A Little Bit of Sugar (Snowed In & Snuggled Up #1) Page 4

  Not challenging. Not arrogant and sexy and flirty and so damned good looking she could hardly think.

  She glanced at the door. It seemed so far away. Flushing, she stood her ground.

  “I have no desire to pick up where we left off, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know you’re some big deal now, but I’m just not interested.”

  His brows went up again, and a grin tugged at his lips. Madison narrowed her eyes. That grin had the power to seduce a girl right out of her senses. It had worked on her many times in the past. In. The. Past. Not anymore.

  “I’m a big deal now?” JT said.

  She waved a hand in the air. He knew what he was. He’d written two bestsellers—SuSTAYnable Earth and Where Do We Live When Here is Gone? He’d been on the Today Show and Good Morning America. So, yah. Big deal.

  “I didn’t think we’d pick up where we left off, Madison. I thought maybe we could catch up, though.”

  She shook her head. “Our paths parted a long time ago. We went in opposite directions. There’s no catching up from that.”

  “Wow. That almost sounds like a challenge.”

  Damn it. Had it?

  “It shouldn’t. It should sound like, thanks but no thanks. And goodbye.”

  “To me, it just sounds like you’re afraid.”

  “Of you?” she scoffed.

  “Maybe of whatever is between us starting up again.”

  “I’m not afraid of impossibilities,” she said coolly.

  Mentally, she tallied a point on her side of the score board. That zinger had been a good one.

  “Now that really sounds like a challenge.”

  “Call it whatever you want, JT.”

  He smiled a slow smile. One that made her heart do strange, acrobatic things. Things hearts should never do.

  “Then have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

  It wasn’t a question, but it fell short of a command. Still, some psycho, masochist inside her perked up and said, YES. She squashed it.

  “Did you not hear a word I just said? I’m here to say goodbye, not make plans to see you later.”

  “Yeah. Impressive driving all the way up here in the snow to deliver a message that would have been just as effective if you’d simply ignored me.”

  “Cowards play those games. I’m not a coward.”

  “No, indeed, you are not.”

  She cocked her head. Why had that sounded so suggestive? The statement strummed already over alert nerve endings.

  She frowned at him to discourage more of such tactics. “I wanted to do it the right way this time, since you didn’t give me a chance to do it at all before.”

  “It?”

  “Goodbye, JT.”

  That one struck blood. He took a drink from his glass and nodded. But her fleeting moment of triumph ended when he set his glass down and took a step closer. Madison took a hasty step back, but Moof was laying right behind her and she couldn’t go far. Sidestepping would look far too weak and desperate to escape.

  Which she was.

  “Come on, Madison. Why not say goodbye after dinner. With wine. Make it more formal.”

  “That ship has sailed, JT. Sorry.”

  She sounded composed. Certain. Pretty much the opposite of how she felt.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  His lips were at eye level. Full, masculine. She remembered how they felt on hers. He was close enough to touch, to smell that wonderful scent that was all JT. Gently—lord, so gently—he tipped her face up so she had no choice but to look into his beautiful eyes.

  “It’s gotta come back to port sometime, sweetheart.”

  “What does?”

  “That ship you’re sailing.” He leaned closer. She was pretty sure she had, too. “It’s just dinner, Madison. In a public place. I promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  That wasn’t the promise she wanted, though. And that was the problem.

  “Why?” she demanded. “Why this sudden urge to wine and dine me?”

  “Since when do two people need a reason to share a meal?”

  “Since they were us. Why’d you drive away yesterday instead of coming in to say, hi?” she asked. “Since we’re such good buds and all.”

  Her frowned, not liking that question. Or maybe it was what his answer would reveal.

  “I was worried you might have weapons in your store,” he said softly.

  He hadn’t moved away. Heat prickled down her spin, up her neck, tingling it’s way between her breasts and over her nipples.

  His smile widened. “Are you going to have dinner with me or not, Madison?”

  No. Absolutely not.

  “No.”

  “Because you’re afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “That you can’t resist me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I can resist you just fine.”

  “Then prove it. This may be your only chance to do it.”

  She frowned, hating those words. And hating what they did to her insides. Her only chance . . . . Did she really want to say no to that?

  “When?” she hedged.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Where?”

  “Venti’s? I’ve been craving his lasagna for about a year.”

  “And that’s it? That’s all you want? A plate of lasagna in my company and then we can say goodbye?”

  “Well, if you’re still talking to me, we could hit Codiacs, first.”

  Codiacs was the closest thing to a hip nightspot that Plymouth Rock had to offer. There was Waylons if you wanted a hand of cards and cigar smoke, but Codiacs was owned by JT’s old football buddy, Cody McDonald, and on most nights it had a passable crowd. At least until 8 p.m. when they rolled up all the streets in town.

  Madison’s pulse raced like she’d just run up Avalanche Road instead of driving. Her palms felt damp and her mouth dry. What was she doing even thinking of saying yes?

  “Are you going to pick me up?” she asked.

  “I’ll come to the door and everything,” he coaxed.

  Red flags snapped in her head. JT in coaxing mode was a dangerous thing. She knew that from experience.

  No.

  It was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t say it. She didn’t think she could, even if she tried. Which obviously, she wasn’t doing.

  “What have you got to lose, Madison? Afraid you haven’t moved on quite as far as you think?”

  The bastard.

  “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “I’m a little surprised myself.”

  “Okay,” she said before she could change her mind. “I’ll go out with you tomorrow night. Just for dinner—no drinks after. You can say what you have to say. I can say what I have to say . . . and when we’re finished, we’re finished.”

  “Sounds like a great time.”

  She narrowed her eyes again. “You asked the wrong girl if you’re looking for that.”

  He laughed and his hands cupped the back of her head, fingers against her skull, pads soft and somehow comforting there. He stared at her, his eyes so blue they put summer skies to shame, and she found herself falling into them . . . back in time and painfully in the moment, all at once.

  “I’d forgotten,” he said softly.

  Funny, she hadn’t forgotten anything. And Lord, how she’d tried.

  “What did you forget?”

  “All that big feisty spirit, packed into such a small, beautiful package.”

  And now he was going to kiss her and if she let him do that, who knew if she’d have the will to stop him—stop herself— from going further? Because she wanted his kiss more than she wanted her next breath.

  And that realization saved her.

  “Come on, Moof,” she said, her voice deep and husky. Turned on.

  Instantly, Moof scrambled to his feet, as she’d known he would. Path cleared, she stepped back. One step led to another and JT’s hands dropped to his sides. She bit back her moan of disappo
intment.

  “What time tomorrow night?” she asked, like she wasn’t coming undone. She took her cup to the kitchen and set it on the counter.

  When she got home, she would call his mom’s house and leave a message that she’d changed her mind. It was a coward’s way out, but she no longer cared. She couldn’t tread these dangerous waters. She’d taken the bull by the horns in coming up here and look how that had turned out. Better to run and hide than fight and lose . . . right?

  JT glanced at his watch. “Does everything still shut down at nine around here?”

  “If we’re lucky.”

  “Then how about an early dinner? I’ll be there at six?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “That works for me,” she said and headed for the front door. Moof followed obediently and JT trailed behind. He took her coat from her unresisting fingers and held it out for her to slide it on. He didn’t step away when she was done, though. Instead, his hands settled on her shoulders and his heat blazed a trailed all the way down her back.

  “For the record,” he said in her ear, “if you hadn’t shown up at my door, I would have come looking for you.”

  Startled, she looked back into those hooded eyes. He didn’t let her see deeper though. With a smile, he opened the door and icy cold air filled the entry.

  “See you tomorrow at six, Madison Lane,” he said with a flashing, flirting smile that had won her heart the first time she’d met him and broken it every day after. He brushed a quick kiss against her lips and stepped back, leaving her stunned and tingly and blushing like the school girl she’d been the last time he’d kissed her goodbye.

  Moof ran out into the banked snow, barking at the squirrels that raced up the pine trees out front.

  “See you tomorrow,” she muttered as she forced herself to walk calmly to her truck, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  The only thing she knew for sure? She was in over her head with JT Winchester. Again . . . .

  Still.

  Chapter Six

  After Madison left, JT imagined he could still smell her perfume on the air. Powder soft and made to seduce. It was the kind of scent that got in a man’s blood and drove him wild. It had been working on him for years. And no amount of pretending otherwise had alleviated its power. It had only taken a few seconds of her in his arms to kick his addiction into high gear.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. What was he thinking asking her out?

  “You’re thinking it’s high time you made things right, numb nuts,” Grandpa Win said.

  JT had been hoping he’d imagined the interlude with Gramps earlier, but now he turned and scanned the room. “Where the hell are you?” he demanded.

  Gramps chuckled, that wicked, I-got-one-up-on-you laugh JT remembered so well. As one-of-a-kind as Gramps himself.

  “You’re dead,” JT said coldly. “Get out of my head.”

  “I’m not in your head, son. I’m in your heart. Always will be.”

  Truer words had never been spoken.

  “Well, put a sock in it. I can’t hear myself think.”

  Gramps laughed again. Frowning, JT took his glass to the sink to rinse it out. A second glass with a ring of bourbon at its bottom already waited there. And when he turned? A thin veil of smoke hung in the air. He sniffed. Cherry tobacco. Gramps favorite.

  He was losing his mind. No two ways about it.

  With a determined air, he grabbed the second cup of coffee Madison had brought, hesitated, then opened the pumpkin bread and took a slice of it, too.

  As he munched—God, it was good—he eyed the box she’d brought it in. The carrier box was shaped like any other. Spaces for two cups and a bigger section for food. But this one had been decorated with leaves that covered the sides and bottom, inside and out. They came in every shape in size, from elm to aspen to oak, and their colors exploded the fall spectrum, blending gold and burnt red with brown. It was a work of art. A sticker in the bottom caught his eye. A logo of trees and mountains was surrounded with the words: Earth Friendly Gift Boxes by Madison Lane.

  Was there anything about this woman that didn’t appeal to him?

  He finished the piece of pumpkin bread and took another before grabbing his computer bag off the floor by the door where he’d dropped it when he’d arrived. He had a couple hours before he needed to shower and head down the mountain to meet up with Cody, and he needed to quit obsessing about Madison and get to work.

  Coffee at his right, he set up shop on the low table. He was late on his new book—months late and no closer to reaching The End than he’d been three weeks ago. His editor wasn’t happy about the book in general. JT had written two solid pop culture books that melded satire with serious environmental agendas that sparked controversy and—much to JT’s astonishment—actual change in environmental policy. Though he had much more to say on the matter of sustainability and conservation, instead of following the second book with a third along the same vein, JT had decided to—needed to—write about his grandfather.

  Unfortunately, the story wouldn’t gel and no amount of brainstorming, of pushing through, of writing around it, was helping. He’d hoped coming here would fix that. Maybe sitting in the same room with the ghost who played a starring role in the biography would do the trick.

  Crazier and crazier.

  But honestly, the book was only one of the reasons he was here. From the moment Hamilton had called with the offer on the cabin, JT had turned his compass north. All the years of self-imposed exile bore down on him and all he wanted was to come home.

  Not to sell the cabin—somehow he had to convince his brothers that getting rid of this place was a mistake—but to find that part of himself that had been lost since he left Plymouth Rock. Since he’d left Madison Lane.

  He’d been half convinced she’d be married by now. But he knew someone would have called him if that had happened. Small town etiquette dictated such things.

  “You’re writing about me?” Gramps asked, sitting down beside him.

  Literally. JT could feel him there, looking over his shoulder.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” JT muttered.

  The presence shifted and a warmth filled JT, calming him. Clearing his thoughts and allowing focus to seep in.

  “Quit trying to think of the words, son,” Gramps said. “Think of how they make you feel instead.”

  Feeling wasn’t exactly JT’s strong suit, but with a deep breath, he tried to do as he was told. Before he knew it, his fingers were moving over the keyboard and those dams that had clogged his thoughts for so long began to clear. All at once, he managed to get his interfering grandpa onto the page.

  Chapter Seven

  Madison woke up Monday morning in a flat-out panic. Had she learned nothing from her past? JT had been painfully blunt—He wasn’t back. And her Grand Goodbye had only proven that she wasn’t over him. Not even a little bit. Having dinner with him tonight would be just another mistake in a line of them.

  So after vacillating between yes and no all damn night, she was back to Plan A. Call his mom’s house. Leave a message. Be done with it and him.

  Wishing she could feel even a little enthusiasm for the plan, she showered and dressed, called to Moof and stepped out the front door. More snow fell from a brooding sky in thick, clinging flakes.

  “Perfect,” she told Moof.

  Happily, Moof agreed.

  It was Chris’s day to open up at Lane’s and he was already there with two cups of coffee and a big grin when she walked through the front door.

  “Dinner tonight with JT?” he said before she could even get her coat off.

  Madison stilled. “How do you know that?”

  “Everyone knows. He and Cody got stinking drunk last night and Zoe waited on them.”

  Zoe Mercer lived next door to Chris. She was always a good source of information and lived to share. Hell, Zoe might have already canvassed the town with flyers by now.

  “I’m no
t going,” she said, taking a coffee cup and heading to the back room where she had all her supplies for her custom gift boxes. “I’m cancelling.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Why do you think? No good can come of it, Chris. I went up there yesterday to tell him to take a hike. Instead, I said yes to a date. I don’t even know how it happened. But it did wake me up.”

  “He’s your kryptonite,” Chris said sagely.

  “Bingo. When I’m around him, all that comes out of my mouth is yes when I should be saying no.”

  “If you ask me you need to do that more often. When was the last time you got laid?”

  He didn’t give her time to answer

  “It was Sean Partridge wasn’t it? And he sucked in bed.”

  “It was and he did . . . but how do you know? Did you sleep with him, too?”

  “Please. You told me.”

  Oh. Right. She had. One night over a bottle of wine or three. That was the same night Christopher had confessed to having a crush on Cody McDonald—who, for the record, should have STRAIGHT tattooed to his forehead. At least, she’d thought so at the time.

  “It doesn’t matter, Chris. I’m not looking for a one night stand and even if I was, JT Winchester would be the last man I’d go to.”

  “Because you’re still not over him.”

  “Can you believe it? After all these years? How is that even possible?”

  “The heart knows what the heart knows.”

  Madison rolled her eyes at him.

  But it was true. She’d been with a normal amount of guys since JT left. Not an over-the-top number—that wasn’t her style—but enough to know that some were better than others. Better at touching, better at feeling. Better at being men.

  And no matter how hard she’d tried not to, she’d compared every one of them to JT. None had measured up.

  “Look, Madison, you’re not asking my advice, but here it is anyway. You can tell yourself it’s over until you’re hoarse. Or you can just go out with the man, and do what you want to do. The way I see it, he’s going to break your heart either way. Either you let him break it now or you draw it out and let him break it piece by piece. Your choice.”