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

by Melissa Foster

  “Your mother must have been terrified that you were missing.”

  “She was. But the worst part is that we’d seen the ushers looking down every aisle with flashlights and we’d hidden because we thought they would kick us out for not being there with an adult. I still feel guilty about that.”

  “I’d lose my mind if Hadley was missing. I worry all the time about something happening to her.”

  Jock hadn’t understood how terrifying it had been for his parents until the night of the accident. “We deserved the grounding we got. But that movie was what sparked my love of horror. After that we were always trying to up our pranks a notch. We were young, so we didn’t do a great job of it, but we were creative. We’d rig up sheets with string and trick our younger sisters into thinking they were ghosts. One time we put ketchup all over ourselves and spread it on one of our father’s saws. My brother lay down in the yard like he was cut, and I ran inside screaming that he was dying.”

  “Geez! You really took it far.”

  “Yeah, I had no idea about the fears parents had back then.”

  “What did your parents do?”

  “They laughed at us. It was ketchup, and we did shit like that all the time. Somedays we’d do it several times in one afternoon.” He chuckled with the memories. “We were such dorks. It took a few years, but we finally mastered pranks. My parents’ pantry has all sorts of prank stuff hidden in it, like ghost-pepper extract and ipecac syrup.”

  “You guys are awful. Did you prank your friends?”

  “Only the ones we liked. It was sort of a rite of passage into our group.”

  “Which brother was your prank partner?”

  A familiar knot lodged in his gut. “Archer, my twin.”

  “It sounds like you guys are close.”

  Not anymore. He studied the board and put down the word enemy. “Your turn, blondie,” he said as he scribbled down his points.

  “Enemy is a great word for a horror story.” She set down the word yellow. “All villains are enemies. How about doing a story that’s related to It Lies? Could the girl whose spirit came back have an enemy in the spirit world that takes vengeance in the real world, like she did?”

  “Look at you, getting into horror. That’s an interesting idea.”

  She leaned across the table, waving her finger at the paper, and said, “Write it down so we don’t forget. Maybe it’ll help you think of something later.”

  “I know exactly what I’ll be thinking about later,” he said as he wrote down her idea.

  “How badly you lost at Scrabble?” she asked playfully.

  Their eyes caught, and he said, “Sure, we’ll go with that.” The sweet smile that earned made him want to haul her over the table and kiss her.

  “If you had a dollar for every time you made me blush, you’d be a rich man.”

  “I’m a rich man because I get to see you blush.”

  She gave him a deadpan look. “Now you’re just trying to throw me off my game, and it’s not going to work.” She broke a piece off a muffin and ate it. “It’s your turn. And I’m going to have to start messing with your head so you can see how it feels.”

  Little did she know she already was.

  She leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand, batting her lashes, her alluring baby blues adorably nervous, as she said, “So, mysterious neighbor, tell me something I don’t know about you.”

  He was pretty sure saying I want you lying naked in my arms, writhing in fits of ecstasy as I make you come so hard you can’t remember your own name was not what she was talking about. His cock ached at the thought. He tried to clear his throat, but it sounded more like a growl.

  Her eyes narrowed. She sat up with a seductive expression and pushed her chest out. “A big, tough man like you can’t tell me one itty-bitty secret?”

  She was killing him. “Daphne,” he warned, wondering where this confident seductress had come from.

  Heat rose on her cheeks, but a flash of victory shone in her eyes. “Let’s see how long you can keep it up.” She reached across the table, brushing her fingers over his hand, and said, “What’s wrong, Jock? You can’t compete?”

  “Fuuck.” He flipped his hand over and trapped her fingers beneath his. Their eyes locked. Her breathing shallowed. Lust shimmered in her eyes, and she bit her lower lip, like she’d been caught in her own web of arousal. He’d fantasized about how she’d look when she was hot and bothered, but seeing her swamped with desire surpassed even his wildest dreams.

  Her mouth opened, then shut quickly. She tugged her hand free and threw herself back in her chair. “Forget it! I bet a guy like you can keep it up all night.”

  “Damn right I can,” he gritted out.

  “I meant talking!” She buried her face in her hands and made a laughing-whimpering sound. “Talking Jock! Talking!”

  He had to laugh because she was so damn adorable. “You ruin me, Daphne.”

  “Yeah, right. Like all that stuff didn’t just backfire on me.” She peeked out from between her fingers and said, “Truce?”

  “I wasn’t aware there was a war going on, but sure.”

  She pressed one hand to her chest, exhaling loudly. “I am not used to playing those games.”

  “That makes you even more attractive.” He grabbed her water bottle, opened it, and handed it to her. “Drink this before you combust.”

  “Would you stop?” She took it, guzzling the water. “I might not be able to knock you off your game, but I can still win at Scrabble.”

  She set the water bottle on the table, and he picked it up. “Do you mind?”

  “Go for it.” Her eyes lit up. “Does that mean it worked a little?”

  So damn cute. “If you think eight inches is a little, then yes.”

  She turned beet red, grinning ear to ear, and said, “I hate you, Jock Steele. And just for that, I’m going to blow you away.”

  He arched a brow.

  “In Scrabble!” She gave him an imploring look. “Focus on the game, will you? You make it so hard.”

  He laughed.

  She looked up at the sky and groaned. “Please, God, just strike me down right now before I put another foot in my mouth.”

  “I’ve got something much tastier than feet.”

  “Jock!” She laughed so hard, tears spilled from her eyes. As she swiped at them, she pointed at him and said, “Do not say a word.”

  He held his hands up in surrender.

  They played a few rounds without talking, sexual tension buzzing in the air as they shared furtive glances and stifled laughs. It was the most fantastic night Jock had ever experienced, and he didn’t want it to end.

  Daphne put down the word hungry and said, “Did you learn to cook when you took care of Harvey?”

  “No. It was when I was a kid. You couldn’t grow up with my mother and not learn how to cook.”

  He spelled yes on the board using the y in hungry, and she glowered at him. He winked and said, “Ravenous.”

  “I’m not falling for that, and I’m not offering you more muffins, because that would just end in you making me blush again.”

  “Don’t withhold your muffins,” he pleaded. “That’s just cruel.”

  “Fine. Eat my muffins if you must, but I am not reciprocating and eating your…éclair.” Laughter burst from her lips, and they both cracked up. “Okay, okay, okay.” She wrapped her arm around her middle and said, “I’ve got to stop. My stomach hurts from laughing.”

  “Oh, man. You’re a blast.”

  “I’m glad I’m entertaining you. What were we talking about?”

  “Your muffins,” he said coyly.

  She waggled her finger. “No. We were talking about your mother. Tell me about her. Is she that bad of a cook, or were you left to fend for yourself a lot?”

  “She’s a phenomenal cook, and every meal is an event. But it’s not the food that reels you in. It’s her.”

  Daphne studied her tiles a
nd said, “What about her?”

  “I don’t know. Everything. My mother is one of the most beautiful women I know. She’s funny and loving, and she’s just the best mom a guy could ask for. You should see my father with her. They’re still so in love, he’s always pawing at her, kissing her, like he’d never get enough.”

  “That’s nice. My dad loves my mom, but he’s not overly affectionate.”

  “I don’t think my father could stand not touching my mother. She’s just…You can’t help but be drawn to her, and when she’s cooking, she’s always telling stories. She sucks you into her world without even trying. I can remember playing basketball in the yard as a kid and coming in for a drink or a snack, and she’d say”—he softened his voice—“‘Come on, Jackie, let’s whip you up something to eat.’ Two hours later, I’d have a full meal in my stomach that I’d helped prepare and I was sitting there mesmerized by one of her stories.”

  “She sounds wonderful.” Daphne set down her word and said, “How often do you see her?”

  “Not very often.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged and took his turn.

  As he reached for the last of the tiles, she said, “Come on, Jackie, you’re not getting off that easy.”

  “What did you just call me?” God, this woman…

  “You heard me. Jackie, Jackie, Jackie,” she said in a singsong voice.

  “Those are fighting words, girl.”

  “Oooh, I’m scared,” she said sarcastically.

  He pushed to his feet and reached for her. She darted away, knocking the board off the table. He ran after her and caught her around the waist, hauling her back against his chest. She was laughing hysterically, trying to wriggle free, and she felt so fucking good, he tightened his hold.

  “Stop!” she said through her laughs. “You’re tickling me.”

  He put his mouth beside her ear and said, “You think you can take me on, Zablonski?”

  “You think you can take me on, Steele?” she challenged.

  In her struggles, she thrust her ass back, pressing against his cock, making him hard as stone. “You’re playing with fire, blondie.”

  “What’s the matter? My hot muffins too much for you to handle?”

  She shimmied and twisted, breaking free at the exact moment he let go, and tripped over her feet, taking them both down to the ground. She landed on top of him with her breasts in his face. Popping up on her hands, eyes wide as saucers, she said, “I guess I can take you on after all.”

  In one swift move, he shifted her onto her back and straddled her hips, holding her arms beside her head. She was panting and smiling so bright, she lit up the night. He wanted to take the kiss he’d been craving, to soak up her light until it blinded the angst of his past. But he knew better, so he said, “You’re a dangerous woman, Daphne Zablonski.”

  “Dangerous to your manhood,” she said snarkily.

  “You have no idea how accurate you are.”

  “I meant your pride!” she said, looking sweet and sexy and far too tempting.

  He forced himself to climb off her, and as he helped her to her feet, all that sweet light turned dark and electric. Her eyes brimmed with desire and his body throbbed with it. It took all of his control to step back, but the sizzling heat between them was like a cable pulling him toward her. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to put more distance between them, and by the way her breathing hitched, he was pretty sure she felt the same.

  “Daphne? Jock?” Emery’s voice broke their spell.

  Daphne stumbled away, fidgeting with her sweater, embarrassment staining her cheeks. “Emery, Dean. Hi. We were just playing…”

  “Uh-huh,” Emery said with an approving grin.

  Dean, a mountain of a man with bulbous muscles and a Viking-like beard, locked eyes with Jock and said, “Playing?” All of Daphne’s bosses were protective of her.

  “Scrabble,” Jock explained. “Careful taking on this one.” Jock began picking up the tiles from the ground and said, “She kicked my ass.”

  “I read a lot. It helps,” Daphne said, nervously picking up the Scrabble board and placing it in the box.

  “Since you love erotic romance, I bet it was an interesting game,” Emery teased.

  “That’s not all I read,” Daphne said, frantically gathering her things.

  Jock put the last of the tiles in the box and said, “It’s getting late. I should take off. Daph, do you want help bringing your things inside?”

  “No thanks,” she said softly, her eyes briefly meeting his, then shifting away, but not before he registered the embarrassment, disappointment, and definite interest he’d seen in them.

  “Hey, are you guys coming to the bonfire Friday night?” Dean asked.

  “I’ll be there,” Daphne said. “Hadley loves our date nights.”

  “Date nights?” Jock asked.

  Daphne looked a little sheepish, as if she was afraid to look for too long, and said, “Mommy-daughter dates. Hadley loves them because she gets to stay up late and play on the beach at night. She usually wears herself out and falls asleep on my lap sitting by the fire.”

  Why did that sound wonderful to a guy who couldn’t even stick around when her kid hugged his leg?

  “I can’t wait to have Mommy-baby dates,” Emery said, hugging Dean.

  “Me too, doll.” Dean kissed her cheek and said, “How about you, Jock? Will you be there?”

  He didn’t want to show up at the bonfire and ruin Daphne’s and Hadley’s fun. “I think I’d better skip it.” He glanced at Daphne and said, “I had a great time. I haven’t laughed this much since Harvey was alive. Thanks for the game, and I sure enjoyed your muffins.” That earned another fierce blush. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

  As he headed home, tomorrow seemed much too far away.

  Chapter Five

  “LET ME CHECK the dates to see if the cottage is free.” Daphne cradled the phone against her shoulder Thursday morning as she typed on her computer. She’d been making stupid little mistakes all day, like typing in the wrong dates, as she did just now. For the life of her, she couldn’t get out of her Jock fog, which was how she was referring to the new scatterbrained moments she’d been experiencing since last night. She’d wanted to kiss him so badly when they were lying in the grass, she could taste it, and if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d made herself crazy wondering if he’d been serious about making her dinner. She didn’t think he was, since they hadn’t firmed up plans, but she’d liked the idea of it.

  “I don’t have cottage number nine available that weekend,” she said into the phone. “But we just had a cancelation on cottage thirteen, which is a three-bedroom. It’s a little more expensive, but it does have a water view. Would you like to reserve that one?”

  “Let me check with my husband and get back to you on that,” the woman said. “But I have another question. My sister just got engaged, and I’m helping her look for a venue on the Cape where we can hold an intimate wedding with about fifty guests. What is your availability next May?”

  For the hundredth time since she’d begun working there, Daphne tried to mask her disappointment as she said, “I’m sorry. We don’t host weddings, but I can give you numbers of local venues that do.”

  Daphne gave her the numbers of other event venues, and after she ended the call, she looked over her to-do list. At the top of the list was creating next week’s event flyer. A company provided monthly booklets listing events that took place all over the Cape. When Daphne started working at the resort, she began making more personalized flyers for the guests. Every other week she put together lists of only the local events and sights, like Emery’s yoga classes, the art gallery at Summer House, antique shops, Friday-night band concerts, movie nights at Preservation Hall in the middle of town, and other nearby events. As she pulled up last week’s flyer, the idea of planning a small wedding nagged at her. She missed the thrill of working with excited brides and grooms, coordinating music,
flowers, and decorations, making sure the happy couple was dazzled and pampered and that their dreams were not only met but exceeded.

  Her cell phone rang, and her mother’s name appeared on the screen. It was like Grand Central Station this morning.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said as she grabbed her events notebook.

  “Hi, sweetheart. I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to touch base about Hadley’s birthday.” Her parents doted on Hadley, and they were throwing her a birthday lunch on her birthday weekend, which was still a few weeks away. “Your father is arranging for the guys to bring the fire truck, and—”

  “Mom, I told Daddy he didn’t need to bring the fire truck. He should wait until next year or the year after, when Hadley’s old enough to remember her first ride.” Her father had made a tradition of taking each of his kids on a fire truck ride around the neighborhood with lights and sirens on their birthday. Daphne had been putting it off for Hadley because the loud noises had scared her when she was little, and she didn’t want Hadley to be scared, too.

  “I know, but your father has been dreaming of this day since Hadley was born. Let Pop Pop have his fun, honey.”

  “Fine, but I’m riding on the truck with her. It’s scary up there.”

  “You can argue with your father about that. I wanted to tell you that last night Renee and I picked up the cutest cake topper of a bird that looks just like Hadley’s favorite stuffy.”

  “She’ll love that, but you might want to pick up an owl, too. A friend gave her one the other day and it’s already become her new favorite.”

  “Was it from Jett? He’s such a sweetheart.”

  “It wasn’t Jett, Mom. It was Jock, one of Jett and Tegan’s friends.”

  “Hadley is one lucky little girl to have so many people who love her. Once she learns the power of the female smile, you’ll have your hands full.”