would I—”
“Just do it. Please.”
She heaved a sigh. “What is it?”
“Jackson Phillipe.”
Having no idea why she was humoring the man, but needing to make her point about his bad boy behavior, Skyler went on. “Jackson Phillipe Tesson, you and I are gonna go a few rounds if you continue in this inappropriate habit of doing and saying forward things to proper, Southern-bred ladies.”
He slid his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her forward, then kissed her hard on the lips.
Mouth tingling, she stared at him. “What did you do that for?”
He grinned. “You reminded me so much of my grand-mère, I had to kiss you.”
She knew she’d sounded a bit maternal, but… “Your grandmother?”
“She always tried to make speeches about proper behavior, too.”
“Tried?”
“Without much success—obviously.” His eyes danced. “Now for the reason I came by.”
Distracted, she’d completely forgotten to question what he was doing in her shop in the middle of the day. She absolutely could not think straight in the man’s presence.
“The other night at the bar was completely my fault.” He stroked the delicate skin beneath her eye, regret obvious in his tone. “I can’t believe you were hurt because of something I did.”
She shook her head. Her impulsiveness and desperation to keep her secret had led to the trouble.
“Oui. I should have protected you.”
Again, it occurred to her that this whole hero thing might not be so bad.
“So, I want to make it up to you. How ’bout dinner Friday night?”
A refusal was on the tip of her tongue, but something held her back. She’d always been happy to let her brothers protect her from dangerous men like Jack, but now she suddenly didn’t want to play it safe. No doubt this urge was the result of her daring and impulsive Kimball genes.
She also recalled her recent conversation with Casey—aka Frat Boy—who’d told her he broke the record in ducking her brothers because Jack had let him hide out at his apartment. Her heart fluttered at the thought.
One date. What could it hurt?
She looked up, meeting his gaze. “Sure.”
A broad smile broke across his face, but then he eyed her oddly. “What’s the catch?”
The man was definitely quick. She wanted to go out with him, but she wasn’t willing to sacrifice his job in the process. “We can’t tell anyone.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, managing to go from charming to intimidating in that one move. “Come again?”
“I won’t have you losing your job over a simple dinner.”
“Ben is a reasonable man. He wouldn’t fire me.”
Ben could be reasonable. Wes, she wasn’t taking any bets on, and he could certainly make life hard for Jack. Besides, by keeping this date under wraps she could be daring without being reckless.
“I’m not hiding from your family,” Jack said.
“Then I won’t go.”
Looking exasperated, he sighed. “You’re a helluva negotiator, chère.”
“You should see me negotiate prices with Bud.”
“Bud?”
“Proprietor of Bud’s Leather Palace.”
Laughing, he pulled her into his arms. A pretty great place to spend a Tuesday afternoon, in Skyler’s book. “You’re somethin’,” he said quietly. “And you’ve got a deal.”
Her heart thumped hard in her chest.
He looked down at her, brushing her hair back from her face. “But I won’t lie. I’ll agree not to advertise our date in the newspaper, but if one of your brothers asks me directly, I won’t deny it.”
Skyler bit her lip. She didn’t like this contention, but since she only intended for them to have one date—she was attracted to Jack, but she couldn’t really get involved with him. The loss of her father had ruled so many of her actions for so long, she doubted she’d ever change. Adding Jack to her collection of people to obsessively worry over was a really bad idea.
Jack and his dangerous job wouldn’t be hanging around Baxter long anyway. Losing him was inevitable.
But since they were only talking about one date, she figured she could keep her heart safe.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Okay. Covert, but no lying. Anything else?”
He pulled her tighter against him, so she could feel his hardness growing against her stomach. “How about wearing a selection from Bud’s Leather Palace?”
Skyler thought of the black leather jeans with silver rivets down the seams she’d ordered for Fiona. She couldn’t imagine ever having the guts to wear something like that beyond her dressing room, much less in front of Jack.
“I’m kidding,” he said, as if he sensed her unease. “But wear a dress.” He kissed the side of her neck, just below her ear. “And the purple undies.”
She shivered. God, the man knew how to proposition. He was assuming a great deal about the outcome of their dinner, she supposed, but his tendency to push the limits was part of his charm.
“How about a skirt?” she suggested, not about to give him total control over this date, though he seemed to have commandeered—temporarily, of course—her hormones.
“And the undies?”
Smiling, she waggled her finger at him. “My undies, young man, are none of—”
The alarm above the door jangled.
Skyler jumped away from Jack as if she’d just grabbed a hot frying pan.
Mrs. Markenson—a regular customer and cousin to the mayor—sailed through the doorway, her sixteen-year-old daughter trailing in her wake.
Jack, damn him, discretely stroked her side and whispered, “Relax, chère. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Nothing, absolutely nothing about Jackson Phillipe Tesson was safe.
“Good afternoon, Skyler,” Mrs. Markenson said, nodding her perfectly styled and highlighted head of light brown hair. “I need to find something appropriate for the church picnic for Christine.” She pushed her giggling, blushing daughter, whose wide blue gaze was riveted to Jack, forward.
“Absolutely.”
