23. Your Signal Lamp Is Rusty

Chapter 23

Your Signal Lamp Is Rusty

The conversation drifted into lighter topics, like how Joy had wound up in Chicago as an M&A broker, Charlie's and his brothers' antics growing up, and attractions in Colorado's state and national parks. Subjects that were non-threatening yet captured her interest and kept her mind from sinking into a beer-laden haze. As the dialog flowed easier between them, laughter followed. She couldn't remember laughing so much with one person before, and she savored the exhilarating rush of endorphins throughout her body.

They had just ended a conversation about his dogs when a couple stumbled from the Silver Lode and started making out against the building. They were all hands and limbs and mouths, and Joy felt another pang of envy. She also felt awkwardness creep over her. Mercifully, the pair stumbled into the shadows and were swallowed up.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Looks like someone's having fun in this nothing town. "

She slid her hands out from under her butt, propped her elbow on the arm rest, and rested her cheek in her palm. "I had fun. I'll give you that it's not much of a town, but I enjoyed watching the people at the bar. For me, the icing on the cake was dancing and getting to watch you play and strut your stuff on stage. It was a good time." Even the secondhand clothes made her feel more festive.

"Yeah?"

"I know. It surprises me too. Lots of surprises tonight." She grinned at him. "So what do we do now?"

"We wait until you're a hundred percent sober or you decide to let me drive. How about some water?"

"I'd rather have a beer."

"I thought you were strictly a wine girl."

"I thought so too, but the heat, the dancing … Beer was the way to go." She slapped her knee and giggled. His eyes moved to her thighs, and she tugged at the too-short denim skirt. Those eyes traveled back up her torso very, very slowly. Flames ignited beneath her skin everywhere they landed.

One corner of his mouth curled, and she expected that easy grin to sprout. Instead, he crooked his finger. "Come here. I want to try a little experiment."

Holding her eagerness in check, she straightened and scooted over an inch.

He crooked it again. "Closer."

Another inch.

"Closer."

She was practically nose to nose with him. Then the grin did sprout. "That's better." He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb pad, making her skin sizzle. His touch was rough and gentle at the same time, and the promise it held sent chills chattering along her spine.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "W-what's the experiment?"

"This." He cradled her cheek and brought her mouth to his. Her pulse went into overdrive. A moment of hesitation passed before he pressed his lips to hers.

Countless sensations rushed over her, through her, all at once. The feel of his warm lips on hers, firm yet soft. His stubble softly scratching her chin, making it tingle. The smell of warm sandalwood drifting off his skin. His tongue prodding, licking into her mouth, cautious at first, then growing hot and hungry. Exploring with confident, claiming strokes. The taste of him, a vague yeastiness of beer and an underlying, rich sweetness that was all him.

His arms snaked around her, pulling her closer, even as she melted into him. She shamelessly moaned into his mouth, surrendering to him.

Soon their tongues were tangling, their teeth scraping, breaths coming in uneven pants. She glided her hands up his shoulders, mapping sinew and hard, masculine planes that made her core pulse with excitement. He felt wonderful!

Urges welled inside of her, sparking desire throughout her body. She began undoing the top buttons of his shirt, craving the feel of his skin under her hands. Finally, she had enough room to maneuver, and she slid her hands under his collar, over his shoulders, digging her fingertips into his upper back. His skin blazed, smooth and taut over sculpted muscle. She wanted her mouth on it.

His kisses grew more ravenous, delving deeper, taking long pulls from her mouth. She had no idea if this was one long kiss or hundreds. She'd lost track, didn't care, adrift in the sensation of his demanding mouth claiming hers, his hands splaying across her back, drawing her in until her breasts were squashed against the rock wall of his chest.

This was no laid-back golden retriever who had hold of her. This was a voracious wolf.

That wolf was the one who broke the kiss, and when they inched apart, their ragged breaths matched one another's.

"Okay. Well, that didn't work," he gasped.

She floated in a lust-filled fog, and as his words sank in, her naughty bubbles popped, sinking the anticipation of sexy times to her knees. "What didn't work?"

God, was she so undesirable? That bad at kissing?

He laid his arm along the back of the seat but otherwise didn't move. The points of contact between their bodies throbbed with heat. "I was hoping that would be different."

"How?" She fought down the panic inserting itself into her voice.

"Not so mind-blowing."

"And? "

"It took every ounce of willpower, and then some, to stop kissing you. Does that answer your question?"

Her spirit lifted and shook off the rejection-that-wasn't-rejection debris. "Then why did you?" Confusion left her in a daze. Or was it the beer? Or the hotness that was him?

He let out a long-suffering sigh and dragged a hand over his jaw—a hand she wanted imprinting itself on her body again and a jaw she wanted to lick from chin to ear. "Because we're in the back seat of a car in a bar parking lot, and you deserve better. Because you've had too much to drink, and I won't be that guy."

She pulled her hands from under his shirt and fisted his collar, her eyes mining his. A modicum of pride and common sense stopped her from begging him to be that guy and take her.

His hand moved to her shoulder, where his fingers wound themselves in her hair. She closed her eyes for a beat and relished his touch.

Feels so good.

She lifted her lids. "I appreciate the chivalry, but shouldn't I be the one to decide what I do and don't deserve?" Okay. Now she was begging. So undignified. But dignity wasn't going to warm her bed. "Let me ask you this: Are you attracted to me or not?"

Raw hunger glinted in his eyes, and his mouth curved suggestively. "You have no idea."

"Oh." Her insides fizzed and her core throbbed while her emotions went into jack-rabbit mode. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Right now it's a bad thing because there's nothing I can do about it. And sitting in this cramped back seat has things bending that aren't supposed to bend."

She couldn't contain her giggles. "S-sorry. I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you."

"Except I'm not laughing."

She pointed at his front pocket. "Do you still have the key?"

He nodded.

"Then I guess you're driving after all."

For not showing much interest in performance vehicles, Charlie maneuvered the M3 expertly around the twisty turns that took them back to Fall River. Whenever Joy stole glances at him, he was quiet, intense. A man on a mission. She hoped that mission was her. Then again, maybe he was a man trying not to throw up or do anything that would damage the rental car. Either way, she was grateful he was behind the wheel on this dizzying road. The fact that she had turned control over to him was … quite unusual.

As they crested the ridge that surrounded Fall River, its twinkling lights came into view. The town was laid out in a neat little grid, with Bowen Street at its center, the brightest line of the entire town. A gleaming jewel. That's what it reminded her of.

They rolled into town at a crawl. Not a creature stirred on either side of Bowen Street. It was a haunting sight, with moonlight bouncing off darkened shop windows. A look at the dashboard clock told her it wasn't quite midnight. She knew the town buttoned up early, but this early? No late-night disco dancing for this crowd, obviously. Even the Miners Tavern was shuttered, and its loft apartment windows were dark . Hopefully, Hailey was sound asleep … or engaging in something altogether more vigorous … in Noah's arms.

"Where do people go around here if they're not ready to turn in at nine o'clock?" she mused aloud.

Charlie shot her a sidelong glance that bordered on perturbed. She had to remember not to insult his town. "I mean, someplace where they can dance and kick up their heels or enjoy a nightcap?" she quickly added. Not that she was a kicker-upper of heels or a nightcap indulger.

"Silver Summit is the closest. It's about ten miles away, in the other direction. They have a bar that stays open late. People having fun will turn anything into an impromptu dance floor, but there's no dedicated space. Beyond that, the locals have parties that can get rowdy on occasion, but those are private invite-only." He turned his head toward her when they hit a rare patch of straight highway. "Why? You still looking to shake your booty tonight, princess?" One side of his mouth pulled up in that sexy smile that had been growing on her for days now.

"No, I had my fill of ‘booty shaking' at the Silver Lode, thank you very much." And on a scale of one to ten, dancing with Charlie Hunnicutt had been an eleven. Not that she was going to share this rating with him—the man's ego had to be pretty puffed up already with all the attention he'd received from his adoring fans. "I was just curious, trying to get a feel for the area." For reasons that escaped her at the moment.

He didn't question her motivation. Simply slid the car into a spot beside a silver Mercedes in front of the shop, killed the engine, and handed her the key fob.

She blinked at the device in her open palm. "Don't you want me to drive you home?"

"No, I really don't." His expression remained neutral.

"What about your dogs?"

"My dogs don't want you to drive me home either."

A giggle escaped her. "Don't you need to feed them? Let them out?"

"They should be fine."

"What if you, um, stay out really late? What do you do then?" Awkward much, Joy?

"If I'm in a jam, I text Neve."

An unfamiliar spike of jealousy reared its ugly head. "Neve," Joy said flatly.

"Yeah, Neve. My friend, your friend. The vet. She and I trade back and forth."

"What the hell else do you trade?" she blurted. She flinched inside at her ill-timed and ill-worded question and quickly added, "Not that it's any of my business."

"No, it's not. But for your information, it's not what you and the rest of the town think. We're just good friends. Period. Now are we done here? Can we get out of the car?"

"Oh, of course. Are you angling to … to come in?" she stammered. Please say yes. God, she was out of practice at this game.

He sighed. "Back at the Silver Lode, when we …" He signaled between them with two fingers. "I thought there was chemistry happening, but I'm getting a distinct vibe you'd like me to go, so I'm guessing I read the signals wrong. It won't be the first time I misinterpreted what a woman has on her mind." He shrugged. "Just tell me to go. I won't be mad. I won't be offended. I'm not trying to pressure you in any way. In fact, what I'm ‘angling for' is probably a colossally bad idea." He opened the door and clambered out of the driver's seat.

She quickly followed. "I'm sober now."

He turned, rested his forearms on the car's roof, and gave her that devil's smile. "That's nice. Now you can drive anywhere you want." He nodded toward her hand. "You've got the key."

"That's not what I meant!"

He canted his head. "Then what did you mean, princess? English, please."

Embarrassment fueled her temper. "God, sometimes you're such a … such a …"

"Handsome devil? Smooth talker? Great dancer? Spit it out. I'm currently accepting all compliments."

She sputtered a laugh.

Now he cupped his ear. "That's it? You're not exactly boosting my ego."

She cocked a hip and propped her fist on it. "I think your ego's boosted about as much as any man's can be."

He shook his head. "Nothing could be further from the truth."

"What did you mean by what you had in mind was a ‘colossally bad idea'?"

He flicked a finger toward the back of the shop. "I'll just walk on home. It's only a few blocks. The night air will do me good." His reply didn't answer her question.

She huffed out a frustrated breath. "You're confusing me. I can't read your signals."

"Welcome to the club, princess." He slid his arms off the car and tucked his hands in his front pockets. He stood as if waiting, his eyes never leaving hers.

Clarity struck, and she realized she'd thrown off all the wrong signals—the ones that mirrored a stop sign. Maybe she wasn't as sober as she thought she was. She was so bad at this! No wonder he was confused. The last thing she wanted him to do was leave. At least not until she'd spent a few hours exploring his body in her bed. So why couldn't she just come out and say that? Because she didn't want to sound desperate, or worse, like she was one of his many "fans."

Rounding the hood, she stood so close to him the heat radiating from his body caressed hers. She placed her hand on his arm. "Don't go. I'm doing a poor job of letting you know what I want, but I'd like for you to come in." Heat rushed to her cheeks. "I'd like for us to pick up where we left off in the parking lot, if … if you're willing."

A brilliant smile lifted his cheeks. "So would I." He motioned toward the shop. "Lead the way."

Her belly tickled as she executed her best sashay up the walkway, and she battled to rein in the sensation. She took a mental inventory of her underwear. Her outer clothes might have been from a secondhand store, but her panties and bra set were expensive, provocative, and all hers. No hand-me-downs touched the skin beneath her ruffly blouse and denim skirt.

And she couldn't wait for it all to come off.