SheLikesHimBad by Scarlett Scott Page A

vixen, look at the way
those blue jeans fit his lean legs. Do not notice how he’s filled out in all
the right places. Or how freakin’ handsome he is as a man rather than the boy
you once kissed. And above all do not look at his mouth or you’ll think about…
    Too late. Her gaze dropped to those sensual lips that were
quirked into a crooked grin. She remembered that grin. She remembered those
kisses.
    “I’m dropping off your mama’s Chev.”
    Trying to gather what remained of her sanity, she snatched
the keys from him. “That was nice of you. I’ll let her know.”
    But before she could close the door on him, he stopped her
with a broad palm. “Not so fast, Em. Is Jean around? I need to talk to her
about the tranny.”
    “The tranny?” It was her turn to blink at him. “As in
transvestite? I didn’t realize Paradise was so liberated.”
    He started laughing. And didn’t stop for a full minute while
she squirmed in embarrassment. Obviously, she’d misunderstood. But did he have
to make her feel more like an idiot than she already did in her rabbit
slippers? The right one was missing an eye, for heaven’s sake.
    She leveled him with a glare. “I hate to spoil your fun, but
would you mind letting me in on your little joke?”
    “Transmission, sugar. Tranny is short for transmission.” He
let out another hoot of laughter at her expense.
    “Don’t call me sugar, Jackson. I haven’t seen you in a dozen
years.”
    “Your fault, not mine. I haven’t gone anywhere.” He grinned
again, flashing a dimple.
    It was her turn to smirk. “Why am I not surprised?”
    His expression sobered. “I never had a problem with
Paradise. You were the one who couldn’t stay in a small town.”
    What was she doing, reliving the old argument? She sighed.
“I wanted a career, Jackson. You know that.”
    “How is your career, by the way? Fluffed any pillows for
Brad Pitt lately?”
    He still had the power to irk her like no one else. Years of
hard work and school, of proving herself and earning her way up in the interior
design world, and he likened her job to fluffing pillows. “Brad isn’t one of my
clients. And I don’t fluff pillows. Now why don’t I get Mama for you? I’d hate
to keep you waiting.”
    “What? I don’t get to come inside?” He grinned, challenging
her.
    Emma turned away, trying not to notice the sexual undertones
of his words. “Have it your way then,” she flung over her shoulder.
    Knowing Jackson followed her gave her an unsettling jolt.
Being close to him after so long made her almost giddy. What was wrong with
her? The stress of her breakup? The somewhat painful task of returning home?
Insanity? She didn’t know, but whatever it was that made her heart kick into
overdrive and revved her libido had to stop. Pronto.
    “Mama?” Safety in numbers, she decided as she found her
mother plating up breakfast. “Jackson is here to see you. Something about your
car.”
    “Jackson!” Jean’s expression brightened. “Goodness, you are
a sight to see this morning. Isn’t he, Emma Lee?”
    Emma tossed a glance in his direction. “A sight,” she
agreed, her voice toneless.
    Really, Mama had to be the most embarrassing mother in the
state of Georgia. Possibly in the entire South. Emma resisted the urge to roll
her eyes. Jean had always had a soft spot in her heart for Jackson. If she had
to hear one more round of “If you and Jackson had stayed together…” she’d be
certifiable.
    “You had breakfast yet, young man?” Jean was already
reaching into her cabinet for another plate. “I’ve got plenty here. Sit
yourself down.”
    To Emma’s dismay, rather than giving the polite refusal
she’d expected, Jackson sat at the scarred oak kitchen table. He crossed his
booted feet, looking at home. She had to admit time had been kind to him. Very
kind, in fact. Not that it mattered.
    “Emma Lee, would you get Jackson some orange juice?”
    She skewered Jean with a glare. The last thing she felt