If he’d made this chicken salad, she didn’t care about his double chin or his whacked-out hair. A guy who made chicken salad this yummy didn’t even have to be good in bed. If he was good in bed and good in the kitchen, he deserved all the women he could get.
Just not her.
Chapter Nine
Sean took heart from the expression of bliss on Maggie’s face when she tasted the sandwich. He was definitely making progress.
“Chips?” He held out the bowl to her.
Still working on her first bite, she nodded and took a handful for her plate.
He tried not to stare, but he’d never seen anyone look so cute while they ate, and he’d shared plenty of meals with plenty of women. Behind her little wire-framed glasses, her blue eyes shone with pleasure and her freckles seemed to dance with enjoyment as she chewed. He liked that she didn’t try to cover her freckles with a lot of makeup.
A dab of mayonnaise escaped from the corner of her mouth. Instead of using her napkin, she flicked the mayonnaise back in with her tongue, as if she didn’t want to miss a single bit of this food. She’d been the same way when she’d devoured the cinnamon rolls at the Hob Knob, and he’d been fascinated then, too.
She swallowed and picked up the sandwich to dive in again. “This is incredible chicken salad. Did you make it?”
“No.” No use pretending he could cook. “It came from the Big Knob Market’s deli counter. I always keep a container of it in my fridge.”
“I would, too, if I lived here. I wonder if they ship?”
Sean laughed. “You could ask, but I doubt it. We’re not very up on that kind of thing in Big Knob.” Then, because he was afraid she’d catch him staring at her like a lust-crazed idiot, he unwrapped his own sandwich and bit down.
Man, it was good. He’d been eating a chicken salad sandwich on unseeded rye a couple of times a week for seven or eight years, ever since Bradley had taken over the deli counter. It was always great, but today it was incredible. He couldn’t explain the difference, because this was from the same batch he’d eaten a couple of days ago.
Maybe it was the wine. That wine seemed to make everything taste like it came from a five-star restaurant. Then again, he’d never eaten at a five-star restaurant, so he wasn’t much of a judge.
Maggie probably was, though, and she was obviously enjoying herself. That was even without the wine.
“You should take a sip of the wine,” he said. “It makes the sandwich even better.”
“Not possible.” She’d finished half of her sandwich and started munching on the chips. “That chicken salad is so yummy that I’m pacing myself, making myself wait to eat the second half, so I can draw out the experience.”
He wondered if she knew how sexy that sounded, or if she realized that having an appetite for good food usually translated into an appetite for good sex, too. His hormones kicked in. “I’m glad the sandwich is a hit.”
“It’s a complete hit. And there’s no way a little glass of wine could improve on perfection.”
“I’m telling you, it will. Last night’s meal at the Lowell’s blew me away, and now I’m thinking it might have been the wine that made it all taste so amazing. It’s like a flavor booster for whatever you’re eating.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is this a trick just to get me to drink the wine so it will lower my resistance?”
“No.” He hated to admit to her that he wasn’t that tricky. He’d never had to resort to wine to lower a woman’s resistance. No woman had ever resisted him.
She continued to regard him with suspicion. “You’re sure?”
“Honest. You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to. Maybe you’re not much for wine.”
“I am. I love wine.”
“Then you’ll be missing some outstanding stuff if you don’t at least drink a little bit. I have no idea how expensive it is, but I need to find out.”
“You didn’t buy it?”
“I did, in a way. I bartered for it. I guess they have a bunch in their basement. God knows what it costs a bottle, but if it’s less than twenty bucks I might splurge on it once in awhile.”
Maggie sighed. “Oh, all right. Sheesh. If it’s that big a deal, I suppose one little taste isn’t going to kill me.”
“You’ll thank me for it.” He waited as she picked up her wine glass. Watching her drink was as much of a turn-on as watching her eat.
She rested the rim of the glass against the curve of her lower lip and took a tentative sip. Then her eyes drifted shut, and she took another sip. “Mm.”
His mouth grew moist from wanting to kiss her. “Told you.”
“Didn’t believe you.” Eyes still closed, she tipped the glass and drank again. Then she lowered the glass, opened her eyes and gazed at him. “They have a bunch of this in their basement?”
“That’s what they said.”
“Let me see the bottle.”
He handed it to her and she studied the label. He hadn’t paid much attention, figuring he wouldn’t recognize it anyway, not being a wine person.
“It’s a malbec,” she said, “from Mystic Hills Winery, which is in Sedona, Arizona. I didn’t know they made wine there, let alone fantastic wine.” She handed the bottle back to him. “What did you barter for it?”
He regretted telling her about the sex bench earlier, even though he hadn’t said who it was for. Telling her about the mirrored ceilings would be an even worse breach of client privacy. “I promised to do some carpentry work for them,” he said.
“They have a matchmaking business, don’t they?”
They do now, thanks to me. “Something like that.”
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that the Lowells are the ones you’re constructing the sex bench for.” She drank the rest of her wine. “So now you’re building them something else besides the bench, something that’s also sexually oriented.”
The fierce pang of wanting grew stronger. “I shouldn’t have said anything about the sex bench.”
“Aha! So I’m right! Hey, don’t worry. I won’t rat you out.”
“I appreciate that.” He loved the way her black sweater draped over her breasts. He wondered if she had freckles on her breasts, too.
“No problem. Now let’s test your theory that the sandwich will taste better after drinking the wine.” She picked up the second half of her sandwich and took a bite. “Mm-mm!”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” He guessed that she had freckles on her breasts, freckles everywhere. He wanted to lick each one.
She nodded vigorously and gestured for him to pour her some more wine.
Hey, he couldn’t very well turn down a lady’s request for more wine. That would be rude. He refilled her glass.
“So they’re matchmakers,” Maggie said when she took a break from her sandwich to have some more wine. “Pardon my saying so, but they don’t look as if they belong here.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He felt sure she was a natural redhead, which meant she’d have downy red hair…in one strategic spot. Even though he’d had lots of experience, he felt seventeen again, as if he’d never seen a naked woman before.
“It’s not just how the Lowells look, but how they act. I’ll bet nobody else in town has commissioned a sex bench.”
There was no reason he couldn’t build a sex bench for himself and Maggie. “I’m not sure why they picked Big Knob, but they’re taking a sabbatical.” He hoped she wouldn’t ask him what that was.
Maggie chewed her last bite of sandwich. Then she swallowed and looked at him. “I know what’s going on. They’re on the lam.”
“In Big Knob?” His hot thoughts about Maggie were temporarily derailed by the concept of Dorcas and Ambrose as Bonnie and Clyde. God, he hoped not.
“Makes sense to me. Sleepy little town in Southern Indiana. Nobody asks any questions. Maybe they’re not even using their real names.”
“I don’t think they’re running away from anything.” Sean thoug
ht about their expensive wardrobe and their pricey wine and wasn’t all that sure. Maybe they were con artists who came into town, took everyone’s money, and left.
They hadn’t exactly taken his money, though. Maybe they were running from some terrible thing they’d done. What if they had used the wrong combination of herbs on someone and killed them? What if he was their next guinea pig, and they had no idea whether he’d survive this transformation or not?
“Sean, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.” He slugged back some more wine. “Dorcas and Ambrose are just a normal, upscale couple who enjoy the atmosphere of a small town. Besides, they can’t be fugitives.”
“Why not?”
“They have a cat.”
Maggie giggled. “Well, that certainly settles it. Anybody with a cat has to be on the up-and-up.”
“Think about it. Cats don’t like to move around. A dog is one thing, but you don’t drag a cat around if you’re on the run.” He’d cling to that belief until he could question the Lowells some more. He’d been way too trusting.
“Maybe you’re right about the cat. Can I have a wee bit more of that wine?”
She wanted more wine. He shut out thoughts about the Lowells and emptied the last of the bottle into her glass. As she picked it up, he noticed she was looking at him differently than she had at the beginning of the meal. Her gaze was warm and open. Someone might even describe it as inviting.
He knew exactly what he wanted to do about that, but he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. In his past experience, the woman in question would be sitting on his lap by now, French kissing him and trying to get his zipper down. He’d never had to make the first move in his life.
Right away he could see that this setup, one he was responsible for creating, didn’t make things easy for them to get together. He was on one side of the wicker hamper and she was on the other side. Somehow they needed to end up on the same side for anything good to happen. And they needed to do it without knocking over the candles and setting the quilt on fire.
How had the women he’d dated accomplished that? He’d never noticed. One minute they’d be talking, like he and Maggie were doing now, and the next minute the woman had been all over him, removing clothes and getting down to it.
He sensed that crawling around the hamper and grabbing Maggie wasn’t going to impress her, plus he’d no doubt knock over the candles in the process. He glanced out through the French doors to see if it was still raining, and it wasn’t. Not much, anyway.
“Come on.” He shoved his feet into his work boots. “Let me show you my Big Knob.”
Maggie grinned as she reached for her shoes. “I don’t think I know you well enough for that.”
“Bad choice of words.” He tied the laces on his boots. “I meant the rock outside.”
“I know. I couldn’t resist teasing you.” The dynamic between them had changed, and she blamed the wine. Correction, she blamed herself for drinking the wine, but it was easily the best she’d ever had, and she couldn’t regret having some. The problem was she’d had more than some. Her skin felt hot and other more internal parts of her body were warming up rapidly, too.
“I suppose I do feel possessive about that hunk of granite.” He stood. “I was only four when we moved into this house and my mother let me think it was my own private mountain.” He held out his hand to help her up.
She took his hand, which felt way too warm and wonderful, so she released it the minute she was upright. “Have you ever climbed it?” The wine was affecting her eyesight, too, because Sean grew better-looking by the second. His chin seemed less flabby and his haircut wasn’t nearly as bizarre. Even his shoulders appeared broader.
He opened the balcony door and held it for her. “I was too young to climb it while I lived here. But once I was old enough, yeah, dozens of times. All one hundred and ninety-two feet of it.”
Passing by him, Maggie caught a whiff of his cologne mixed with the tang of sweat from the work he’d done today. It had been long months since she’d allowed herself to get sweaty with a man and she hadn’t thought she’d missed it. Wrong.
She stepped out on the wet balcony with a relieved sigh as the cool air touched her hot skin. A fine mist fell, but she could see that jutting rock perfectly from here. The rain had given it a dull sheen, and from this angle it looked even more like…yes, it certainly did. It was even more erotic wet.
Parts of her that had been dormant for a long time woke up and stretched as she gazed at Big Knob. Belatedly she realized her awkward position. She was alone in a deserted location with a man who was becoming increasingly appealing to her wine-soaked libido. And because her judgment and her reflexes were clouded by wine, she couldn’t drive away from here, at least not right now.
Sean came out on the balcony and stood behind her, the warmth of his body inviting her to lean back and let him wrap his arms around her. She had no doubt he’d do that if she made the slightest move in his direction. She grabbed the railing, its peeling paint rough under her hands, and held on for dear life.
“Nice view,” she said in a hoarse voice.
“I love this view.” He was silent for a moment. “Did Denise find the owner?”
“I don’t know.” And right this minute I don’t care, whispered a traitorous voice in her head. She cleared her throat. “Something went weird with the electricity and her computer is on the fritz.”
“Yeah, the lights were going crazy over at the Hob Knob, too. It happens with old buildings, especially when it rains.”
“I’m hoping the electric company comes out this afternoon and the computer guy shows up.” At least she should be hoping that. Instead she was hoping Sean would touch her.
“That would be Jeremy. He went to Evansville.”
“That’s right. How did you know?” His voice worked on her, making her long to hear him murmuring something sweet in her ear as he held her close.
“Everyone knows everything in this town. But I would know that, anyway, because I’m the pitcher for the Knob Lobbers and he was collecting money from each of us for the…”
“Yes, I know.” Protective cups for the valuable equipment she was busy trying not to think about. With Sean right behind her and Big Knob looking wet and very erect in her immediate field of vision, she couldn’t seem to think of anything but firm penises.
She was standing on this romantic balcony with the town’s legendary lover, and yet he hadn’t made a move. Maybe he was more ethical than she was giving him credit for. Or maybe he didn’t really want her and he was forcing himself to follow through.
Now there was a truly depressing thought. Come to think of it, that made more sense than anything else. She’d never been a man magnet—too driven and too intellectual to appeal to the majority of guys.
“Let’s go in.” She turned, expecting him to back up in relief and let her pass by.
Instead he blocked her way. Interestingly, he’d taken off his glasses. Apparently he’d left them in the house in preparation for the kiss fest that he hadn’t been able to stomach.
“Hold on a minute,” he said.
She couldn’t bear to continue looking into his eyes as he struggled to hide his distaste at the idea of kissing her. So she ducked her head and talked to his third shirt button.
“Sean, it’s obvious you brought me out here to kiss me, but you can’t make yourself do it, not even to try and save your house. Kissing me isn’t going to work, anyway, so let’s go back inside and save both of us some embarrassment, okay?”
He gripped her shoulders. “You have no clue how much I want to kiss you, Maggie. I’m scared to death I’ll do it wrong and spoil everything.”
“What?” She glanced up in surprise. “How could you possibly do it wrong? When it comes to sex, you’re the talk of the town!” But sure enough, he looked uncertain as he gazed down at her.
“I never had to do anything to get girls,” he said. “They came to me. They begged me
to have sex with them, so I did. They kissed me before I could kiss them. They did everything, and all I had to do was go along with it.”
“Because you gave them wine?”
He shook his head. “No alcohol was involved. They just…wanted me. They all wanted me.”
“Are you saying I’m the first girl who hasn’t thrown herself at you?” She was dangerously close to doing that. Without glasses, he’d become a green-eyed love god, and his touch burned through her sweater. She hadn’t quite believed in his powerful mojo before, but she believed in it now.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
She reached deep and salvaged enough pride to resist the pull of his sexuality. “Well, that’s not how it will be with this chick. I’ve never thrown myself at any man, and I’m not about to start with you.”
“So it’s all up to me.” He surveyed her, his gaze smoldering.
She began to tremble. “Of course not! You can let me go and we’ll forget this moment ever happened.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“It’s for the best, Sean. Once I feel sober enough to drive, I’ll leave.”
“And what will we do until then?” His voice became soft and silky.
She would not kiss him, would not become another in the long line of women who begged him for sex. So what if her panties were damp and her heart thumped like a jungle drum?
She cleared her throat. “Well, I realize there’s no coffee, but maybe I can run up and down the stairs to work the cobwebs out of my brain. Meanwhile, you can tidy up the—” She gasped as he dragged her up against his taut body. He had more muscles than she’d expected, and they were all rigid, especially the one pressing against her belly.
“Like hell,” he muttered. Then his lips came down on hers.
Like heaven, she thought dreamily. Then she became one pulsing mass of lust and couldn’t think at all.
Chapter Ten
Sean discovered something in the moment that he decided to take action and kiss Maggie. Being in control of the situation got him hot, hotter than he’d ever been in his life. She tasted like the wine he loved so much, and when he’d indulged himself thoroughly there, he moved on, kissing her cheeks, her chin, her throat.
Over Hexed (The Hex Series Book 1) Page 10