by Naima Simone
Praise for the novels of Naima Simone
“Small-town charm, a colorful cast, and a hero to root for give this romance its legs as it moves toward a hard-earned happily ever after. Cole and Sydney’s slow-burning romance is well worth the wait.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Road to Rose Bend
“Passion, heat and deep emotion—Naima Simone is a gem!”
—New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates
“Naima Simone balances crackling, electric love scenes with exquisitely rendered characters caught in emotional turmoil.”
—Entertainment Weekly
“Simone is always a good bet.”
—All About Romance
“I am a huge Naima Simone fan. With her stories, she has the ability to transport you to places you can only dream of, with characters who have a realness to them.”
—Read Your Writes
“[Naima Simone] excels at creating drama and emotional scenes as well as strong heroines who are resilient survivors.”
—Harlequin Junkie
A Kiss to Remember
Naima Simone
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
EXCERPT FROM CHRISTMAS IN ROSE BEND BY NAIMA SIMONE
CHAPTER ONE
“EXCUSE ME. Can I kiss you?”
Remi Donovan blinked at the tall, ridiculously gorgeous man standing at the library’s circulation desk.
Impossible. He couldn’t have just said what she thought he said. It was Declan Howard in front of her, after all.
“I’m sorry?”
His eyes briefly slid away before landing back on her in their lilac—yes, lilac—glory. “I know this is...unorthodox. And I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency. But can I kiss you? Please?”
An emergency kiss?
Well, okay. She’d heard a lot of bullshit in her years—one couldn’t have a high school teacher as a best friend, who regularly regaled her with students’ excuses about homework and not be well versed in bullshit—but this? It definitely landed in the top ten.
But again. Declan Howard. Recent transplant to Rose Bend, Massachusetts, Declan Howard. Successful businessman Declan Howard.
Secret crush Declan Howard.
She blinked again.
Nope, the face of sharp angles, dramatic slants and masculine beauty didn’t still disappear. A proud, clear brow that could rock a Mr. Rochester–worthy scowl. An arrogant blade of a nose that somehow appeared haughty and like it’d taken a punch and come out the winner. The slopes of his cheekbones and jaw could’ve received awards for their melodrama, and that mouth... Well, the less said about that sinful creation the better.
As a matter of fact...
She glanced over her shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone behind her.
When no one appeared, she turned back to him. Swallowed and forced a nonchalant shrug. He was still standing there wanting to kiss her?
“Um. Sure.”
Relief flashed in his eyes. Then they grew hooded, lashes lowering, but not fast enough to hide another flicker of emotion. Something darker, more intense. Something that had her belly clenching in a hard, heavy tug...
His arm stretched across the circulation desk and a big hand curled around the nape of her neck, drawing her forward.
Oh God...
That mouth. She would be a liar if she claimed not to have stared at the wide, sensual curves that were somehow both firm and soft. Both inviting and intimidating. She’d often wondered how the contrast of that slightly thinner top lip would compare to the fuller bottom one.
Now she knew.
In complete, exacting detail.
Perfection.
Giving and demanding. Indulgent and hard. Sharp as the drop in temperature on an October night in the southern Berkshires. And as sweet as the candied apples the middle school PTA sold for their annual fall fundraiser.
His lips molded to hers, sliding, pressing... Parting. First his breath, carrying his earthy cloves-and-cinnamon scent, invaded her. Then his tongue followed, gliding over hers, greeting her before engaging in a sensual dance that teetered on the edge of erotic. And as he sucked on her tongue, then licked the sensitive roof of her mouth, she tipped closer to that edge.
A whimper escaped her, one that she would no doubt be completely mortified over later, and holy hell, he licked that up, too. And gave her a groan in return as if her pleasure tasted good to him.
She released another whimper, this one of disappointment as he withdrew from her. That whimper, too, she’d cringe over later. But now, as the library’s recycled air brushed her damp, swollen lips and her lashes lifted, all she cared about was that beautiful mouth making its way back to her and—
Oh God.
She stiffened.
The library. She was in the middle of the library. During lunch hour. Right before the kindergartners from the grade school arrived for Friday Story Circle.
“Um...”
Say something.
You’ve got your kiss and rocked my proverbial world, now move along unless you’d like to check out a book. Can I suggest Crave by Tracy Wolff?
Because of course she’d noticed his preference for YA paranormal fiction. Jesus be a fence, one lip-lock with Declan Howard had rendered her befuddled. She—logical, reasonable, sometimes too plainspoken for her own good Remi—didn’t do befuddled.
Until now.
“Thank you for that,” Declan murmured. His eyes dipped to her mouth, and her breath caught in her throat.
If he tried to kiss her again, she would have to...to...stop him. Yes, yes. That’s what she was thinking. Stop him.
Didn’t matter that heat, smoky and thick, flickered inside her. She pressed her fingertips into the top of the desk, the solidity of the wood grounding her. And if she touched it, she wouldn’t lift her hand to her tingling mouth.
“You’re welcome. I—” She hadn’t been sure what she’d been about to say, but the rest of it evaporated as Tara Merrick appeared behind Declan.
Remi knew the beautiful blonde who worked at The Bath Barn, the shop Tara’s mother owned that sold bath products, lotions, perfumes and candles. This was Rose Bend, so of course everyone knew everyone. But Remi had never given the other woman cause to glare at her as she was doing now.
“Declan, I’ve been looking for you.” Tara wrapped a proprietary hand around Declan’s forearm, the sugary sweet tone belying the dark fire in her eyes.
“There was no need,” Declan said, gently but firmly extricating himself from her grasp.
His purple gaze returned to Remi and, though she resented herself for it, electricity crackled over her skin. She resented it because the pleasure that had fizzed inside her chest like a shaken soda can over Declan Howard kissing her had fallen flat.
She might’ve sucked at calculus in college, but she didn’t need to know infinitesimals to add one plus one: Declan had only kissed her for Tara’s benefit. To make her jealous? To play hard to get? Remi didn’t know. What she knew for certain?
It hadn’t been because he so desperately needed to get his mouth on her.
It hadn’t been because he wanted her, Remi Donovan.
And damn if that didn’t just slice through her like a fierce winter wind?
“Remi, if you have a moment, I’d—”
She shook her head, cutting off Declan, not allowing her
poor heart to flutter over him knowing her name. “I’m sorry but I don’t. I really need to get back to work. Do either of you need to check out or return books?”
Her voice didn’t waver, and thank God for the smallest of favors. Declan studied her for a long, tense moment. She forced herself to meet his gaze and not back down.
For years, she’d fought the good fight—learning to love herself and to deep-six her people-pleasing tendencies. Right now, she waged an epic inner war against the whisper-soft voice pleading with her to just Listen to what he has to say.
Gifting him with an opportunity to apologize for using her? No thanks. She’d had her share of Pride Smackdown XII. The pay-per-view event would air next week.
“No, all good here. Thank you, again.” With a nod, he pivoted on his heel and strode toward the exit.
With one last narrow-eyed stare, Tara hurried after him.
Only after the door closed behind both of them, did Remi heave a sigh.
And as a hushed smattering of whispers broke out behind her, she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Weirdest. Friday. Ever.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS OFFICIAL.
Declan had hit rock bottom.
How else could he describe the desperation that had him sitting in his car with an anxious stomach and a numb ass?
Damn, this was humiliating.
Yet, he didn’t drive away from his parking space outside the Rose Bend Public Library, where he waited for Remi Donovan to emerge after locking up for the day. Maybe he’d missed his calling. He should’ve become a private investigator instead of a wealth manager. Uncovering Remi’s work schedule had been ridiculously easy. All he’d had to do was sit in one of the library’s reading nooks on one of the Thursday and Friday afternoons he visited Rose Bend. Soon enough, he’d overheard Remi, a coworker—a tall, lanky Black man who seemed to own an amazing number of DC shirts and Converse—and their supervisor discuss work schedules.
He shifted in the driver’s seat of his Mercedes-Benz S-Class, fingers drumming restlessly on his thigh. If his colleagues in Boston could see him now, their laughter would threaten the buttons on their three-hundred-dollar shirts. After the humor passed, they’d just stare at him, bemused, and offer to escort him to the nearest high-end gentleman’s club.
As if staring at another woman’s body could possibly substitute for a certain five-foot-nine frame with gorgeous, natural breasts that would fill his big hands. And a wide flare of hips that never failed to draw his gaze when she strode around the library. And an ass that, by all rights, deserved its own religion.
Fine. He might be a little preoccupied with Rose Bend’s beloved librarian.
The librarian whose mouth he claimed for all to see in the middle of the day for his own selfish reasons.
And try as he might—and he did try because he wasn’t a prick—he could only rummage up the barest threads of remorse.
Because even though desperation had driven him to that circulation desk with the request of a kiss, desire had chosen her. The need to finally discover if that lush, ripe mouth would taste as good as it promised had won out. And at that first press of lips to lips...
His fingers fisted on his thigh, and he slowly exhaled. Lust tightened inside him... One move and he would snap. As if even now, he dined on that sweet, butterscotch-flavored breath. Licked into the giving depths of her mouth. Twined around that eager tongue. Swallowed that little, needy sound.
“Shit.” He shook his head.
Reminiscing about this afternoon wasn’t what he’d come here for. Wasn’t why he’d set up a stakeout in front of the library. That kiss had been cataclysmic, but, in the end, it’d only been the impetus for a plan he needed one Remi Donovan to agree to.
That’s all she could be to him—a coconspirator.
He’d learned his lesson the hard way with Tara. If he wanted to do casual friends-with-benefits relationships, he’d have to keep that in Boston, not here in Rose Bend, where the town was too small and everyone knew everyone’s business.
Especially when the woman was the daughter of his mother’s neighbor and friend.
Yeah, not his brightest moment.
The door to the library opened, spilling a golden slice of light onto the steps before it winked out. He opened his car door, stepping out to watch as Remi appeared, closing the large oak door and locking it.
He stared. Openly. Even though she wore a cream-colored wool coat against the night air, he could easily envision the dark green dress beneath that caressed every wicked curve. Another thing he liked about her. She didn’t try to conceal or downplay the gorgeous body God had blessed her with—she worked it. And damn if that confidence wasn’t sexy as hell.
Not here for her sexiness, he sternly reminded himself. Get on with it.
Firmly closing his car door, he rounded the hood.
Remi’s head jerked up, her eyes widening as she spotted him on the curb, near the bottom of the library steps.
She didn’t move down the stairs. A tight, almost-tangible tension sprang between them. It vibrated with the memory of that conflagration of a kiss. Of the need for more that sang in his veins.
A more he had to deny.
Christ. He tunneled his fingers through his hair. She’d been a beautiful distraction before he’d touched her, before he’d learned the butterscotch-and-sunshine taste of her. But now? Now that he knew? He was finding it difficult to focus on anything else.
He’d graduated from Boston University with a bachelor’s degree in business administration and he’d gone on to acquire his dual degree, an Executive MBA in Asset Management. But at this moment, he’d become a student of Remi Donovan. And he wouldn’t be satisfied until he earned a PhD.
“I’m sorry for just showing up like this,” he said. “But I didn’t have your phone number. And showing up during your workday again didn’t seem like a good idea.”
“No.” She finally spoke in a husky tone more appropriate for a sultry siren in an old black-and-white film noir than a small-town librarian. “That definitely wouldn’t have been a good idea. As it is, my supervisor is contemplating tacking your picture to the bulletin board with Not Allowed scrawled across the top. I’m not sure if I’ve successfully convinced her you didn’t accost me.”
He winced, only half exaggerating. “God, I hope she doesn’t resort to that. The library is one of the few places I can actually find some privacy and quiet.” He frowned, thinking of Tara hunting him down earlier. “Well, it used to be.”
She arched a delicate eyebrow, descending a step. A spiral of gratification whistled through him at that small movement toward him.
“Last I heard, you have a very nice home at the edge of town with plenty of space and, I would imagine, privacy.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “Yes, I do have a nice home with a lot of space. But I also have a mother with boundary issues and a key to said nice house, which impedes my privacy.” He shook his head, holding out an arm toward his car. “Can I give you a ride home?”
She studied his hand for a moment before lifting her gaze to him. “No, thank you. I drove to work this morning. Besides, I intended to walk down to Sunnyside Grille for dinner.”
“In the dark?”
Declan glanced down the street. It was a little after six and the sun had just settled beyond the horizon in a spectacular display of purple, dark blue and tangerine. If he were a sentimental man, he would remove his cell and capture the beauty of it over the small Berkshires town.
But he wasn’t sentimental; he was logical, factual. A man who dealt with numbers, figures and statistics—and data that assured him a woman walking by herself after dark wasn’t a good idea.
A rueful smile flirted with her pretty mouth. “This is Rose Bend, not Boston. And the diner is just a few blocks away, not a long walk at all.”
“So you’re telling me crime doesn’t happen in this town?”
“Of course it does. We wouldn’t need a police department if it didn’t. And if it eases your mind...” She held up her key ring. Showing him the small canister of pepper spray dangling from it. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Never thought you were,” he murmured, though that coil of concern for her loosened. Silly, when he barely knew her. When today had been the first time he’d really talked to her other than a murmured greeting or nod of acknowledgment. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
She hesitated, and he caught shadows flickering in her hazel gaze. “Why?”
He blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Remi crossed her arms over her chest, but a second later lowered them to her sides. The aborted gesture struck him as curiously vulnerable—and from the trace of irritation that flashed across her face, she obviously regretted that he witnessed it.
Curiosity and protectiveness surged within him. He wanted no part of either. Both were dangerous to him. Curiosity about this woman was a slippery slope into fascination. And from there, captivation, affection. Then... No. Been there. Had three years of hell and the divorce papers to prove it.
And this protectiveness. It hinted at a deeper connection, a possession that wasn’t possible. A connection he’d avoided in his brief attachments since his ill-fated marriage six years ago. As stunning as Remi was, he wasn’t looking for a relationship, a commitment.
At least, not a real one.
“Why do you want to join me? And let me help you out. I appreciate the chivalrous offer, but I’m a big girl—” a humorless twist of her lips had an unconscious growl rumbling at the base of his throat “—and I can take care of myself. So what’s this really about?”
He parted his lips to... What? Take her to task for that subtle self-directed dig? For cutting him off at the knees by snatching away his excuse for escorting her to the diner? Admiration danced in his chest like a flame, mating with annoyance.
“I do have something to talk about with you. Can I walk you to the diner?”