you today?”
Madeline glanced past the woman to the condom display and pointed to an extralarge blue box. “I’ll take a pack of those.”
“Sweet and smart.” Camille winked and rang up the last item.
“More like afraid.” At Camille’s questioning glance, Madeline added, “We’re decorating for Cheryl’s bachelorette party. If I show up without the condoms, Janice will tar and feather me. She’s a little obsessive.”
After paying for her purchases, Madeline gathered up her bag of goodies and started for the front of the store. She’d made it two steps before her cell phone rang again. She shifted her bag to one arm and rummaged inside her purse for the blasted phone.
“Trojan,” Janice said the moment Madeline managed to say hello.
“Got ’em,” Madeline rounded the corner. “Would you please stop worry—hmmph!”
Her breath caught as she came up hard against a solid mass of warmth. Her heart stalled. Her phone took a dive for the floor. Her purse hit with a solid thunk. Her bag crashed and the contents scattered.
“I’m so sorry,” she started. “I didn’t see—”
You lodged behind the sudden lump that blocked her throat. Her head jerked up and she found herself standing chest to chest with Cadillac’s most notorious bad boy.
2
AUSTIN JERICHO’S EYES were even bluer than Maddie remembered. Deeper. More unnerving.
They pulled her in and sucked her under like a cool river on a hot summer’s day. Sensation washed over her body, skimming her ultrasensitive skin, sneaking into every hot spot until she felt completely submerged and temporarily paralyzed and…ahh.
“I thought I recognized you.” His voice, so rich and husky, slid into her ears and prickled the hair on the nape of her neck. Her attention shifted to his mouth.
He’d always had great lips. Slightly full on the bottom. Sensuous. Just right for kissing, or so she’d thought every time he’d folded himself into the desk opposite hers and opened his book for their daily algebra les—
“You recognized me?” she blurted as his words registered. “You recognized me?” Sure, they’d spent every afternoon together for most of their senior year, thanks to Marshalyn Simmons, the high-school librarian, who’d recruited Madeline to tutor Austin. But otherwise, he’d barely acknowledged her existence.
Except once.
Standing in the shadows outside the football stadium on a Friday night when the Cadillac Coyotes had been slaying the Hondo Hogs in a record-breaking game. The first and last football game Madeline Hale had ever attended.
She’d given up her usual Saturday night at the doughnut shop in favor of the chance to see Austin somewhere other than the school library. Not that it had been a date or anything like that. Just a chance meeting that she’d taken great pains to plan. They’d happened into each other near the concession stand.
She could still smell the fresh buttered popcorn and hear the roar of the crowd and feel the wild air emanating from the boy who’d walked up to her. He’d stared down into her eyes and she’d stared up into his, and they’d had nothing short of explosive chemistry.
For a few precious seconds.
But then the moment of truth had come and she’d learned one of life’s biggest lessons—geeky good girls like Maddie did not end up with cool bad boys like Austin. She wasn’t brave enough, bold enough, bad enough.
Then again, she wasn’t plain old Maddie anymore. She was Madeline Hale. Sophisticated. Worldly. Bad.
But with Austin so close and overwhelming and still sexy as hell, it was hard to remember that.
“When I spotted you through the window,” he told her, “I said to myself, ‘Why, that looks like Maddie Hale’ and sure enough—” he gestured to her “—here you are.”
“You saw me through the window? You saw me?” Even as the question passed her lips, she knew she should bite it back and think of something witty to say. But it was hard to think with his heat surrounding her.
And his scent filling her nostrils…the musky smell of horse and leather and warm male that made her drink in a deep breath.
And his smile right there, directed at her…
As if he read the thoughts racing through her mind, his lips parted, his grin widened and her heart stalled.
Yep, that smile could do enough damage all by itself. Add it to everything else wreaking havoc on her senses and she was a lost cause.
“You saw me,” she said again, as if repeating the truth would help it to sink in. “You saw me.”
“You look really good.”
“I look good?” She shook her head. Goober alert! “I mean, uh, yes, I do look rather good.” Conceited goober alert! “Um, so do you. Look good, that is. You look really good.”
“I look more wet than anything else. It’s hot enough to fry eggs outside.” He glanced down and plucked at his damp T-shirt. “But thanks anyway.”
“Even all dusty and sweaty you look really good,” she rushed on. “Especially all dusty and sweaty.”
He grinned again. “I could use something cold to drink. Say—” he looked at her as if an idea had just struck “—maybe we could grab a root beer float over at the fountain. I mean, if you’re not busy.”
“You want to have a float? With me?” Here comes the goober again. “I mean, of course you want to have a float with me. I like floats. I mean, I used to like floats. I stick to diet sodas now.”
“Diet soda?” He gave her a puzzled look as he studied her. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or anything when we collided, did you?”
“I…” Boy, he smelled good. And felt good. And looked good.
She found herself wishing that she’d worn her black slacks. Black was slimming and her thighs needed all the help they could get.
The thought drew her up short and she stiffened. “I’m okay.” She was, and she didn’t need black slacks to prove it. Mind over matter, she told herself, and her mind was much bigger than her matter, even if she’d barely managed to squeeze said matter into the size-ten jeans hugging her thighs. She was no longer fat. She was voluptuous. And proud of every inch. “I’m fine, really.”
“That’s good news.” He shifted his attention away from her then, thank goodness, and glanced around them.
Reality zapped her and she followed his gaze to the spilled contents of her bag. “That’s what I get for being in a hurry.” She dropped to her knees, grateful for a distraction from Austin and the all-important fact that he was standing just inches away from her.
She forced the notion aside and concentrated on gathering up her stuff. “They don’t make bags like
