Tempted by Love: Jack Jock Steele (The Steeles at Silver Island Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  “Thanks for sharing your dinner and hanging out. I had a great time, and I’m really sorry about how I am with Hadley. I hate that I made her cry. I’ll do my best to handle those situations better, but I can’t make any promises.”

  She was glad he wasn’t brushing his issues with Hadley under the carpet. It took a lot of guts to face a mother whose child he’d hurt, and that gave her renewed respect for him. “It’s okay. At least now I know there’s a reason behind it, even if you don’t want to talk about exactly what that reason is. It helps knowing you’re aware and that you’ll make an effort to try with her, even if you can’t make any promises. You should know that I’ve been trying to keep her out of your way as much as I can.”

  He nodded, regret rising in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to, Daph.” He glanced at his SUV and said, “I used to be better at this kind of thing. You can probably tell that after hanging out with Harvey for so long, I’m not used to forming close friendships with women other than Tegan, who’s basically like a sister to me.”

  “I couldn’t tell. I don’t know what you mean.”

  He flashed that charming smile of his, and her traitorous body tingled to life again. Calm the heck down. Friends don’t get tingly over friends!

  “I, uh…” He cleared his throat, shifting his feet. “I wasn’t sure how to apologize for how I’ve reacted to Hadley, so on the way back from boxing I picked up a few things to give you as apology gifts.”

  Her heart fluttered at this thoughtfulness. “Apology gifts? Now you’ve piqued my curiosity. You didn’t actually buy anything, did you?”

  “Well…” He glanced at his vehicle again, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him walk away. He looked even more delicious now that she’d gotten to know him a little better. He leaned into the passenger side, ducking down, and she lost sight of him until he headed her way again carrying a paper grocery bag.

  “Jock Steele, that’s an awfully big package.”

  “Shh.” He lowered his voice and, with a playful look in his eyes, said, “We don’t want to make the other guys around here jealous.”

  She laughed softly, liking his lighter side, and whispered, “I won’t tell a soul.”

  His smile held just long enough for her to appreciate the way it softened his features before his expression turned serious again, and he said, “You deserve an awfully big apology, Daphne.”

  “Which you already gave me,” she reminded him.

  “Maybe so, but I noticed that you like muffins, and I thought you might like some for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “You noticed?” Why did that make her insides fluttery again? “I am a muffinaholic,” she admitted. “Anything baked, really. Doughnuts, cake, blueberry-cream-cheese pastries from the bakery around the corner, too. I love sweets.”

  “Well, they love you, too, because they go to all the right places.” He shifted the bag in his arm, eyes never leaving hers, and said, “And there’s that blush I can’t stop thinking about.”

  Friends. Friends. Friends.

  “I couldn’t decide what type of muffins to get you, so I got all three.” He peered into the bag and his brow wrinkled. “They had a little trouble on the way over, so I hope you’re not picky about them being all in one piece.” He looked embarrassed, which made him even more intriguing—more real, honest, vulnerable, like her—as he pulled out a dented box of muffins and said, “Chocolate chip.”

  “Mm. Yummy.”

  He shook his head and said, “Cute,” under his breath as he put the box back in the bag and withdrew the others. “Blueberry, and apple crumble. Heavy on the crumble.”

  Some of the muffins were broken, and the transparent box tops were smeared with crumbs.

  “I think I love you,” she said with a giggle. “Apple crumble is my favorite.”

  “I’ll remember that next time. I also noticed that you like to read gossip magazines.”

  “Guilty,” she whispered as he pulled two magazines from the bag. “I love those. How did you know that?”

  “A gentleman never reveals his source.” He put the magazines in the bag and withdrew a deck of cards and said, “I’ve seen you playing solitaire on a blanket on the grass while Hadley was playing with her toys.”

  Her pulse quickened. She didn’t think he’d even noticed her, but he must have paid pretty close attention to have picked up on so many of her favorite things.

  “And lastly, because I’m an ass, and Hadley doesn’t deserve that.” He pulled out a tiny stuffed owl. “I know she has a bird she loves, but they didn’t have any birds.”

  Her heart stumbled. “Jock…”

  “I know it’s lame, but—”

  “It’s not lame. It’s incredibly thoughtful. I can’t believe you bought us gifts, or even noticed all those things about me. And the owl for Hadley?” She put her hand over her racing heart. “She loves her stuffies. Thank you. But you didn’t have to do any of that.”

  “It doesn’t even come close to making up for my behavior, but I’m glad you like them. Do you want me to carry these upstairs for you? You’ll probably have your hands full with the rest of your things.”

  “Um…sure, thank you.”

  She gathered her belongings, getting more nervous by the second. She’d thought his apology had revealed the type of man he was, but the gifts? That sweet little owl he bought for Hadley? Holy cow…What was she supposed to make of all of this? As he followed her through the office and upstairs, her mind began playing tricks on her. What if he wanted to come inside? Did she want him to? Her hands were shaking. No. He wasn’t here for that, not after everything he’d said and how apologetic he was. They were friends. He’d made that perfectly clear. She was just being silly.

  When they reached the landing, his big body crowded her, making her even more nervous. She clung to her belongings, sure he could hear her heart thundering as he gazed into her eyes. Neither one said a word, and he leaned in, his lips a whisper away from hers. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind as she held her breath, readying for a kiss—and heaven help her, she wanted it. But he reached past her and opened the door. The air rushed from her lungs for the second time that night, and she felt like a complete idiot.

  “I…um…” Embarrassed, she hurried inside and set her things on the table by the door. She was blushing and hoped he wouldn’t notice that she was also sweating. “Thank you again.”

  She reached for the bag he was holding, and their fingers touched. He moved his fingers over hers, holding her gaze, and said, “Thank you, Daphne. I had a really good time tonight. Same time tomorrow evening?”

  Was he asking her on a date? A friend date? She swallowed hard, trying desperately not to make more of his hopeful expression, of his fingers resting on hers, or of the gifts. Who was she kidding? She was trying not to make more of the whole frigging night.

  “I’ll bring my muffins,” she said nervously.

  He smirked. “I do like your muffins.”

  When she realized how he’d taken what she’d said, her eyes practically popped out of her head. “The muffins,” she said urgently. “I’ll bring the muffins.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  He started heading downstairs and stopped, turning back to say, “You should probably lock the office door.”

  “Oh, right. Geez. I usually do that when I come in for the night.” She followed him back down, trying not to look at his butt, an impossible feat, since it was right there and ridiculously hot.

  They passed through the door at the bottom of the stairs, and as they walked through the office, he glanced over his shoulder, catching her staring at his ass. Her eyes shot up to his, her entire body flaming with embarrassment.

  “See you tomorrow.” He laughed softly as he pushed through the door, mumbling, “So fucking cute.”

  Daphne shut and locked the door, leaning against it, her head spinning, wondering what the heck just happened. She felt as bewildered as the heroines in so
me of the romance novels she read. But this wasn’t someone else’s story. This was her life, and Jock was a man who felt so horrible about making her daughter cry, he’d bought her a glittery purple owl.

  She headed up to her apartment thinking about the things Jock had revealed about himself—and the things he hadn’t. When she carried the bag of gifts to the kitchen and emptied the contents onto the counter, she realized that by the time he’d left, he seemed a lot more at ease, as if their talk had lifted a weight off his shoulders. But there was no denying the haunted look in his eyes when he’d talked about his past. It was apparent that Jock could use a friend, not a sex-starved single mother wondering if he was going to try to kiss her.

  She brought the cute stuffed owl into Hadley’s bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed. She brushed Hadley’s bangs from her forehead, feeling conflicted about having the urge to kiss Jock when he’d made her daughter so sad. She’d enjoyed laughing with him tonight, learning about him, and even blushing over his comments. Did that make her a bad mother? Did it make her selfish?

  She looked at the owl’s round, innocent eyes and pointed yellow beak. Hadley would love it. The gift was as unexpected as Jock’s apology and as the vulnerable and flirtatious sides of him she’d seen tonight.

  If talking could clear the way to revealing those parts of him, she wondered how magnificent of a man might appear if he ever set himself free from whatever else he was hiding.

  Chapter Three

  VOICES FROM THE beach carried in the breeze through the windows of Jock’s cottage late Wednesday afternoon, blowing his notes off the edge of his desk. He snagged the papers from the floor and set them beside his notebooks, placing his phone on top to keep them from drifting again. He held his finger down on the delete key, watching the words disappear for the hundredth time that day. He’d been trying to write for hours, with nothing more to show for it than a bunch of half-assed ideas scribbled in notebooks. If trying to keep his hands off Daphne didn’t take him to an early grave, the blank page surely would. When he’d written his first novel, he’d been a wild college junior out partying half the time, and still the words had flowed like a river. Sitting down to the computer had been a joy. Scenes had played in his head like a movie, seamless and impactful. Before the accident, he’d been cocky, determined, and relentless in all of his pursuits. But that devastating night had plagued him with guilt and nightmares, shattering his life and his imagination.

  He pushed to his feet, pacing the small cottage. The nightmares had subsided years ago, but he was sick of not being able to clear his head enough to reach the creative parts of his mind that had driven him through college. His father thought his writing suffered due to PTSD from losing Kayla and the baby, his mother thought it was a broken heart, and he was sure his siblings had their own theories, too. His parents’ theories were probably right, at least when it came to his reaction to young children looking to him for protection or care, because he was okay around children in general, until they clung to him, like Hadley did, or wanted to be held. He couldn’t hold young ones without seeing his dying son in his arms.

  But there was more to the death of his muse and the chaos in his mind than the losses he’d suffered. There was the secret Kayla had shared the night she’d died, that she was in love with Archer, and Archer’s seething proclamation—She’s gone because of you, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me, too. His chest constricted, but he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in that now. He needed to find a way to move forward and find his goddamn muse before he lost his fucking mind.

  His phone dinged with a text. He strode past the open patio door and snagged his phone from the desk. Jules. She’d called when he was with Daphne last night, and he hadn’t called her back. He rarely put off returning his youngest sister’s calls, but last night he’d been struggling with his desire to haul Daphne into his arms and kiss her until her entire body blushed. He’d been too damn confused to deal with Jules’s overzealous personality. Jules was several years younger than Jock, and they’d always been close. She’d been diagnosed with a Wilms’ tumor when she was three, and she’d had one kidney removed. Jock had sat by her bedside day and night until she was fully recovered. She’d cried when he’d gone away to college, and of all his siblings, she was the one who continually tried to get him to move back to the island.

  He opened the text, which he realized she’d sent to each of his four other siblings as well. Jules was the queen of group texts. Archer never participated in them, which wasn’t surprising, since Jock occasionally did, and even that was too much crossing paths for his twin. Though Jock wasn’t a fan of drama, he loved his siblings and the group texts kept him up to date with things back home.

  He read Jules’s text. Oooooh it’s halfway here! She added a musical note and a megaphone emoji.

  Jock had no idea what she was talking about. The phone dinged three times in rapid succession with messages from their siblings. His younger brother Levi, who lived in Harborside, Massachusetts, responded with Should I be worried?

  Levi’s twin sister, Leni, texted, What am I missing?

  Is it just me, or does it sound like she’s drinking? their sister Sutton asked.

  Another text rolled in from Jules. It’s Bon Jovi!

  In addition to being the queen of group texts, Jules also thought herself to be a music aficionado. In reality, she was a bundle of energy, happier than anyone Jock had ever known with the exception of his mother, and she always got the lyrics to songs wrong.

  Another text from Levi popped up. It’s WHOA and THERE

  Sutton, who had been an editor for a fashion magazine before taking a position as a reporter with a different arm of the same company, texted, Woah.

  Some editor you are, Levi responded. I’ve got three words for you—dictionary dot com.

  Jules texted three laughing emojis followed by Ooooh living on a prayer. Leni chimed in with WHAT IS THIS ABOUT? I’m in a meeting. Leni worked for their cousin Shea’s public relations company. She was always busy.

  Jules answered immediately. Grandma Lenore’s party! We’re halfway done with the prep.

  Their maternal grandmother’s birthday was three weeks from Saturday. Jock wasn’t planning to attend, although as he and his siblings did every year at her request, he’d donated to the Windmeyer Institute for Cancer Research.

  Another text from Sutton popped up. I’ll be there. My brain is numb from reading fashion article submissions for Laken while she’s at a conference. She added an emoji of a head exploding. Sutton’s colleague Laken had taken over her editorial job and she was still getting her arms around the position. Sutton helped out when she was able.

  Levi responded with If only you knew a good writer. A thinking emoji popped up.

  Jock grumbled, “Bastard,” muted the group text, and set his phone down. His gaze moved to the corner of the room, where the antique typewriter Harvey had left him sat atop a table by the bookshelves. That typewriter had belonged to Harvey’s wife, Adele. It had been left to her by her father, who had been a gifted writer. Everything Harvey had ever given Jock had either been a joke or was meant to help him in some way. There had been no middle ground with Harvey. Jock had a storage unit full of things Harvey had given him over the years, some of which he hadn’t touched since his first year with Harvey, when it had been all he could do to make it through each day. Maybe he’d get lucky and there’d be a little magic in the old typewriter. That was probably what Harvey had wanted him to believe, anyway. The damn thing would probably fall apart the minute he used it.

  He grabbed one of his notebooks from the desk and read the notes he’d taken about possible story lines. He mulled them over one by one, trying to flesh out something more than a handful of sentences, but they all sucked. When his phone rang, he was glad for the interruption. Jules’s name appeared on the screen. He answered it as he looked out the patio doors at the water, sunlight shimmering off the surface. “Hey, Jules.”

&nbs
p; “I know you were reading our texts. I could hear you breathing like a text creeper. You and Archer, both. Oh my God! Jack! You should use that for the title of your next book. Text Creeper. That’s an awesome horror title.”

  He laughed. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

  “You totally should, and you’d better have a good reason for not calling me back last night, like you were busy getting your groove on with a beautiful woman or knee-deep in writing another book or something.”

  He grinned, missing her even more. “You’re a pest.”

  “True, but you love me.”

  “That I do.”

  “So, which was it?”

  “Actually, I was having pizza with a friend, and time got away from me. Sorry for not calling.”

  “A woman friend?”

  Her anticipation flitted through the phone, but he knew better than to tell her anything that would get her hopes up about him being in a relationship. Especially with a single mother, no matter how much he’d enjoyed last night. He went for a change in subject instead. “What else is going on? Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Yes. Haven’t you heard? A royal prince is visiting the island. He asked me to go back to his country with him. I’m thinking about it, so you should come to Grandma’s party and meet him.”

  He chuckled. “You and I both know you’ll never leave the island.” Jules and Archer were his only siblings who had stayed on the island. Jules was so enamored with island life, she talked as if she lived in paradise.

  “Boo on you, Mr. Know-It-All. I want to see you,” she said pleadingly. “I miss you, Jack.”

  “I was just there for a wedding.” Gavin and Harper had gotten married a few months ago at the Silver House, a resort on the island. Jock had called his parents and Jules ahead of time to let them know he’d be attending the wedding. He’d known Jules would show up to see him at his parents’ house, and he’d also known Archer would stay away. He’d visited for half an hour; then he’d taken off and come back to the Cape. That had been a difficult night for reasons other than the discomfort of being home. Daphne and Hadley had been at the wedding, too. Daphne had looked sexy and beautiful in a royal-blue dress that made her eyes look even bluer, and Hadley had been adorable in a pretty pink dress. It had been hell watching Daphne dance with her girlfriends. He’d seen her dance a handful of times while they were out with friends at Undercover, and guys were always checking out her gorgeous curves. The fact that she could barely look at him without blushing had made him even more aware of the other guys admiring her at the wedding, and he’d felt protective of her. If ever there was a time he had wanted to take a woman in his arms and dance, it would have been Daphne the night of the wedding. He fucking hated that he couldn’t be near her because of his reaction to Hadley.