“Yeah, I guess I do.”
They stood in her small kitchen, bodies still entwined as they stared at each other. Liza wanted more than anything to ask him to stay. But it’d been a long night. And she liked the anticipation of seeing him in a few hours, when she was totally sober and refreshed from sleep. Maybe freed of the awkwardness and fear she felt from settling into a new life.
This time, when he stepped away from her, she didn’t protest.
“I’ll be by around ten,” he said.
“Perfect.”
He continued to gaze at her a few moments more, as though committing her face to memory. Then he grinned again, his eyes dancing in the soft light. “I’ll see you a little later.”
“Thanks for the ride,” she said with a smile.
“Anytime.” He turned and walked toward the front door. Before passing through it, he shot her a look over one very broad shoulder and winked at her again. “Lock this behind me. Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
“Right back at ya, cowboy.”
When the door closed, Liza reached for the counter to steady herself as a long breath escaped her body. It took a few minutes to get her bearings. Then she wiped up the water she’d spilled on the floor before setting the deadbolt on the front door. Afterward, she entered the bedroom and changed into a short satin nightgown.
As she settled into the comfy bed with the crisp white sheets and the velvety, crimson-colored duvet, she thought about the Devil. She closed her eyes, glad to be spending her first night in Wilder in a place she could call her own. Not surprisingly, Jack’s gleaming white teeth and obnoxiously tempting dimple flashed in her mind.
She smiled as she thought of him while counting the hours before the sun would rise and she’d see him again.
Maybe this was more than she could handle, more than she’d bargained for. Who knew? She sure as hell wasn’t looking to get played again. But she had to admit, the things Jack Wade did to her body were exactly what she needed.
Question was, could the new Liza Brooks keep her heart out of the sexy equation?
Chapter Four
“Why the hell wouldn’t you run for City Council?” George Mills demanded.
“Because I don’t need any more complications in my life?” Jack countered as he cleared away remnants of the evening’s Texas Hold ‘Em tournament he’d hosted in the back room of his saloon. A strictly invitation-only event he organized once or twice a month on the sly. Otherwise, Reverend Bain and his most staunch followers would be outside Jack’s door setting up a picket line.
“But I thought the reason you hired Josh to manage the bar was to free up some time so you could campaign,” George said. He collected an empty pitcher of beer and five mugs and deposited them on a round tray set up in the corner.
“I hired Josh so I could work on the expansion project for the saloon. But the recent changes in town are having a negative impact on my bottom line, so that idea is now shot to shit.”
“Precisely why you need to take my suggestion more seriously. You could help to change the town back, Jack.”
The recent curfews and the ban on alcohol sales on Sundays was, of course, a source of contention with Jack. Not just as a saloon owner, but as a man who enjoyed a few shots with a good buddy at the end of a long week. Or a glass of fine wine with the Sunday night special at Pietro’s in town.
“You’re going to have to make your decision soon to get on the ballot,” George told him. “And I’ll manage the campaign.”
“You’re wildly optimistic, my friend.” His large hand swept across the green felt covering the poker table, pushing discarded peanut shells into a bowl.
“There are a lot of people who will stand by your side. And, to your extreme advantage, you’re good friends with Mayor Grant. “
Ah yes.
“Kindred sinners, we are,” Jack said.
In fact, the mayor of Wilder had put in an appearance at tonight’s game. Not the first time he’d accepted Jack’s invitation. Grant was no hypocrite, didn’t mind the townsfolk knowing he liked his Scotch neat and his thoroughbreds to be of the winning variety. Unfortunately, his backbone wasn’t as stiff as others in this town and that made him too malleable when it came to squaring off against the saints.
The reason they kept him in office.
“With the mayor in your back pocket—”
“Mayor’s not in my back pocket, George.” Jack was quick to add. “He covets his cozy position in this town, make no mistake about that. Makin’ waves isn’t up his alley.”