DirtyBeautiful (7 page)

“No, no, this is the best thing to happen in like years.
We’re all ready for some hot romance to happen in this town. And who better
than you?”

Erica glowered. “There isn’t a romance. It’s a…well, I don’t
know what it is, but it’s not a romance.”

Tammy laughed uproariously, most of it put on for Erica’s
benefit. Arms folded, Erica scowled. “Yeah, laugh it up.”

“Oh honey, if you saw the boner he was carrying, whoo-wee,
you’d know. If it ain’t a romance, it’s a real good imitation of one.”

“Sex doesn’t make a romance, Tammy.”

Hazel eyes widened. “You had sex already?”

“No! I’m just saying… Oh never mind what I’m saying. All I
know is that he’s just after a friendship with me.”

Even said out loud it sounded asinine.

“Oh my poor, misguided pet, you know when he’s all but
defiling you on the hood of your car, it’s not a friendship.”

“Tammy, have you seen him? He turned down Mary-Mae for
crying out loud.”

“Yes, only to seduce you right here.”

Erica opened her mouth but snapped it shut. True, she
conceded with a shrug. There was some type of connection going on between them
and this wasn’t the first time that he’d done a one-eighty and turned cold.
He’d kissed her like nobody’s business and knew his way around a woman’s body.
But he hadn’t stepped over the line between foreplay and sex. Then it dawned on
her. The reason behind his unusual behavior. “I…I think he might have issues
with intercourse.”

Tammy frowned. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“We’ve kissed a few times—well, twice…three times, no,
twice—and every time he looks like he’s gonna do something more, he abandons
ship. I thought it was me!” She laughed giddily. “But it’s not. It’s him. He
has a mental block when it comes to sex.”

Tammy nodded. “Ah, mother issues. Well, he was just too damn
good-looking to be perfect.”

Chapter Four

Dylan returned to Bill’s to pick up a couple of things he
needed to start work on the windows. A motor rumbled and a soft
shh
sound told him Bill worked his lave. He stepped into the work shed, somewhat
surprised Bill would leave his shop unattended. Bill sat at his lave, a chisel
in hand, working a piece of wood into a fancy leg. The nine-inch width made him
wonder just what piece of furniture it was for.

Bill looked up at him as he approached and he wound the
machine down.

“Sorry, Bill, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just gonna
grab my things.”

“It’s all right, I was just about finished anyway.” He
twisted around on his stool, swiping his hands down his slacks. “I saw you
stopped to have pie with Erica.”

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. Even though
he volunteered to help out, he still should’ve been more professional about it.
“Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry? What in blue-blazes for?”

Dylan frowned. “Um, for leaving you to attend the shop
alone?”

Bill waved his hand. “Phfft. I’ve been doing this longer’n
you been alive, son. These folk around here don’t mind too much about
propriety. Besides, it’s nice you shown an interest in that gal. Ain’t no
better lady around, except my wife. But she’s off the market.”

Dylan chuckled at Bill’s wink.

Bill picked up a sheet of sandpaper and began to work the
leg. “Besides. Erica deserves a nice lad in her life. She spent most of her
young life looking after her grandparents. Can’t get a girl like that these
days. Most just wanna leave Templeton for bigger, better things.” He threw a
prudish look over his shoulder. “I trust your intentions are honorable toward
that young lady.”

“There are no intentions. We’re just friends.”

Bill turned then, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Just friends,
huh? Haven’t seen a friend look at her the way you did.”

Dylan looked away then back again. “I’m not looking for a
relationship right now.”

Bill nodded sagely. “I understand that. But you better keep
your pants zipped around her.”

“Not a problem,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

Dylan admired the man’s gumption to protect Erica and knew
better than anyone that getting her into bed wouldn’t be the best thing for
either of them.

“Well, good. Now you get on out of here so I can finish my
leg.”

Dylan gathered up his tool belt and sauntered from the shop,
making a list in his head of what he needed. He paused at the doorway and
looked back at Bill.

“Hey, Bill. You know where I can find a glassmaker?”

Bill frowned. “What for? You smashed your windows?”

“No. I’m going to sash the windows.”

“Why would you wanna do a fool thing like that? It’s
perfectly serviceable windows at your house.”

Dylan smiled. “I guess I want a change for aesthetic
reasons.”

Bill snorted and turned back to his work. “You might find
what you’re after at Grears Demolition. It’s a housing demolition place about a
ninety-minute drive from here. They have all sorts of stuff there.”

“Thanks.”

Dylan returned to his truck, threw his tool belt into the
passenger seat and sat inside. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he jiggled
them in his hands. Soft laughter reached him and he turned his head. Erica
chatted to a brunette, her face animated and filled with amusement. The sun hit
her red hair just right, the variant shades of orange matching the change of
season. His dick throbbed.
Take her. Bend her luscious body over the hood
and take her hard.

Damn if he didn’t want to. She smelled of peaches. What
woman does that? Smell fruity, act all innocent and yet have the aura of a sexy
siren. He palmed his cock through the denim but it did little to ease the
desperate need inside him.

When was he ever going to learn? Dylan heaved a sigh and
shoved his key into the ignition, starting it up. The truck rumbled to life.
Shifting into gear, he pulled out onto the road and drove home.

His concentration fractured, he spent the ride battling with
the urge to seek out Erica and give her exactly what her body needed. Him,
inside her. He could barely remember how he managed to pull into the drive, but
the journey was over and the battle between his dick and his conscience
remained unresolved.

He glanced over at Erica’s house and his cock surged.
Constant temptation lay only yards from his front door. “She isn’t going to
like someone like you,” he reminded himself.

She doesn’t have to
like
you, just one particular
part of you.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Dylan snapped, knowing on some level
that he was stupidly talking to his penis.

It’ll feel so good. Don’t you miss sliding into the
warmth of a woman’s body? I’m pretty damn tired of being palmed off.

Dylan gripped the wheel and stared at the white front door
to Erica’s house. “She’s too good for you. Sweet. Nice.”

Sweet and nice breasts. I bet her pussy is even better.
Do you think she’s trimmed or
au naturel
?

A muscle leapt in his jaw at the picture of her naked. He’d
had sex with women who loved either Brazilian or a landing strip. Jesus, was
she all natural? His balls drew tight, a thrum of desire surging to life. Good
thing she was still in town, otherwise he’d be over there trying to get her any
way he could. He shoved the door open and slammed it shut. Time to work off the
tension in his body. Nothing did that better than working with wood. He clicked
open the side gate and Bud shot around the corner, a panty in his mouth.

“Oh Jesus,” he groaned.

Bud peered up at him. His brows twitched, almost as if he
wanted to egg him on. Dylan grabbed and tugged the sky-blue fabric, but Bud
seemed determined to hold on to it. Not that he blamed him. The terrier growled
and jerked backward. Dylan held tight. “Come on now, Bud. Erica’s not gonna
like it when she finds out you been messing with her underwear again.”

Bud shook his head hard. Nope, he wasn’t about to give it
up. Dylan held his ground and waited. They were at an impasse and the moment
Bud’s jaw relaxed a fraction Dylan yanked. Laughing, he held the item up high
as Bud leapt for it. Dylan shifted his knee and nudged the terrier aside as he
walked to the back of the house. Bud trotted beside him, whined a bit, but
accepted defeat.

Dylan patted his head sympathetically. “Hey, I get it. I do.
What’s not to like about,” he held out the underwear, “blue granny panties?”

Did Erica have a whole drawer full of this stuff? Someone
needed to get her sexy lingerie. A grin pulled on his lips as he shoved the
panties into his back pocket. Yep, he was just the guy to do it. Looks like the
trip up to Grears might come with some side benefits.

* * * * *

It’d been a little over two days since Erica’s encounter
with Dylan and she still felt a decided twinge deep inside her. His sensual
promise played in her fantasies and she thought everyone knew what she did late
at night. Dylan had affected her libido with his naughty words and sexy body.
It was unfair. There was one way out of the situation and that required copious
amounts of chocolate. If she could put it in an IV and take it intravenously,
she…probably would. She had to be honest. Why deprive herself of the full
luscious taste of thick sophisticated chocolate? It was simply insane. Just
like her fixation on Dylan.

So here she stood, in her kitchen, arms full of ingredients
to make as many chocolate confections as humanly possible. Her house would
smell like Willy Wonka’s because she couldn’t get the willy she wanted. She
placed the chocolate, butter, brown sugar and other ingredients on the bench.
Beneath the benchtop, she ducked to pick out a mixing bowl and electric beater.
Pots clashed together as she shifted them about to find one the perfect size
for the job. She heated water on the stovetop and placed a heatproof bowl on
top.

Chocolate melted as she went through the routine so familiar
she could feel her grandmother beside her, telling her how to fold in the flour
and when to put in the eggs. She smiled at the memory. Baking always seemed to
settle her emotions and connected her to good memories.

Checking on the first batch in the stove, she heard a knock
at her door. “Hellooo?”

Erica straightened with a frown. She recognized the voice.
She grabbed a tea towel and cleaned her hands on the way out of the kitchen.
Beverly stood on the porch, her floral church dress flowed over her voluptuous
frame. Although they’d seen each other in town and spoke quite amicably
whenever the occasion arose, Beverly let others know of her anger over Greg’s
eviction from Erica’s house. Although the subject never came up, Erica
preferred not to draw them into an argument. After all, Erica was among many
other folk who were known to drift off into lala land while Beverly rambled on
about Greg’s perfections.

Erica opened the screen door. “Beverly. What a surprise. You
haven’t come over since Greg and I broke up.”

Her lips were compressed in irritation, but Beverly kept her
council. “I had to come over. It’s all about town that you are seeing that
young man next door.”

Erica wanted to roll her eyes. “You know you shouldn’t be
listening to town gossip. We’re just friends.”

“But Gayle said she saw you and
that man
kissing
outside Tammy’s hair salon.”

Erica sighed. “We weren’t kissing. He was…whispering
something in my ear.”

Beverly’s mouth opened like a gasping fish and her jowls
wobbled in indignation. “No man with good morals would do that in public! And
if you were wise, you would stay well away from him. Mark my words, that man is
trouble.”

Erica fumed. She sure wished Dylan had
fewer
morals.
His determination to keep his body off hers was an aching point for her.
Literally. Erica leaned on the screen door and narrowed a shrewd look on the
overly righteous woman. “I don’t appreciate you making snap judgments about
someone
you
don’t know. Dylan bought that house next door to live here
of all places.”

Beverly snorted with disdain. “Everyone knows people who
have something to hide move to towns just like ours.”

“Are you saying Reverend Thomas has something to hide? Or
Maybe Fran and Will Stephensen are running from the law? What about Tammy
McCabe? All of them moved here and have been pillars in our community. If I
recall, you go to church to hear Reverend Thomas’ sermons, have Sunday brunch
with the Stephensens and get your hair cut at Tammy’s.”

“But that’s different. He hasn’t involved himself in the
community. Just holes himself in that house. For all we know he could be
running from the mob!”

“He is renovating that house and your claims of connections
to crime families is…ridiculous! Ask Bill if you have any questions about him.”

On the losing end of a battle, she huffed and tempered her
tone. “I worry about you, after all.”

Erica braced herself, ready for the long spiel of how other
men would never amount to the greatness of her son. “Thank you, but I—”

“I never questioned why you chucked my son out on his ear,
but it’s never too late, you know. I know he must miss you. He left town
because he was too heartbroken to stay.”

No, he left town because he’s a lying, cheating dog.
Erica struggled to keep the polite smile on her face.

“Every time I call him, he is interested to hear about you.”

Erica doubted it. If anything, he and his oversized ego
probably basked at the thought of her pining after him. “Well that’s nice, Beverly,
but I really have to go. I’m baking for the school Octoberfest tonight and
really need to get on top of that.”

Beverly paused, her mouth open to begin another argument
toward the fine qualities that Greg possessed, no doubt. “Oh, well I suppose we
can chat another time.”

“All right, have a nice day, Beverly,” she lied through her
teeth.