A Kiss to Remember

by Naima Simone

  After another almost-imperceptible hesitation, she nodded. “Okay.”

  She turned, and he fell into step beside her. Silence reigned between them, and he used the moment to survey the picturesque town that had so completely charmed his mother three years ago that she’d moved here. Elegant, quaint shops, trees heavy with gold, red and orange leaves, lampposts and cute benches lined Main Street. A well-manicured town square, with a colonial-style building housing the Town Hall, and a white, clapboard church with a long steeple soaring toward the sky completed a picture that wouldn’t have been out of place on a glossy postcard.

  Walking down this sidewalk with people strolling hand in hand or as families, their chatter and laughter floating in the night air, it was easy to forget that heavily populated, traffic-choked Boston lay three hours away.

  He tucked his hands in the front pockets of his pants, pushing his coat open. The night air, though cool, felt good on his skin. Inhaling, he held the breath for several seconds, then released it, slowly, deliberately.

  “Remi, I apologize if my kissing you earlier today caused you any problems. Sometimes I forget how small towns can be. Especially since I’m only here every other weekend, which isn’t the case for you. I’m sorry I didn’t take that into account.” He paused. “Has anyone...said anything to you?”

  “You mean besides my supervisor, who wanted to quarter and draw you, then lectured me on professional decorum? Or do you mean Mrs. Harrison, my hair stylist’s grandmother, who’d been standing in the reference section and offered me her advice on how to handle a beast like you? Her words, not mine. Or do you mean Rhonda Hammond, the kindergarten teacher there for Friday Story Circle, who gave me a thumbs-up because she’d heard about it from a friend?”

  He grimaced, nodding at a person passing by. “The grapevine is alive and well, I see.”

  “Thriving.”

  “Are you in trouble at work?” he gently asked. He’d never forgive himself if his impulsive—and yes, selfish—actions cost her job. “I know you already spoke to your supervisor, but I can, as well. I’ll call first thing Monday—”

  “That’s not necessary.” She stopped next to a bench across from the shadowed windows of a closed clothing boutique. “Declan, could you get to the reason why you showed up at the library?”

  He stared down into her upturned face. Dark auburn waves framed her hazel eyes, the graceful slope of her cheekbones, the upturned nose and the wicked sinner’s mouth. And that shallow, tempting dent in the center of her chin. It never failed that, whenever his gaze dropped to it, he had to resist the compulsion to dip his finger there. Or his tongue.

  Madonna and Delilah. That’s what she was. Saint and temptress. An irresistible lure that he had to resist.

  “I need your help, Remi,” he said, resenting like hell the roughened quality to his voice. Clearing his throat, he continued, “This is going to sound...odd, but... Will you be my woman?”

  Her face went blank. “Excuse me?” she whispered.

  His words played through his head, and he slashed a hand through the air between them. “Hold on, let me rephrase. Will you pretend to be my woman? Pretend.”

  Relief and another, more complicated, murkier emotion wavered in her expression. He peered at her. The need to delve deeper prickled at his scalp.

  But that damn curiosity. That protectiveness.

  He backpedaled away from her secrets like they had detonators and a steadily ticking clock attached to them.

  “Maybe you should start at the beginning.” She leveled an inscrutable glance on him, then turned and continued walking down the sidewalk.

  Resuming his pace next to her, he huffed out a dry chuckle. “I don’t know how to relay this without looking like a dick.” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat, he continued, “I don’t think it’s a secret around here that I...took Tara Merrick out a few times.”

  “I believe the word you’re struggling to find is date,” she drawled.

  He arched an eyebrow. “And I believe date is too strong a word,” he shot back. “I took her to the movies, dinners—a few of those were at my mom’s house so they really don’t count, since she and her mother are my mom’s neighbors—coffee. Nothing serious.”

  Remi stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and whipped out her phone. Seconds later, she started tapping on the screen.

  “What are you doing?” Frowning, he nudged her to the side, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic.

  “I’m pulling up my online dictionary. I mean, I’m just a librarian with a whole reference desk at my disposal, but I’m pretty sure you gave me the very definition of a date. But I want to double-check before I call you out. I so hate being wrong.”

  “Smart-ass,” he growled, snatching the cell from her hand and tucking it back in her coat pocket.

  His cock perked up at the mere mention of her fantastic ass even as he hungered to press his thumb to the plush bottom curve of her mouth and come away smeared with her deep red lipstick.

  “And for your information,” he said, voice lower, heavier, unable to scrub that image of her smeared lips from his mind. “It isn’t a date when I’m up-front from the beginning that I’m not looking for any kind of attachment, and I warn her not to expect anything to come out of it. We were just two people enjoying each other’s company while I was in town for the weekend. Nothing more. I was very clear about that.”

  I always am. I always will be.

  She tilted her head to the side, her long dark red waves spilling over her shoulder. “Then why bother?”

  “Because...” Declan turned, strode off, and the sweet scent of butterscotch and the aroma of almonds assured him she followed. “It made my mother happy. And after years of rarely seeing her smile after my father died, giving her a reason to didn’t seem like much of a sacrifice on my part.”

  Silence beat between them, filled by the chatter of passersby and the low hum of Rose Bend’s version of Friday-night traffic.

  “That kind of detracts from your dick status,” she finally murmured.

  He glanced at her, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Thank you... I think.”

  “That’s why you bought a house here, too, isn’t it?” She slid him a look, and the too-knowing gleam trickled down his spine like an ice cube. “Mrs. Howard moved to Rose Bend three years ago, but you didn’t buy a house here until last year. You’re only in town every other weekend—really you could stay with her. There was no need for you to buy a house. But you did it so she would feel like she had family here. So she had her son here.”

  He shrugged, not liking this feeling of... Vulnerability. Of being so easily read like one of the books at her library.

  “It was nothing. Like I said earlier, I need my space. And what little privacy she allows me.” He smiled, even if it was wry. “Which brings me back to why I need you.” Lust struck a match against the kindling of need in his gut, flaring into flames at his choice of words. He deliberately doused them. “After our...display at the library, Tara seemed to finally back off.”

  “Not how I saw it,” Remi muttered under her breath, but he caught it.

  “True, she chased me out of there, but when I told her we were involved, and what she saw was me being dead serious about what I’d been telling her for the past two weeks—which is that there would be no more movies, no more dinners—the truth seemed to sink in. But I’m not fooling myself into believing it will stick. Not if I don’t follow it up with reinforced behavior. Otherwise, she’ll convince herself kissing you was a fluke, and I didn’t mean it when I said she and I were over.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw, his five-o’clock scruff scratching his palm. “That we were never a ‘we’ to begin with.”

  “So you want me as your beard to run her off?”

  He frowned. Her bland tone didn’t hint that he’d offended her. Neither did her perfunctory summatio
n. Yet, he still got the sense he had.

  “My beard?” he repeated. “No, I wouldn’t put it that way—”

  “What other way is there to put it?” She waved a hand, dismissing the question. “And what do I get out of this little...bargain? Well, other than the title of the latest woman you dumped when we end the charade.”

  Oh yes, definitely offense there. And maybe a trace of bitterness.

  “Remi.” He gently grasped her elbow, drawing her to a halt. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “You didn’t,” she argued, stepping back and removing herself from his hold. Chin hiked up, she offered him a polite smile that halted just short of her hazel eyes. “I’m sorry, but I have to turn down your proposal.”

  Fuck the fake girlfriend arrangement. Fuck wanting her agreement. He’d inadvertently hurt her; she didn’t need to say it. The evidence drenched those eyes, drowning out the green and gold so only the brown remained, dark and shadowed.

  He reached for her.

  “Remi—”

  “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to head back to the library. I’m not hungry anymore.”

  She sharply pivoted on her ankle boot, but just as she started to head in the opposite direction, the door to the establishment behind them opened and two older couples and a younger one spilled out into the night.

  Remi skidded to an abrupt stop, her entire body going as rigid as one of the statues that littered the Boston Public Garden. Concerned, he dragged his gaze from the small group of people to her and shifted closer. Close enough to hear her mutter...

  “Shit.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  DECLAN’S CURIOUS STARE damn near burned a hole in the side of Remi’s face, but she avoided meeting that sharp lilac scrutiny. Afraid that while she stood there in the middle of the sidewalk in her own version of an O.K. Corral showdown with her parents, her younger sister, Briana, her sister’s new fiancé, Darnell Maitland, and his parents, Declan might spy entirely too much.

  Too much of what she didn’t want him to see.

  Like the hated, grimy envy that had no place alongside her happiness for her sister.

  Like the uneasy mixture of love and dread for her mother.

  Like the anxiety-pocked need to run, run and never stop until her lungs threatened to burst from her chest.

  “Remi, honey.” Her mother, voice pitched slightly higher, switched rounded eyes from her to Declan and back to her. “What a surprise.”

  Translation: What’s going on and what’re you doing with Declan Howard?

  No. Nononono.

  Remi smothered a groan. Why was this happening to her? Today must be cursed. First, the hottest, make-her-lady-parts-weep kiss she’d ever experienced. Then the whispers, not-so-subtle high fives and unsolicited comments and advice. Then Declan’s surprising appearance after work and his, uh, unconventional proposal.

  And now this.

  Twenty-six years as her mother’s daughter had earned Remi a W-2 and pension in all things Rochelle Donovan. And Remi recognized that particular shrewd gleam in her mother’s eyes.

  No way in hell could Remi have Rochelle start thinking Remi and Declan were a thing.

  “Hi, Mom, Dad.” She forced herself to move forward and brushed a kiss over her mother’s cheek, then gave her big, lovable bear of a father a hug. “Hey, sis. And future in-laws.” Her smile for Briana, Darnell and the Maitlands came more naturally to her lips.

  After all, it wasn’t Briana’s fault that she was three years younger than Remi, had fallen in love and was getting married, much to the delight of their mother.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Sean Donovan greeted. “How’s my best girl doing?”

  “Hey!” Briana playfully jabbed their father in the side with an elbow. “I’m standing right here.”

  “Sorry, you weren’t supposed to hear that. You know you’re my best girl,” he teased.

  Remi shook her head, grinning at their father and the joke that had been running around their house as long as she’d been alive. All the Donovan girls—her, Briana and Sherri, their oldest sister—knew with 100 percent certainty that Sean loved them equally and completely.

  “I was hoping you could join us for dinner tonight,” Briana said, then shot her a sly smile. “But now I see why you turned down the invite. You had a better offer. I ain’t mad at you,” she stage-whispered.

  “What?” Remi blinked, heat blasting a path up her chest and into her face. Thank God for the dark. “No, this isn’t—” She waved a hand between her and Declan, silently ordering herself not to look at him. “No,” she repeated. Firmly. Because that glint hadn’t disappeared from either her mother’s or sister’s gazes. But wait. Hold up a second. “And what invitation? I didn’t get...” She glanced at Rochelle.

  So did Briana.

  “Mom?” Briana frowned. “I asked you to tell Remi about dinner tonight. You didn’t call her?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I must’ve forgot.” She winced, lifting a shoulder in an apologetic half shrug. “You were at work anyway, Remi. And besides, you probably would’ve been uncomfortable as a third wheel.”

  Anger and hurt coalesced inside her, shimmering bright and hot.

  Her mother hadn’t forgotten. More like she hadn’t wanted to be embarrassed by her middle daughter’s perennially single status. And as Briana’s gaze narrowed on Rochelle, Remi could tell her sister knew it, as well.

  “But,” Rochelle continued, smiling at Declan, who’d remained silent since bumping into her family, “since you’re here, why don’t you join us? We were heading to Mimi’s Café for coffee. You, too, Declan. We’d love to have you.”

  Panic ripped through Remi, and she glanced at Declan. As if he’d been waiting for that moment, his eyes connected with hers, and the clash reverberated like a collision of metal against screeching metal. She felt him. In her chest, belly... Lower.

  “Declan?” her mother asked again, breaking their visual connection like cracked glass sprinkling to the ground.

  He looked at her mother. Smiled.

  “I would be delighted to join you. Thank you for inviting me.”

  Shit.

  Again.

  * * *

  “WHAT THE HELL, REMI? I heard Declan Howard kissed you in the middle of the library today, but I thought that was just gossip! But apparently not! You’ve been holding out on me.” Briana hip-checked Remi, her mock scowl promising retribution. “How long has this been going on?”

  Remi sighed, sneaking a peek in Declan’s direction. He stood with her father and Darnell near the bakery case, talking. Part of her battled the urge to save him from a possible pumping of information by her father. But the other, admittedly petty, half thrilled in leaving him served up to that grilling since he agreed to this craziness.

  “Bri, we’re just friends,” Remi hedged. Were they even that? In the years since his mother had moved to Rose Bend, she’d barely said a handful of words to him.

  “Friends who tongue wrestle?” Briana nodded. “Yes, Darnell and I are the best of friends, too.”

  Remi snickered, then sipped her caramel macchiato. “I have no idea how he puts up with you.”

  “Right?” Briana beamed. She turned, scanning the café until her gaze landed on her fiancé. And her pretty face softened with such adoration that Remi cleared her throat. As if sensing her attention on him, the handsome IT analyst with dark brown eyes and beautiful almond skin, looked up and sent his fiancée the sweetest smile.

  “I’d say, ‘Get a room,’ but you might take that literally,” Remi drawled, those conflicting emotions of envy and happiness warring in her chest again.

  Briana chuckled, and Remi rolled her eyes at the lasciviousness of it. Yech.

  “Bri, I need to borrow your sister for a minute.” Rochelle appeared beside Remi, slipping an arm through hers. “You should
go entertain your future mother-in-law instead of flirting with your fiancé and making the rest of us blush.”

  Remi bit back a groan even as she allowed herself to be led away to a corner of the café. She’d been trying to avoid her mother since arriving at Mimi’s. Even a cup of her favorite hot beverage couldn’t make her forget that her mother had an agenda by inviting her and Declan to join a gathering she’d intentionally excluded Remi from in the first place.

  And yeah, best not dwell too long on that.

  “Honey, what is that you’re drinking?” Rochelle scrunched up her nose.

  Dread swished in her stomach like day-old swill. “Caramel macchiato.”

  “That’s nothing but dessert in a cup. Tea is so much better for you.” She shook her head, and her disappointment dented the hard-won, forged-in-fire armor of confidence Remi had built around herself—her heart. “Now, tell me about what’s going on between you and Declan.”

  God, if she held in all these sighs, she would end up with gastric issues.

  “Mom, don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warned.

  “You know I’m not one to listen to gossip.” Remi coughed, earning a narrow-eyed look from her mother. “But I heard about the kiss at the library. Really, Remi, a little more propriety would’ve been appreciated, but if the story is true...”

  Remi didn’t confirm or deny, just sipped her drink. But her mother obviously took her silence as confirmation, and a smile that could only be described as cat-ate-the-whole-flock-of-canaries spread across her face.

  “If the story is true, then why haven’t you brought him by the house for dinner? Do you know how embarrassing it is to hear that my daughter is dating one of the most eligible men in town from someone else? And here I’ve been so worried about—”

  “Mom, please, stop. Declan and I—We’re just friends,” she interrupted, holding up her free hand, palm out.

  Her mother’s excited flow of words snapped off like the cracking of a brittle tree limb. She stared at Remi, the delight in her eyes dimming to frustration and... Sadness. It was that sadness that tore through Remi. As if her mediocrity actually pained her mother.