack figured she needed her space, although he didn’t see how she was going to find any space here. The place was packed.

Leaning against the bar, he ordered a Corona with lime. As he half-watched the baseball game on the television, he glanced around the bar every now and then for Amelia. A couple of beach bunnies approached him and he amused himself by chatting with them for a few minutes.

But he kept checking around for Amelia. Just as he began to wonder if she was sick in the ladies’ room or something, he spotted her on the other side of the bar, cornered by two guys. The guy with a shaved head was touching her hair. The other appeared to be urging her to finish her drink.

When she tried to move away, the two men closed in even tighter. A surprising wave of protectiveness surged through Jack, and he wove through the crowded bar toward her.

“Hey, babe,” he said, “I was afraid I’d lost you. We’d better hit the road soon.”

One of the guys looked at him and shook his head. “You snooze, you lose. We’ve got dibs on this one,” he said in a slurred voice.

The other guy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Actually, I’m with him,” Amelia said and tried to move toward Jack.

The first guy blocked her again. “But, honey, we were just getting started. Bo and I were telling you what a good time we could show you.”

“She’s not interested, Curly and Bo, so leave her alone.”

The bald guy glared at him. “Butt out. If she’d wanted to be with you, then why was she alone?”

Growing impatient with the two, Jack cracked his knuckles behind his back. He’d knocked more than one drunk on his ass and he was pretty sure he could take these two, but he’d learned it was usually better to avoid fights if possible. Almost always less expensive.

“Sweetheart, you aren’t drinking alcohol, are you? You know what the doctor said about that,” he said to Amelia and watched her face turn blank.

The two men looked at him in confusion.

“I know you’re not showing yet, but you will be in a month or two, and you shouldn’t drink alcohol when you’re pregnant,” he continued, silently willing her to play along.

“Pregnant?” Curly echoed, looking slightly ill.

Bo stared at Amelia. “You don’t look pregnant.”

Meeting Jack’s gaze, Amelia put her hand over her stomach. “Twins,” she said. “Aren’t we lucky?”

The bald guy swore under his breath. “Twins,” he said in disgust. “You should wear a warning sign or something. C’mon, Bo.”

The moment the men were swallowed up by the crowd, Jack snagged her wrist and tugged her toward the door. “I think we’d better go before I have to mess up my hands.”

“Pregnant,” she said with a small smile. “My mother would be horrified.”

“Good thing she’s not here,” he said. “How did you get hooked up with those two?”

She shook her head. “All I did was walk out of the ladies’ room and they ambushed me.”

He sighed, stopping in the middle of the street. “It’s the way you look.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sweet, gullible, too polite to say no,” he clarified.

“I said ‘no, I need to go’ repeatedly.”

He shrugged, looking at her pink cheeks, blue eyes and angel blond hair. “You’re gonna have to learn how to put some stink in it or no one will believe you.”

“I shouldn’t have to take up kickboxing in order to make my point,” she said.

“No, but the pregnant scheme may not work all the time. And some guys are just too stupid to understand that a polite no is still a no. Pains me to say this, Magnolia, but one of the things you need to put on your list is learning how to be a little nasty when the occasion calls for it.”

She lifted her nose in distaste. “I realize I’m not as experienced as you are, but politeness has served me very well.”

“Like tonight?” he said.

She frowned at him. “This was an exception.”

“Life’s not a G-rated Disney movie. If anyone should know that, you should. Look at what happened with your Mr. Happily-Never-After. If you’re gonna step out of your little cocoon, you’re going to meet some people you like and some you don’t. It’ll go easier on you if you’re prepared to handle the rough ones.”

Jack stared at her for a long moment, feeling that unwelcome sense of protectiveness swell inside him again. He realized he’d just delivered a lecture. Swearing, he shook his head. “Hey, I’m not your father. Do what you want.” He gave a short laugh. “Maybe I should have left you alone with Curly and Bo.”

“No,” she said and looked away. “I think I could have gotten out of that situation, but it was getting uncomfortable. I appreciate you—helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “So who’s gonna help you when I make you uncomfortable?”

She gave a soft smile. “Oh, Jack. You’ve given yourself away. You’re a gentleman.”

He shook his head. “No one has ever accused me of that before, so I wouldn’t count on it.”

She just continued to smile, which irritated the hell out of him. “Come on,” he muttered. “You want to go to another bar?”

She shook her head. “Can we go in a few shops? I realize ‘shop’ is a four-letter word for most men—”

“I can handle it,” he said. “If I get lucky, I can watch you get a tattoo in a special place.”

“Not tonight,” she retorted and wandered into a tacky beach shop filled with T-shirts plastered with suggestions for sexual experimentation.

Laughing at her rounded eyes and red cheeks after she’d read a few, Jack followed her as she hot-footed it out of the shop. “Didn’t see anything you like?”

“No, thank you,” she said, carefully studying the window display of the next shop before peeking inside the door.

“It’s safe,” he said, unable to keep a hint of mockery from his voice.

Rolling her eyes at him, she walked inside and looked at the jewelry. Jack had found the previous store much more amusing, so after five minutes, he excused himself and went to the bar across the street where he could catch more of the ballgame. After half an inning, he strolled back to the shop, amazed to find her still studying the jewelry.

“You’re still here? You could have gotten a dozen piercings by now,” he said.

She bit her lip. “I’m just looking. It’s the first time I’ve shopped for jewelry without considering what Will would think.”

Her revelation made a knot form in his gut. Why? He couldn’t say. “What do you like?”

“I’ve always wanted an anklet, but I’m not sure I would wear it.”

He shrugged. “It’s not the Hope Diamond. Get it, try it. If you don’t like it, it’s no big deal.”

“I don’t know.”

Her hesitation tugged at something inside him. “Which are your top three favorites?”

“Um, that one,” she said, pointing to a sterling silver chain with tiny beads. “The one with the clam shells and the one with the daisies.”

“Okay,” he said and nodded toward the store clerk. “I’d like some anklets.”

“What?” Amelia stared at him. “You can’t get these for me.”

“Yes, I can. It’s not as if it they’ll break the bank,” he said.

“But—but—”

“Chill out, Magnolia. It’s not an engagement ring. This is faster, that’s all. At the rate it’s taking you to decide, we won’t get out of here until sundown tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll just take the one with daisies,” she said to the clerk.

“We’ll take all three,” Jack corrected and handed the clerk several bills. “You sure you don’t want to get that tattoo tonight? I can supervise.”

“I’m not getting a tattoo,” she said. “And I’m not comfortable with you buying these. It’s not appropriate for a woman to accept jewelry from a man she hardly knows.”

It took him a few seconds, but then he got the reason for her discomfort. She was afraid he was bartering anklets for sex with her. “Don’t you think a night of unbridled sex with you is worth more than forty-five bucks?” he asked in a low voice.

She sucked in a quick, shocked breath.

“I’m counting on it,” he said.

“I never said I was having sex with you,” she whispered.

Looking into her blue eyes and taking in the sight of her parted candy-apple lips, he made a decision. He was going to have Magnolia. Sometime, somehow and every way he could imagine. “But you will,” he said, because in this circumstance he considered it fair to warn her of his intentions.

“That’s very arrogant,” she said.

“Confident. There’s a big difference,” he told her, accepting the bag and pocketing his change. “Thanks,” he said to the cashier and turned back to Amelia. “You’ll understand it after you get to know me better.”

“What if I decide I don’t want to get to know you better?” she asked as they left the shop.

He stopped and met her gaze. “Are you saying you don’t?”

She opened her mouth and closed it, frowning. “Just because I find you interesting doesn’t mean I’m going to bed with you.”

“You will,” he said. “But don’t worry. Tonight’s not the night.”

DURING THE RETURN DRIVE to the Bellagio estate, Amelia’s mind wouldn’t stop whirling. She had hoped the rush of open air would clear her head and reduce Jack’s impact on her, but she couldn’t stop looking at his hands, and every once in a while when she inhaled, she caught a hint of his aftershave.

He was too cynical and too sure of himself. If that was all she knew of him, she could easily dismiss him, but the way he challenged her alternately bothered her and fascinated her. How could he be so wrong and so right at the same time?

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“I’m enjoying the ride.”

“Pissed,” he concluded, but didn’t appear overly concerned.

“I’m not pissed,” she corrected. “I’m uncomfortable.”

“Afraid of what I’m going to do? Or what you’re going to do?”

A sexy image of his hands sliding over her blew through her brain. She closed her eyes and shook off the picture. “Neither.” She leaned forward and turned on the CD player.

“Stones to the rescue,” he said when Mick Jagger’s voice blared out the speakers.

But only for a little while, she thought and tried not to imagine all the good kinds of trouble she could get into with Jack.

By the time he pulled the car near the gate of the Bellagio estate, she felt as if she were in a convertible wind-induced stupor. Zoned out.

Jack slowed to a stop and looked at her. “You okay?”

She nodded.

“Before you go, give me your foot,” he said.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I want to see one of those anklets on you and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be in town.”

Her stomach twisted and she felt an odd jab of distress. “You’re leaving?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how a deal I’m working on shakes out. So give me your foot.”

Reluctant but compelled, she shifted toward him and lifted her foot. He rested it on his thigh, drawing her attention to his crotch. She forced her gaze away, watching his hands as he pulled a chain from the paper bag.

He fastened the silver chain of shells around her ankle and looked at her. “Nice,” he said. “How do you like it?”

The sight of his tanned hand over her pale skin made her stomach jump. “Uh, it’s pretty.” She met his gaze. “Thank you.”