Wet: Whispering Cove, Book 2

by Cathryn Fox

  Katy wanted to ask about business, but she also remembered her promise, so instead she decided to ease into the conversation naturally. “Mom, the place is packed and you’re run off your feet.” Despite that, Katy thought her mother looked fit and completely happy to be hustling about. Actually, she seemed to thrive on it today as much as she had when Katy was younger. “Maybe you should hire extra help,” she suggested, giving her mother an opening to talk about her finances.

  Her dad, Pete, left the grill, and came up behind her mother. His gray hair might be thinning, and his eyes might have more lines framing the edges, but he was still just as strong and robust as ever. He patted his wife on the backside and winked. “Cooking keeps her young. Just look at her, she’s as beautiful today as the day I met her.”

  Her mom went up on her toes and gave him a kiss. Katy rolled her eyes as she watched them, but deep down she knew she wanted the same thing. A loving marriage with a guy who, after thirty years, still looked at her with love in his eyes. “Do you two ever stop?”

  “Oh Katy, you’re such a fuddie duddie,” her mother said and waved a dismissive hand.

  Katy laughed, and grabbed the order. “Fuddie duddie? Now that’s something I haven’t been called in quite a while.” When Katy left the kitchen, she spotted Andie and Brody and just about dropped her tray as she rushed across the room to see them.

  After seeing her best friend, and making her swear they’d get together soon, the rest of the afternoon had flown by. As she thought about making an evening appointment at Whispering Salon, a place where she was bound to get the best gossip in town, the bell above the door chimed.

  Katy shot a glance around the kitchen and noted she was all alone. Where had everyone gone? The dinner staff would be coming in soon, but where had her folks disappeared to? She’d been so busy playing with new menu ideas, hoping the addition of a few gourmet dishes would help draw in new patrons, that she hadn’t paid any attention to her surroundings. Not that the restaurant had room for more patrons, she mused. They were at peak tourist season and the place was packed tighter than a tin of sardines. She alone must have rung in at least two thousand dollars in sales that afternoon. Had her grandfather been completely honest about her parents’ financial troubles? But since he’d sworn her to secrecy, she couldn’t ask. She could only observe. Maybe she’d try to get a look at the books later.

  She heard a noise in the other room, and heavy boots scraping over the old plank floor heralded someone’s approach.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she called out over her shoulder, and wiped the sticky flour from her hands. She caught her reflection in the glass refrigerator door as she hurried to the dining area. Good God, she had flour on her face, and strands of hair, once neatly piled on the top of her head, had fallen out and were jutting out in all directions. Cripes, she looked like she’d styled her hair with an egg beater.

  Concentrating on trying to stick the wayward locks back into place, she rushed through the swinging door and, not looking where she was going, collided with a solid brick wall. Air rushed from her lungs with a whoosh, and she stumbled backwards. Strong hands slipped around her waist to right her, and she glanced up only to discover that the brick wall was none other than Trent Parker.

  Oh God…

  “Hey,” he said, as capable arms packaged her tight against his body. Dark, intense eyes met hers and they exchanged a long, heated look, one that spoke of want and desire. One that nearly shut down her brain. A tremble moved through her as delicious warmth spread over her skin.

  “Hey yourself,” was all she managed to get out as his hands slipped from her back to rest on the sides of her hips. His touch was shockingly intimate and did the most naughty things to her libido. He splayed his hands wider, and the feeling was so sensual, so damn erotic, her skin flushed hotly and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  Trent continued to hold her to him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, and groin to groin. A low breathy moan sounded in her throat and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stifle it.

  His glance raced over her and he placed his mouth so close to hers she could taste the sweetness of his breath. “You okay?” The tenderness and genuine concern in his voice produced a familiar fullness in her chest, right around the vicinity of her heart.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know,” she answered.

  Good God, with the way he was meshing their bodies together, she could barely breathe, let alone think. But the one thing she did know was that she was not okay. How could she be? The man she left ten years ago, the same man who was staring down at her with equal measures of disdain and desire, held her so intimately and so possessively it was all she could do not to tear her uniform off and beg him to take her right there on the restaurant floor.

  A shiver of need ran through her as she carefully extricated herself from his arms. She stood back and took a moment to gather her composure, no easy task considering Trent was standing in front of her looking like sex incarnate. Her knees wobbled and she grabbed the edge of the counter for balance.

  Trent took a step closer. “Well, which is it? Are you okay, or are you not okay?”

  She fussed with her hair and wiped the flour from her face as her glance devoured him. Dear God, the boy from her past had grown into one hell of a handsome man, dark eyes, short brown hair, rugged features, sun-kissed skin and a beautiful mouth she instantly longed to kiss. Her pulse leapt as she breathed in his familiar earthy scent, and when she detected the clean smell of his favorite soap beneath the surface, warm and wicked sensations stirred her libido.

  She cleared her throat and prayed her voice wouldn’t fail her. “I’m okay,” she lied. “But how about you?” Her question sounded rushed and breathless, even to herself. “I crashed into you pretty hard, and I’m not a lightweight anymore,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

  Looking sexier than ever, he grinned down at her, but didn’t answer. Instead he took a measured step back and stared at her with dark, sensual eyes that made her blood burn in a way it had never burned before. After a long, lingering look, he drove his hands into his jean pockets, pushing them lower on his hips. Katy’s glance dropped to his sexy oblique muscles, which were peeking out from beneath his untucked shirt, and tried not to think about the way her fingers itched to trace each sinewy striation.

  He made a noise and her gaze darted back to his face in time to see the sadness in his eyes when they clashed with hers.

  He quickly blinked it away, but his voice was a little low, a little rough with emotion when he asked, “How are you, Katy? Or should I say Kathleen?”

  Katy swallowed, and felt the sting of his words all the way to her core. She couldn’t fault him for his comment, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She stiffened and adjusted her apron, understanding how things were going to be between them, and wondering how she could possibly make it right again.

  “You can call me whatever you want to call me.” Desperate to put some well-needed distance between them, she positioned herself behind the counter and noted the way his gaze tracked her every movement. “Did you want to place an order or did you come here to glare at me?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

  “An order it is then. What can I get you, T?”

  With that he took a small step back, stumbling slightly. His shoulders tensed and his jaw flexed. Raw emotions flitted across his face as undisguised need entered his eyes.

  “What?” Katy asked.

  He shook his head, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

  Katy knew it wasn’t nothing. She took a moment to think about what she said, and then realized she’d made a horrendous slip. She’d called him T, her private nickname for him. The same name she called him whenever they’d made make love. She resisted the urge to slap her forehead. How could she have been so stupid?

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.” She brace
d her hands on the counter and said, “It was just a silly slip.”

  He visibly relaxed. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” Feeling completely flustered, and wanting to make things right, she rushed out, “Let me make it up to you.”

  “You don’t—”

  She raised her hand to stop him and said, “Your meal is on me.”

  Once again he tensed, and it occurred to her that she’d just made slip number two. God, what was wrong with her? She caught the look in Trent’s eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing as her. Thinking about all the fun they had with food, drizzling each other with warm chocolate, or spraying each other with whip cream and languidly licking it off. Even though he hated her—the darkness in his eyes told her so—sexual tension still hung heavy. The fiery sparks arcing between them could very well set the restaurant ablaze.

  “I mean…” When she caught the gleam in his eye, her voice fell off.

  His mouth curved, and he leaned against the countertop. “Go on.”

  Before she could answer, the bell above the door chimed and four customers walked in.

  Trent straightened, and there was a hardness in his tone that wasn’t there before when he asked, “How long are you in town?”

  She drew a shaky breath. “The summer.”

  “That long, huh?”

  “Yeah. I’m on an eight-week hiatus.”

  “I guess I’ll see you around then.” With that he drove his hands deeper into his pockets and turned to go.

  “What about your meal?”

  “I’ll take a rain check.” He turned back to her, and warmth moved into his eyes when he said in a low voice meant for her ears only, “Oh, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to call you Katy.”

  Katy’s heart raced as she stood there and watched him leave. He didn’t go straight for the door, however. Instead, he stopped at the corner booth, her granddaddy Errol’s favorite seat, and grabbed his cane. Her granddaddy must have left it there after lunch. Normally he sat with Byron and Harold, but today Byron was lunching with his grandson and Harold was home resting. Katy had enjoyed a bowl of chowder with her granddaddy on her break, and she remembered seeing the cane. She also remembered thinking it was new. He’d been walking perfectly fine for the last two days, and when she asked about it, he brushed her off. But she had to wonder why Trent was there picking it up for him. Jeez, she hoped Errol hadn’t called the fire department claiming an emergency because he’d left it behind at the restaurant. Of course, she wouldn’t put it past him.

  As Katy watched Trent step through the door, taking pleasure in the sight of his perfect, firm backside, she ran through their entire encounter and wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. One second Trent seemed to hate her, the next he seemed to want her, and Katy couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything she could ever do to get him to love her again.

  Desire was the first thing Trent had felt when she’d fallen into his arms.

  Anger was the second.

  It was the anger that had caused him to strike out at her, intending to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him. His actions were juvenile, he knew, and he was being a prick. A total fucking prick. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. The second he’d felt her body next to his, his entire being ached for her in ways that ripped a hole in his armor. But the fact that she didn’t want him the way he wanted her tore at his guts and had him acting out of character.

  He’d seen the hurt in her eyes, and he hated himself for putting it there. He didn’t want to hurt Katy. It was just that when she’d left she’d taken his heart with him, and in ten long years she’d yet to bring it back.

  Then she’d called him T, and every memory of their time together came crashing back. Memories of the way she felt beneath his body, the way her hands had touched him with aroused eagerness, and the way she’d called his name during lovemaking.

  As the world around him tilted on its axis, it was all he could do to stop himself from bending her over the counter and taking her, hard and fast. To remind her how good they were together. How good they could still be together.

  Fuck, how he wanted her. And she wanted him too.

  Physically, anyway.

  He felt the way her body had reacted to his touch, and the look in her eyes spoke of physical want, and goddammit, he wanted to be the guy to satiate that want. The second he caught a whiff of her sweet, honeyed scent, he ached to bury himself in her again, to kiss her mouth, her breasts, between her legs.

  But the question was, would fucking her help get her out of his system once and for all, or would it shatter the last vestige of his control when she sailed out of town for another ten years?

  Maybe it was time to find out.

  Chapter Four

  Wind whistled through the open window in Katy’s beachside rental house, and she let loose a slow, relaxing breath, thinking she’d made the right choice when she’d picked out her summer accommodations. Naturally her parents had wanted her to stay with them in their big old Victorian house, but Katy had wanted her privacy, insisting they also needed theirs.

  In other words, every time she turned around she didn’t want to be bombarded with questions about work, marriage, children. Trent.

  She loved her parents dearly. Working together every day was one thing, but living under the same roof with them for eight weeks was seven weeks too long.

  Katy stepped up to the window and inhaled the salty sea breeze. A wave of warmth and familiarity moved through her as she hugged herself and looked out over the water. Off in the distance sail boats bobbed under the setting sun as white caps crashed against the sandy shore. Her mind drifted and she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the times she and Trent had jumped those waves as children. By mid-teens they were body surfing, and by the time they’d approached their twenties, they were running off to find a private cove where the cool spray would wash over them as they made love. The ocean was a part of her life and she missed it. She also missed making love with Trent.

  Katy gulped, her smile falling from her face as she pushed away from the window. Just thinking about making love to Trent had her body reacting with urgent need. Pushing those thoughts aside and not wanting to dwell on the way she’d salivated over him earlier that day at the Seafarer, she walked through the quaint rental with its pine wood furniture, planked floors and light, ocean blue fabrics—designed to give it a seaside cottage ambiance—and focused on the new recipes she’d like to try out down at the restaurant. As her mind raced with new ideas, she stripped off her work clothes and hopped into the shower. Once clean and refreshed, and deciding that she’d be staying in for the night, she dressed in a silk nightie. With no air conditioning in the rental, she’d need something light to sleep in.

  Nighttime had fallen over the fishing village as she settled into her recliner with her notepad. As she jotted down meal ideas for the restaurant, she heard a noise outside. She stiffened and glanced around, but relaxed a little when she realized she was no longer in the big city where the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. She was in Whispering Cove, where apparently the biggest crime was that she and Trent hadn’t married and produced a school of kids. Still though, that noise had startled her. She waited a moment longer to see if she could pinpoint the location, but after a few minutes of silence she passed it off as nothing. Probably just the dock creaking under the pounding waves. She went back to creating a menu plan, but when something smashed against the side of her cottage, she practically jumped out of her skin.

  Katy dropped her notepad and padded softly to her door to listen. She heard something, something that sounded like shuffling, and glanced at her phone, thinking she might put a call in to Sheriff Brody McGrath. Jeez, it was so odd to think her childhood friend had become a sheriff. He’d raised more hell around town than any of them. But she didn’t want to disturb Brody. He seemed completely caught up in Andie, and they had enough on their plates right now.

  She flicked her ou
tside light on, inched her door open and peered into the night. When a cloud of smoke drifted by her face and the pungent aroma reached her nostrils, she flung her door open wider and rushed outside. She hurried around the corner of her rental and stopped short when she spotted Trent. He stood with his back to her, dousing the flames in her garbage can with a garden hose.

  “Trent?” she asked hesitantly.

  Startled and still holding the hose, he spun around, and Katy jumped back as he gave her an icy-cold bath.

  “Oh Jesus, Katy. I’m sorry.” Trent dropped the hose and rushed to her.

  Water dripped down her face, and she sputtered as she pulled her drenched nightie away from her skin. “What the hell is going on?”

  “There was a fire…in…your…garbage.” His gaze kept going from the can behind him to her dripping wet nightie, which now settled nicely against her body and clung to her flesh like a second skin.

  “Yeah, but why are you here?”

  He grabbed his cell from his pocket, and shook it, as if that explained everything. When she continued to stare at him, he said, “I was on my way to the pub, and someone called and told me about the fire.” He jerked his thumb. “I could see the can burning from the street.”

  “They called your cell? Not the department?” Beneath the exterior light, Katy scrutinized him, but that scrutiny quickly turned into a heated inspection as she took pleasure in his fine-tuned body. Her gaze flickered over his navy T-shirt and low-riding jeans that exposed tight muscles and hewn thighs—rock-hard thighs she’d love to feel wrapped around her.

  Warm moisture dripped between her legs and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with getting doused by that hose. Arousal punched into her gut and her nipples tightened painfully under the sensual assault.

  Trent swallowed so hard the sound carried in the still night. “Yeah, I know how it sounds…” His voice fell off, and she could only guess why. His gaze dropped to her chest, and her sex fluttered as desire flitted over his face. “I…uh…someone is toying with me, Katy. I don’t know what’s going on but I damn well plan on getting to the bottom of it.”