Tracing the collar of her cardigan, she let her mind go to all sorts of dirty places involving one viscount, a tub of warm chocolate, and her. She could spread it on his—
“Your thoughts,” Sebastian said, appearing out of nowhere and making her jump.
“My what?” Heat rising to her cheeks, she concentrated on the countdown currently underway and thanked God that only fifteen seconds remained. With ten seconds remaining, she looked up.
He edged closer. “I brought my work with me.” Holding out a plate filled with slices of cheese, bread, turkey, and avocado, he bit the side of his lip. “So … your thoughts.”
I think I should strip you naked and have my way with you. The microwave dinged. “Uh … ah.” She bent her head, studying the plate. “Great job.” She meant it. He’d cut almost every piece as thick as she had shown him. Looking up, she smiled at him. “You’re very handy with a knife, practically a natural.”
Something gleamed in his pale blue eyes. “Thank you.” He set down the plate. “I’ll get bowls for the soup, shall I?”
“You go turn my sign to ‘closed’ while I bring everything else to the table where we were sitting.”
“What about your customers?”
“It’s usually slow on the day leading to New Year’s Eve for in-house customers. I doubt anyone’s shopping for dessert right now. Besides, all my pick-up orders have already been, well, picked up.”
He inclined his head and headed to the front. She made quick work of gathering everything they needed and placed it on a large tray. As she entered the room, he waited for her by the table, her chair pulled out.
Just as she set the tray down, he leaned over and whispered, “I got over my allergy of good manners.”
She bit back a smile and sat down. “I might have found mine again, too.”
He piled a thick piece of bread with turkey, avocados, and cheese. A charming smile appeared on his face, making her stare at him in wonder. “Shall I call you Daisy instead of Ms. Barnes? I thought if we are to break bread together—”
“Breaking bread together? Aren’t you old-fashioned?” She wiggled her brows. “I lik—”
That charming smile disappeared, replaced by nothing. Absolutely nothing. He didn’t smile, he didn’t do anything, but kept his handsome face blank. “My apologies. Lunch. I wanted us to be on a first name basis before we ate.” It was then Daisy realized that she had embarrassed him.
She placed her hand over his. “I was going to say that I liked the sound of breaking bread together, especially during this time of year. It’s nice … Sebastian.”
Unfortunately, her explanation didn’t work, because he ate the rest of his meal in silence. She stayed quiet as well, but she couldn’t help but notice that his gaze kept straying to her display of desserts, of all things.
Gah!
Why couldn’t he stare at her boobs like a normal guy? She ate the last bite of her sandwich, washed it down with water, and then leaned back in her chair. “Guess I better clean up and re-open my store.”
“Allow me.”
Openly watching him as he cleared their dishes, she tried to think of something to say before he left. Something nice. Something friendly. Something—
Sebastian beat her to the punch. “May I take your picture to remember this day?”
“Oh-okay.” She stood, and then moved to stand in front of the tiny Christmas tree she’d placed in the corner at the first of the month. Grabbing the Santa hat from the top of the tree, she pulled it over her head. “How’s this? It’ll hide the I-was-out-of-my-mind orange.”
Nodding, a corner of his mouth kicked up. “Very enterprising.” Holding up his phone, he snapped a couple of pictures.
She felt a little silly standing there, so she plopped the Santa hat on his head and giggled at the sight. He looked so serious with his suit, then so silly with the hat. She wasn’t surprised he’d put his jacket back on. His overcoat lay neatly over a nearby chair. “My turn to take a picture.”
“I really don’t think—” he glanced up at the ceiling, “—is that mistletoe?”
“Yeah, but I put it in the corner so no one would feel obligated to kiss.”
His eyes dropped to her lips. “I don’t feel obligated.”
“Neither do I.” She inched closer, carefully placing her palms on his chest. Dear God, his chest. Even through the layers, it felt broad and muscular. “Oh my mercy,” she whispered.
“Indeed.” He dipped his head, and this time when his eyes closed, she didn’t pull away. She didn’t speak, she didn’t think. Instead, she rose on her toes, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and kissed him. And kissed him some more.
“Sebastian,” she murmured against his lips.
“Bastian,” he corrected. “I prefer Bastian, Daisy.”
“Bastian,” she whispered. A better name. Something a girl who was sweet on him would call him between kisses. Like she was doing now.
The kiss deepened, his hands threading in her hair, pulling at the chopsticks that held her bun in place. They hit the floor with a clatter, and then her back hit the wall.
She gasped.
He slid his tongue inside, flicking it at vulnerable spots she didn’t know existed. Or maybe they had and were waiting on him to find them.
Her hair fell, glides of silk over her sensitive skin. His fingers gently touched the sides of her neck. A sensuous path that had her thighs trembling.
Farther down his fingers went, hands cupping her shoulders, skimming down her arms, dipping to her chest, and then covering her breasts.
“Perfect,” he groaned.
She sucked his tongue deeper, and he squeezed, making her nipples hard and wanting. Hooking a leg around his waist, she jerked him against her, the delicious weight of him making her moan into his mouth. His hand found her thigh, gripping it tight as she ground against him.
Suddenly, he pulled away, his pale eyes unfocused, and then sharpening to their normal frost. “Christ,” he swore. “I hadn’t intended for this to happen.” His grip eased, and she lowered her leg. She let go of his lapels as he let go of her breast.
A smile threatened to curve her lips, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. She didn’t want him to think she was laughing at him. Instead, she stroked the side of his cheek. His jaw clenched, and she did it again, wanting to ease his tension.
“Please don’t apologize,” she whispered.
“I wasn’t.” His chin tipped up, full lips thinning. He held up his cell phone. “I have to go.”
Cold washed over and through her. There was no reason she should be embarrassed, but she was. “All right.”
He strode to the chair and shrugged into his overcoat, then cast a look at her over his shoulder. “Damn it,” he muttered and started for her again, long strides eating up the distance.
Heart swelling and desire rising, she met him halfway and wrapped her arms around his neck. Words weren’t needed in this moment.
His hands settled on the sides of her face. “Daisy.” A statement or a question, she wasn’t sure.
She blinked up at him, this time allowing herself to smile at him. “Yes?”
For a minute, his mask slipped and longing shone in his eyes. “Happy New Year in advanced, love.”
“Happy New Year, Bastian.” She licked her dry lips. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for while you’re here.” I hope you come back to my store tomorrow, because I’ll be waiting.
He searched her face, as if weighing her words for sincerity. “I already have.”
“Good.”
Lowering his head to hers, he breathed deeply, and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, darling.”
Her eyes closed. He held her, or rather she held him, their bodies pressed tight once more, so tight that she actually felt his cell phone vibrate against her stomach.
Finally, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Pale blue greeted her. He smiled. An honest-to-goodness smile. H
is cell phone vibrated again. Her amazing response, “Don’t you need to answer that?”
The mask returned, hard and cold, and she wanted to kick herself. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut and enjoyed the moment?
His hands dropped, and he fished his cell phone out of his pocket, reading the screen. Without another word, he pivoted and walked out her front door. Enormous, burly bodyguards followed close behind, their matching black coats swirling around them as they disappeared from her sight.
“Oh my mercy,” she whispered, legs going shaky as she stumbled to a chair and plopped down in it.
Her door jerked open again. Sebastian was back. Her heart jumped up and down in her chest as he drew closer. Wordlessly, he held out his hand, and she took it.
He pulled her to him and said, “If I could spend New Year’s Eve with you, I would. I want you to know that.”
“What’s stopping you?” she asked, her knees shaking. She hadn’t expected him to say that. Honestly, she didn’t know what she’d expected him to say.
He dipped his head, forehead resting on hers. “Because I don’t deserve to.” Then he kissed her. Softly. Sweetly—so achingly sweet. Breaking their kiss, he turned away from her and left, for good this time, leaving her standing there, staring at empty space.
Chapter Three
Music blared, lights danced, and the drinks flowed freely at Poor Boys, Holland Springs’ most popular (and only) country music bar.
Daisy sat with her two closest friends, Haven Crawford and Isabella Edwards, at a high table, waiting on another round of drinks.
“Found anyone yet?” Haven asked. She twirled a long lock of pink hair around her finger.
Isabella made a face. “You really expect us to go through with it?”
Haven snorted. “Either it’s one of these jokers or each other.”
Daisy raised a hand. “I vote each other.”
“Oh come on! It’s New Year’s Eve. We have to find someone to kiss,” Haven said. “It’s, like, a rule.”
For a moment, the image of Sebastian Romanov filled her head, all tall and lean, with his serious eyes and sexy mouth.
“Oooh, who are you thinking about, Daisy?” Isabella asked.
“Uh, no one.” She’d never told her friends about that really strange encounter with Sebastian. Or the fact she’d had dreams about the man. Erotic dreams that involved him, her, and a bowl of warm chocolate.
“Sure you’re not,” Haven said with a little laugh.
Searching for a way out of revealing all, Daisy grinned as a familiar face caught her attention. She waved enthusiastically at her cousin, Heath Ambrose. He waved back, and then ambled up to the bar.
“Let’s talk about you instead, Haven. Heath could be the one kissing you at—”
Haven shook her head, her silver eyes narrowing. “Not happening. Ever.”
Isabella placed a comforting hand over Haven’s. “It wouldn’t bother me if you did.”
“Seriously, Haven. Bella and Heath never dated. They kissed once, like in tenth grade or something. So, you’re in the clear,” Daisy pointed out.
“Exactly,” Isabella said. “And since I actually have a date tonight—”
“Who hasn’t bothered to show up.” Haven tapped her phone’s screen. “He’s got fifteen minutes, lady.”
Isabella made a tsking noise. “Stop trying to change the subject. Besides, Peter’s on his way. He’ll be here in five minutes. So…”
The waitress dropped off their drinks, and Daisy picked up her bottle of beer, tipping it in Haven’s direction. “Looks like it’s just you and me, baby girl.”
But Haven wasn’t paying her any mind. She was too busy burning holes in the back of Heath’s shirt.
“Go ask him,” Daisy said, giving her friend’s shoulder a little shove. “You know you want to.” She motioned for Heath to come to their table.
Heath raised a glass in their direction, and they all raised theirs right back. Well, everyone but Haven raised their glass. She turned up her nose and rolled her eyes.
“He has such an ego,” she griped as Heath started in their direction.
Daisy and Isabella exchanged glances, and then they both said, “Hello pot.”
Haven made a face, huffing as Heath joined him. “Don’t you have other things to do, like knitting a brain for the empty space between your ears?”
Heath smiled, slow and easy. “Knitting club’s on Wednesday nights, after church service. You interested in coming, baby doll?”
Haven flicked her eyes over him. “There’s nothing I’m interested in.” Then she stood, grabbed her phone, and walked away.
Heath sucked in some air through his teeth. “Ouch.”
Isabella gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know you shouldn’t have called her baby doll.”
“Yeah, I know it.” He shrugged. “But I figured I’d give her an actual reason to be rude to me.”
Daisy had no idea why Haven had a problem with Heath. Heath was a down-to-earth, nice guy, and she wasn’t just saying that because he was her cousin. He hadn’t let his fame as a Major League catcher go to his head. Every chance he got, he came home and helped his parents on their farm. He volunteered at the Boys and Girls Club, funded a camp for kids whose parents couldn’t afford to send them, and a whole bunch of other projects.
Thing was—Heath was like that growing up too. Sure, he’d been a little cocky at times about his abilities, but Haven could hardly complain about that. The woman was practically a genius, who had no problem showing off her intelligence to anyone and everyone. She had been class valedictorian and had graduated from Duke with a degree in economics. Yet she had chosen to come home to run her grandparents’ bed and breakfast when their failing health had prevented them from keeping it up properly.
Not something anyone had expected from the girl who’d proclaimed Holland Springs wasn’t big enough for her. Maybe being around Heath forced Haven to eat crow, more often than she already did.
“Eight minutes to kissy face time,” Isabella announced, her face lighting up as her fiancé, Peter, joined them. “You’re here.”
Peter leaned down to kiss her friend on the forehead, and then he flashed a smile at Heath. “Aren’t you a little young to be out past eleven?”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, old man?” Heath asked, with a shit-eating grin.
“Only if Isabella is with me,” Peter said. He held out his hand to Isabella. She took it, kissing Daisy on the cheek before she stood.
Heath’s jaw clenched, and he muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Maybe Heath wasn’t over Isabella like she’d thought he was.
“Don’t be alone at midnight,” her friend called out as she and her fiancé disappeared into the crowd.
Daisy nodded, and then sighed thickly. “Awesome. I’m stuck with my cousin, on New Year’s Eve, and the ball’s getting ready to drop.”
Heath punched her lightly on the shoulder. “It’s not that bad. We can toast and hug, but I think someone else might want to get in on that.”
“What?” Daisy’s brow furrowed.
“Hi, honey,” a man said from behind.
“Glen,” she squeaked, turning around in her chair. “What are you doing here?” She wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad about seeing him. They’d broken up right after Thanksgiving, and the only time they’d talked was to arrange for their dog, Cici, to have visitation.
Heath grabbed his bottle of beer. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”
Daisy managed a faint goodbye. “I thought you didn’t like coming to places like this.”
Glen leaned down, his chocolate eyes all seductive. “It’s taken me some time, but I’ve come to the conclusion that wherever you are, is where I want to be. Even—” he made a face of disgust and she recoiled a little, “places like this. Besides, it’s not like you come here that often.” Actually she did. She, Haven, and Isabella had a weekly girls’ night out here, but apparently, that had escaped
Glen’s notice.
“I think we owe it to ourselves to give our relationship one more try,” he added.
She looked at him skeptically, and he took her hand, kissing it softly. “I missed you, Daisy. Haven’t you missed me at all?”
Actually, she had. No matter his faults, she’d genuinely missed him. He’d been one of her best friends growing up, and she didn’t want to let go of that.
“Yes.”
“Give me another chance, honey. It’s almost a new year. Let me show you the new me.”
Caving, she stood and let Glen wrap his arms around her as the crowd began the final countdown. “Okay.”
Smiling, he lowered his mouth to hers right as the bar went crazy.
* * *
The smell of bacon woke Daisy. She sat up in bed and glanced around, just as Glen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, walked into the room. He smiled at her, and her stomach dropped.
All at once, everything came back to her: the kiss, her drinking waaay more than she should have, the drive to her house, their clothes all tangled around them, his hands on her breasts, and the room spinning … then nothing.
“Did we spend the night together?” she asked. “I mean, did we have sex?”
He sat down beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his. “Well, one of us did.” He traced her lips with a finger. “I’ve missed these lips, and what they can do.”
“So … I—you … were the only one—”
Letting go of her hand, he held his own up. “Hey, I’m not turning down a blow job.”
“But you didn’t return the favor?”
“You fell asleep,” he said, and her stomach roiled. He’d used her, and she’d let him. “Don’t pout. I guess I could return the favor now.”
Warning bells sounded in her head at the words ‘guess’ and ‘favor.’ Loving one another this way shouldn’t be about favors. It should be mutual. “Way to make me feel all special, Glen.”
“I shouldn’t have to make you feel special.”
Her reply died on her lips when he pushed her back on the bed and tore the sheet away. Who was this guy? Glen had always been a weird mix of timid and always-on-top missionary-style type of guy. Or maybe she didn’t inspire no-holds-barred sex. Maybe all that came to mind with her was quiet, reasonable, and placid sex. Nothing to share with your girlfriends or have to take a couple of aspirin in the morning, because you were amazingly sore from the attention.
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