Restless

“That’s better. You were way too stiff.”

“I was in a classic dance form.”

“It looked more like you had something stuck up your—”

“Good posture,” she cut in. “That’s lesson number one.”

“Says who?”

“Earl Sharp at Earl’s Dance Extravaganza. Lesson number two—” she said, trying to pull away again, but his hold was too strong. “There should always be a good six inches between you and your partner.”

“That’s no fun.”

“But it’s the correct way to do it.”

“And not much fun. I like to have fun.”

“And I like to know what I’m doing.” Paige thrived on it. She never, ever wanted to feel out of control again, and Jack Mission definitely made her feel that way.

He winked and her heart fluttered. “You’re doing just fine,” he told her. “Maybe a little heavy on your feet, but I like the way you’re stroking my shoulder.”

Her fingers clenched as she became instantly aware of her hand moving back and forth across the soft tuxedo material covering his broad shoulder. His grin widened.

“So which rule talks about stroking, darlin’? Four or five? Or are you just improvising?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t mean…” She frowned. Explanation? She had no explanation other than the fact that Jack Mission had made her forget six weeks worth of nightly dance lessons in less than two minutes. She’d stomped on his feet twice—better make that three times—and she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned, especially the all-important fact that Jack wasn’t her type.

Her traitorous nipples seemed to have an altogether different opinion.

As if he felt the throbbing tips press into his chest, he gave her a knowing smile and dipped his head, his lips brushing her earlobe. “You know, maybe you’re not as uptight as you look.”

“I am not uptight.”

He eyed her for a long moment. “Darlin’, you’re as uptight as they get. An uppity up if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I am not,” she insisted, forcing her thoughts away from his delicious smell and the feel of his body against hers. She managed to concentrate for the next moment, until the song finished, and she finally, finally managed to pull away. She was about to turn and walk away, then her curiosity got the best of her. “So what’s an uppity up?”

His grin was heartstopping. “Kiss me and maybe I’ll tell you.”

At his words, a rush of heat went through her and sent her pulse fluttering. For a brief moment, she imagined the press of his lips against her own, the whisper of his breath on her mouth, until her common sense intruded along with a healthy dose of righteous indignation. “Kiss you?” She shook her head. Was he serious? “For your information, I don’t even like you.” On that note, she turned to walk away.

His deep chuckle followed her. “Why do you think I asked you to dance?”

2

“HEY THERE, JACK. Jimmy and Deb leave you here to clean up all this by yourself?” Red Bailey clapped Jack on the back and twisted one end of his graying mustache as he waited for Jack’s mother to finish saying goodbye to Judge Baines, the man who’d officiated at the wedding ceremony.

“They left me.” Nell Ranger, the Mission housekeeper and the closest thing Jack had to family next to his mother and brother, rushed by carrying a box overflowing with trash. She wore a blue dress pinned with a crushed carnation corsage. “Those two young’uns have a lot more sense than to expect this boy to clean up after them. Why, he never picked up his underwear way back when and I’d give a pretty penny that things haven’t changed much.”

Jack feigned a look of outrage. “Get ready to fork over the penny, darlin’, ‘cause I haven’t left a pair of underwear lying around in years.”

Nell stopped in the middle of gathering several dirty crystal plates and eyed him. “You mean to tell me you finally turned over a new leaf?”

“Not exactly.” He gave her a wink as he shrugged off his jacket. “I stopped wearing the damned things.”

“Just to get out of picking them up, I’m sure.” Nell shook her head and proceeded loading her arms with dirty cake plates.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re blushing, Nell Ranger.” Jack tugged his bow tie loose and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Nonsense.” She deposited the plates on a nearby tray. “I gave up blushing the day I went to work for your momma. Why, if I had a nickel for every time you or your brother said something outlandish, I’d be a rich woman.”

“Rich, huh?” He slid his arms around her bountiful waist and gave her a hug. “I’ve always wanted to find myself a sugar mama.” He kissed her cheek before she shooed him.

“Just never you mind trying to help. I’ve got Myrtle and the girls coming over to get this place in order just as soon as they take off their Sunday best.”

“I’d be glad to help.”

“And drive those old biddies to distraction with all those winks and smiles when I need to get some work done? No, thank you. You just take yourself off to bed right this very second. I declare, after roaring in here barely a half hour before the ceremony, you must be dead tired.”

Amen. Which could explain why he’d done something so foolish as to challenge Paige Cassidy to kiss him. No matter how good she’d smelled.

His nostrils flared at the last thought. Her scent, all apples and cinnamon and warm woman, clung to him and he fought back a wave of need.

Yep, exhaustion made a man do foolish things, and Jack should know. After his wife had passed away, he’d spent the next six months barely eating or sleeping. He’d drank his way through those days, only to open his eyes one morning just outside of Vegas and find himself married for the second time to a woman he’d known for barely two hours.

Never again.

He was getting some shut-eye and forgetting all about Paige, how sweet she probably tasted and how he really, really wanted to find out first-hand.

At least for tonight.

Challenging Little Miss Uppity Up had been the most fun Jack had had in a helluva long time. Judging from the desire burning in her gaze for those few stunned moments before she’d summoned her anger, she was just as intrigued at the prospect of playing a little game of liplock with him. Just as turned on.

For the time being, of course. Paige had made it very clear that she didn’t like him. That, alone, made her the perfect woman to help him sate the lust eating him up from the inside out. A lust she felt as intensely as he did. He’d been with enough women to make him somewhat of an expert and he could spot a hungry woman at twenty paces. Paige needed some relief as much as he did. Not to mention, she didn’t have any romantic notions about him. He’d given up romance years ago when he’d watched the preacher throw the first handful of dirt onto his first wife’s casket. His only wife.

I don’t even like you.

Yep, she was perfect, all right, which meant that come tomorrow, Jack intended to pay her a visit and see what he could do to get Paige Cassidy to accept his challenge. Soon. Jack had never been long on patience.

He could only hope Paige was just as impatient. Otherwise, it was going to be a heck of a long stay in Inspiration.

“I HAVE TO HAVE THEM,” Paige told the young man sitting at the desk opposite hers. “Now.”

He leaned back in his chair, his ankles crossed, his feet encased in a pair of orange flip-flops that matched the orange flowers in his Hawaiian print shorts. Wally, Deb’s former copy boy, might have been laying out at the beach rather than sitting in the small office that housed Inspiration’s only newspaper, the Inspiration In Touch.

Paige wiped the sweat from her forehead. It felt as hot as a day at the beach. Hotter thanks to the lack of windows and the lifeless air conditioner in the far corner.

“Would you just hold your horses?” Wally took a long sip on the straw sticking out of his glass of iced tea before shifting his attention back to the magazine open on his lap. “What’s the big hurry?”