A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(31)
Author: Erin McCarthy

His mouth closed again. He was screwed, plain and simple. How could he be a total prick and deny her the opportunity to save her livelihood? He couldn’t. It would be annoying, but he’d live, and if it didn’t work, at least he would have a clean conscience.

The worst part probably wouldn’t be the gawking tourists, but his personal struggle to keep his hands off Shelby.

“Alright. One week, Shelby. Then if it doesn’t work, if nothing happens, I’m off the hook.”

Her brown eyes widened, and she finally pulled her head off the porch post. “You’ll do it? Really?”

He nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Then she made him regret it immediately by throwing her arms around him and giving him a squeezy hug, pressing those perky br**sts up against his chest and smothering his nose with her sun-kissed hair. Maybe regret wasn’t the right word. He was definitely enjoying himself, but he knew he shouldn’t be. Too much enjoyment would get him in trouble.

Shelby pulled back a little, but didn’t let go, and since she was a little higher than him, his arms wrapped around her to hold her steady. “Thanks, Boston. I appreciate it.”

And she leaned down and kissed him, a soft nothing little kiss that made his blood pound and his c**k throb and a buzzing roll past his ears, and any good intentions he’d had all week disappear.

When Shelby smiled at him and tried to back up out of his reach, he held her still. “Just one thing, though. I still want my private tour. Tonight.” The tour wasn’t all he wanted, and he planned to investigate every inch of Shelby Tucker before the night was over. He shouldn’t demand the tour, shouldn’t give in to his hormone-driven need to take Shelby, but he couldn’t resist. Even to his own ears his voice sounded rude and demanding.

Shelby didn’t try and shove her way out of his arms. She raised a brow. “You know, Boston, sometimes you’re just this side of bossy.”

He figured that wasn’t news. Early on he’d learned that if he wanted to survive, to get ahead, he needed to stand up and take what he wanted. At ten, that had meant pulling rank over the babysitter so he could sleep over at a friend’s house. Now it meant that he was tired of avoiding Shelby and pretending he didn’t want her so bad he hurt.

“So?” he asked her, kissing her neck. “I want to spend time with you. Alone. I’m not going to get it if I don’t ask, am I?”

“Except you’re not really asking,” Shelby said, breathless, back arching and fingers digging into his upper arms.

“You’re free to say no at any time.” He lifted his head and pinned her with a stare so she’d understand his meaning. “To anything.”

“I know.”

Her eyes dropped to his lips and Boston’s gut twisted. “Are you saying no?”

“No.”

The first sharp kick of lust subsided into panic. What if she meant no-no? Boston sought clarification. “No, you’re not saying no, or no, you don’t want to give me a private tour?”

Shelby smiled and swept her thumbs over his shoulders. He took it as a good sign. “No, I’m not saying no. I’m saying yes, I will give you a private tour.” Her nails scraped across the buttons of his shirt. “But you might want to change first. It’s a walking tour. Dusty.”

He was reluctant to let her go, but eager to be with her, so he released her and started to move past to the door.

“Hey, Boston? You’re not seeing anyone back in Chicago, are you?”

It was a valid question and he paused, sorry they hadn’t cleared that up earlier. Maybe it had contributed to Shelby’s reluctance. Cupping her cheek, he said, “No. Absolutely not. I haven’t even been on a date in six months.”

Shelby nodded, and her eyes showed clearly that she knew just as well as he did where this evening was heading. And was looking forward to it.

Boston turned and jogged into the house to change, already undoing his buttons to save time.

Shelby watched Boston hit the hallway running and sagged back against the porch railing. This acting sexy business was a strain.

But in the two days since her dinner with Danny, she had come to a conclusion. She wanted to have an affair with Boston Macnamara. She wanted to know once and for all whether or not she was capable of feeling passion, or at least of achieving an orgasm without an act of God.

If even the hot feelings she had for Boston resulted in so-so sex, well, then she’d go back to Danny and take him up on his offer.

If the sex with Boston turned out to be more explosive than the Cuttersville Fourth of July fireworks, well, she would still remarry Danny and settle down once and for all.

Because Boston couldn’t give her the cozy country home and children she craved, and he would never even want to try. Whereas Danny cared about her, and they knew each inside and out, and they could have a good solid life together.

Running her tour was fun and she didn’t regret leaving Danny and exploring life out on her own for the last three years. She’d needed to prove her independence to herself and to search for that illusive passion. But she couldn’t see herself at forty-five, still traipsing people through the White House, single and living with Gran.

She wanted to have a child, to stop ignoring the grief she’d felt when she’d miscarried, and get on with her life.

But first, she wanted Boston.

And he looked perfectly willing to oblige her.

He came back out the door wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and expensive-looking hiking boots. “Aren’t you going to be hot in that?” she asked doubtfully. Even though it was six-thirty, it was still hovering in the upper eighties.

“You said to change.”

“I meant casual clothes and shoes other than sandals, that’s all.”

Boston was down in the drive already. “These are my walking shoes. So, where are we going first?”

He seemed incredibly eager to be off. Shelby sat on the steps and pulled her gym shoes over to her side. She’d taken them off because her feet were hot after walking over from Gran’s, but the prospect of pulling sweaty socks back on wasn’t very appealing.

“Well, this is usually the middle of the tour, so we’re going out of order, but first we’ll go down to Miller Road, where a jilted lover waits to interrupt amorous couples. He shakes their cars during make-out sessions.”

“This town is full of jilted lovers, apparently. First Rachel, now this guy.” He stood with his hands on his hips while she dragged on her socks. “And the curiosity is killing me . . . who is the Blond Man? You never told me.”