His dimple creased his tan cheek as he smiled, and he pushed himself away from the doorframe. “I can do that.”
The pleasure of his smile sent a flutter to the pit of Georgeanne’s stomach. As she placed a package of sausage links in the sink and ran hot water over them, she imagined that with a smile like his, he’d have no problem getting women to do anything he wanted anytime he wanted it. “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked, as she turned off the water and began pulling flour and other ingredients out of cupboards.
“How much of this do I slice?” he asked instead of answering her question.
Georgeanne glanced across her shoulder at him. He held the ham in one hand and a wicked-looking knife in the other. “As much as you think you’ll eat,” she responded. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“Nope.”
“Why?” She dumped flour, salt, and baking powder into a bowl without measuring.
“Because,” he began, and hacked off a hunk of ham, “it’s none of your business.”
“We’re friends, remember,” she reminded him, dying to know details of his personal life. She spooned Crisco into the flour and added, “Friends tell each other things.”
The hacking stopped and he looked up at her with his blue eyes. “I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”
“Okay,” she said, figuring she could always tell a little white lie if she had to.
“No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
For some reason his confession made her stomach flutter a little more.
“Now it’s your turn.” He tossed a piece of ham in his mouth, then asked, “How long have you known Virgil?”
Georgeanne pondered the question as she moved past John and took milk from the refrigerator. Should she lie, tell the truth, or perhaps reveal a bit of both? “A little over a month,” she answered truthfully, and added several splashes of milk to the bowl.
“Ahh,” he said through a flat smile. “Love at first sight.”
Hearing his bland, patronizing voice, she wanted to clobber him with her wooden spoon. “Don’t you believe in love at first sight?” She settled the bowl on her left hip and stirred as she’d seen her grandmother do a thousand times, as she herself had done too many times to count.
“No.” He shook his head and began to slice the ham once more. “Especially not between a woman like you and a man as old as Virgil.”
“A woman like me? What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No,” she said, even though she had a pretty good idea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on.” He frowned and looked at her. “You’re young and attractive and built like a bri-like aaa…” He paused and pointed the knife at her. “There’s only one reason a girl like you marries a man who parts his hair by his left ear and combs it over the top of his head.”
“I was fond of Virgil,” she defended herself, and stirred the dough into a dense ball.
He lifted a skeptical brow. “Fond of his money, you mean.”
“That’s not true. He can be real charming.”
“He can also be a
Careful not to lose her temper and throw something at him again, and in turn damage her chances of receiving an invitation to stay for a few more days, Georgeanne prudently placed the bowl on the counter.
“What made you run out on your wedding?”
She certainly wasn’t about to confess her reasons to him. “I just changed my mind is all.”
“Or did it finally dawn on you that you were going to have to have sex with a man old enough to be your grandfather for the rest of his life?”
Georgeanne folded her arms beneath her breasts and scowled at him. “This is the second time you’ve brought up the subject. Why are you so fascinated by my relationship with Virgil?”
“Not fascinated. Just curious,” he corrected, and continued to cut a few more slices of ham, before setting down the knife.
“Has it occurred to you that I might not have had sex with Virgil?”
“No.”
“Well, I haven’t.”
“Bullshit.”
Her hands fell to her sides and curled into fists. “You have a dirty mind and a filthy mouth.”
Nonchalant, John shrugged and leaned one hip into the edge of the counter. “Virgil Duffy didn’t make his millions by leaving anything to chance. He wouldn’t have paid for a sweet young bed partner without testing the springs.”
Georgeanne wanted to yell in his face that Virgil hadn’t paid for her, but he had. He just hadn’t received a return on his investment. If she’d gone through with the wedding, he would have. “I didn’t sleep with him,” she insisted while her emotions pitched from anger to hurt. Anger that he should judge her at all and hurt that he should judge her so trashy.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly and a lock of his thick hair brushed his brow as he shook his head. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t care if you slept with Virgil.”
“Then why do you keep talking about it?” she asked, and reminded herself that no matter how aggravating he was, she couldn’t lose her temper again.
“Because I don’t think you realize what you’ve done. Virgil is a very rich and powerful man. And you humiliated him today.”
“I know.” She lowered her gaze to the front of his white tank top. “I thought I might call him tomorrow and apologize.”
“Bad idea.”
She looked back up into his eyes. “Too soon?”
“Oh, yeah. Next year might be too soon. If I were you, I’d get the hell out of this state altogether. And as soon as possible.”
Georgeanne took a step forward, stopping several inches from John’s chest, and looked up at him as if she were on the edge of scared when, in truth, Virgil Duffy didn’t frighten her one bit. She felt bad for what she’d done to him today, but she knew he’d get over it. He didn’t love her. He only wanted her, and she didn’t intend to dwell on him tonight. Especially not when she had a more pressing concern, like finagling an until-you-can-get-your-life- together invitation out of John. “What’s he gonna do?” she drawled. “Hire someone to kill me?”
“I doubt he’ll go that far.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “But he could make you one miserable little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl,” she whispered, and inched closer. “Or maybe you haven’t noticed.”
John pushed away from the counter and looked down into her face. “I’m neither blind nor retarded. I noticed,” he said, and slid his hand around her waist to the small of her back. “I’ve noticed a lot about you, and if you drop that robe, I’m sure you could keep me happy and smiling for hours.” His fingers drifted up her spine and brushed between her shoulders.
Even though John stood close, Georgeanne didn’t feel threatened. His broad chest and big arms reminded her of his strength, but without a doubt, she instinctively knew she could walk away at any time. “Sugar buns, if I dropped this robe, your smile would have to be surgically removed from your face,” she teased, her voice oozing southern seduction.
He lowered his hand to her bottom and cupped her right cheek in his palm. His eyes dared her to stop him. He was testing her, seeing just how far she’d let him go. “Hell, you might be worth a little surgery,” he said, and eased her close.
Georgeanne froze for an instant, testing the sensation of his touch. Even though his hand caressed her behind, and the tips of her breasts touched his chest, she didn’t feel pawed and pulled like a piece of taffy. She relaxed a little and slipped her palms up his chest.
Beneath her hands she felt the definition of muscle.
“But you’re not worth my career,” he said as his fingers smoothed the silk material back and forth across her
