That Jones Girl (The Mississippi McGills, Sequel) by Webb Peggy

Author:Webb, Peggy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic comedy, classic romance, small town romance, southern author, bad boy heroes, the donovans of the delta
Publisher: Peggy Webb

CHAPTER SEVEN

He carried her into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

“Flannigan, are you crazy?”

“With you, I am.” He let her slide down his body, and when she was on her feet, he tipped up her chin and smiled at her. “You always did want a shower before breakfast. Especially after a night like last night.”

He turned on the water, then shifted her around, reached for the soap, and began to lather her back. She shivered with pleasure.

“A little to the left, Flannigan. You missed a spot.”

He smiled at a spot high on the shower wall. She was as high-spirited as an Irish filly. He began to hum a tune. She joined in, and soon they were harmonizing, singing snatches of the words, getting them wrong, laughing, and going on with the song anyhow.

When the shower was over, he wrapped her in a huge towel, carried her back to the bed, and propped her up against the headboard.

“Don’t move from that spot.” He dressed quickly and started toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

With his hand on the doorknob, he turned and grinned.

“Are you going to miss me while I’m gone?”

“Of course not.” She tossed her damp hair back from her face. “I never miss the men who come and go in my life, Flannigan. I merely replace them.”

“You’ll have to move fast this time, for I’ll be back soon.”

He slipped through the door and eased it shut behind him. Tess sat on the bed staring at the door for a long time.

“OToole, what in the world am I going to do about Flannigan?”

She stretched on the bed. His pillow was still dented where he had laid his head. She drew the pillow into her arms and hugged it close.

“You’ll leave me again, won’t you?” She pressed her cheek against his pillow. “Just like the last time. Do you love me, Flannigan?”

Not enough to stay, she thought. Last night had changed nothing.

“Damn you, Mick Flannigan.” She flung the pillow across the room. “You won’t get to me this time.” She hugged her arms around herself, and suddenly they weren’t her arms: They were his. She longed for him. She wanted him there by her side, in her arms, at any cost.

“Damn you.” She rose from the bed, magnificent in her rage, and the towel slipped to the floor unnoticed. “I can spend every minute of every day making love with you, and still you can walk away and I won’t care. I won’t.”

She stalked across the room and jerked her clothes out of a suitcase. OToole, sensing a storm, gave her a wide berth.

“You’re just another man.” Her hands trembled as she slipped into her blouse. A tear splashed her cheek as she reached for her buttons. “You’re just another ordinary man, Mick Flannigan.”

o0o

Flannigan was whistling when he opened the door to his motel unit. Casey sat in the room’s only chair, dressed in his baggy tuxedo, his beard and hair slicked down with water.

“Did you get up early or are you coming in late?” Casey asked.

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