Naturally Naughty by Leslie Kelly Page A

unaware of her movements, she slid one hand up higher, up the smooth, soft-looking skin of her arm, until the tip of her finger rested in the hollow of her throat and her forearm on the curve of her breasts.
    Her nipples jutted harder now, brought to tighter peaks by the scrape of her own arm across them. Did she realize it? Was she conscious of the silently seductive invitation she issued? As if she read his thoughts, she tapped her index finger against her throat. Lightly. Drawing his gaze there once again.
    “So you read about me.” She sounded breathless. Clearing her throat, she continued. “My store. Is that why you followed me? Why you kissed me?”
    He shook his head, still watching the pulse tick away in her throat, right beneath the tip of her finger, wondering how she tasted right there. Wondering how she smelled. Wondering if she’d whimper when he gently licked the moist spot. And mostly wondering when he’d be able to take her in his arms again. Though, this time the decision would be hers. As much as she might believe otherwise, Jack didn’t believe in taking what he wanted. It was much more pleasurable to be given such a gift.
    “I followed you because of the way we looked at each other.” Like they were looking at each other now. “I kissed you because you landed in my arms.” As he wanted her to now. “What can I say? You were a beautifully wrapped present and I couldn’t resist. Who could resist a beautiful woman so obviously in need of a kiss?” Like now .
    She took a tiny, step back. He let her go. Not crowding. Not encroaching.
    “You let me leave. You didn’t try to stop me.”
    He smiled. “I let you go because after you told me yourname, I remembered your face and the article and knew I could find you again once I got home to Chicago.”
    Her eyes widened. Tap went the index finger. Tick went the pulse. Down went the heat—through his gut, into his groin.
    “So you read the article?”
    He shook his head, being honest. “Not really. I just remember your face, your first name and something about a store. You sell women’s lotion and things?”
    She chuckled, a warm and truly amused laugh that rose from her throat. “And things.” Before he could question the naughty twinkle in her eye, she’d turned and looked out into the dark auditorium. “When did the Rialto close?”
    He shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. I don’t come back too often. But I think it was seven or eight years ago.”
    “You have family here?” She lowered her voice, betraying her keen interest. “You’re from Pleasantville?”
    Jack nodded, but didn’t offer more information. He certainly wasn’t about to reveal who his family was. If Kate had spent time in town, she’d know the Winfield name. The last thing he wanted was someone else bringing up his father’s death. And whatever scandal the town gossipmongers had been whispering about any time his back was turned in the past few days.
    Besides, he liked the anonymity of this night. It seemed right, especially here, in the old abandoned theater, so rich with atmosphere and antique glamour.
    “Yeah. But, like I said, I got out years ago, as soon as I could. And I avoid coming back as much as possible.”
    Her rueful nod said she completely understood what he was saying. Then she smiled, a small, friendly smile that made him think for some reason she’d let down her guard. Because he’d admitted he didn’t like this town?
    “I used to love this building. It was my favorite place inPleasantville.” She walked across the stage, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden planks. “I used to come for the first showing of a new movie, then hide in the bathroom to stay and watch it again and again.”
    “Ah, a daredevil,” he said with a laugh.
    A reminiscent smile curled her lips. “The ticket taker, the old one with the poofy black wig, caught me once.”
    “Miss Rose?”
    She nodded. “Yes! That’s it. Miss Rose. She was so funny, the way