The Last in Love (Ardent Springs Book 5) Page 12

  Haleigh’s mouth opened and then closed again. The set of her jaw said she wanted to argue, but the thoughts flitting across her face revealed the truth. He was right and she knew it.

  “I do pay attention to her,” she finally said. “That’s why I bid on you in the auction. That night of the fire, I saw her face when she looked at you. There was a light in her eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. An interest of a carnal nature.”

  “That’s an interesting way of saying Abby has the hots for me.” Leaning against the antique streetlight beside him, Justin sobered, bent on getting his point across. “She was hurt that you all went behind her back to do that.”

  “And you?” she asked. “Did you mind that we did it?”

  “Not one bit,” he admitted. “But I’d rather she come to me on her own than be pushed by her friends.”

  The blonde flashed a crooked smile. “As much as Abby might appear weak and manipulated, I can promise you that she doesn’t do anything unless she wants to. I knew that going in at the auction. In fact, I was afraid that even after I won the bidding, she might refuse to go with you.”

  Ego slightly appeased, Justin returned the grin. “Is that your way of saying our first date was Abby’s choosing and not yours?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Gesturing with her chin, brown eyes cut to the sidewalk behind him. “Here she comes now. Based on the smile she’s sending your way, I’m guessing things have progressed since that first date.”

  Justin uncurled off the light post. “Your boyfriend might tell you everything, but I don’t.” He turned to catch the smile Haleigh mentioned and fought the urge to kiss her into an even sexier one. The one he’d coaxed from her lips the night before. “Good morning, partner,” he said, waving his trusty notepad. “You’re late. We have work to do, you know.”

  “You have what to do?” Haleigh asked.

  “Work,” Abby answered. “Justin and I are now AJ Landscaping, and we’ve been tasked with prettying up the square.”

  A little shocked himself, Justin enjoyed watching Haleigh’s jaw drop open.

  “What about nursing?” she asked.

  Abby shook her head as the sun whipped a lock of hair into her eyes. “I couldn’t find another position,” she said, clearing her vision, “so I’m trying something new. Justin is going to teach me what he knows, and together, we’re going to bring this street to life.”

  With a nervous laugh, her friend found her voice. “Who are you and what have you done with Abby Lou? You don’t even have houseplants.”

  “Why does everyone keep bringing that up?”

  “Because you killed three ficus trees in three years, remember? Now you’re going to landscape an entire street?”

  “Not by herself,” Justin cut in, unwilling to let anyone dim Abby’s light. “She has a good eye and isn’t afraid of hard work. That’s all I need in a partner.”

  Contrite, Haleigh backed off. “Then I’m happy for you. For you both,” she added, the smile not reaching her eyes. “I can’t wait to see the place when you’re finished.”

  “Take a drive down Main and you’re sure to see it,” Abby replied, appearing unfazed by her friend’s reaction.

  An awkward silence landed like a boulder on the dusty sidewalk before Haleigh made her excuses. “Snow is expecting me, so I should probably get going and let you kids get to work.”

  “Tell her I said hi,” his new partner said with a wave, but before her friend traveled ten feet, she added, “I’ll call you tomorrow, Hal. We can talk more then.”

  The slender woman turned, a genuine smile back in place. “I’d like that,” she said, and then moved on.

  “Ficus killer, huh?” Justin whispered as they watched the other woman walk away.

  “They were half-dead before I got them,” she claimed.

  “I’m sure they were.” He’d have to watch her when planting time came. “Do we have an ad?”

  “We do. And Mama now knows about us.”

  “Us?” he asked, curious if she meant professionally or personally.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Us. The business. The other stuff. No more secrets.”

  Throwing an arm over her shoulder, Justin turned her toward the west end of Main. “You’ve been a busy girl this morning, Abby Lou.”

  A pointy elbow cracked his ribs. “Only Haleigh calls me that, mister. And yes, I’ve been busy. How about you? Do we have the price list?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She wrapped an arm around his waist. “Then let’s start measuring.”

  Chapter 13

  “That’s the last one,” Justin sighed, leaning left and right to stretch out his back. They’d been bending over every fifteen feet for four blocks. “I’ll get these added to the layout sheet, and then Monday we’ll compile a few design options for Thea to review.”

  “We aren’t working over the weekend?” Abby asked, assuming they’d need every available hour to hit the short deadline.

  He tucked a pencil behind his ear. “If necessary, we’ll go seven days a week when we get closer to the deadline, but weekends off is the plan for now.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t had a full weekend off in years. What would she do with the time? There were always the design books. Or maybe Abby would get really wild and read a novel. Something else she hadn’t done in far too long.

  “We’re off to a good start, Abby girl. What time should I show up with the pizza?”

  Holy cheese and pepperoni, she’d almost forgotten about their date. How was that even possible? She’d twisted her sheets into a knot the night before, thanks to her brain balancing on a wire of anticipation. The construction crew, who’d finally finished repairing the kitchen wall, had turned her house into a dusty mess. Regardless of the fact Justin had seen the place at its worst, this was a date—though some might call it a premeditated booty call—and her house would be clean.

  “Is six thirty too late?” Abby asked, uncertain what time he’d been thinking. A quick check of her watch showed it was nearly three. Between cleaning and getting herself ready, that still didn’t leave her a lot of time. Speaking of getting ready, a man was coming to call and Abby didn’t have a thing to wear. Two-thirds of her wardrobe were scrubs, and the other third didn’t come anywhere near date material. “Or seven?” she squeaked. “Maybe seven would be better.”

  “The sooner the better,” he replied, tugging her into motion until they were strolling along the sidewalk side by side. “But if I have to wait until seven, I can do that.”

  Accommodating of him, but she’d feel better if he were as nervous as she was.

  “About tonight . . .” she started, determined to give him fair warning. “I mean, just so you know . . .”

  Justin squeezed her hand. “Know what?”

  Closing her eyes, she blurted, “I might not be very good.”

  He stopped walking, and Abby opened her eyes to see the spring-themed flag hanging near the entrance to Virgil’s Boutique.

  “Good at what?” he asked, clearly confused.

  She glanced up and down the street before looking him in the eye. “You know. It’s been two years. I might be . . . a little rusty.”

  “Wow,” he breathed, hazel eyes locking with hers. “First off, I don’t think you ever want to use the word rusty in that context. And second, after last night, I have no doubts about your skills in this area, Abby. But we probably shouldn’t leave anything to chance.” Justin paused, and she feared what might come next.

  Did he want to wait? Or call the whole thing off? As panic loomed, he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “I’d better perform a full inspection to make sure every inch of you is humming like a well-oiled machine. Maybe even run through the process two or three times. We wouldn’t want to overlook anything.”

  Abby nearly swallowed her tongue as a fire lit up her spine. Any dormant areas were certainly engaged now.

  “Right.” She nodded, struggling to form a coherent s
entence. “Two or three times.” Did she really need to clean the house? Maybe they should skip the pizza and head home now.

  His wicked grin nearly melted her panties right there on the sidewalk. “Feeling better now?” he purred.

  Feeling everything now, she nearly moaned. Instead, she stuttered, “Uh-huh. Yeah. All better.”

  Planting a hot, brain-numbing kiss on her lips, Justin pulled her hard against him, revealing that Abby wasn’t the only one affected by their conversation. A faint hint of sense squeaked through, reminding her where they were.

  She broke the kiss but didn’t pull away. “We’re putting on a show for the natives,” she panted, oxygen a thin commodity in that moment. “I’m all for no secrets, but I’d rather not be front-page news, either.”

  Placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, he loosened his grip to put a breath of air between them. “Seven o’clock can’t come soon enough,” he growled.

  Abby couldn’t agree more, but in light of his erotic promise, presenting him with a woman worth worshiping took on greater urgency.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Justin offered, setting them in motion once again, hands firmly clasped.

  Virgil’s flag whipped in the wind as if sending Abby a signal. A signal she picked up on right away.

  “Why don’t you go ahead. I have a quick stop to make before heading home.”

  “All right then.” A few steps away, he spun to walk backward. “Should I bring something to drink?”

  She shook her head. “I still have that second bottle of wine.”

  Justin gave a thumbs-up, turning back around in time to dodge Mrs. Abernathy, who ordered him to watch where he was going. Preferring not to answer for her parking sins quite yet, Abby bolted into the boutique, nearly plowing into the front rack.

  “Hey there, Miss Abigail,” greeted the proprietor from three racks away. “I wondered when you were going to grace us with a visit. How can I help you?”

  Virgil Lexington had lived in Ardent Springs his whole life, except for the two years he spent in Vegas, where he’d allegedly lived with a famous singer of an earlier generation, one who preferred that people like Virgil stay firmly in the closet. Once the love of his life had made his grand exit, presumably through the pearly gates, Virgil returned to his hometown, more determined than ever to be his authentic self.

  Personally, Abby loved him for it, and after twenty years of dressing nearly every female in town, so did pretty much everyone else. There would always be dissenting voices regarding Virgil’s lifestyle. He shaved his legs, snapped his fingers (though who didn’t?), and knew how to flatter any figure that walked through his door. Thankfully, the supporters far outnumbered the nonsupporters, and so their little town lumbered its way toward progress.

  “You can start by telling me this dress comes in my size,” she said, running a hand along the wine-colored number she’d nearly taken down with her entrance. Other than the rich burgundy color, Abby couldn’t say why the dress spoke to her, but it practically screamed her name.

  Abandoning his task, Virgil joined her. “Ah, good choice. What’s the occasion?”

  Abby toyed with the slender collar. “Prepare yourself for a shock, Virgil, but I have a date.”

  “About damn time,” he muttered. “Where is this intelligent man taking you? We might need to find you something a little fancier.”

  Time to confess her hussy ways. “Actually, he’s bringing pizza to my house,” she confided, catching the store owner’s knowing smirk. Unlike some people in this town, Virgil could keep a confidence. “I’m looking for sexy but casual. Something that’ll make him lose his breath, but nothing too slinky.”

  “Then this is your winner, honey. Shirt dresses never go out of style, and this length will show off those gorgeous legs of yours.” Virgil whipped through the five garments available. “Here it is. A size eight. Let’s get you into a fitting room.”

  Normally Abby picked out her clothes with little thought and never tried anything on. Which was probably why she returned more pieces than she kept. Tonight she needed to step up her game, and she obediently followed the well-dressed man to the curtained stalls along the left side wall.

  “How do you know I have gorgeous legs?” she asked. Other than a simple number for Lorelei’s wedding the previous fall, which had draped to her ankles, Abby hadn’t worn a dress in ages.

  “You’ve spent how many years as a nurse?” he asked, opening the curtain of the largest dressing room.

  “Ten years,” she answered, not sure what her occupation had to do with anything.

  “And how often do nurses get to sit down?”

  Abby snorted. “They don’t.”

  Virgil shuffled her into the elegantly decorated stall. “Exactly. Now shimmy into this beauty and call me when you’re ready.”

  The curtain whizzed shut and Abby found herself staring at her reflection in a three-way mirror. Remembering the time crunch, she did as Virgil ordered, slipping off her shoes first, and then the jeans and sweatshirt. Seconds later she looked up to find a stranger staring back.

  “Are you decent, honey?”

  “I’m something,” Abby replied, floating in an out-of-body experience. The tiny cap sleeves accentuated her toned arms, while the hem, which stopped mid-thigh, proved the fashion expert correct. She did have gorgeous legs.

  “I’m dying out here,” Virgil whined. “Let me see.”

  Abby whisked the curtain open and chewed her lip, waiting for the professional’s approval.

  “My word,” he said, holding his palms against the perfect five o’clock shadow that was his trademark. “Forget about losing his breath. Your man is going to hit his knees.”

  A husky laugh burst from her chest. “I wouldn’t mind that reaction, either,” she said, spinning to see herself from all sides.

  “And there’s an obvious bonus with this one,” Virgil whispered, peering over her shoulder. Without warning, he reached around and unfastened the top three buttons to reveal a rather provocative amount of cleavage. “Buttons mean easy on, and easy off.”

  Modesty tested, Abby assessed Virgil’s alterations. Though she wouldn’t be caught dead looking like this in public, for this very private evening, she heartily approved. “You are officially my fairy godfather, Mr. Lexington. I’ll take it.”

  Justin exited Main Street Pizzeria with a pizza in one hand, his cell in the other. He’d spent the last two hours primping, as his former fiancée often called it. Victoria had complained regularly that he was too high maintenance, but Justin preferred the term methodical. Nothing wrong with looking good, and when preparing for a night with the one woman he thought he’d never have, a man needed to look and feel his best.

  In reality, her reminder of the two-year hiatus elicited a nervous reaction Justin hadn’t anticipated. Sex had always been a mutual pleasure shared with a willing partner. Something to enjoy but nothing that altered his life in any way. Tonight would be different. Abby deserved perfection, and he would settle for nothing less. The promise of two or three times had not been an empty bluff, the proof of which resided on his passenger seat in a Puckett’s Pharmacy bag—one brand-new box of condoms.

  He’d timed the drive down to the minute, pulling into Abby’s drive at exactly six fifty-nine. Justin liked to be precise. Ironic considering he’d lost his job in Chicago due to a lack of due diligence. Upon reaching her front door, he gave his breath a quick smell check—because this night had apparently set him back a good decade in maturity—before ringing the doorbell.

  The moment Abby opened the door, wrapped in a thin sheath the color of mulberry wine, Justin forgot how to breathe. The pizza nearly slipped from his fingertips as the instinct to reach out and touch nearly overruled all other thoughts. Several buttons at the top had been left undone, revealing enough skin to make his knees weak, while the one left open at the bottom exposed enough of her milky thighs to shut down his nervous system.

  “Hi there,” she said, a shy
smile accentuating her full lower lip.

  Since talking required breathing, he filled his struggling lungs to mutter, “You look gorgeous.”

  Pink peppered her cheeks. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

  Glancing down as if he’d forgotten what he’d worn, he met her eye again with a shaky stutter. “Not as good as you, but I did my best.”

  Abby shook her head as a husky laugh escaped her glossy lips. “Do you want to come in or should we stand here arguing over who’s better looking?”

  “In,” he answered. “Definitely in.” By the time she closed the door behind him, Justin had unloaded the pizza onto the foyer table to free up his hands. “Let me try that greeting again,” he growled, hauling her against him and taking her mouth in one swift movement.

  With a startled yip, she molded to his body with every curve as her arms slid up to clinch around his neck. Her mouth was hot and tasted of mint and something sweet. Something heady and intoxicating. Justin wanted more. He wanted to give her more. Taking one step forward, he gripped her bottom and pressed her back to the wall. She arched into him, as frantic as he was to taste and touch and please.

  Running on instinct, he broke the kiss and lifted her higher until he could lick the alabaster skin between her breasts. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he mumbled, breathing in her scent. “And you smell damn good, too.”

  “Sweet peas,” she breathed. “I hoped you’d like it.”

  “I like everything about you, Abby.” Letting her feet slide to the floor, he forced himself to slow down. She deserved better than a quick toss against a wall. “Are you hungry?” he asked, still holding her hips.

  Flattening her palms against his chest, she held his gaze, her eyes darkening to the color of damp moss. “Not for pizza,” she whispered. “I’ve waited two years, Justin. I don’t want to wait anymore.” Without another word, she led him through the living room and down the hall. As she pulled him into her bedroom, his body tensed, his erection almost painful against his zipper. “Have a seat,” she said, pressing him down onto the teal comforter.