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

by Melissa Foster

  She was already blushing, so she went with the truth. “To see if your truck was by your cottage.”

  “So you were looking for me.” He sat, too, stretching out his long jeans-clad legs. He looked incredibly handsome in a black long-sleeved shirt that molded to his chest.

  Daphne pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, trying to get her tingles under control. “Yes, but not in a stalkerish way or anything. We didn’t plan on meeting at any particular time, and I thought maybe you were coming later or…”

  “Or not coming at all?” he asked carefully.

  “The thought might have crossed my mind. You could have been at the boxing club or something.”

  He turned his chair to face her and leaned his elbows on his knees, those all-seeing eyes trained on her as he said, “Or something?”

  “I don’t know. You’re a good-looking guy. You could have been out on a date.”

  His brow furrowed. “That would make me a dick, since I asked you to meet me here tonight.”

  “You said it, not me,” she said lightly.

  “I’d like to think I’m better than that. But the truth is, I thought about canceling but not about standing you up.”

  “Oh…” She couldn’t hide her disappointment, but annoyance was right behind, as it had been moments earlier. “Most guys would just lie. Why are you telling me?”

  “I’m not a very good liar. I saw those guys flirting with you this afternoon and I wondered if it was unfair of me to take up your night when you could be out with someone who doesn’t have trouble with young kids.”

  She scoffed to hide her hurt. “You are a good liar after all. Nobody flirted with me today.”

  “Daph, you don’t have to hide it. I’m not your jealous boyfriend. I saw you playing with Hadley by the pool when those guys were checking you out, and then I saw them flirting with you.”

  “By the pool?” She mentally chased through memories of the afternoon. “Oh my gosh, you’re crazy. Those guys were not flirting with me. They were asking about places to go around here, like clubs. I told them about Undercover and I said Provincetown has a ton of clubs.” Provincetown was an arts community at the tip of Cape Cod.

  “And they probably asked where you go, right?”

  She thought about the conversation she’d had with them. “Yes, actually, they did. I told them I went to Undercover.” Were they flirting?

  He arched a brow.

  “Pfft. You’re nuts,” she said.

  “And you’re an intelligent woman. I can’t believe you’d miss the cues.”

  “Cues?” She waved her hand dismissively, laughing. Those guys were hot. Not nearly as good-looking as Jock, but they definitely could have their pick of women. “Okay, crazy man. For your information, single moms are not exactly sought-after dates. Why did you show up instead of canceling, anyway? And just so you know, it bothers me that you were going to cancel, even if it was for a thoughtful reason.”

  “Well, don’t let it bother you too much. I could lie and say I figured I’ve got enough strikes against me because of my reactions to Hadley and I showed up to get brownie points.” Holding her gaze, he said, “But the truth is, I had a really good time last night, and I couldn’t stay away.”

  “Oh,” she said casually, and then she processed what he’d said and the way he was looking at her, like he really meant it, and a more shocked “Oh” slipped out.

  “It surprised me, too.” His lips lifted with a tentative smile. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the kind of guy who seeks out intimate conversation. But there’s something about you…”

  More nervous laughter bubbled out. “It’s my muffins. You must really like them.”

  He barked out a laugh, which made her laugh, and blush, and laugh some more.

  “I’m never going to mention muffins again! Seriously, though, you are a crazy man,” she said. “I have Hadley. My personal life is the book club, times like this, and an occasional night out with friends. You’re usually there when we go, so you know I’m all about hanging out with our friends and not out looking to hook up with guys.”

  “You may not be looking, but they’re looking at you, Daph, trust me.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “You took care of Harvey. You know how hard it is to fit in a personal life when you have someone relying on you. How did you fit it in for all those years? And don’t say you didn’t, because I’m not that naive.”

  “I don’t think you’re naive at all. I was pretty broken when I first started working for Harvey, and that lasted a while. But as things got better, I met a few women that I’d get together with from time to time. There were nurses who came to stay with Harvey while I was out so I could go scratch that itch, so to speak.”

  Daphne told herself not to ask about the pretty blond photographer from Gavin and Harper’s wedding. But she was dying to know if they’d gone out, and she couldn’t hold back. “Like Tara?”

  Confusion riddled his brow. “Tara?”

  “The photographer from Gavin and Harper’s wedding? The way she talked, it sounded like you two were pretty close.”

  “Mouse?” He laughed. “She’s almost ten years younger than me. I’ve known Tara since she was in diapers.”

  “Sorry for asking. I just…” She wasn’t good at lying either, so she said, “I wanted to know.”

  “It’s okay, Daph. I like that you wanted to know.”

  Her thoughts stumbled, but she managed “Why did you call her Mouse?”

  “Tara used to hide in the pantry during parties, nibbling on snacks. At some point her sister started calling her Mouse, and it stuck. Tara’s a sweetheart. I love her like a sister, but there’s nothing more between us. If we looked especially close, it’s because she’s my niece Joey’s aunt. My younger brother Levi had a baby with Tara’s older sister, Amelia. Joey will be eight this year. Amelia never wanted to be a mother, so Levi is raising Joey alone.”

  “I know a little something about people like that,” Daphne said softly. “Is Levi a good father?”

  “He’s the best, and Joey is an amazing kid.”

  She fidgeted with the hem of her sweater and said, “I know you don’t want to talk about your past, but do you react to your niece the same way you react to Hadley?”

  THE WORRY IN Daphne’s eyes was almost enough to sidetrack Jock from the comment she’d made about knowing people like Amelia. He could deflect her question and ask about her comment instead, but there was something about Daphne that made him want to stop deflecting. She hadn’t pushed him to tell her more than he was willing last night, and now she was looking at him with worry in her eyes, not accusations. He appreciated that, and she deserved an answer.

  “It was the same at first,” he admitted. “But it’s better now.”

  “That’s good.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was relieved by his answer or if it made her more curious. He followed her gaze to the food on the table and said, “Is that your dinner?”

  “Yeah. PB and J. Want half?” She picked up half the sandwich.

  “Seriously, Daph? That’s dinner?”

  “Yes, and don’t make fun of me,” she said with a flair of confidence. “I have a very busy life, and even though it looks like food is the priority, it’s not.”

  “Why would it look like food is the priority? I’ve seen you eat pizza, peanut butter and jelly, and muffins. Those are hardly signs of a foodie.”

  “For other obvious reasons,” she said, and shifted her eyes away.

  “Hey.” It came out sharper than he’d meant it to, but it brought her eyes to his, and he said, “The only obvious thing about you is that you love your daughter enough to put your needs second. That, and the fact that you are absolutely stunning, and kind enough not to blow me off for the way I react to Hadley.”

  “Jock,” she said softly. “You don’t have to say stuff like that to me.”

  “Would you rather I lied?”

  She rol
led her eyes, blushing fiercely.

  “Roll your eyes all you want. All I can tell you is that from the first second I saw you at Gavin’s birthday party last summer, you have become my wonderwall.”

  “Is that something dirty?” she asked with a lift of her chin.

  He chuckled. “You’re so damn cute. No, it doesn’t mean something dirty.” He wasn’t about to admit that she was the only woman whose image he conjured when he was lying in his bed late at night, or that those thoughts were definitely dirty. “Wonderwall has a few definitions, but for me, it’s the person I can’t stop thinking about.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m sure it’s because you’re wondering if you’ll need your running shoes when you see me with Hadley. She loved the owl, by the way. She’s sleeping with it. Thank you for thinking of her.”

  “I’m glad she likes it. I think about her a lot. And just so you know, you’re wrong about the running shoes. I definitely have a thing for your muffins.” He snagged half of a muffin from the plate and took a bite, loving the crimson staining her cheeks. “You’d better eat your dinner before I do.” He’d probably go straight to hell for what he was about to say, but Daphne’s sweetness was an aphrodisiac. He couldn’t resist holding her gaze and saying, “I’ve got a ravenous appetite. Once I get started, I can eat all night long.”

  Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. He grinned, and she shoved her sandwich in her mouth. She sat up taller and pointed at him. “Stop saying stuff like that just to make me blush.”

  Think what you want, babe. It’s probably better that way, because you make it impossible for me to hold back. He finished his muffin and reached for another half.

  Between bites of her sandwich, she said, “I’m sure you have to eat a lot to keep up those muscles. You must work out all the time.”

  “I box to clear my head. I’m trying to get back into writing, but the words aren’t coming.”

  “Tegan mentioned that Harvey left you a large inheritance if you publish another book.”

  “He did.” Two million dollars, to be exact. “But I don’t want to write because of that. I have enough money. Writing is what I do. It’s who I am.”

  “But you were a caregiver, too.”

  “Yes, but that was different. I was in a really bad place when I met Harvey. He gave me a purpose, something to focus on to help pull my head out of the darkness that had swallowed me up. He pushed me to get involved with his business, and as his health deteriorated, I wanted to take care of him. I learned to take care of him. Writing is different. It was like writing chose me, not the other way around. And now that Harvey’s gone and the words won’t come when I try to write, I don’t know who I am. Which is totally messed up, because before all that bad shit happened, I was unstoppable.”

  He pushed to his feet and paced, adrenaline coursing through him. “I aced everything I did. Top grades, top fighter. I was a cocky asshole, but there was nothing I couldn’t achieve. As a college junior I wrote a screenplay that poured from my fingertips like magic, and on the suggestion of a professor, I turned it into a novel that sold in less than thirty days for an insane amount of money. The sky was the limit, and I was a fucking rocket ship. The guy I am now? Floundering? Unsure? I don’t know who the hell he is, but he’s not the man I was meant to be, and I’ll be damned if he’s going to steal the rest of my life from me.” He realized with a shock how much he’d shared. He’d been holding it in for so long, it felt like it had been ripped from his bones.

  “Whatever happened must have been really horrible to take all of that away from you.” Daphne was quiet for a beat. “Jock…?”

  He lifted his eyes to hers, and holy hell, understanding slammed into him. He’d needed her to know that who she saw wasn’t all that he really was. What was it about her that was doing this to him?

  Relieved that he hadn’t spewed the whole ugly truth, he sat down beside her. “That unstoppable guy who pursued and conquered? That’s me, Daphne. But this is the first time in years I’ve actually felt him inside me. I wasn’t even sure that guy still existed.”

  “What do you think changed? Why do you feel him now?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, needing to keep a modicum of distance until he could figure himself out. But the way she was looking at him was deeper than just a woman seeking an answer. She looked at him like she cared, and man, he wanted to earn more of that, so he told her the truth. “Maybe I do know. Have you ever met someone and wanted them to see the best version of you?”

  “I guess, yeah.”

  “I think that is what’s happening to me, and that someone is you. You must have inspired that part of me to try to break free, because all that stuff I just said shocked the hell out of me, too.”

  Daphne inhaled a shaky breath, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend like you or felt anything like this. It’s incredible to actually feel again. Thank you.”

  She let out a soft but cheery “Yay for me,” raising her fist in the air.

  God she was cute.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve inspired anything in someone else,” she said as she reached for her bottle of water.

  “There you go missing those cues again.”

  She took a drink, avoiding his gaze, and as she set the water bottle on the table, she said, “If I can bring out that hidden part of you, then maybe I can coax some story ideas out of you, too. You write mystery, right?”

  “Not exactly. I write horror.”

  Her brow furrowed and she leaned back, as if what he’d said was contagious. “Horror? Really?” She said horror like a curse and really with intrigue. “I don’t read horror, so clue me in. What’s it like?”

  “It’s pretty much the opposite of romance. The goal of horror is to terrify the reader.”

  “I figured that much. But what did you write about? I don’t even know the title of your book.”

  “The title is It Lies, and the story opens twenty years after a group of college kids killed a woman and got away with it. In the first scene, high schoolers are having a séance in the graveyard where she’s buried, and they unknowingly awaken her spirit. She goes on a vengeful warpath, killing each of the people who were involved in her death.”

  Daphne cringed. “That’s horrible.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “I know, but why would you want to think about that kind of thing? No wonder you can’t write. If you experienced something so awful that your entire life changed, then maybe you need to write something happier.”

  “Daph, I’m not a romance writer.”

  “I don’t mean romance. Couldn’t you write literary fiction, or even a less-gruesome mystery?”

  He shook his head. “They’re not really my thing.”

  “Okay. Then let’s brainstorm and see what we can come up with that’s horrific.” She grabbed a notebook, pen, and the other half of her sandwich. She took a bite and said, “You fuel your muscles. I fuel my brain.”

  He’d like to fuel her brain and her body with a lot more than a sandwich. “You don’t have to help me with this. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

  “Like you figured out that other part of you was still in there?” She opened the notebook and said, “How long did that take?”

  “Daph, you’re sweet to offer, but I don’t want to waste your time. You don’t even like the genre.”

  “But I like you, and I want to help you.” She took another bite of her sandwich. “How about a story about a haunted inn? You could use Summer House for inspiration. And the ghosts kills….” She shook her head, brows knitted, and said, “Forget that. Too close to home.” She tapped her pen on the notebook, and suddenly her eyes widened. “I know! A story about a stalker. He can be really creepy, but instead of killing the girl, he falls in love with her.”

  “That would be romance.”

  “You’re
right. You know what? I stink at this. But I have an idea!” She pushed to her feet and put the notebook and pen on the table. “I have just the thing to get your words flowing. I’ll be right back.”

  He watched her hips sway as she hurried around the building.

  She returned a minute later with Scrabble and a gorgeous grin. “Ta-da!”

  “Daphne Zablonski, you just got even hotter. You’re a Scrabble girl?”

  “Heck yeah. We keep a few games in the office. Do you play?”

  “No,” he said as she sat down. “I win.”

  “Not tonight you won’t,” she said sassily.

  “We’ll see about that.” He moved the table between them, and as they set up the game, he said, “Let’s make it interesting. If I win, you have lunch with me tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, but I eat at my desk and work through lunch so I can pick up Hadley before five.”

  He made a mental note of that and said, “Okay. If you win, I’ll make you dinner tomorrow night.”

  “You mean when I win.” She moved her tiles around on the holder. “And on the off-chance I lose?”

  “You’ll have to enjoy the dinner I make.” He picked his tiles and said, “What do you say? I’m an amazing cook.”

  “I say I need more friends like you.” Her eyes flicked up to his. “But seriously, shouldn’t you get something if you win?”

  “I am. I get to have dinner with you. Cooking for one is no fun.”

  They played a few rounds, and she put down the word grudge. “How about that?” she asked excitedly. “Does ‘grudge’ spark any ideas for a story?”

  Yeah, the story of my life. “Not right off the bat, but it was a great movie.”

  “I never saw it. I’m sure we’ll come up with better words to inspire something in that head of yours.” As he took his turn, she said, “Why did you go with horror, anyway?”

  “That’s an easy answer. My brother and I used to scare the crap out of each other and everyone else. My mom says we started doing it when we were really little. I don’t remember all that far back. But when we were about eight, a sitter took us to the movies. She bought us popcorn and candy and went to watch a chick flick in another theater. We got bored, so we snuck out of the movie we were supposed to watch and into the theater that was showing Halloween. It scared the hell out of us, but we loved it. Unfortunately, we were too young to realize that movies didn’t all end at the same time. When we came out of the theater an hour after the kid movie had ended, the police had just arrived. Our parents were there. They were frantic, and the sitter was in tears.”