But the back…

Fuck.

There was no back.

It bared her from shoulders to the top of her ass.

Jesus.

Her hair was up again, this time in curls arranged in a bun at the side of her neck. All Josie, it was elegant. But, unlike Josie, it also was almost playful.

And fucking hot.

Even as much as he liked her hair, he’d prefer to see it as it was in that picture he had of her.

Down.

But not blowing in the breeze.

Spread on his pillow.

And he liked that dress a fuckuva lot but he’d like it more on the floor by his bed.

From top to toe, she was the shit. Maybe especially her toes seeing as their nails were painted fuck-me red and they were exposed in shoes that were a mess of very thin, dark silver straps. So many straps, the fuckers had to be zipped up the back.

And the heel was tall and lethal.

He had no fucking clue how she could walk on those things.

But she did, gracefully this time, no tripping. He watched her do it and he watched her grab her coat from a chair in the hall. This finally spurred him to move.

Which he did, right to her, taking the coat from her.

“Got this, Slick,” he muttered, shaking it out and rounding her to hold it up for her to put on.

Her face appeared startled when she looked over her bared shoulder at him but he looked away from her face, and her bare shoulder, then he couldn’t find anywhere to look because all of it was too good.

Finally, she stuck her arm through the hole, he got her other one in and he settled the shiny silver coat on her shoulders, covering her.

Thank fuck.

He had no idea how he was going to have dinner with her wearing that dress without dragging her to his truck then taking her back to Lavender House and probably fucking her on the floor of the foyer.

Then again, when she’d walked on her classy high-heeled boots, wearing her classy shades, that scarf blowing in the wind yesterday, he’d thought the same thing and he’d managed it.

He’d do it again.

Somehow.

She grabbed her purse and turned to him.

“Ready,” she said softly, her sweet voice as it always was, from the very beginning, cultured but melodic.

“Right,” he muttered and grabbed her hand, moving them to the door. “House locked down?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Great.” He was still muttering as he moved her out the door.

He stopped her, released her hand, dug in his pocket for the keys and used his own to lock the door behind them.

Then he grabbed her hand again and walked her to the truck.

“You look nice,” she noted.

“Thanks,” he replied, distracted, thinking about her ass in his truck. More to the point, thinking about reclining his seat and dragging her ass over to his side and what he’d do with it when he got her there.

On this thought, a thought that wasn’t helping him keep his cock from getting hard, he opened her door for her as she asked, “Where are we going?”

“The Eaves,” he answered, pulling gently at her to maneuver her in his truck.

But she’d stopped dead so he looked at her.

“That’s very expensive, Jake,” she whispered.

“Babe, you’re you,” he replied. “And you’re you in that dress. Where the fuck else would I take you?”

He saw her draw in a soft breath, and that was sexy as fuck too, making him wonder how he could make her do that with his hands, or his mouth, before she luckily took him from this train of thought and pointed out, “You took me to The Shack yesterday morning.”

“And gave you the best omelet in the county.”

“This is probably correct,” she murmured as if to herself, her doing this reminding him she could be cute, which finally made him grin.

“It’s definitely correct. Now get your ass in the truck.”

She looked into the truck and hesitated a second before she put her fucking fantastic shoe on the running board and he put his hands to her waist to heft her up.

He got her ass in the seat and she looked at him. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure I could get up on my own.”

“Well, you’re there, Slick,” he noted.

She opened her mouth to say something but he stepped out of the door, ordering, “Buckle up,” before he slammed it.

He moved around the hood, hauled his ass in at the other side, buckled in and started her up.

He sent them down the lane and did it deciding to get the tough stuff done first.

“I’ll be over tomorrow, first just me to box up Lydie’s stuff, and then some guys are comin’ over. I’ll be around about ten. They’ll be around at eleven. You gotta know what you want done with the den by then, babe. I’ve got a place to store Lydie’s furniture. You want it sold, I’ll get Con on putting it on Craig’s List. You got a use for it and decide you want it back, just let me know.”

“All right, Jake,” she whispered.

“That’s done,” he replied. “But just sayin’, the boys are over hauling furniture around, you’re gonna have to feed them. You don’t have to go whole hog. Pizza is good.”

“All right,” she said, louder this time. “And thank you. I don’t know what to say about all you’re—”

He gentled his voice when he cut her off with, “You don’t have to say anything, Josie.”

He heard her sigh and pointed the truck toward town.

“If you like, the kids can come over,” she offered. “The Fletchers are coming for dinner tomorrow night but I can make enough for all of you.”

“Not sure Reverend Fletcher wants to break bread with the owner of the local strip club,” he replied.

“Oh,” she whispered, then again louder, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We’ll come over Monday night. Con’s off work and Ethan’s been talkin’ your meatloaf up. Con’s feelin’ left out.”

“I would enjoy meeting your eldest child but I can’t do Monday night. Maybe we can do Tuesday?”

“Can’t do Tuesday. Con’s workin’,” he told her. “What do you have on Monday night?”

“I’m having a drink with Boston Stone at the Club.”

His chest seized and his hand tightened on the steering wheel as his lips forced out, “Come again?”

“I know,” she stated even though he didn’t know until she gave it to him, “It’s irritating.”

He looked her way and saw she also looked irritated. Then again, as polished as she was, Josie still tended to let it all hang out.

He looked back to the road and asked, “He on you about selling the house?”

“He’s told me he’s given up on the house,” she shared. “He wants to”—a pause then, with frustrated emphasis—“get to know me.”

Jesus. Shit.

“He’s makin’ a play when your Gran just died?”

“Yes, and he isn’t easy to put off. So I’ll put him off face to face.”

No, she wouldn’t.

Jake would put him off.

Therefore, he declared, “I’ll deal with it.”

He felt her eyes on him. “Pardon?”

“I’ll deal with it,” he repeated.

“How?”

“Don’t worry about how. Just know it’ll be done and me and the kids’ll be over Monday night.”

“I…” Another pause then, “Maybe I should phone him and be clearer about how I feel about not wishing to get to know him.”

“Babe, what’d I say?”

“What did you say?”

“Yes, what’d I say?”

“I don’t—”

“I’ll deal with it.”

She fell silent.

He simmered.

Boston Stone, fucking dick.

Jake barely knew him but from this shit, he knew he was a fucking dick.

That said, the man was perfect for her. All his money, his class, his power. It wasn’t surprising Josie caught his eye. He had the money to get the best of everything and he was the kind of guy who had it in him to know exactly what the best was. And he didn’t have to know the guy to know he frequently indulged in both, what with the asshole lording his shit all over town.

She decided to change the subject and he knew this when she asked, “What are the children doing tonight?”

“Amber, pouting because she had a date with Noah that she had to break because she’s grounded. She also has no access to the phone so that means she can’t call his ass and talk with him in her bedroom for hours like she normally does. Ethan’s probably eating a shitload of crap so he’ll have a stomachache that’ll wake him up at about two in the morning, which means my ass will be up at two o’clock in the morning. And Con’s always got his old man’s back. In order to look after Ethan and make sure Amber doesn’t do anything that’ll get her into more trouble, one of his girls is comin’ over rather than him takin’ her out.”