Nobody's Fool Read online

  He opened her door and helped her out, ever the gentlemen. She wound her arm through his as they strolled up the walk. She leaned against him, allowing the side of her breast to brush his arm. She didn’t know if it had any effect on him—he didn’t seem to notice—but an excited tingle shot through her.

  At the top of the steps they faced each other. Court’s expression wasn’t really visible. The only light provided was by the carriage lamps near the steps. So what? Jolie thought. It was probably for the best that she couldn’t see him very well. Otherwise she might lose her nerve.

  She stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. Just once. She sighed. Even that brief touch tasted of coming home.

  He didn’t withdraw. She’d barely given him a chance to respond. Now she would.

  She slid her arms over his shoulders, feathered her fingers through the hair at his nape and kissed him again. His arms wrapped around her naturally, but she still wasn’t getting the response she was searching for. He seemed surprised by her forwardness, or unsure of her intent. He wasn’t making much of an attempt to kiss her back, though.

  She moved herself as close to him as she could get, her breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest. Her thighs against his. Her eyelids fluttered. No, she thought. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see.

  With her tongue she teased his lips, begging him to respond. Nothing. She was about to give up and hang her head in humiliation when he finally gave in. Like she’d woken him from a deep sleep, his arms tightened around her, he accepted the press of her body and his tongue met hers. She took it and held on. The kiss deepened and every ounce of apprehension went out of her. Her knees went weak. Her back met the closed door, blocking her escape and Court used it for leverage to get even closer.

  Once he started, he never backed away. It became one long series of hot open-mouth kisses that seemed to have no end. He buried one hand in her hair while the other stayed on the small of her back, holding her close, allowing her to feel his arousal.

  She moaned in the back of her throat. “More,” she tried to say, the sound of her voice muffled by the kiss.

  She grasped the door handle, her brain flying in so many directions she wondered how she could think of such a practicality. But here in Oak Ridge, with its prying eyes and small-town grapevine, it probably wasn’t a good idea to stand on her parents’ front porch kissing Court Harrison for all she was worth.

  “Come in,” she said, the words just as muddled as before. They managed to get inside and close the door.

  Now her back was against the wall of the small foyer. Court unbuttoned her vest. His hands covered her breasts through the satiny shirt. His thumbs teased the peaks of her nipples. A tiny cry escaped her throat.

  “More,” she said again, sounding like “Mrrrr”, but Court understood her perfectly.

  He yanked her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt. His palms explored her back and her midriff before coming up to cup her breasts once again through her bra. So close and yet… Jolie thought vaguely, her thoughts so disjointed she could hardly catch them. More little cries of pleasure escaped her, muffled by the kiss that never seemed to end.

  Court guided her away from the wall, dislodging a small, framed picture as they went. It fell with a quiet thump.

  He maneuvered her into the living room, and she felt the sofa against the backs of her legs. He turned around and lowered the both of them, so she was in his lap, or more to the point, straddling his lap.

  She giggled in heady delight, thinking at last she had Court right where she wanted him.

  “Stop laughing,” he whispered. She could only see his teeth when he smiled, like a Cheshire cat. He was intent on unbuttoning her blouse. She nibbled his earlobe, then drifted kisses along his throat, circling his collar.

  “I can’t,” she whispered back much too loudly. “I’m too happy.”

  “You’ll wake your parents,” Court warned.

  She tugged at the bottom of his sweater, lifting it halfway up. “Take this off.” Her hands found their way beneath and she caressed his abdomen and chest. She kicked her shoes off. The heel of one hit the coffee table with an audible click.

  “Mmm.” She reveled in the feel of his springy chest hair and the heat of his body against her palms.

  “Jolie.” He captured her head in his hands, which in turn had the effect of stilling her exploration of his chest.

  She looked at him, but with so many shadows in the room and so little light, it was hard to say why he’d spoken her name. Her hand had come to a stop over his chest. “Your heart’s beating really fast,” she said. She pushed his sweater higher and lowered her head to drop a kiss where her hand had just been. Then another and another.

  “Jolie.” Court shifted beneath her, and she smiled.

  “Come to bed with me,” she whispered. She kissed his lips once more.

  “No.”

  She kissed him more insistently. He shifted positions again.

  “Not here,” he managed to say. Another kiss. “Not now.”

  Court was half reclining at an awkward angle. Undeterred by his resistance, Jolie crawled atop him.

  “Right here. Right now,” she whispered back. She hiked her skirt higher, positioned herself so that hard part of him was pressing between her thighs.

  He groaned, grasped her hips with both hands to hold her still. “Jolie,” he said in the tone of a man driven to the edge with lust.

  They shifted and wiggled some more, each jockeying for position, in between kisses and caresses. Jolie giggled again as Court’s fingers inadvertently brushed a sensitive area, tickling her.

  He parted her blouse, allowed her breasts to fill his hands as she froze above him, every sense on alert. He lifted his head and suckled one nipple through the sheer fabric of her bra.

  She couldn’t stand it any longer. She wanted more. Right now. Her knee slid off the sofa cushion and she felt herself falling, sliding to the floor. Court came with her. Her elbow connected with the coffee table. “Ow!” Her hushed exclamation echoed through the house. It might as well have been a gunshot.

  Court’s bigger body did even more damage, edging the table aside, knocking over one of her mother’s precious figurines. It landed on its side with a clatter.

  Court and Jolie froze, looking at each other with horrified expressions neither could clearly see before trying to scramble up.

  Their limbs had become as hopelessly tangled as their clothing.

  A door opened and a light came on in the hall at the top of the stairs.

  “Jolie?”

  “Yes, Mom.” With the light spilling down from the stairway she could now see Court. His hair was wildly mussed and there was an amused yet apprehensive expression on his face.

  “What’s going on down there?”

  “N-nothing,” she said, her eyes still on Court. “Court and I were just, um, talking.”

  “In the dark?” Her mother sounded suspicious. The unmistakable creak of a stair followed.

  Jolie frantically gestured to Court. He yanked his sweater back into place. With fumbling fingers she began to button her blouse.

  “You don’t need to come down, Mom,” Jolie said, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. “Court was just leaving.”

  “Sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs. Kramer. I’ll be going now.”

  The creak of the stairs stopped. “All right then, you two. Good night.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Kramer.”

  “Good night, Mom.”

  As soon as they heard the door close upstairs they both burst into quiet laughter.

  “My mother catching me making out with a boy on the living room sofa. That hasn’t happened since high school.”

  “It’s never happened to me,” Court said. That killed the laughter, reminding them both of things they’d rather f
orget. “I should go.”

  He started for the door and Jolie followed. Again she had that deflated balloon feeling. Flying high one minute, crashing to the ground the next.

  “Court?” she said before he stepped through the door. He turned back to her. “I had a nice time.” It seemed so inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say.

  He reached out and brushed a wayward strand of hair back over her shoulder. “Me too.” Her mother had left the light on upstairs. Jolie thought she saw something in Court’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. Longing? Regret? Sadness?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  Then he was gone.

  Carefully Jolie righted the little figurine. Thank God it was still in one piece. She wouldn’t have welcomed explaining to her mother exactly how it got broken.

  She slowly climbed the stairs, her mind still occupied with thoughts of Court.

  He’d certainly learned a lot since those far off days when they’d practiced kissing. He was an expert now. He’d taken things agonizingly slowly, allowing the excitement between them to build, holding her at bay, giving attention to details.

  It was like being back in high school, she thought. That touchy-feely exploration kids did before they really knew what the hell they were doing. She’d almost forgotten how good it could feel to put the main event on hold. It seemed once you were an adult that kind of foreplay hardly existed anymore. Oh, maybe the first time you were with someone, but the innocence—that was it—the innocence was gone.

  With Court she felt innocent again and new. Filled with wonder at the feelings he aroused in her, not only physically, but in her heart as well.

  She undressed and climbed into bed. As was her habit now, she held the locket, rubbing it like a talisman.

  Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Court shook his head at the reflected image of himself in the bathroom mirror while he brushed his teeth. All Jolie had to do was quirk her little finger and he’d come running. How humiliating.

  After he’d rinsed, he planted both hands on the counter and leaned in toward the mirror. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked himself. “She’ll screw with your head and then walk away, just like in high school.” His reflection didn’t seem to have any answers. “Dumbass.” Not the best parting shot, but he couldn’t think of anything more appropriate to describe his behavior tonight. He turned off the light and climbed into bed.

  He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling in his old room and thought about Jolie. How many nights had he done this during high school? Wondered what she was up to? Who she was with? How many times had she toyed with him, drawing him close before friend-zoning him again? Too many to count.

  He pitied the boy he’d once been and how easily he’d been manipulated. All it took was a smile or a pout from Jolie. The smiles were usually part of a con to get help with her homework. The pouts were caused by any perceived mistreatment at the hands of one of her cheerleader friends or her latest boyfriend.

  He’d always been there for her, like a loyal dog who didn’t know any better. He’d eagerly accept the morsels of affection she offered, only to find himself locked out of her life. Until the next time, when he’d run back just as eagerly, just as hopeful that this time she’d finally get it. She’d finally see that he was the one who understood her. That she could always count on him.

  But she never did see. She never got it. He’d slink home licking his wounds time and time again. But the hope never completely died until the day he’d given her that locket. He’d watched her drive off with Chip without a backward glance. Then he finally got it.

  Jolie was never going to love him back. She’d used him and he’d allowed it, but no more. He’d sworn he’d never let it happen again. He wouldn’t be hurt by her any more.

  Great job, asshole, he thought now. That went well.

  Tonight had been a perfect example of how easily she could wind him up. And make no mistake, she was setting him up for a big fall.

  She’d been putting on that “I’ve changed” sincerity act ever since she’d arrived back in Oak Ridge. Court wasn’t falling for it. She knew how to act. No matter how much he might want to believe she was sincere, he knew better. He knew how she operated.

  He wondered why she wore that locket all the time. He’d noticed it the night he’d picked her up for the reunion cocktail party. He was almost certain it was the one he’d given her, but he could be wrong. He sure wasn’t going to embarrass himself by asking.

  He turned over and punched a fist into his pillow before laying his head down. She wasn’t going to get to him this time.

  Tonight he’d gone out of his way to keep things friendly. He was a red-blooded American male, but he’d worked hard to disguise his carnal attraction to her.

  She’d made the first move. She’d been the aggressor. It had surprised the hell out of him. In a way it pissed him off. What was so great about him now? He was the same Court he’d been ten years ago. Almost. He’d changed on the outside, that was all.

  That’s what Jolie was attracted to. What she’d always been attracted to. The exterior. The superficial.

  Court flipped over to his other side and punched his pillow again. An overnight stay at the lake would be the perfect opportunity to implement the next phase of his plan to get over her. She wasn’t going to get to him again. No way. No how.

  Chapter Eight

  “Court, why did you invite me up here with you?”

  They’d finished one bottle of wine and had opened another. Jolie had curled up in one corner of the old sofa with her knees drawn up, her eyes soft and questioning. A pink sweater hugged her curves and complemented her complexion.

  Court felt a tightness in his chest. They’d fallen into their old camaraderie on the drive up this morning. All day they’d worked together companionably, toting the outdoor furniture into the basement, sweeping and cleaning, doing a bit of work on the landscaping. They’d hiked around the lake, showered and made a simple meal from the supplies Court had brought with them.

  As the day progressed he found it harder and harder to resist acting on his instincts. What he wanted more than anything right now was to close the distance between them, to lay Jolie down on the sofa cushions. Or better yet, haul her off to the bed and make love to her the whole night through.

  Yeah, right, he told himself. Good plan. Then you can watch her walk away again, because you know that’s exactly what she’ll do. She’ll walk away and never look back. You’ll be nursing a broken heart for another ten years.

  No. He wasn’t going to let that happen. No way. He’d be the one to walk away this time. That was the plan—

  “Court?” Jolie leaned toward him. She touched the back of his hand.

  He stared at her. His mouth went dry.

  Her lips were parted, smudged with the remnants of pale pink lip color.

  “Court? I think I’m in love with you.”

  That declaration deserved a response, didn’t it? A snort of disbelief seemed appropriate. Denial was in order, at the very least. But Court couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. His carefully thought-out plan had not prepared him for this moment.

  Undeterred by his lack of response, Jolie moved closer. The backs of her fingers brushed his jaw. Her eyes were soft and smoky. He made a noise low in his throat—of protest or delight, he wasn’t sure—just before her lips touched his. Soft. So soft. So pretty. So much to offer.

  She kissed him. She wanted him. He couldn’t deal with this. Not with her mouth against his, the tip of her tongue teasing him like this. Not with the heat beneath her sweater scorching his hands. Rational thought was simply not possible. The blood had rushed from his brain to settle elsewhere. No problem. That was his last fuzzy thought. He could figure this out tomorrow.

  It was the wine, Jolie decided, that had made her bold enough to tell Court how she felt. The wine th
at sent her into his arms, that prompted her to kiss him, even after he’d been staring at her as if he were in shock.

  But that wore off quickly after the initial moment. He ravaged her mouth like a starving man and she gave him all she had to give. He yanked her sweater over her head. She was panting by then, trying to remember the last time a man had acted like he wanted her this much.

  Never, came the distant reply, and on some level she knew it was true.

  His mouth and his tongue set her on fire, exploring her throat, her shoulders, her chest. All the while, his hands cupped her breasts through her barely there bra.

  Take it off, she wanted to scream just before he released the clasp. She was nearly crying from her own need. When was the last time she’d wanted a man this much? Never. Not the way she wanted Court. Not like she’d die if she didn’t have him right now.

  She closed her eyes as he suckled and touched, giving each breast equal attention. Heat pooled between her thighs and she began to whimper with the need for release.

  Court pulled her securely into his lap and kissed her long and lovingly.

  He stood up with her still clinging to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, because if he thought she was letting go now, he was nuts.

  He found his way into his bedroom. More excitement built as her bare nipples rubbed against the denim of his shirt.

  By the time he lowered her to the bed and lay down next to her she was almost mindless with need.

  She disengaged from his kiss long enough to say, “Hurry.” She began to unbutton his shirt, surprised to find her fingers so nimble when the rest of her felt so shaky.

  “What’s your rush?” he whispered as she shoved the shirt from his shoulders and yanked the sleeves over his wrists. “We’ve got all night.”