Something to Talk About. Dakota Cassidy

      This smile, different from his half grin, changed his whole face from ruggedly sculpted to playful and adorable. “What can I say? I’m a guy with guy tastes. Whatever I pick out will unequivocally suck. I can just picture her wrinkling her cute little nose at me in that, ‘oh, you’re so stupid, Dad’ way, if I’m left to my own devices. But I need help picking colors for the walls—girl things, you know?”

      He needed an interior decorator? That didn’t sound like love slave at all. But her heart did that twitchy-melty thing again. He really loved his little girl. No one could fault him for that. Em smiled at him.

      How could she say no when it would make that enchanted voice on the phone from the other night happy? She agreed without even thinking. “Of course. I’d be happy to help you pick colors.”

      “Furniture, too, maybe? She’s been bunking with me while my brothers Tag and Gage finish up her room, but she’s grumbled about my stinky feet on more than one occasion. It’s time she has her own space like all little girls should.”

      Em laughed even while she couldn’t imagine a single inch of Jax was stinky. “Sure—just say the word.”

      She couldn’t read what was in his eyes because she was afraid to read wrong, but they looked lighter. “Tomorrow night? Are you free? I’d like to get her situated as soon as possible. I’ll buy you dinner for your trouble.”

      Giddy. Oh, that wave of giddy at the mere thought of sharing a meal with Jax hit her hard. She pictured him biting into a juicy hamburger, his white teeth sinking into...

      This would never do.

      Shoulders squared, Em reminded herself his request was about Maizy. She was proud of the way she waved him off as she inched around his enormous frame to head back out into the hall. “Dinner’s not necessary, Jax. Really. I’m happy to help with anything that will make such a charming little girl smile. And tomorrow night’s fine. I’ll ask Aunt Dixie and the girls to babysit.”

      “Well, you have to eat, right? I definitely have to eat. I won’t get out of here much before the dinner hour anyway.”

      How would she ever eat with Jax across a table from her when she almost couldn’t breathe around him? But she found herself agreeing. “Okay. Tomorrow after work. See you then.”

      “Thanks, Emmaline. Maizy and I appreciate it.”

      “Anytime,” she managed, like spending an evening with him was going to be effortless and breezy. She even squeezed out another smile before she made one more clumsy break for Marybell’s office.

      Rounding that hazardous corner again, she slipped inside Marybell’s office, shut the door, and leaned back against it, still clinging to her magic screwdriver.

      It’s just dinner and some paint, Em. Breathe.

      But it was dinner and some paint with him. Him.

      The him.

      The effects of Jax, after spending only ten minutes in his presence, left her body tingly and hot all over. Breathless, shaky and dizzy, too.

      What would an entire evening and a meal bring?

      An Em bonfire?

      * * *

      “You’re going where?”

      “To dinner with a gorgeous woman.” Jax smiled to himself. His off-the-cuff request of Em had been genius. Since he’d met her at Caine’s a week ago, and agreed to take the freelance work, he couldn’t think of anything else but seeing Em again.

      Not good. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want all the sticky, mostly messy end result of a relationship. Especially with a woman who had as many battle scars as she had. He’d been to a war once, and he’d just barely gotten out alive.

      Though, she’d been damned elusive this week, seemed their paths almost never crossed while he’d set himself up in the office Caine and Dixie had appointed him. So when the opportunity finally presented itself today, and she was so close it was all he could do not to haul her up against him just to see what it felt like to have all that soft, feminine woman against him, he’d done the next best thing.

      Asked her to help him pick paint colors while he silently berated himself for even opening the door just a crack to being around her more than at the office.

      Dumb ass.

      But everything, from the swell of her hips in her tight-fitting, yet somehow modest skirt, to the slope of her breasts, perfectly shaped beneath the black, figure-hugging sweater she wore, made his damn mouth water.

      The small pearl buttons, running from the edge of her sweater right up to just under her chin, had him spending the time after she left fantasizing about how fast he could pluck them open and reveal what was beneath.

      The scent she wore, pears, sunshine—a combination that, when recalled, made him wonder if every inch of her smelled like that.

      And her lips. Jesus. Her lips. Soft, plump, red, just begging to have his mouth on them, nipping them, and it took more restraint than he’d like to admit to keep himself in his office while she stood so close to him he could see her pupils dilating.

      Stir her cute Southern drawl into the pot and the way she drew out his name a little longer than everyone else, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her.

      Tag poked his head over his brother’s shoulder, his eyes finding Jax’s in the crooked bathroom mirror. “Wait. You have a real date? With a real woman? Or one of the blow-up variety?”

      Jax smoothed some aftershave over his jaw and grinned at his brother’s reflection. One that wasn’t as haunted or pained these days. “Like you’d know the difference? And it’s not a date.”

      Tag punched him in the shoulder and smiled, his eyes lighter than Jax had seen them in a long time. “So who’s this gorgeous woman?”

      “Emmaline Amos.” Just saying her name made his gut tighten, bringing to mind those red, red lips of hers. Double shit.

      “The one with the ex-husband who wears women’s clothes?”

      Jax’s jaw stiffened, his grin fading. He’d never forget the pain on Em’s face the night he’d first seen her in the square after her husband’s secret was revealed at the Founders’ Day gathering.

      Raw and so damn palpable. Raw enough that even without knowing anything about her, he’d wanted to beat the shit out of the person responsible for making her cry. “You heard, then?”

      Tag nodded, leaning his arm against the chipped pink-and-gray ceramic tile on the wall. “Who hasn’t? This town sees everything, man. Everything. They talk the hell out of it, too. Especially those women who’re part of that gladiola club—or whatever they call it.”

      Jax chuckled. “I think it’s Magnolias, and I’ve met Louella and her crew. Interesting bunch.” Somehow, in all the summers he’d spent at his aunt’s, he’d managed to overhear bits and pieces of the gossip that seemed to fuel such a small community, and the Magnolias were almost always at the center of it. Or if Aunt Jess’s words were right, they were the cause of it.

      Tag’s broad shoulders rolled. “I don’t know. It’s some damned flower or another. You can’t go into that diner without hearing something about someone.” He put a hand on Jax’s shoulder, his eyes searching his older brother’s.

      Tag knew how and when to look for signs something was up with Jax when no one else did. “So what’s so special about Emmaline Amos that she made you decide to crawl out from under your rock after not a single date since the Stone Age?”

      Jax shifted his eyes first, focusing on rinsing the sink. He didn’t have an answer to what drew him to Em. He was just drawn—sucked in—total immersion. That was more than he could claim about a woman in a long time. “Not a date,” he repeated.

      “Jax’s coming out from under his