Reese's Wild Wager

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Reese's Wild Wager Page 11

by Barbara Mccauley


  When he opened his mouth to protest, she put her fingers on his lips to silence him. “But that was the old Sydney Taylor,” she said firmly. “I’m a new woman. In two weeks my restaurant will be open and now, thanks to you, I have an entirely different outlook on relationships.”

  “Which is?” The touch of her fingers on his mouth distracted him for a moment and he couldn’t resist kissing each delicate fingertip, delighted at the shiver he felt ripple through her.

  “You’ve been right all along, Reese. I’m much too serious about everything. Too analytical and uptight. It’s time I learned how to relax and enjoy life more. Have more fun.”

  He smiled, moved his lips to the palm of her hand and kissed her there. “Atta girl, Syd.”

  “I have so much time to make up for.” Her voice was breathless, her eyes bright. “So many new things to experience.”

  He was liking the sound of all this more and more. And he was just the man to help her out with all those new experiences, Reese thought cheerfully. Who was he to discourage such energetic enthusiasm?

  Smiling, she let her head fall back and stretched her arms wide. “I feel so incredible.”

  She looked pretty damn incredible, too, Reese thought as the sheet slipped away from Sydney’s breasts. He was reaching for her when she suddenly jumped out of bed. He took a moment to enjoy every naked curve, then realized she was pulling her clothes on.

  “And just what do you think you’re doing?” Lying on his side, he bent his elbow and propped his head in the palm of his hand. She looked tousled and sexy with her hair falling over her shoulders and her skin flushed from their lovemaking. He watched her pull on her bra and blouse, still amazed at the night they’d spent together.

  The first of many, he thought with a smile.

  “Have you seen my shoes?” She dropped to the floor, and Reese’s heart jumped at the momentary sight of her pretty lace-covered bottom thrust upwards as she looked under the bed. “Here they are.”

  That did it. He wanted her back in his bed. Right now. He reached out and dragged her up onto the mattress with him, then rolled her onto her back as he kissed her. “And just where do you think you’re going?” he murmured as he nuzzled on her ear.

  Her arms came over his shoulders. “Home, silly. It’s getting late. You’ve got to get to work.”

  “What happened to all that talk about enjoying life and having more fun?” He trailed kisses down her neck, delighted in the soft little moan he heard from deep in her throat.

  “Well, I wasn’t just referring to making love, though that—” she sucked in a breath and arched upward as his hand cupped her breast “—is certainly pleasurable, too.”

  “So what did you mean?” He started to unbutton her blouse again.

  “I meant life in general,” she gasped softly, closed her eyes as his hand slid under her silk blouse. “Enjoying every moment. I’ve worried my entire life what people would think and say about me. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

  “Good.” He frowned when she stilled his hand and pushed upward on his shoulders until they were both sitting. Okay. She wanted to talk, that was fine. He made a mental note where he’d left off, so he could be sure and come back to the right spot.

  “You were right about me being a snob, Reese.” She took his face in her hands and smiled. “But not anymore. I’m going to take the time to meet different kinds of people and do things I’ve never done before. Listen to rock music. Cut my hair. Buy a short skirt. Eat breakfast in bed. All the things I never allowed myself to do before.”

  That all sounded great, especially the short skirt part. And she could eat breakfast in bed with him anytime. He’d even make it for her.

  She didn’t need to cut her hair, though. He liked it just the way it was. And come to think of it, if she wore a short skirt, other guys would be looking at those great legs of hers. He decided he didn’t like that at all.

  And what the hell did she mean about meeting different kinds of people?

  Before he could ask her, she’d slipped out from underneath him, then grabbed her skirt from the floor and pulled it on. “I don’t want to make you late for work and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have to explain Sydney Taylor sneaking out of your place early in the morning looking like she’d slept in her clothes.”

  He frowned at her. “You just said you didn’t care what people thought.”

  She tugged on a shoe. “I don’t care what they think about me, but I wouldn’t want you to have to endure any rib-poking or jokes because of me.”

  “And you think I care what people think?” Shaking his head in exasperation, he sat on the edge of the bed. “And if just one person pokes my rib or even hints at making a joke, they’ll be wearing their teeth.”

  She went still, then looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She moved toward him, then lightly pressed her lips to his and said softly, “Thank you, Reese. That was the most wonderful night of my life. You’ve been kind and honest and incredibly sweet. You made my first time special and I’ll never forget that.”

  Kind, honest and sweet? Never forget? What the hell was she talking about? He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Is this a brush-off, Syd?”

  “Of course not.” She turned away, spotted her other shoe and reached for it. “But we’re both responsible, mature adults, and I don’t want you to think that I have any expectations regarding a continuing relationship. What happened last night just happened. I don’t want you to feel any sense of…responsibility.”

  Responsibility? Would this woman ever cease to make him crazy?

  Probably not.

  “So what you’re saying,” he said carefully, “is that you just want to be friends. Is that it?”

  Her cheeks flushed pink as her gaze met his. “Well…yes.”

  He didn’t believe a word of what she was saying.

  “Sure, Syd,” he said easily. “We’ll just be friends.”

  “Great.” Smiling, she moved toward him. “These next few days are going to be busy getting ready for the café’s opening, so I may not see you for a while.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye.” She brushed his cheek with her lips.

  “Bye, Syd.”

  “Bye.” She brushed his other cheek.

  “Syd?”

  “What?”

  “Come back to bed.”

  He saw the relief in her eyes, then, with a laugh, she threw her arms around his neck and sent them both falling back on the mattress. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Nine

  “Oh, Lucian, it’s so beautiful.”

  Sydney ran her hand over the new granite countertop that Lucian had just installed in the café. It would separate the dining area from the wine and beer and cappuccino machine on the back wall. If her tables were full, then customers could wait here on bar stools and have drinks or hors d’oeuvres until they were seated.

  “It’s strong enough to hold an elephant, too.” Screwdriver in hand, Lucian knelt behind the countertop and gave the last screw head on the supporting cabinet a solid twist.

  “I don’t suppose I’ll get too many elephants for customers,” Sydney said lightly.

  Lucian stood, slipped his screwdriver into the tool belt around his waist. “I suppose not. But there are Henry Offman’s two teenage sons. Don’t think I’d want those boys to come in any restaurant I owned. Some say they single-handedly shut down Barney’s Buffet. Just be sure you don’t have any All-You-Can-Eat nights or they’ll clean you out.”

  Laughing, she shook her head and joined him behind the counter. “How would you like to be my first cappuccino customer? Or maybe an espresso?”

  “That’s straight-up black, right? Whipped cream and foam on coffee is for wimps.”

  “Espresso it is.”

  He leaned against the counter and watched while she prepared the coffee. “Looks like you’re just about ready to open.”

  “Si
x days, four hours and thirty-two minutes.” She handed him the aromatic dark coffee in a demitasse.

  Lucian raised a skeptical brow at the miniature mug, then took a sip. “Not bad, Syd. By the way, I like your hair like that.”

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. “I just got it cut this morning.”

  Lucian’s cell phone rang and while he spoke to his foreman regarding a building permit on a job site outside of town, Sydney glanced into the ceiling-high mirror behind the cappuccino machine. She still couldn’t believe the woman looking back at her was Sydney Taylor.

  It had taken her an entire week to work up the courage to go to the salon. She touched the sides of the shaggy, layered cut that Frederico had insisted was created just for her. He’d also talked her into adding a few highlights to her already blond hair, and while she had those silly pieces of foil in her hair, he handed her over to Marie, the esthetician, who’d tweaked and plucked, plastered mud on her face, then applied a light touch of eye make-up. By the time her hair had been blown dry, Sydney looked and felt like a new woman.

  Marie had oohed and ahhed and nodded with approval.

  Frederico had called her Sexy Sydney.

  Sexy Sydney.

  She smiled. No one had ever called her sexy in her entire life. She liked it.

  She’d gone straight from the salon and bought that short skirt she’d told Reese last week she was going to buy, plus a few other items of clothing that she’d always admired on other women, but never thought right for herself.

  She couldn’t wait until Reese saw her in them.

  Or not in them.

  She felt her skin heat up at her lurid thoughts of Reese, what it felt like to have his hands on her, his mouth. They’d seen each other several times since they’d made love that first time. On Monday, when the tavern was closed, they’d gone for a drive through the back roads of the country to a lake where he told her that he and his brothers used to race cars and drink beer. Just thinking about how she and Reese had made love in a secluded glen by the lake made her heart quicken. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever thought that she’d make love outside, surrounded by trees and bushes and the sky overhead.

  With Reese Sinclair.

  A woman couldn’t ask for a more skilled, generous, thoughtful lover. One minute he was gentle, the next wild and rough. These past few days had been the most exciting time of her life. He’d come to her apartment one night after the tavern had closed, a bottle of wine in his hand. They drank it in her bed. And just yesterday afternoon he’d shown up while she was unpacking an order of bread baskets and dragged her over to his cottage. She’d been breathless, excited that he’d wanted to make love with her so much that he couldn’t wait until that night.

  But he hadn’t wanted to make love. He’d wanted to show her his brand-new, just arrived off the UPS truck, first edition, signed copy of Hemmingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.

  The pleasure and excitement in his face had made her heart stutter. There was so much more to Reese Sinclair than she’d ever imagined, and the fact that he’d wanted to share something so special with her made her eyes tear.

  Then she’d been the one kissing him, tugging his clothes off as she pulled him to his bed with an urgency that startled herself.

  With a sigh, she turned back to the cappuccino machine and made herself a cup. She refused to think beyond the moment. She’d be a fool to think that there was any kind of future for her and Reese. She understood that their relationship—whatever it was—was not permanent. They were…dating. Sort of. Enjoying each other’s company. Definitely. They took each day as it came. No commitments, no plans, no explanations.

  And if she started to dream for a moment, let herself think for even a millisecond that there could be more, all she had to do was remember standing at the front of the church, forcing her knees not to give and her voice not to shake as she looked at all those people and made her excuses. The pity in everyone’s eyes had nearly done her in. They’d seen all along what she’d been too blind to see. That Bobby had lied to the very end, made promises, told her he loved her and wanted her to be his wife. She didn’t ever want to see that look in anyone’s eyes again. She wouldn’t be a fool again. This time she’d be realistic. No expectations.

  But Reese was honest. He’d made no promises, and he’d certainly never told her that he loved her. As long as she didn’t make a foolish mistake and fall in love with him, then she would survive when he decided to move on to the next woman.

  She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. She didn’t want to think about that now. She wouldn’t.

  She turned suddenly and bumped into Lucian who’d just finished his call. He steadied her with one hand, then frowned at the coffee that had splashed over the side of her cup onto the front of her blue cotton sweater.

  “Did it burn you?” he asked with concern.

  “No, no, I’m fine.” She grabbed a bar towel from a hook under the cappuccino machine and dabbed at the spot. “I’ve got it.”

  “You sure? I’d help you out, but then you might have to slap me. Course,” he said, grinning at her with that same Sinclair smile that made women melt, “it might be worth it.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. The Sinclair men were all hopeless flirts, charming, but deadly. And Lucian, well, there was something under the surface with Lucian, something under that Sinclair smile and eyes that appeared wounded. She recognized that look. She’d seen it in her own eyes.

  But she already had her hands full with one Sinclair male. She wasn’t remotely interested in another.

  That wasn’t how it appeared to Reese, however, when he chose that moment to walk into the café. At the sight of his brother standing so close to Sydney behind the new countertop, with his hand on her arm, smiling at her and her smiling back, Reese’s blood started to simmer.

  “Can I get in on the joke, too?” He kept his gaze carefully on Lucian as he crossed the room. “Or is this just between you two?”

  Startled, Sydney jumped, but Lucian turned smoothly and grinned.

  “Hey, Reese.” Lucian dropped his hand away from Sydney’s arm and leaned back casually against the small counter that held the coffee machine. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his espresso. “What’s up?”

  “Not much.” His gaze slid to Sydney, who had just enough guilt in her eyes to make his jaw tighten. And just what had she done to her hair? He looked back at Lucian. “What’s up with you?”

  “Just putting in the counter for Syd,” he said easily, then raised the little cup in his hand. “I’m her first espresso customer.”

  “Is that right?” A muscle twitched in the corner of Reese’s eye. He didn’t want Lucian to be Sydney’s first anything. Or any other guy for that matter. And he sure didn’t like his brother standing behind that counter getting so cozy with his girl.

  “Would you like a cup?” Sydney asked quickly and turned toward the machine. “It will just take a minute.”

  “Maybe if you put it in a real cup,” Reese said evenly. “That little thing Lucian’s got there won’t do much to get the heart pumping.”

  Lucian raised a brow at his brother’s dig. To say his name and “little thing” in the same breath were fighting words and they both knew it.

  While Sydney worked the machine, Reese glared at his brother. Lucian grinned right back, sipping his coffee.

  Reese took the cup that Sydney offered, was irritated that she seemed to be avoiding his gaze. “Ah, I’ve got to go soak this or the spot will never come out,” she said hesitantly as she glanced down at the front of her sweater. “I’ll be right back.”

  Reese noticed the coffee stain between her breasts, then narrowed his eyes as he realized that Lucian was looking at the same spot. When Sydney turned and walked out from behind the counter, Reese nearly spit out the coffee he’d just drank. She was wearing a tight, black skirt that didn’t have enough fabric to wipe a tabletop dry. Her legs went on forever. So did Lucian’s st
are.

  “Put your eyeballs back in your sockets and close your mouth,” Reese growled after Sydney was gone.

  “Did you get a look at those legs?” Lucian whistled softly. “Lord have mercy, I think I’m in love.”

  “Unless you want to eat that little cup in your hand,” Reese warned, “don’t say another word.”

  “Why, Reese,” Lucian said with a smile, “I do believe you’re jealous. Just say the word, Bro, and I’ll back off.”

  “I’m not jealous,” he snapped. “I never get jealous. But just touch her again, keep looking at her like that, or thinking what you’re thinking, and you die.”

  “Well, well.” Humor lit Lucian’s eyes. “So you do have a thing for Sydney, don’t you? We were all wondering where you’d been keeping yourself when you weren’t at the tavern.”

  Reese had never come out and exactly announced that he and Sydney were seeing each other, but he had a right to a private life, didn’t he? Who he saw or what he did was nobody’s business but his own. “Sydney and I—” he hesitated, trying to think of the right words “—have an understanding.”

  “Which is?”

  “We like each other, enjoy each other’s company.” He took a sniff of the strong coffee, then sipped, decided he liked the strong, rich flavor. “That’s it.”

  “Right.” Lucian gave a snort of laughter. “That’s why you started barking and growling when you walked in and saw me with her. Because you like her.”

  “That’s right.”

  “When I dated Susie Hutton at the same time you did, you never even blinked,” Lucian said, obviously enjoying every minute of Reese’s irritation. “Or Mary Walinkski. She dumped you to go out with me and you didn’t care. You liked them, didn’t you?”

  “I liked them different,” he insisted. “And Mary didn’t dump me. I got busy and she got bored sitting around waiting for me to call. Anyway, Sydney is different, that’s all.”

  “Different from what?” Sydney asked as she came back into the room, still wearing that little black skirt that had raised his blood pressure twenty notches and a V-neck pink sweater. It was all Reese could do not to grab the chef’s apron laid over a bar stool and cover her up with it. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Lucian, warning him off.

 

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