He was whipped. Had been whipped for thirteen years. He could count his lovers on one hand. His sex life centered around Jacy's breakups. He could live without other women knowing Jacy's poor choice in men would land him in her bed within six months.
With each breakup, she poured out her heart and he listened. Then, they made love. He took her beyond the men who bruised her heart and drew her as close to him as he dared.
Over the years he'd set up boundaries to keep him-self sane. He never spent the entire night. Never stayed in town more than two days. However, this trip to Frostproof was different. He planned to spend the entire month of November. Planned to take a serious look at their friendship and intimacy and see if there could be more between them than hot, fast, rebound sex.
Pushing off the wall, he went in search of a screwdriver. The least he could do for Jacy was tighten a few loose screws.
Tool in hand, he moved toward the kitchen door. Before he could push through, Jacy came flying back at him. Her face red, her fingers adjusting her tube top.
"Why didn't you tell me my top was on backward?" she demanded.
He'd noticed her breasts and belly, but not her top. "Didn't know there was a front and back." It all looked the same to him.
She pointed to a tiny row of roses that split her cleavage. "Flowers go in the front."
His brows pulled tight. "Who asked about the roses?" Who'd been checking out her breasts?
"Frank Stall noticed. He always compliments my clothes."
Dirty old orange grower. A bachelor at the age of fifty-five, Stall believed himself in contention for Jacy's affection.
"What did you tell him?" Risk asked.
"I told him the top must have twisted while I searched the cooler for your caramel roll."
"Did he believe you?"
"Frank winked, then whispered I had a red stain on the back of my left thigh."
"Turn around."
She twisted about and brushed at the spot. "Looks like a squished strawberry."
"A container toppled while we were in the cooler."
She scowled. "Next time don't pump so hard."
He reached out, curved a wide palm at the nape of her neck, and pulled her on tiptoe. "You like it hard," he reminded her, then kissed the scowl from her lips.
"Hot and horny, get a room."
Risk hadn't heard the door swing open, but before him now stood Stephanie "Stevie" Cole, Jacy's closest friend and part-time employee. When not at the coffee shop, Stevie worked as a sports coordinator for the department of parks and recreation. Auburn-haired and athletic, she'd once excelled in track and field. Stevie's zest for life had inspired Jacy to coach a little girls T-ball team. The six-year-old Bluebells practiced twice a week, all year round.
Releasing Jacy, he wrapped Stevie in a bear hug. "Good to see you, sweetheart."
"Good to be seen," Stevie returned as she ran her hands over her hips. "Even if I have put on a few pounds."
Risk grinned. "I like curvy."
"More like plump," Stevie said on a sigh. "Working at the coffee shop has packed on the pounds."
"You don't have to sample every new treat," Jacy teased her friend.
"I do to recommend them," Stevie defended her weight gain. "Decadent best describes your chocolate-cherry brownies. Heavenly, your lemon-mint cookies."
"Her caramel rolls?" Risk asked.
"Better than sex. When Jacy bakes, it smells so good I could lick the air and gain weight." Stevie's gaze cut to Jacy, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Heard there was a problem with the cooler."
Noticing the screwdriver in Risk's hand, Jacy quickly fabricated, "The door wouldn't close all the way, so Risk offered to tighten the screws."
Stevie's smile broke. "By the color in Jacy's cheeks, I'd say nice work, Tool Man."
Risk took the heat off Jacy. "Trivia, Stevie?"
"Hit me with your best shot."
Jacy always admired Stevie's baseball IQ. The players invariably tried to stump her, but her friend kicked butt.
"Which Yankee pitcher got the final out in the World Series with game seven on the line, two years after giving up the game-losing homer in the seventh game of the 1960 World Series?"
Stevie rolled her eyes. "Elementary, Risk. You're talking Ralph Terry."
"Impressive," he praised before turning to Jacy. "I'll fix the retro stool; you go change your slacks."
He disappeared, leaving Jacy to face her friend. A smiling, I-know-what-you-did-in-the-cooler friend. "I heard Risk's been in town less than an hour, and ten of those minutes he had you in the cooler."
Frank Stall and Walter Tate gossiped like girls. "Nine minutes, actually." Jacy couldn't help grin-ning. "Risk's already turned my life into a twisted tube top and strawberry-stained slacks."
"Mmm. Gotta love the man."
"I do."
"When do you plan to tell him?"
Jacy shrugged. "Not today. But someday."
"Someday needs to come soon."
"I wouldn't know what to say."
"Try the truth."
"That my lovers are as imaginary as my breakups? That I fake heartbreak so I can call Risk to make it all better. That he's not my rebound lover, but my only lover." She shook her head. "He would feel used if he ever found out."
"A good used," Stevie assured her. "I think he'd be flattered you've only wanted to be with him."
"He's played my rebound man far too long to seek anything permanent. As far as he knows, we come together for sex only. It's not his fault we fooled around and I fell in love."
"How long will Risk be home?"
"An entire month."
"A long time to hide your true feelings."
"But I will. I do free and easy better than anyone."
"That you do." Stevie drew in a breath and worked up the courage to ask, "Any sign of Aaron?"
"He telephoned earlier," Jacy told her. "He's due in town within the hour."
"I hope he comes by the coffee shop. I want to go over the details of the auction with him one final time."
Jacy caught the expectation in Stevie's eyes. Stevie and Aaron had dated throughout high school and college. Stevie had loved him with a passion that promised forever. She'd thought Aaron felt the same. Yet over the past year, Aaron's once-a-month visits had faded to six weekends a year. One of those weekends included the charity auction. He was so committed to the success of the event, he'd gone as far as to hire a professional event planner.