Hot Moves

by Kristin Hardy

  “Flying saucers,” she told him.

  “They look more like throwing stars. I can see it now, murder by produce. No wonder your friend Robyn went off to Australia. She did go, right?”

  Thea paid for the squash and added it to her bag. “Last night. Right now, she’s probably on about hour seventeen of being crammed into an airplane and ready to scream.”

  Brady shook his head. “Nope, no way. I’d never make it. I’d go flat out nuts.”

  “Don’t like being cooped up?”

  “I’m not what you call sized for planes. Besides, I like being outdoors. You know, fresh air, sun?”

  “Or rain, if you live here.”

  “Hey, if I’m kayaking, I’m wet anyway. And if I’m hiking, I can wear a jacket. You hike?” he asked, skirting a display of melons.

  “Not so much. I mostly bike.”

  “We should go for a ride sometime while you’re here. Ride to Brimfield—that’s one of our hotel pubs. It’s right outside the city. I bet you’d like it.”

  “Speaking of Brimfield, I’m still not getting why you’re here. I thought you guys grow all your own produce out there. And at the school. What are you doing buying stuff here?”

  His lips twitched. “Way to change the subject. Flawless.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been practicing.”

  “Hard work pays off.”

  Around him, it was a survival skill.

  “So, you been studying up on us?”

  “Robyn told me,” she muttered, concentrating fiercely on a display of dazzlingly ripe tomatoes. “Don’t get all excited. It’s just business.”

  “Crushed, yet again. I can hold your dog while you’re picking those out,” he added, and took the leash to control Darlene, who was tugging madly to get over and sniff a passing black lab. “Anyway, I’d love to get the goods from the gardens. The problem is, the chefs all seem to think that they should have priority.”

  “Like food is more important than beer,” Thea said in mock outrage.

  “Exactly. I could arm wrestle them for it,” he reflected, “but I wouldn’t want to hurt them. Besides, if I come here, I get free food.”

  “Free food?”

  “Sure.” He gave her Darlene’s leash back as they started walking again. “Haven’t you ever been here before? The food’s the best part. They give out free samples, at least as long as you’ve bought something. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  THE COOKING DEMONSTRATIONS always seemed to get the biggest crowds, but as far as Brady was concerned, they only counted if you got to eat the results. He led Thea down the row toward the food area. Pea tendrils today in the chef’s tent, he saw. Somehow, it wasn’t making his mouth water.

  “Look how pretty,” Thea said.

  “There’s better to be had, I’m betting.” He kept going, following a savory scent that was coming on the breeze. Ahead, a pony-tailed guy with the stringy look of a committed vegetarian tended to a grill. On the table beside him sat rondelles of roasted corn with skewers poked in them.

  “Wow, that smells great,” Thea said.

  She’d relaxed, he realized. Maybe it was the walking and talking, maybe it was her foolish little dog, but she seemed at ease. Good that one of them was, because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about touching her since they’d met. She wore a purple shirt over grayish athletic shorts that showed a lot of those long, luscious legs of hers. Her throat looked soft and smooth.

  She had her hair skinned back from her face in a hair band. She didn’t even have on lipstick, so why was it he couldn’t stop watching her mouth? And her eyes, those soft blue-gray eyes, sparkling with interest. He was happy he could show her something that made her look like that. He wanted her to look that way at him.

  Patience, he reminded himself.

  Preferably immediately. Though, he wanted a lot of things immediately just then.

  “Oh good grief they’ve got blueberry shortcake,” Thea breathed. “I may just have died and gone to heaven.”

  “Does that mean I have to watch your dog?”

  “Would you?” She looped the leash over his wrist. “I’m just going to the shortcake table. It’s a shorter trip than heaven.” She stopped. “Do you want some?”

  “I never turn down sweet things.”

  He let himself watch her walk away for a minute, then lowered the flat of berries to sling them under one arm. “What do you think, Darlene, is she going to give us some?”

  Darlene frowned up at him as though he were some zoo exhibit, ratcheting her head around on her neck to get a better look.

  Thea hurried over. “Got it,” she said triumphantly, holding up the two bowls.

  Brady glanced from the flat of raspberries he held to Darlene’s leash. “Yeah, I’m sort of manually challenged right now.”

  “Let me take her back.”

  “I’ll need more than that. Why don’t you have yours, then we’ll trade?”

  “You shouldn’t have to wait,” she objected.

  “I don’t mind.” And he didn’t; after all, he’d get to watch.

  “Just a couple of bites,” she bargained, clearly uncomfortable at the idea of eating when he wasn’t.

  It made him smile. “You did all the work, you get first taste,” he said. “You’re allowed.” Encouraged, would be more like it, he thought as he watched her spoon up a bite of the shortcake and slip it into her mouth.

  She closed her eyes for an instant and he felt a surge of warmth at the pleasure on her face. She gave herself over to it in the same way she’d given herself over to orgasm when they’d been in bed that one night. That one night that had damned well better turn into more. Just remembering had the warmth turning into heat.

  Thea hummed. “This is incredible.”

  Her lips were what was incredible, he thought feverishly as she took another bite. He watched them close around the spoon, unable to keep from watching as she savored the taste with that same abandonment.

  “You’ve got to try this,” she said, stepping toward him. “Here, just taste this.”

  Brady leaned in. He meant to take the bite, so help him he did. But she’d left a bit of whipped cream on her upper lip and he found himself watching it, staring as she came closer. Suddenly he didn’t give a damn about the dessert, all he wanted was her mouth. And then he was tasting her, tasting the cream, the sweetness of berries, the sweetness that was all her, feeling the soft exhalation of her breath, hearing the plop as the shortcake hit the ground.

  And he didn’t give a damn about that and he didn’t give a damn about the people passing by or the dog at their feet because she was kissing him back, her mouth warm and soft and mobile. Then she stepped into him and slid her hand around his neck and it was all he could do to hold onto the fool raspberries. He cursed the fact that he’d ever bought them because all he wanted was to bring her against him, to feel that long, strong body. Only being able to touch her with his mouth was torture.

  Time was elastic, immaterial. Brady didn’t know how long it had been. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was more.

  But they were in public and the berries were his salvation. They reminded him that there was an outside world, they kept him from going too far. Even so, when he dragged himself back, he was almost dizzied with it. He moved back because he wanted to take this somewhere private and quiet where there would be no interruptions.

  Thea’s eyes looked as stunned as he felt. She stared at him blankly, touched the back of her hand to her mouth, then glanced down to where Darlene was busy licking the last bits of shortcake. “I should go,” she said faintly,

  “We should go,” he corrected, reaching for her arm.

  “No.” She picked up the trash and tossed it in a nearby bin, then took Darlene’s leash. “I have things to get done.”

  Stifling impatience, he followed her as she walked toward the parking area. “When am I going to see you again?”

  “Leave a message at the studio.”

  “I�
�m not talking about work.”

  “I am.” She stopped and turned to face him. “While Robyn’s gone, I’m handling her part of the project for you.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s business. And we…this other stuff doesn’t fit with business.” She turned and began to walk again. “Why not?” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Don’t you trust yourself not to molest me on the job site? Not that I’d complain.”

  “Be serious.”

  “Not my specialty.”

  “If we’re working together, we don’t need to get anything started between us.”

  He felt frustration again. “Oh, come on. It’s going already and you know it.”

  “And it’s stopping right now.”

  “Why? What’s the problem? Because it sure isn’t anything you’ve talked about.” And if he didn’t know what he was up against, how could he fight it?

  She let out an anxious breath. “Look, this project is really important, to Robyn—and to you, I assume. I don’t think we should mix business and…”

  “And?”

  She moved her head. “Sex,” she said finally. She stopped before a blue Prius and shook out her keys.

  “I don’t see what one has to do with the other. It’s not like we work for some big company where anyone would care. We’re adults. Work’s work and personal stuff is personal stuff. We ought to be able to keep them separate.”

  “You can’t possibly be that naive.” She put her bags in the trunk.

  “And you’re overcomplicating things.” He set the flat of berries on the roof. “And don’t tell me this is about the tango theater because you were running away way before that.”

  Something flared in her eyes. “I’m not running away.”

  “What do you call it, then?” he demanded. “You kissed me back there. What was that all about? Blueberry shortcake?”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “You seem to have a habit of making them when we’re together,” he said tightly. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  “Yes. It tells me we should stay away from each other.”

  “Dammit, what do I have to do, start scheduling lessons to get time with you? Because I’ll do it.”

  Thea let Darlene onto the driver’s seat and shifted to face him. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re already blurring the lines.”

  “Well, as long as I’m blurring,” he told her, stepping forward. And dragged her to him.

  Like the fumes swirling in the instant before spontaneous combustion, the annoyance and impatience and desire formed a potent mix that burst into pure heat. Brady dove into the kiss, ravaging her mouth, that wide, soft mobile mouth that kept him awake at night, staring at the ceiling. Now it was against his, avid and greedy because she was kissing him back, matching him move for move, igniting that desperate craving. Need drummed through him, desperation gripped him.

  Brady knew it was too hard, too aggressive but he was powerless to stop himself. He’d thought of her, imagined her, ached for her. And now she was here, in his arms.

  It was amazing, incredible, outrageous.

  It wasn’t even close to enough.

  THEA FELT HIS LIPS CRUSH down on hers as though he were branding her, burning every thought from her mind but the need for more. The taste of him sent her reeling. The feel of his body against hers only made her want. His hands were hard on her hips, her ass, her breasts, marking her as his even as she slid her arms around his back. For balance, she could tell herself, but it was a lie. She just wanted. She wanted to taste, she wanted to touch. She wanted him naked.

  She wanted everything.

  She’d had all-night sex with him, she’d kissed him only minutes before. Kissing him now shouldn’t have sent desire thundering through her until she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think about anything except tasting him, being against him, having him. It made her giddy. It exhilarated her.

  It terrified her.

  In the car, Darlene gave an impatient yip.

  Brady raised his head, breathing hard. Staring at Thea, obviously waiting to see what she would say.

  If he only knew. Thea pushed away, wishing her pulse would slow down. Arrivals. Departures. Coming and going. Wanting. Ultimately, it all came down to the wanting, and she didn’t know what to do about it. But she needed to sort it out and sort it out soon before she drove both of them crazy.

  Brady stayed silent, eyes watchful.

  Thea licked her lips. “Things are complicated right now,” she began.

  “Are you involved with someone? Is that the problem?”

  She shook her head. How could she tell him that the involvement had ended eight years before, but that it was only now reaching the end in her mind? “Look, I know I seem like a flake and that I’m jerking you around. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be. I have stuff I need to work through. And I don’t know how I’m going to do that or when. The smartest thing you could do is write me off.”

  “I don’t know how smart that would be. And I’m not sure that’s what either one of us wants me to do, really. I think I’d rather stick around, see how it all turns out.”

  “It might not,” she warned him.

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m willing to take my chances.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he brushed a quick kiss over her lips then picked up his berries. “Excuse me, I’ve got some beer to brew.”

  8

  IT WAS AMAZING what a difference a few days could make, Brady thought as he walked into the Odeon theater lobby. Or what was left of it. The carpet was long gone, ditto for the wallpaper. Nearby, a team of electricians were busy stripping out old conduit in preparation for rewiring the building. The interior of the theater was stripped to its elegant bones and the reconstructive surgery had begun.

  The old lobby candy counter had been taken out and pushed to one side. It would stay; they’d use it to sell T-shirts, hats, promo merchandise for any of the live shows they chose to have. To the other side, behind panes of glass, would be the microbrewery. He’d already bought the equipment; it was a matter of reinforcing the floors so that it could be installed.

  The pounding of hammers and the scything growl of chainsaws echoed through the auditorium as Brady stepped to the doorway. It was taking shape before his eyes. The motley old seats were history, yanked out and tossed into the Dumpster that sat out on the curb. In their place rose the support structure of what would be the terraced restaurant. The lounge would be in the seats on the second level; at the back on both floors would be polished dark walnut bars with direct lines down to the basement cold room. The effect would be equal parts opulence and nostalgia, guests equally comfortable in suits or jeans.

  It was coming together, he thought in satisfaction.

  And then he stopped. Walking up the side of the auditorium toward him was Michael. Brady narrowed his eyes a fraction and watched his brother busily talking on his cell phone. Michael finished the call and stepped through the doorway to the lobby. Casually, Brady shifted to one side.

  “Looking for tools to fix your baby crib?”

  Michael’s head snapped around to stare at him. “Brady. You’re here early.”

  Brady nodded. “Every day. I could say the same for you.”

  Michael coughed. “Had to go out to get some groceries.”

  “At seven in the morning?”

  “Gave me time to stop by and see how things are going.”

  Relax, Brady told himself. It was nothing more than what it looked like.

  So why did he feel like Michael was checking up on him?

  He shook it off. “Didn’t I say I’d give you a full rundown?”

  Michael made a show of studying the candy counter. “I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

  “Well, let’s go touch base with Hal, see how things are going.”

  “I already did.”

  This time, the twinge of exasperation was definite. “Did we pass inspection?”<
br />
  “Hal says there’s a problem with the plumbing. It looks pretty extensive but I can’t stick around right now to help figure out what to do.” He checked his watch. “Lindsay’s got a doctor’s appointment. I won’t be done until around eleven.”

  He’d asked Hal to wait until he could come back, Brady realized. Calm, he thought. Keep it calm. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it? I’ll take care of it.”

  “I might be able to come back—”

  “I said I’d take care of it.” The calm slipped a notch before he got it back. “Trust me, Michael,” Brady enunciated. “You’re going to have to.”

  “Of course I trust you,” Michael said a little too quickly. “It’s just that we’ve got a lot of money tied up in this.”

  “You think I’m not aware of that?”

  They locked gazes, green against brown. The seconds ticked by. Finally Michael let out a breath. “All right. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  Brady stood with his hands on his hips, staring across the lobby after Michael, staring into the auditorium. Down by the stage Hal, the contractor, raised his hand. Consciously relaxing, Brady headed toward him.

  “Morning, Hal.”

  “Morning.” Silver-haired and sun-browned, Hal Worley had an air of quiet authority that suggested nothing short of world apocalypse—and perhaps not even that—would rattle him. If a natural disaster hit, Hal would blink, open up his binder and pull out his contingency plan. He’d been the contractor on each of the other four pub renovations and Brady was heartily glad to have him.

  Hal straightened up from studying plans spread out on a table formed of a plywood sheet laid over sawhorses.

  “I hear there’s something going on with the plumbing,” Brady said. And it bugged him that he hadn’t found out first.

  Hal shrugged. “We’ve got a surprise or two. Sort of goes with the territory in a building this old.”

  “They’re not surprises, Hal, they’re idiosyncrasies.”

  “Hmm, we’ve got ourselves some pretty damned idiosyncratic plumbing in the dressing rooms. On the first checks I found copper, but it’s spliced in with brass, aluminum and I don’t know what all else.”