completely dull in bed. Three years of having to beg her for sex and then pretend to be grateful afterward had been three years too many. He'd been footloose and fancy free for the past two years, so he'd been making up for lost time by screwing around every chance he got. Because of his political aspirations, he stayed away from married women. And he did his best to keep his affairs discreet. He didn't make promises and tried not to break any hearts, despite being a strictly love 'em and leave 'em type.
Things would have been different with Jazzy.
Shit, man, get over it. Get over her. Even if she wanted him-which she didn't-he could never marry her. No way in hell could he ever run for political office again if he had a wi-fe like Jazzy. He kept reminding himself that the world was full of pretty women. Pretty redheads who didn't say no. Just because he'd had a thing for Jazzy as long as he could remember didn't mean he had to spend the rest of his life mooning over her.
"Wade, honey…" She nuzzled his neck, then kissed his jaw. "You're awfully quiet.
What are you thinking about?"
He groaned inwardly. What was it with women-all women-always wanting to know what a man was thinking? If he told her that he'd been thinking about another woman, she'd not only be hurt, but she'd get pissed.
"I'm thinking about you," he lied. "About all the things I'd like to do to you."
She giggled.
He pulled away from her and slid out of bed. After his feet hit the floor, he grabbed his tan slacks off the back of the nearby chair where he'd neatly hung them and then pulled them on. "I'm going to get myself a glass of wine. Do you want one?"
She crinkled her nose. "I don't much care for wine. Do you happen to have a beer?"
"Sure, I'll bring you back a beer."
Wade grinned. His date tonight was no more the type you'd bring home to Mama than Jazzy was, but she sure made a man's blood boil. And his dick get hard and stay that way.
She'd pulled a fast one on him. That's what she'd done. Jacob Butler finished off his second piece of apple dapple cake and washed it down with his third cup of coffee. If he'd had any idea that Reve Sorrell would be here tonight, he'd have declined Genny's invitation to supper. When Genny had called earlier in the day, she'd mentioned that Jazzy and Caleb would be joining them this evening, but she hadn't mentioned Jazzy's guest. Ms.
Sorrell, the might-be twin sister from Chattanooga. The rich bitch who looked down her nose at other folks, him in particular. The first time they met, she'd called him a big country hick Cochise wannabe. In one sentence she'd insulted his body, his place of residence and his ethnic heritage. And the worst part of her caustic remark had been that she'd felt totally justified in verbally abusing the Cherokee County sheriff.
For the past hour he'd done his best not to even look at her, but Genny had made that damn near impossible. She'd sat them across the table from each other and then proce-eded to draw them both into every conversation. If he didn't know better, he'd swear Genny was trying to match him up with this dang-fool woman. But Genny wouldn't do that knowing how much he disliked Ms. Sorrell.
He wasn't sure who'd been the most surprised when she'd opened the back door when he first arrived and had all but run right into him. Instinctively, he'd reached out and grabbed her shoulders to prevent them from colliding. For just a second, she'd stood there staring up at him, her mouth hanging open and her eyes as big as half dollars. Then she'd jerked away from him as if he were the boogie man himself. They'd glared at each other, neither of them backing down, and that was when he'd taken a really good look at her.
She sure as shoot looked like Jazzy. Definitely enough to be her twin. But she was taller than Jazzy, maybe by a couple of inches, which meant she was probably at least five-ten.
And although she wasn't built too bad-if you could actually tell her exact proportions
Things would have been different with Jazzy.
Shit, man, get over it. Get over her. Even if she wanted him-which she didn't-he could never marry her. No way in hell could he ever run for political office again if he had a wi-fe like Jazzy. He kept reminding himself that the world was full of pretty women. Pretty redheads who didn't say no. Just because he'd had a thing for Jazzy as long as he could remember didn't mean he had to spend the rest of his life mooning over her.
"Wade, honey…" She nuzzled his neck, then kissed his jaw. "You're awfully quiet.
What are you thinking about?"
He groaned inwardly. What was it with women-all women-always wanting to know what a man was thinking? If he told her that he'd been thinking about another woman, she'd not only be hurt, but she'd get pissed.
"I'm thinking about you," he lied. "About all the things I'd like to do to you."
She giggled.
He pulled away from her and slid out of bed. After his feet hit the floor, he grabbed his tan slacks off the back of the nearby chair where he'd neatly hung them and then pulled them on. "I'm going to get myself a glass of wine. Do you want one?"
She crinkled her nose. "I don't much care for wine. Do you happen to have a beer?"
"Sure, I'll bring you back a beer."
Wade grinned. His date tonight was no more the type you'd bring home to Mama than Jazzy was, but she sure made a man's blood boil. And his dick get hard and stay that way.
She'd pulled a fast one on him. That's what she'd done. Jacob Butler finished off his second piece of apple dapple cake and washed it down with his third cup of coffee. If he'd had any idea that Reve Sorrell would be here tonight, he'd have declined Genny's invitation to supper. When Genny had called earlier in the day, she'd mentioned that Jazzy and Caleb would be joining them this evening, but she hadn't mentioned Jazzy's guest. Ms.
Sorrell, the might-be twin sister from Chattanooga. The rich bitch who looked down her nose at other folks, him in particular. The first time they met, she'd called him a big country hick Cochise wannabe. In one sentence she'd insulted his body, his place of residence and his ethnic heritage. And the worst part of her caustic remark had been that she'd felt totally justified in verbally abusing the Cherokee County sheriff.
For the past hour he'd done his best not to even look at her, but Genny had made that damn near impossible. She'd sat them across the table from each other and then proce-eded to draw them both into every conversation. If he didn't know better, he'd swear Genny was trying to match him up with this dang-fool woman. But Genny wouldn't do that knowing how much he disliked Ms. Sorrell.
He wasn't sure who'd been the most surprised when she'd opened the back door when he first arrived and had all but run right into him. Instinctively, he'd reached out and grabbed her shoulders to prevent them from colliding. For just a second, she'd stood there staring up at him, her mouth hanging open and her eyes as big as half dollars. Then she'd jerked away from him as if he were the boogie man himself. They'd glared at each other, neither of them backing down, and that was when he'd taken a really good look at her.
She sure as shoot looked like Jazzy. Definitely enough to be her twin. But she was taller than Jazzy, maybe by a couple of inches, which meant she was probably at least five-ten.
And although she wasn't built too bad-if you could actually tell her exact proportions
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