Call Me Irresistible (21 page)

She was wrong about Sunny.

“You forgot your party favor,” Ted said.

She didn’t like the heady rush she felt at the sight of him standing at the rear of the sanctuary holding up a wooden paddleball stenciled with an American flag. “Shelby had a basket of patriotic yoyos, too, but I figured you’d like a paddle better. Or maybe that was just me projecting what I thought you needed.” He slapped the paddle hard against his hand.

Although her happy printing company T-shirt hung over her hips, she wore only an ivory thong beneath. She needed more clothes, like chain mail and a chastity belt. He took a few swipes at the rubber ball with the paddle and sauntered forward, his eyes all over her. “Thanks for helping me out back there with Sunny, although I could have done without your commentary.”

She eyed the paddle and then him. “You brought it on yourself. You shouldn’t have kissed me.”

His brow knit with phony indignation. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who kissed me.”

“I did not. You were all over me.”

“In your dreams.” He gave the paddleball an extra-hard slap. She cocked her head. “If you break a window with that thing, I’m reporting you to my landlord.”

He caught the ball, gazed at what he could see of her bottom, and ran his thumb along the curve of the paddle. “The strangest idea just came into my head.” The high ceiling fan ruffled his hair. Once again, he slapped the paddle against his palm. “I’d tell you about it, but it’d only make you mad.”

Sex hung in the air between them as explosive as the evening’s fireworks. Regardless of who had initiated their kiss, something had irrevocably shifted between them, and they both knew it.

So much for playing games. Although nothing was more repugnant to her than becoming another of Ted Beaudine’s sexual conquests, the idea of making him one of her sexual conquests was worth pondering. “You can have any woman in this town. Probably in the whole state. Leave me alone.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because you’ve treated me like crap ever since I got here.”

“Wrong. I was perfectly nice to you at the rehearsal dinner. I didn’t start treating you like crap until after Lucy ran off.”

“Which wasn’t my fault. Admit it.”

“I don’t want to. I might have to blame myself, and who needs that?”

“You do. Although, to be fair, Lucy should have figured it out before things went so far.”

He gave the paddleball a couple of whacks. “What else have you got on your grievance list?”

“You forced me to go work for Birdie Kittle.”

He dropped the paddle on the brown chair, as if the temptation to use it was becoming too strong to resist. “It kept you out of jail, didn’t it?”

“And you made sure I was paid less than the other maids.”

He played dumb. “I don’t remember that.”

She nursed all the injustices. “That day at the inn, when I was cleaning . . . You stood in the doorway and watched me nearly kill myself trying to turn that mattress.”

He grinned. “I have to admit, that was entertaining.”

“Then, after lugging your bag of clubs for eighteen holes, you gave me a one-dollar tip.”

She shouldn’t have brought that up because he still held a grudge. “Three holes you cost me. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that all my new head covers are missing.”

“You were my best friend’s fiancé! And if that’s not good enough, don’t forget that I basically hate you.”

He hit her full force with those golden brown eyes. “You basically like me, too. Not your fault. It just happened.”

“I’m going to make it un-happen.”

His voice turned to smoke. “Now why would you want to do that when we’re both more than ready to take the next step? Which I highly recommend we do naked.”

She swallowed. “I’m sure you’d like that, but maybe I’m not ready.” Coyness wasn’t her strong suit, and he looked disappointed in her for making the attempt. She threw up her hands. “Okay, so I’ll admit I’m curious. Big deal. We both know what that leads to. Dead cat.”

He smiled. “Or one hell of a lot of fun.”

She hated that she was seriously thinking about going ahead with this. “I’m not seriously thinking about going ahead with this,” she said, “but if I were, I’d have a ton of conditions.”

“Such as?”

“This would only be about sex—no cute pet names, no nighttime confidences. No”—she wrinkled her nose at the idea—“friendship.”

“We already have a kind of friendship.”

“Only in your twisted mind because you can’t stand the idea that you’re not friends with everybody on the planet.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

“It’s impossible, that’s what’s wrong with it. If this went any further, you could never tell anybody about us. I mean it. Wynette is the gossip capital of the world, and I have enough trouble on my plate. We’d have to sneak around. In public, you’d need to keep on pretending to hate me.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can handle that easy.”

“And don’t even think of using me to discourage Sunny Skipjack.”

“Subject to discussion. That woman scares the hell out of me.”

“She doesn’t scare you at all. You just don’t want to deal with her.”

“Is that all?”

“No. I’d need to talk to Lucy first.”

That caught him by surprise. “Why would you have to do that?”

“A question that once again proves how little you know me.”

He reached in his pocket, pulled out his cell, and tossed it to her. “Go for it.”

She tossed it right back. “I’ll use my own.”

He pocketed his phone and waited.

“Not now,” she said, starting to feel more frazzled than she wanted to be.

“Now,” he said. “You just told me it’s a precondition.”

She should kick him out, but she wanted him too much, and she was predestined to make bad choices when it came to men, which was why her female friendships had always been so important. She shot him a dirty look, the closest she could get to a face-saving gesture, and stomped toward the kitchen, where she banged the door behind her. As she grabbed her cell, she told herself she’d take it as a sign if Lucy didn’t answer.

But Lucy answered. “Meg? What’s up?”

She sank down on the linoleum and pressed her spine to the refrigerator door. “Hey, Luce. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” She unstuck a Cheerio she’d dropped that morning, or possibly last week, and crumbled it between her fingers. “So how’s it going?”

“It’s one in the morning. How do you think it’s going?”

“Really? It’s only midnight here, but since I have
no idea
where you are, it’s a little tough to allow for time differences.”

Meg regretted her testiness as Lucy sighed. “It won’t be much longer. I’ll . . . tell you as soon as I can. Right now everything’s a little . . . confusing. Is something wrong? You sound worried.”

“Something’s wrong, all right.” There was no easy way to say this. “What would you think about—” She pulled her knees tighter against her chest and took a deep breath. “What would you think about me hooking up with Ted?”

There was a long silence. “Hooking up? As in—?”

“Yes.”

“With Ted?”

“Your former fiancé.”

“I know who he is. You and Ted are a . . . couple?”

“No!” Meg dropped her knees to the floor. “No, not a couple. Never. This is just about sex. And forget it. I’m not exactly thinking clearly right now. I should never have called. God, what was I thinking? This is a total betrayal of our friendship. I shouldn’t have—”

“No! No, I’m glad you called.” Lucy actually sounded excited. “Oh, Meg, this is perfect. Every woman should have Ted Beaudine make love to her.”

“I don’t know about that, but—” She pulled her knees back up. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Are you kidding?” Lucy sounded almost giddy. “Do you know how guilty I still feel? If he sleeps with you . . . You’re my best friend. He’d be sleeping with my best friend! It’ll be like getting absolution from the pope!”

“You don’t have to sound so broken up about it.”

The door opened. Meg quickly lowered her knees as Ted ambled in. “Tell Lucy hello from me,” he said.

“I’m not your messenger boy,” she retorted.

“Is he there right now?” Lucy asked.

“That would be a yes,” Meg replied.

“Tell him hello from me, then.” Lucy’s voice grew small again, full of guilt. “And that I’m sorry.”

Meg cupped her hand over the phone and gazed up at him. “She said she’s having the time of her life, screwing every man she meets, and dumping you was the best move she ever made.”

“I heard that,” Lucy said. “And he’ll know you’re lying. He knows things like that.”

Ted rested the heel of his hand against a top cabinet and slanted her his superior look. “Liar.”

She glowered at him. “Go away. You are totally creeping me out.”

Lucy sucked in her breath. “Did you just tell Ted Beaudine that he was creeping you out?”

“I might have.”

Lucy let out a long exhalation. “Wow . . .” She sounded a little dazed. “I sure didn’t see this coming.”

Meg frowned. “See what coming? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Love you. And enjoy!” She hung up.

Meg snapped her phone closed. “I think we can safely assume Lucy’s recovered from her guilt.”

“Does that mean she gave us her blessing?”

“Me. She gave me her blessing.”

He adopted a faraway look. “I sure do miss that woman. Smart. Funny. Sweet. She never gave me a moment’s trouble.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry about that. I knew it was boring between you two, but not that bad.”

He smiled and stretched out his hand. She let him pull her to her feet, but he didn’t stop there. In one smooth motion, he drew her against him and began kissing the breath right out of her. Because of their height, their bodies were a surprisingly comfortable fit, but that was the only comfortable thing about this lusty, bone-shattering kiss.

He smelled so good, tasted so good, felt so good. The heat of his skin, the feel of sturdy muscle and hard tendon. It had been so long.

He didn’t grab her ass or shove his hand under her shirt where he would quickly have discovered lots of bare skin bisected only by that fragile ivory thong. Instead, he concentrated on her mouth, her face, her hair—stroking and exploring, sliding his fingers through her curls, finding her earlobes with his thumbs. It was as if he’d memorized a diagram of all the nonobvious erogenous zones on her body. It was heady and thrilling and oh so arousing.

Their mouths parted. He pressed his forehead to hers and spoke softly. “I’d like to go to my place, but I’m not risking having you change your mind on the way, so it’ll have to be here.” A nibble at her bottom lip. “Doubt it’ll be the first time two people have got it on in that choir loft, although I thought my days of getting sweaty on a futon had ended when I graduated from college.”

She tried to get her breath back as he caught her wrist and drew her out into the church. “Stop.” Her heels skidded on the old pine floor. “We’re not taking another step toward that futon until we have The Conversation.”

He wasn’t dumb. He groaned, but he stopped walking. “I’m disease free. There’s been nobody since Lucy, and since that was four fricking months ago, you’ll have to understand if I’m a little impatient.”

“Nobody since Lucy? Really?”

“What part of four fricking months don’t you get?” He regarded her stubbornly, as if he expected a fight. “And I don’t go anywhere without a condom. You can make whatever you want out of that. It’s just the way it is.”

“You being Ted Beaudine and all.”

“Like I said.”

“Four months, huh? It hasn’t been nearly that long for me.” A lie. Her disastrous affair with Daniel, the Aussie river-rafting guide, had ended eight months ago. She’d never indulged in one-night stands, something she attributed to the conversations her mother had initiated about sex. Unfortunately, those conversations hadn’t kept her from making some bad choices. More than one of her friends had said Meg deliberately chose men she knew would never commit because she wasn’t ready to be a grown-up herself.

“I also am disease free,” she said loftily, “and I’m on the pill. Don’t let that stop you, however, from using one of those condoms you undoubtedly purchase by the gross. Since this is Texas, land of the barely concealed weapon, if I got pregnant, I would locate one of those weapons and blow your brains out. Fair warning.”

“Good. We’re clear.” He caught her wrist and dragged her up the winding choir loft steps, not that he had to do much dragging.

“I also don’t do one-night stands,” she said when they reached the top. “So consider this the beginning of a short-term sexual commitment.”

“Even better.” He whipped off his T-shirt.

“And you can’t let me get fired from the club.”

He stopped. “Hold on. I want to get you fired.”

“I know,” she said, “but you want uncomplicated sex more.”