Love Me: The Complete Series (37 page)

He took a lazy eye-stroll down her face and body, then back up to her eyes. He stuck his coffee stir stick in his mouth and rattled his head side to side. “Nothing’s wrong. Comfy’s good. I like comfy, but you can be comfy and still be a woman. If you’ve been cleaning all morning, I’d hardly call you lazy.”

A small burn started in her brain. “I
am
a woman regardless of what I wear. In fact, I am a woman even if I wear nothing. Clothes don’t—”

Jackson jerked the stick from his mouth and pointed her way. “Now
that’s
the kind of comfy a man likes. Naked. In fact, it’s probably on every guy’s mind at least three times in the first few hours he meets a woman. What does she look like naked and how do I get her that way?”

Amanda wanted to spit the burning liquid from her mouth; instead she swallowed and felt the burn all the way to her stomach. “Oh my God.”

“Hey, it’s the truth. Here, let me try something.” Jackson’s hand snaked toward her and he slowly undid the top button of her shirt, then yanked the cloth to the side. When the shirt fell off her shoulder a cool breeze from the fan above drifted over her skin. “Well,
that’s
an okay start.”

“What?”

He pointed at her shoulder. “You’re not wearing a bra. Of course, who would know in that oversized blanket of a shirt? Wear it like that, off the shoulder. Show a little skin. Men like a bare shoulder. It’s sexy.”

Oh brother. Actually she was wearing a bra but she wasn’t planning to correct the image. “I’m not really trying to be sexy at the moment, Jax. Hence the word ‘comfy.’”

He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Wrong answer, honey. You should
always
be trying for sexy even if there’s not a man within two hundred miles.”

Amanda sipped another drink. “Don’t call me honey and that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You want me to get out of the shower every day and put on my slinkiest gear on the off chance that Carter might just show up? What’s wrong with the way I look, anyway? Guys like smart women. Smart
is
sexy.”

“Smart is smart. Look, I don’t know why but most guys fantasize that the woman in the business suit is wearing a thong underneath. You want to be comfy, fine. There’s no reason you can’t. Still, that shoulder right there”—Jackson’s fingers tickled as he ran them softly across her collar bone—“that makes me want to see the rest of the package. See how the fabric drapes across the top of your breast, showing just enough cleavage to entice? That’s … great. Carter’d love that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seems to me a guy hopes there’s a thong under pretty much anything a woman wears, even if it’s old sweats or fishing waders.”

His face slowly turned wicked as he grinned. “Bingo. Now
that’s
an image. Are you wearing one now? No, don’t tell me. One of those black lace things that’s see-through in front and rides lightly across the hips, right? Or maybe a VS sport-like thing in florescent pink? Now that puts great thoughts in a guy’s head.”

She slapped his arm. “Yeah, I’ll bet it does. I just wonder which head is having those thoughts.”

The grin on his face was annoying—and sexy. “The only one that matters, babe. The one you need to get on your side if you want to build a relationship with Carter. Or any guy, for that matter.”

“Don’t call me babe, either. You’re disgusting, Jackson. Remind me, why were we ever friends all those months? I can’t really see anything about you that is remotely more interesting than an orangutan.”

“I’m just a guy, Amanda, like every other walking male on the planet. We’re all disgusting. While you’re talking about friendships, remember I’m also
the
guy who’s been friends with the one you’re trying to nail for years. You want my help or not?”

Amanda opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. Was his help worth all this wasted effort? Um, not sure. Something about the latest comments and the direction he was headed sounded like they were teetering toward a very dangerous path. “For the record, I’m not trying to
nail
Carter. There’s a big difference between wanting to date someone and whatever that means. Why the two of you are friends completely escapes me. You’re not at all alike.”

Jackson stood and motioned for her to lead the way out of the shop. Did she really want his advice? She needed a second or two to evaluate the situation but he wouldn’t give one. “We’re all alike. Get up, woman. We’re burning daylight and I have things to do later. Let’s get moving.” He snapped his fingers twice and Amanda obediently moved.

Once in the street, she was curious. “Where are we going?”

“Tell me, when are you seeing him next?”

“We’re going dancing tonight.” She was looking forward to it; she loved to dance. Carter had reluctantly agreed, mainly because there was a live band. He’d heard them before and enjoyed the performance.

Jackson stopped in his tracks. The stir stick he’d chewed on for the past fifteen minutes hit the ground. “Carter dances?”

Amanda shrugged. She had no idea. “I guess.”

The smack of his hands clapping shocked her. “Well, okay then. Dancing. Perfect. What are you planning to wear? Please tell me not one of those fancy lawyer suits.”

Of course not; she’d never wear work clothes to a bar. They’d end up smelling like smoke. “I thought maybe jeans and a shirt. I have this great pink—”

“Stop right there. No jeans. A skirt or dress, something that shows a lot of skin.”

Her thoughts flew to the blue satin number she’d bought in New Orleans. She’d seen it in a window on her last business trip for the contract with her client who owned a bakery business. It was spaghetti-strapped and dipped low in front while hanging loosely over her hips. The open back that gaped nearly to the curve of her ass was gorgeous. She’d never worn it because it made her self-conscious. “No problem, but it might be cold. Oh, and by the way, I
am
wearing a bra. It’s a bandeau thing.”

“What the hell is that? Makes me think of one of those red handkerchiefs men used to wear to work when my Dad was kid.”

Amanda searched the street for pedestrians, of which there were none. It covered more than a sports bra so she didn’t see much harm in a preview. She flipped the shirt up and down briefly. Jackson’s eyes rounded, then narrowed.

He cleared his throat. “Not exactly the sexiest thing but hell, it made my day. Braless would be better, of course.”

She growled and stomped away. “Caveman.”

Jackson had the nerve to laugh. “Guilty.”

Jackson trailed after Amanda, enjoying the moment. Yes, he was coaching her to seduce his best friend when he’d rather it were him, but the banter was fun. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. Thinking back over their time at school, then work, they’d never talked this way. He’d always been on his best behavior, trying to impress.

The freedom to say whatever came to mind was cleansing. Especially when he could say it in regard to Carter and not worry she’d take the words badly. So, they were going dancing—loud music, lots of booze, their bodies plastered against each other. Swaying. Grinding. Shit. He hated Carter.

Jackson picked up the pace and grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s work on your rhythm.”

“My rhythm is fine.”

He imagined that was true. Still, she’d just given him an idea. When they reached the spot where his Jeep was parallel parked in front of an empty building, he pressed the unlock button.

“Hop in and we’ll see about that.” He opened the passenger door and waited.

Amanda eyed him warily. “Where are you taking me? I thought this was going to be a quick and easy thing.”

Jackson sighed. “Just get in, Mandy. I’m taking you to one of Carter’s favorite places and we’ll talk about that rhythm thing. Trust me, okay? Besides, didn’t you say your friend wanted you to be more adventurous?” Should he mention it was also his place to unwind?

“Now, you’re really scaring me.” Despite her hesitation, he was relieved she stepped into his vehicle. He rounded the hood and seated himself, turned on the radio, flipped it to country music, and headed for the freeway.

“How far is this place?” Amanda’s hair flapped in the wind. She curled a foot up and slipped it under her butt.

“About thirty minutes. Just sit and enjoy the music and company.”

She fingered the garter belt tied around his air conditioner vent and frowned. Should he tell her it was from a friend’s wedding? Everyone scattered and left him to catch the damn thing and while all his friends teased, he considered it a gift. She frowned. “I’ll enjoy the music—jury’s still out on the company, though.”

“Thanks.”

Amanda dropped her foot to the floor, leaned back in her seat, and closed her eyes. It took a little longer than thirty minutes but when he pulled the Jeep down the gravel road, he could hear the slight huffing of Amanda’s breath over the music. She was snoring.

They hit a tree root and the Jeep bounced her awake. “Where are we?”

“Almost there.”

Jackson rounded the last pile of stumps and pulled to a stop.

“Almost where?” Amanda blinked and rubbed her eyes. Damn, she was cute. He chose not to answer—no need to spoil things before she gave it a shot.

“Hop out, we’ll walk from here.” Jackson pointed toward a path that led through a few trees. Morning light filtered through and winked for them to hurry. He wished they’d left an hour earlier.

While Amanda extricated herself from the passenger seat and smoothed her hair, he pulled his gear from the back. A tackle box, two fishing poles, and his portable stereo.

Amanda turned and her eyes widened. “Fishing? Carter’s favorite spot is a fishing hole?”

Jackson nodded and grinned. “It’s not really a hole, it’s a river bed, but yes.”

She dropped hands to hips. “And how exactly is that supposed to help with this dancing date-slash-rhythm thing?”

He held up the portable stereo. “I brought music.” By the way she looked around, he half expected her to call for help. She glanced past him as if seeking another ride.

“Very funny, Jax. Take me home.”

“Not yet. We only have about another hour before it gets too hot. Besides, think of me as Yoda or your spiritual coach. Just go with it and see what happens. I think you’ll like this.” Jackson squinted at the sun, which had risen higher than he hoped. He’d already waited longer than he wanted but she was worth the time. He looked at the fabric slipping from her shoulder and her clean face, void of makeup. Hell, she was worth waiting even longer if he needed to but the sun probably wouldn’t agree.

“Too hot? What the heck does all this have to do with me, Carter, or dancing?”

“Can you just relax for a little while? It’s Saturday, the weather’s nice, and you don’t have to be anywhere for hours. Follow me.”

He tromped along the path, glad that he’d dropped the keys in his pocket. Otherwise, she’d likely drive away and leave him stranded.

An hour later, he admired her Shrimpini Pink toenails as they hung over the edge of the bass boat. He knew that was the correct color because she’d told him as much. As far as he was concerned, it was pink. Her legs, smooth and bronzed, made a damn good decal for the boat. Floating along with their lines in the water and the music softly humming, Jackson felt content for the first time in years. His dad’s health, the company’s financial troubles, his workload stress—all were a distant image too small to trouble over.

The music and the waves lapping against the boat hull were the only sounds.

He’d prefer quiet but knew she’d never go for dead silence. She swatted a fly from her face and leaned her head backward and upside down to meet his gaze. “This is peaceful. No wonder he enjoys it so much. It’s kind of therapeutic.”

Thank God she had acquiesced and gotten in the boat. It was a long shot, but it worked. He would have been happy just to fish from the bank but she saw the cover and yanked it off, then had to try.

“See? Yoda delivers his first lesson.” He set the trolling motor to keep them even with the current.

“Okay, Master. I’m enjoying the boat ride and the fishing seems like it’s just an excuse to laze in the water but I don’t see what this has to do with my rhythm.”

“That’s just it. Your rhythm doesn’t matter—just be yourself. Enjoy the moment. Like right now … you have your shoes off and your head tilted back to soak in the sun. That fishing pole is settled in and waiting for the right moment to bless you with whatever is yours. You can’t lose.”

“A fish is my blessing? Couldn’t I have something better, like a winning lottery ticket, or a pot of gold popping up from the water?”

She leaned over and peered into the gentle froth of ripples and he felt his heart take a nosedive. She was perfection and didn’t have a clue.

“Amanda, look around us. The water. The fish. The music. Blend it all together. There’s a perfect rhythm in all of it. You just have to want what you have.”

The top of her pole dipped but she was focused on him, which ordinarily would be great. She squinted. “Are you trying to give me one of those profound speeches my mother always went for because if you are—”

“Look.”

“Oh God, you’re not going to tell me to stand up in the boat and balance in one of those crazy stork-like poses that the karate kid did, are you?”

He wanted to laugh but if she didn’t get her ass in gear she was going to lose it. “You have a fish, Amanda. Pick up the damn pole.”

“Oh, shit.” She fell into the hull of the boat and grappled for the pole. Zzzzzzz. The line tightened and threatened to break. “What do I do?”

He gave the trolling motor a slight jig. “Reel it in slowly. If it starts to pull too hard the line will break. Just take your time. That’s the thing about fishing. If you take it slow, you’ll eventually wear the damn thing out and it’ll be yours.”

She did exactly that and when the fish finally flopped its weary fins in the water beside the boat, she sighed. “Now what?”

“We let it go.”

She darted eyes up. “Seriously? I worked my ass off so that you could cut it loose? What the hell for?”

He grinned. “Because otherwise he’ll die. What good is that? We’re not planning to eat it or mount it on the wall.”