“I thought you said you had an early meeting tomorrow.”
“I do,” he confirmed. “But if this is truly our first and last time out together, I’m going to make it last.”
* * *
They left the restaurant after Marco had finished his second cup of coffee. It started to rain on the drive back to Charisma and their conversation lagged a little, but the silence wasn’t at all uncomfortable as they listened to the rhythmic swish of the wipers on the windshield, pushing away the rain.
In fact, Jordyn felt more comfortable with Marco than she’d felt with anyone outside of her family in a long time. Then he pulled in to her driveway and put the vehicle into Park, and suddenly the silence wasn’t so comfortable anymore. Suddenly there was a simmering heat in the air, a sizzling tension between them.
Thunder rolled and rumbled overhead; Jordyn’s heart pounded.
“I hate thunderstorms,” she admitted.
“Why’s that?”
“Because they remind me that we’re not as in control of our world as we want to believe.”
“I like storms,” he admitted.
“Figures.”
He grinned. “For the same reason—because they remind me that there are forces in this world stronger than our determination to control them.”
The way he was looking at her, she knew he wasn’t just talking about the weather.
“I should get in,” she said.
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
“There’s no point in both of us getting wet,” she protested.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said again.
Since it was obvious that she wasn’t going to change his mind, she waited for him to come around and open the door for her. He took his jacket off and put it across her shoulders, to shield her as much as possible from the rain. Thankfully it was only a few steps until they were under the shelter of the porch.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said formally.
“You’re very welcome.”
He waited while she found her key, inserted it into the lock. “Good night, Marco.”
“Good night, Jordyn.”
And though the door was unlocked, she didn’t immediately open it and step inside. Her means of escape was right there, but she didn’t take it. Instead, she turned back to him.
“I know this wasn’t a date, but...”
That was all she said before she impulsively leaned forward and brushed her mouth to his.
* * *
Throughout the entire drive back from the restaurant, Marco had kept reminding himself of his promise to Jordyn that it wasn’t a date. And although he wanted, more than anything, to taste her again, he’d held himself back from reaching for her.
Then she kissed him, and the gentle touch of her lips to his was all it took for the tentative leash on his self-control to snap.
He’d never wanted another woman the way he wanted her, with such passion and intensity, and he knew he wouldn’t again. She was it for him—for now and forever.
His arms closed around her, drawing her nearer as he deepened the kiss. He nibbled on the sweet fullness of her mouth and tasted heaven; she pressed herself against him, and he soared through the clouds.
His hands skimmed up her torso, his palms brushing the sides of her breasts through the sexy lace top she wore, and she trembled. Her mouth parted beneath the pressure of his, and her tongue danced with his in a slow, sensual rhythm that had all of his blood rushing south.
Her head fell back against the door; he nibbled on the rapidly beating pulse point below her ear, scraped his teeth down her throat. She gasped and shuddered as her fingers dug into his shoulders. He pressed his lips to her breastbone, just above the vee of her top, and felt the rapid pounding of her heart. He lifted his head to draw in a breath, and the seductive scent of her skin made his head swim.
He tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. They were wide and dark, reflecting the same urgent desire that surged through his blood. He covered her mouth again, his own hot and hungry, and swallowed her low moan of pleasure. His hands moved down her back, over the curve of her bottom, and he found himself wondering what she was wearing under the skirt. Before he could satisfy his curiosity, headlights washed over the porch—a vehicle pulling into her neighbor’s driveway. They were deep in the shadows, but the glaring light was a timely reminder to both of them of where they were and the dangers of letting the kiss carry them further away.
She dropped her head back against the door again, her breath escaping between erotically swollen lips in short, shallow pants.
He took a minute to catch his breath, too, then another to ensure that his tone was light when he asked, “Do you think you could give me your number now?”
Her eyes were still dark and clouded with desire, but she managed a soft laugh. “Yeah, I guess I could.”
He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and pulled up his list of contacts. She lifted her brows when she saw that he’d already entered her name, although the other fields remained empty.
“What can I say? I’m an optimist.”
She took the phone from him and keyed in her numbers—home and cell—then handed it back to him.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
She nodded, reaching for the handle of the door. Then she turned back to him again. “I might change my number,” she warned, “when my brain isn’t so clouded with lust I can’t think straight.”
“I don’t think you will,” he said. “Because you’re as curious as I am to find out where this is going.”
“It might be going nowhere.”
He heard the desperation in her tone, but he understood the origin of her fear a little better now. “We’ll figure that out together,” he promised.
* * *
Together.
Jordyn wasn’t sure if the word was terrifying or reassuring.
Together implied a connection, a joining of two or more things into a single unit, a relationship. It had been a long time since she’d been anything but alone in her personal life. Three years, four months and two days.
She was unexpectedly struck by the realization that she’d now been without Brian for longer than she’d been with him. They’d known each other for almost a year before they started dating, and he’d proposed exactly six months after their first date, with their wedding date set a year later. They’d been together for two and a half years and she’d been alone for more than three years since then.
Maybe it was time for her to take a chance of being together with someone again. And there wasn’t anyone other than Marco that she wanted to take that chance with.
Tristyn was sitting on the couch in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn on one side, Gryff on the other and her tablet in hand when Jordyn walked into the house.
“Now that’s multitasking,” she said.
“It’s a new season of The Bachelorette and I’ve got approvals for our major fall ad campaign due tomorrow.”
“And somehow you’ve hypnotized my cat.”
“Nah—I just bribed him.”
“With popcorn?”
Tristyn shook her head. “I gave him the leftover salmon from my lunch.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t understand why he likes Marco more than he likes me.”
Jordyn laughed. “He met Marco once—and I’m still not convinced he didn’t have catnip in his pockets.”
“So where did you go for dinner tonight?”
“The Idle Plough—a new steak house in Raleigh.”
“Was it good?”
“It was. Really good.”
“And the kiss good-night?” her sister prompted. “And don’t try to tell me he didn’t kiss you, because your h
air is tousled, your lips are swollen and your eyes have that glazed look of a woman who’s been kissed senseless.”
“Well, for your information, I kissed him senseless.”
Tristyn’s brows lifted. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”
Jordyn lowered herself onto the edge of the couch. “I’m thinking about sleeping with him.”
“Are you asking for my approval?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“I like Marco,” Tristyn said. “But more importantly, you like him. He’s a sweet, charming, good-looking guy who turns you on, so if you want my advice, I say go for it.”
Jordyn chewed on the side of her thumbnail—a nervous habit left over from her teen years when she used to bite all of her nails. Now it was just the thumb, and only when something was really bothering her.
“I do like him,” she admitted.
Tristyn touched her hand gently. “Honey, being with Marco is not cheating on Brian.”
“I know.” She blew out a breath. “Logically, I know that. And it’s not as if I’m thinking about Brian when I’m with Marco. In fact, when I’m with Marco, I almost forget how much I loved Brian...and how devastated I was when I lost him.”
“It’s okay to be scared—any new relationship is scary.”
“Who said anything about a relationship? I thought we were talking about sex.”
Tristyn shook her head. “Why are you fighting so hard to deny your feelings for Marco?”
“I’m not denying that I have feelings for him,” she said. “But I don’t think I need to pretend my heart goes pitter-patter just because he turns me on.”
“You don’t have to pretend anything,” her sister agreed. “Just be careful you’re not ignoring that pitter-patter because it’s inconvenient.”
* * *
Marco had a lot on his mind.
He had a meeting with the electrical inspector at the new restaurant at eleven o’clock, another meeting with the tile guy, an appointment at the bank and a liquor order to place. And yet, with everything else that should have been occupying his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jordyn.
If he’d had any doubts about his conviction that she was the one, the kiss she’d planted on his lips the night before had obliterated them. The memory of that kiss had both fueled and haunted him throughout the day.
He was behind the bar at Valentino’s, finalizing the restaurant’s monthly liquor order, when Jordyn’s sister sat down. It was late afternoon, the lunch crowd had dispersed and the dinner crowd had yet to arrive, so she was the only one at the bar.
“What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have a glass of chardonnay,” Tristyn said.
“Californian, Italian, Australian or South African?”
She considered the options for a moment. “The one with the house on the label?”
He smiled and selected a bottle from the wine fridge, showed her the label.
“That’s it,” she confirmed.
“It’s Italian,” he told her, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “As all the best wines are.”
He poured her drink, then set the glass on a cocktail napkin in front of her. “While I’d never want to discourage a customer from coming here, I have to admit I’m curious about why you are here instead of at O’Reilly’s.”
“Well, for starters, if I asked for a glass of wine there, I’d have only two choices—red or white.”
He chuckled. “That’s a valid reason.”
“Also, I didn’t want my brain picked at and prodded.”
“As your sister would do,” he guessed.
She nodded.
“I won’t prod, but I will listen if you want to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m at a crossroads in my life and I haven’t figured out which direction I want to go.”
“But you don’t want to talk about it?”
“No. I want to know what your intentions are toward my sister.”
“My intentions?” He couldn’t prevent the smile that curved his lips. “Considering that—prior to last night—your sister refused to even go out with me, don’t you think that question is a little premature?”
“Considering that more than five weeks have passed since you first asked and she first said no and you didn’t stop asking, I don’t think it is.”
He nodded in acknowledgment of the fact. “In that case, I will tell you that my intention is to marry her.”
“Well,” she said. “No one could ever accuse you of dragging your feet.”
“She’s the one I’ve been waiting for,” he said simply.
She studied him for a long moment, as if to ascertain the sincerity of his words. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“She will.”
“Hold on to that confidence,” Tristyn said. “You’re going to need it. And probably a fair amount of patience, too.”
“I’ve got plenty of both,” he assured her. “I’ve also got a question for you.”
“You can ask—I can’t guarantee that I’ll answer.”
He nodded, accepting and appreciating her loyalty to her sister. “Do you think Jordyn’s still in love with her former fiancé?”
Apparently he’d surprised her again. “She told you about him?”
He nodded.
She eyed him thoughtfully. “Jordyn doesn’t talk about Brian. Ever.”
“She thought it would help me to understand why she won’t go out with me.”
“Obviously her confession didn’t have the desired effect.”
“I hate knowing that she was hurt, and I understand why she’d be reluctant to open her heart again, but I have to trust that she will, that what’s between us is too powerful to be denied.”
“You’re either an incredible romantic or a complete fool.”
“Let’s go with romantic,” he suggested.
She smiled at that. “I think you could be very good for her, Marco Palermo, if you manage to breach the walls she’s built around her heart.”
“Are you trying to dissuade me?”
“I’d be disappointed if you were dissuaded so easily.”
“And I never want to disappoint a pretty lady.”
She lifted her glass. “My money’s on you, Charm Boy.”
He winced. “She told you about that?”
“I’m her sister,” she reminded him. “She tells me everything.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You should also keep in mind that women like flowers.”
“Is that a fact?”
She nodded. “Scientifically proven.”
“Any particular kind of flowers?”
“Of course.”
“And I’m supposed to guess?”
“Consider it a challenge in the game of seduction,” she told him. “If you guess right, you move one step closer to the bedroom. If you guess wrong, you go directly to the cold shower.”
Chapter Eleven
For as long as she’d worked at O’Reilly’s—and probably a lot of years before that, even—Wade Denton had been talking about retirement.
He’d bought the pub from the previous owner, Sean O’Reilly, for little more than a song. It had been the Wexford Arms back then, but because it was the pub owned by O’Reilly, it was more widely known as O’Reilly’s Pub. Wade tried to give it a new image and a new name, but he was more successful with the former than the latter. Sean O’Reilly’s pub had offered customers the choice of sitting at the U-shaped bar or square tables designed to accommodate four. If groups larger than that came in, he simply shoved two or more tables together.
The lighting was dim, the menu limited, but his customers we
re loyal. So much so that there had been grumbling and resistance when Wade installed booths around the perimeter of the restaurant, changed the light fixtures, installed a couple of televisions over the bar and expanded the menu to offer more than cottage pie, lamb stew, and fish and chips. And while the shiny new sign on the front might have said Crown & Castle, the locals still insisted on calling it O’Reilly’s.
After four years, Wade finally gave up, changing the sign again to officially adopt O’Reilly’s as its name. Eighteen years later, little else had changed. And while the customers were still loyal, they were hardly numerous, and from month to month, the pub’s books shifted between black and red.
Then Jordyn Garrett saw a help-wanted sign in the window and walked through the door.
She told him to get a satellite dish so customers could follow Premier League soccer, arguing that if they wanted to watch American football or basketball, they were going to drink their beer at the Bar Down. She introduced daily drink specials to bring in new customers and advertised those specials in the campus newspaper. Wade grumbled about spending money on advertising—until the college kids started finding their way to O’Reilly’s. He grumbled about sponsoring local recreational sports teams, too—until the players made O’Reilly’s their regular postgame stop.
And in October, it would be the twenty-fifth anniversary of Wade’s ownership of the pub. He liked to say that a quarter of a century was a good run—a long run. “More than long enough.” He planned to have a big party to commemorate the milestone event, and then he would be happy to walk away from the day-to-day responsibilities of pub ownership.
In the past six months, he’d begun talking more and more about his impending retirement and his desire to find someone to take over the business. He’d suggested, on more than one occasion, that Jordyn might be the right person, and she was looking forward to that opportunity.
So when Wade called her into his office, she figured he wanted to talk about either the twenty-fifth anniversary party or his retirement. She didn’t expect that their conversation would cause her own plans to begin to unravel.
* * *
“Of all the flower shops, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine.”
The Bachelor Takes a Bride (Those Engaging Garretts!) Page 12