by Wilde, Erika
As she rounded the last corner, she was met with the gorgeous, breathtaking sight of Morgan without his shirt on. His worn and faded jeans rode low on his hips from the leather tool belt secured around his waist, and the muscles across his broad back rippled and flexed as he wielded the hammer with expertise. His hair was damp with perspiration, as was all of that glorious, bare and tanned skin of his.
Her stomach fluttered with awareness as she took in the intricate design of tattoos on his arm, her hands itching to touch all that hot, slick flesh, to feel his strong, hard body beneath her fingertips—every single inch of him.
As much as she hated to admit it, especially to herself, she was falling under Morgan’s spell. True to his word, he’d spent the past week flirting shamelessly with her, and when they were alone he wasn’t shy about stealing more of those hot, provocative kisses from her. So, by the time she crawled into bed at night, her body was tight and achy and she had the most vivid, erotic dreams of the two of them together that left her restless and wanting. Just as he’d no doubt intended, the rogue.
He was building the sexual tension between them to a fever pitch, and she was actually enjoying the seduction more than was wise. The man was just so damn charming and sexy, and it had been so long since she’d felt so desirable.
“Hey there,” she said, just as he straightened after nailing down another floorboard. “I brought you a cool drink and a snack. Everybody has already left for the day, and I thought you could use a break.”
He glanced her way and swiped the back of his forearm across his damp forehead. “I want to get this finished today.”
“You’re almost done.” She set the plastic tumbler and plate on the sturdy new stairs, sat down, and indicated the space next to her. “Come and rest for a few minutes and I’ll leave you alone again. I promise.”
His gaze took in the treat she’d brought for him, and seemingly unable to resist, he slipped his hammer into his tool belt and sat down beside her. She couldn’t help but notice the way he spread his long legs in an inherently masculine position, or the way the denim stretched taut across his muscled thighs.
She handed him the iced tea, and he downed half of the contents in a single gulp. Then he picked up a peach cobbler cookie and tossed the entire thing into his mouth and chewed.
He groaned his enjoyment of the confection and filched another. “Damn but those are good. I hope you made extra for me to take home.”
His eyes sparkled mischievously and she laughed. She’d gotten into the habit of sending him home with a care package of whatever she’d baked or made that day with the peaches. “I’m thinking that you’re getting way too spoiled.”
An unapologetic grin curved his mouth. “It’s your own fault for baking all this great stuff.”
“What else am I supposed to do with all those ripe peaches? I hate to let them go to waste.”
“Trust me, I’m not complaining. After all, I’m reaping the benefits of all your experimenting.” He ate another cookie and took a drink of his tea. “You know, I do have to say, you’d make a fortune if you ever decided to sell your baked goods.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “I don’t think opening a bakery in Atlanta is my calling.”
His curious gaze met hers. “What are you going to do once you go back?”
She glanced out at the yard and sighed, wishing she had a solid answer to his question, but she didn’t. Her life at the moment was in limbo even though she still had her apartment in Atlanta under lease.
“I honestly don’t know,” she told him. “I’ve got a degree in business administration and I’ve had a few years’ experience as a marketing rep, so I suppose that’s my logical choice of employment.” And although getting another job was inevitable, she realized she was in no hurry to return to that stressful, nine-to-five rat race.
He cast her a quizzical look. “Did you enjoy what you did for a living?”
She shrugged and brushed back a strand of hair tickling her cheek. “It was a job.”
“But not something you loved,” he stated, guessing at her unspoken thoughts.
It amazed her that he could still read her so well, even after all these years. “Not in the way you love what you do.”
Abrupt laughter escaped him. “Trust me, there are days that this job sucks.”
Resting her elbows on her knees, she propped her chin in her hand and smiled at him. “Do you ever feel that way about your woodwork?”
“Can’t say that I do.” He finished off the last cookie and the rest of his iced tea. “Being in my workshop and shaping a slab of oak into a piece of custom-made furniture is my way of relaxing after a long day at work. It’s like therapy for me.”
“I’d love to find something like that.” There was a wistful quality to her voice she couldn’t hold back.
“You seem pretty happy and relaxed in the kitchen when you’re baking,” he pointed out.
“It’s a nice hobby, but it’s not going to support me or pay bills. I’m just lucky that you’re enjoying the fruits of my labor.” She chuckled at her own pun.
Leaning back, he braced his arms on the step behind him and stretched out his legs, drawing her gaze to his long, lean body. She absently licked her bottom lip as she took in his naked chest, the sprinkling of dark hair on his flat, sinewy belly that disappeared into the waistband of his worn jeans, and the heavy bulge beneath the zippered fly. Fantasies danced in her head, of straddling his hips and having her wicked way with him right here on the front porch.
“So, did you find everything you were looking for in Atlanta?” he asked, startling her out of her wayward thoughts.
She focused on his face and found him regarding her seriously. He was honestly interested about her life in Atlanta, but how did she explain that she’d found only what she believed would make her grandmother proud of her, but in the process she’d lost herself and everything that truly mattered to her. She’d compromised what her heart desired and her own personal values to fulfill an old woman’s dream of seeing Tess prevail where her own daughter had gone astray.
She looked away from him. “No,” she said, her voice near a whisper and her chest tight with all those old regrets. “I can’t say I did find what I was looking for.” Not when all she ever wanted had been right here in Wynhaven.
“Before your grandmother passed away, there was a rumor that you’d gotten engaged to a lawyer.”
Her stomach pitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, hating the thread of censure she heard in his tone. When she opened them again moments later, she forced herself to look Morgan in the eye and be truthful with him. “It wasn’t a rumor. I was engaged. As in past tense.”
“What happened?” he asked gruffly.
She shrugged, striving for nonchalance, though she felt anything but. “I met Patrick Young at a work function. He was a young, up-and-coming lawyer who worked for his father’s firm and we hit it off pretty well. One thing led to another, and before I knew it he was proposing to me, even before I’d met his parents. It all happened so quickly, and I guess I was just caught up in the moment.” And though the engagement didn’t feel right in her heart, in the back of her mind she kept telling herself this is what her grandmother had been hoping for. That Helen would be thrilled that her granddaughter had achieved so much and managed to land herself a prominent man to marry.
But marrying Patrick wasn’t at all what Tess had wanted, not when so much of what was in her heart still belonged to Morgan. She’d been torn and confused…until that fateful night when she’d met his parents, Owen and Ginger Young, and she’d realized what a huge mistake she’d made in accepting Patrick’s proposal.
Patrick had taken her to his parents for dinner, introduced her as his fiancée, and it was evident that his mother hadn’t been happy about her son’s unexpected engagement to a woman they didn’t even know. Ginger had no qualms about grilling Tess over their five course meal about her family, her past, and where she’d grown up. As the conversa
tion progressed and Ginger learned that Tess didn’t know who her father was, that her mother passed away when she was eight, and that her grandmother did her best to raise her on her own, it became increasingly obvious that Mrs. Young completely disapproved of her. That Tess’s lack of any social standing didn’t fit into her plans for her son.
The whole evening had been upsetting to Tess on a variety of levels. She’d excused herself to use the bathroom to calm her churning stomach, but she hadn’t been able to shake the growing doubts about her marriage to Patrick. On her way back to the living room, she overheard Ginger telling Patrick that Tess was white trash, that she was the kind of woman he should sleep with and get out of his system, and not the kind of girl they expected him to marry.
While Ginger’s comment had stunned her, it had been the impetus that Tess had needed to break things off with Patrick, which she’d done that evening when he’d taken her home. And as she lay in bed that night she’d come to realize just how hurt Morgan must have been over her own grandmother’s disapproval of him—just as she’d experienced with Ginger Young. Tess hated that he, too, had been the recipient of that kind of pain.
Helen hadn’t thought Morgan was good enough for Tess, that as a handyman he didn’t have anything significant to offer her. And at the age of eighteen, Tess had been too young and impressionable when it came to pleasing her grandmother, even at the cost of her own desires and emotions.
“Why did you break up with the guy?” Morgan asked, interrupting her private thoughts.
She swallowed hard and managed a halfhearted smile. “Bottom line, I wasn’t in love with Patrick, and I got engaged to him for all the wrong reasons. I was just lucky I realized it in time.”
Morgan nodded, though he didn’t care for what he’d just heard. Still, eight years was a long time to be apart, and they’d both lived separate lives and he supposed they’d each made choices that they now regretted—such as the slew of women he’d used to try and forget about Tess, which had only cemented the truth he’d fought valiantly to ignore. That there was no erasing this woman from his soul.
It was difficult for him to imagine her being engaged to another man when she’d been his, but he appreciated her honesty, which was something she’d given him this past week, as well as glimpses of the strong, independent woman she’d become. And as a result, he was coming to realize that he still felt something for Tess Monroe. That beyond the pain of losing her, all those emotions he’d buried after her departure eight years ago were gradually finding their way back to the surface.
This wasn’t a good thing. Not at all, he thought with a frown. Whatever was between him and Tess now was supposed to be all about seducing her, and nothing about falling hard for her all over again. She was a brief summer fling, nothing more, and he’d do well to remember that since she had no intention of sticking around once the house was repaired and sold.
With that thought firmly embedded in his mind, he abruptly stood. “I better get back to work so I can get this porch finished before the sun sets.”
“Okay.” She stared at him curiously, obviously a bit perplexed by his sudden shift in mood. Slowly, she stood, too, and gathered up the empty plate and tumbler. “I guess I’ll go and put together a care package for you to take home.”
Morgan watched her go, and exhaled a harsh breath. Without a doubt, the woman was turning him inside out—emotionally and physically. And because he refused to succumb to his feelings for her once again, it was time to turn up the heat between them and start the process of getting her out of his system, once and for all.
CHAPTER FOUR
Morgan returned the following day to finish up the work on the railing around the porch. It only took him a few hours to get the piecework and trim done, and by noon he’d completed the task. Which left him the rest of Saturday afternoon to focus on Tess, and them.
He entered the house through the front door in search of Tess and called her name. When he didn’t get an answer, he headed into the vacant kitchen. It wasn’t until he glanced out the window over the sink that he finally found her out in the backyard, picking a new batch of never ending ripe peaches.
Removing his tool belt, he washed up his hands and arms with soap and water as he watched Tess outside. He grinned as she stood on her tiptoes to pluck the fruit from its stem, which caused her denim mini-skirt to rise a few inches up her thighs. When she turned around, his gaze took in those full breasts beneath her T-shirt, and his dick stirred in instantaneous awareness.
Oh, yeah, they were so done with flirting and teasing, he decided as he dried his hands with a paper towel. Done with all the verbal foreplay and the arousing kisses that had them both aching for more. He wanted Tess, and they were about to give in to what he knew they both had been craving for the past week and a half. They were all alone for the afternoon, and he planned to take full advantage of that fact.
Five minutes later, she entered the kitchen with a bowl filled with peaches. She blew out an upward stream of breath that ruffled her bangs and dumped the fruit into the colander in the sink.
“I can’t believe how many peaches those trees produce,” she grumbled with a shake of her head. “I can’t keep up with it all, and I’m running out of recipes to make. I’ve tried everything from peach ice cream, to muffins, to custard, and anything else you can imagine. I think I’m finally tapped out of recipes.”
He picked up one of the peaches, and feeling how soft and ripe it was beneath his kneading fingers, an idea formed in his mind. One that promised to be fun and sexy and oh-so-erotic.
His blood hummed with anticipation, and he slanted her a sidelong glance. “I sure would hate to see these ripe peaches go to waste.”
A frown wrinkled her forehead and she propped her hands on her hips as she considered the fate of the fruit. It was clear that she was lost in her own thoughts and had no clue that he was about to seduce that T-shirt and skirt right off her body.
“Me, too,” she said, meeting his gaze with a sigh. “But I’m beginning to feel that if I look at another peach I’m going to turn into one.”
Which didn’t sound like a bad thing to Morgan, not when he knew how sweet and juicy she’d taste. “I think I need to give you a new appreciation for peaches,” he drawled with shameless intent, and slowly backed her up against the counter as he continued to palm the fruit in his hand. “Something to inspire you for later, when you’re trying to come up with a new recipe for all those peaches.”
Her eyes widened as she finally realized what he was up to. “Why Morgan, are you trying to get into my pants?”
He laughed, enjoying her playful humor. “I believe I am, Ms. Monroe. Is it working?”
Her eyes smoldered with desire. “Not yet, but I’m more than willing to let you give it your best shot.”
Permission granted, he put his seductive plan into motion. He lifted the peach to her mouth and rubbed the fuzzy skin against her bottom lip. “Take a bite,” he murmured.
Obeying his order, her lips parted and her teeth sank into the fruit at the same time that Morgan squeezed, causing the juice to dribble down her chin. She gasped in surprise, and when she automatically lifted her hand to catch the juice before it made a mess on her T-shirt, he caught her wrist and held her off. He took a bite of the fruit, too, then went in for a deep, tongue-tangling, peach-flavored kiss. The taste of her was hot and intoxicating and incredibly sweet, and he was dying to sample her elsewhere.
Between kisses, he skimmed her shirt up and off, then deftly removed her bra and let it fall to the floor without so much as a hint of a protest from her. With his mouth still fused to hers, he mashed up another peach over the sink, pushed the pit out with his thumb, and proceeded to slather her chest with the cool pulp.
She sucked in a quick breath and pulled her mouth from his, her expression filled with shocked disbelief at his actions. “What are you doing?”
He shaped her lovely breasts in his palms and grazed his thumbs over her hard, tight nipples, a
ll but devouring her gorgeous body with his gaze. “I’m creating a new peach recipe.”
A shiver coursed through her, and her mouth tipped in a sexy smile. “What’s it called?” she asked breathlessly.
“Peach ecstasy,” he said, and swept his hand downward, painting sticky, slippery swirls over her flat stomach.
Her breathing deepened, and her eyes rolled back when he dipped his finger into her navel—slowly, provocatively, again and again. “It’s, umm, very messy to make.”
And it was going to get a whole lot messier before he was done. “Don’t worry, I have every intention of cleaning up after myself.”
He kissed her again as he unsnapped the front of her mini-skirt, then hooked his thumbs inside the waistband and pushed the denim and her silky panties down her legs. They dropped to her feet with a muted thump, and she stepped out of the garments and kicked them aside, along with the sandals she’d been wearing.
The thought of finally having her naked made him harder than he could remember being in a long time. Clasping his strong hands around her waist, he lifted her up so she was sitting on the counter in front of him and on display for his viewing pleasure. He dragged his mouth from hers, took a small step back, and looked his fill of those womanly curves glistening with peach nectar, her long, shapely limbs that had spurred some of his fondest fantasies, and all that made her completely and utterly feminine.
Warmth suffused Tess’s entire body as a bout of self-consciousness settled over her, making her feel much too vulnerable with this man, physically and emotionally. Morgan’s eyes were the color of heated liquid silver, his features taut with lust and need as his gaze ravished her as she knew his mouth would eventually do.
She resisted the urge to lift her hands and cover herself. “Morgan…” Her voice quivered, as did her nerve-endings.
He continued to stare, his gaze drifting from her breasts down to the thatch of hair between her thighs. “God, you’re so beautiful, Tess,” he said, his low pitched tone filled with awe and male appreciation. “All of you.”