“Twenty-eight. She just turned twenty-eight.”
“Oh, well, that’s a relief. She’s still got some time. And anyway, it’s different nowadays, isn’t it? Back in my day, if a girl wasn’t married by thirty, she might as well clean out her hope chest.”
“Times have changed,” Melody agreed, and tried not to roll her eyes.
“Indeed. Not that we’ll give up hope for Melody, no matter how long it takes. She was always a pretty girl. Always a good girl, too—never a whisper of scandalous behavior out of that one. I’m sure some lucky man, somewhere, will scoop her up. When you see her next, please tell her I said hello, and wish her well for me.”
“Consider it done, Ms. Van Hendler,” she managed through a stiff smile as Ms. V tottered away toward the pet supplies aisle, grinding all plans of sweet seduction under her squeaky cart wheels.
All for the best. Melody let her smile fall, along with her courage. Ms. V’s comments knocked some sense into her. She might not have a fiancé anymore, or any immediate prospect of marriage, babies, and the happy ever after she’d always envisioned, but she had one thing left—her reputation. An asset she’d been on the verge of sacrificing for a cheap, meaningless encounter. Enticing as it was to envision boldly approaching Josh and telling him she had an urgent need for his big, powerful hose…or whatever—hitting on a near-stranger was not her strong suit—she couldn’t. She was a good girl. People respected that about her. She probably didn’t have it in her, anyway.
A sterling reputation would continue to shine after the glow of youth dimmed and looks faded. She wandered blindly over to the next produce display and ended up staring at a bin of prunes. Each one stared back at her like a dark, wrinkly omen, silently mocking her sterling reputation. Oh, God. Was this how the entire town saw her? A dried-up old maid at twenty-eight. How had it come to this?
Because you spent ten years sacrificing and compromising and focusing on the future while Roger went away to school. All that time she’d been patiently sitting on her shelf here in Bluelick, waiting. Oh, sure, she’d gotten her associate’s degree in office management at the junior college, but mostly she’d been marking time until he moved home and they started their “real life.”
The whole sad situation wasn’t completely Roger’s fault. For years she’d sensed things were…off, but she’d believed him every time he’d looked at her with earnest eyes and put his lack of passion down to the stress of school, or the pressure of his clerkship, or some other outside factor. Hell, he’d convinced himself. Convincing her had probably taken a lot less effort, because she’d wanted to be convinced. They’d bought into a sweet, idyllic vision of a future together—wanted it with all their hearts—to the point she’d ignored some important messages from her head.
Knowing they shared the blame didn’t make it any less depressing to realize the girl her senior class had voted Most Likely to Be Married With Children was now just two short years from the big three-oh, unmarried, childless, and damn near a virgin. And if she thought about that pitiful truth one more second, she would likely burst into tears.
You don’t have to be a good girl anymore. You’re free, single, and well over the age of consent. Get some thrills out of life while you’re still young enough to enjoy them, unless you’re ready to accept exchanging gossip with old Ms. V in the aisle at Boone’s Market as the highlight of your day.
She eyed Josh. He stood with his profile to her, testing the melons. Her skin tightened, watching him heft the smooth, pale globes in his wide-palmed hands. Maybe she made a sound, or maybe he simply sensed her attention, because he straightened and turned toward her. Their gazes collided. He froze, seemingly caught off guard for once, a melon cupped securely in each hand. Heat rushed to her face and her chest started to tingle. She could think of a better use for those hands. And so could he, she suspected.
You have ten years to m
ake up for, starting now.
Before she knew quite what she planned to do, Melody marched over, planted herself in front of his cart, and looked him square in the eye. “You ready to make your move, Chief, or are you just going to stare all night?”
Chapter Two
Christ, she tempted him right past reason, with her heaving chest, flushed cheeks, and blue eyes blazing with challenge.
You don’t do good girls, he reminded himself again.
Maybe some blunt honesty on his part would scare her off. He set the melons in his cart and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m always ready, Miss Merritt, but from what I’ve heard, you’re not into my moves. I’m one of those big-city sinners that girls like you are taught to beware of.”
Those blue eyes widened, but then a barely perceptible smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. He immediately imagined those expressive lips forming his name as he filled her, and suppressed a groan.
“Call me Melody. And I hate to break it to you, Chief, but you can’t believe everything you hear.” She moved around the cart and sidled closer, brushing his arm as she did. Her smile turned wicked. She leaned past him and plucked a grape from a bin behind him. “I’m not such a good girl when you get right down to it. You’d be surprised what I’m into.” Dangling the ripe purple fruit by its thin stem, she brought it to her mouth and slowly closed her lips over the stolen treat. A second later she handed him the stem.
Their fingers touched when he took it, and his heart rate kicked up a notch. Apparently he couldn’t believe everything he’d heard about little Miss Bluelick. It might qualify as the stupidest thing he’d done since accepting the job here in the first place, but damn if he could resist seeing how far she’d take things. “Call me Josh. Are you thinking you’ll surprise me, Melody? You won’t. I don’t surprise easily. Keep smiling at me like that, though, and I’m liable to commit at least three sins with your mouth alone. You’ll have to make a special trip to church once I’m done with you.”
“Really, Josh?” she said his name slowly, then deliberately flashed him a wider smile and leaned closer. “Are you thinking you’ll scare me off? You won’t. And if I’m going to make a trip to church, these sins you have in mind better involve my whole body.”
He cocked an eyebrow. He had no clue what had gotten into Miss Bluelick tonight, but she turned a shopping trip into a roller-coaster ride. First, she hit him with the naked, hungry, completely uncensored gaze. The longing he’d sensed behind her eyes had made him fantasize about giving her every damn thing she was silently asking for, even as his better judgment warned him away. Then her chat with the old lady had sucked the fire right out of her. He could have sworn she’d been about to wheel her cart away and leave him alone with his better judgment and his aching balls. Now she’d surprised him again—and he really didn’t surprise easily—with her deliberate seduction. Determination and a hint of something else blazed in her eyes, and his better judgment was slowly going down in flames.
“There’s nothing I’d like better than to give you a reason to go to church. But I left a couple of guys at the firehouse with one Gatorade and a couple of energy bars between them.” He tipped his head toward his cart. “I’ve got to drop this stuff at the station before they riot for food.”
She batted her long eyelashes and ran her fingertip along the flap of his chest pocket. “You know, I’ve never been to the firehouse before.”
His dick twitched as he imagined that finger trailing along the center of his chest, down his abdomen, and into his pants. “It’s a historic landmark, not to mention an impressive structure.”
“Hmm.” The soft noise hummed in his ear, making him wonder what other noises she might make for him, given the right inspiration. “Why don’t you invite me for a hands-on, behind-the-scenes tour of your impressive…structure?”
Her suggestion pushed him past the point of reason. A man could only withstand so much. Her mouth hovered close to his, her lips as full and ripe as the cherries on special this week. He grabbed her basket and dropped it into his cart. “Come on.”
They were checked out and standing in the parking lot in record time. He hit the button on his key and unlocked his Yukon. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride back to your car once we’ve completed our…tour.”