by Virna DePaul
The space between us felt charged and I held my breath.
Call me crazy, but I could see the question in his eyes, one I instinctively wanted to respond to, but I held myself back, dropping my gaze to the business card. “Thanks for the lead,” I breathed, right as I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I moved backward and bumped against the wall.
Dominic stood in the doorway. “I’m done downstairs,” he told Taylor, but his riveting eyes were on me.
“Great, then we’ll do the outside and be finished,” Taylor said.
“Nah, don’t mind me. You can finish doing whatever you were doing here.”
Seriously? Did Dom think we’d been fooling around or something? And why the frowny face?
Yes, Taylor and I had just had a moment, but whatever happened was not any of Dominic’s business. I glared at him. He may have been through a hard breakup, but that wasn’t any excuse to be wearing that contemptuous expression. “Nothing was going on. Besides, if we were doing anything, it wouldn’t involve you,” I said haughtily.
“No, it wouldn’t,” he shot back. “You couldn’t handle me.”
Seriously? “I don’t want to handle you.”
He cocked a brow. “Really? Because that’s not the impression I got earlier.”
My face flamed with heat, and I looked between him and Taylor before fleeing and heading down the hall toward the guest room.
Even over the sound of my bare feet slapping on the floorboards, I could hear Taylor snap, “Goddamn it, Dom—” and Dom responding with, “You were right, she’s gorgeous. But you need to stay away from her. We both do.”
Having heard this, I froze in my bedroom doorway.
We both do? What did that mean? Was he saying they were both attracted to me, so neither one of them could have me? Was this some sort of Bro Code thing? Or was this because I was a client and Dom was reminding Taylor to be professional?
I was already ticked off that Dom had called me out on my attraction to him. Now part of me was pissed that he was laying down rules without my input. The other part of me, however, was still reeling from the fact that Taylor and Dom thought I was gorgeous, and for some reason that was causing tension between them. Was it jealousy? Male competitiveness? I’d never had two such great looking guys attracted to me before, let alone fighting over me. It would be a great ego boost, for sure.
But it was also irrelevant. I probably wouldn’t be staying in Fosterman, and even if I did, I wasn’t into casual hook ups, which is all anything could be with one of these guys.
I stepped into the guest room and resolutely shut the door, reminding myself that I’d come here to get my life back together—and avoid men. I’d already run into a roadblock because of the condition of the house, and the last thing I needed was to complicate things by getting in between those two gorgeous hunks—no matter how delicious getting between them might sound.
5
Dominic
Great.
Now Kayla Pratchett thought I was a dick.
Granted, part of me still thought she was a bitch, given the fact that she hadn’t attended her own aunt’s funeral and was already planning on selling said-aunt’s house. Even so, now that I’d met her face-to-face, now that I’d talked to her, now that I’d seen for myself that she didn’t really seem like a bitch, well, I found the idea of her thinking I was a dick unacceptable.
Too damn bad, though, because given how I’d just acted, she was well within her rights to think that about me.
Yeah, I’d been on edge lately, because my fiancée Ada had thrown what we had away, but that wasn’t Kayla’s fault. It actually wasn’t even Ada’s. She’d done what she believed she had to do—which was leave me for a man she’d met and fallen in love with more than she loved me—and though it had hurt me, I was the one letting it control me to the point I was being rude to a complete stranger.
After giving me a brief but intense ass chewing for my unprofessional behavior—one I definitely deserved—Taylor headed outside to check out the front of the house, telling me that after I was done acting like an asshole, to go take a look at the back. He left me to gaze at Kayla’s closed bedroom door, torn between the urge to knock and apologize to her and the urge to get the hell out of this house and as far from her as possible.
Bitch or not, I was undeniably attracted to our new client. She was the type of gorgeous that gorgeous women didn’t know they were—face like an angel, and round in all the right places, but not too round. You know, borderline curvy that pushed the boundaries. Cushion for the push-in, as they say. And her eyes—those big hazel eyes—made her look more like a milkmaid off a Georgia farm than a NYC chick.
She had no idea she was hot. Or maybe she didn’t care. And that made her even hotter.
Every time we ran into each other in the house, I could feel the heat coming off her body. She thought I couldn’t see her nipples growing hard for me. Or maybe she knew I could see and didn’t mind. Either way, I had to get her off my brain. She was here to get the house old Ms. Vanderzee had lovingly bequeathed to her off her hands. It was none of my business.
Neither was the fact that even as she seemed to be physically attracted to me, Kayla was clearly attracted to Taylor, too.
At least, I couldn’t make it my business.
Even if I was tempted to.
God, how I was tempted.
I could too easily picture the three of us together—her, me and Taylor—and that had happened only one other time with a woman: Laura.
We’d all lived together in college. Then we’d all slept together. It had been good. Really good. We’d even experimented and brought in our friend Logan to join in on the fun occasionally, but ultimately it had been me, Laura, and Taylor who’d had the true bond. Or so I’d thought. I’d fallen in love with Laura, wanted the three of us to be together permanently, but Laura had really only wanted Taylor.
I hadn’t shared a woman with anyone since.
I missed it though.
I love being with a woman alone, but the sounds a woman makes with multiple men is indescribable. Even years later, I still grow hard when I recall the moans that escaped Laura’s lips as Taylor nibbled her inner thigh as I twisted her nipples. The dirty, nasty words she’d say as I slid the head of my cock in and out of that sweet, sweet mouth of hers while another man thrust deep inside of her, were seared into my mind. I could come by simply recalling how she’d wrap one hand around my dick and one around Taylor’s as she lay between us, sweat dripping between her quivering breasts. And then when Logan came into the picture and there were four of us—hell. I could get hard merely thinking about the writhing mass of bodies formed by all of us, loving up and loving on one woman.
In the end, it was Taylor her heart wanted. Logan and I had just been convenient pleasure-giving pawns in her attempt to get it. Too bad for her Taylor wasn’t willing to give his love. She moved to a town near Fosterman and I had seen her around a few times, but we never spoke after the big break-up.
After Laura, when I was with a woman, I told myself to keep it at sex. No feelings involved to mess things up. No emotions. I fucked and fucked and never thought about anything further than the girl’s next moan, her next shiver down the spine, her next orgasm.
Only then I met Ada and broke my rule. And I'd paid the price for it. I couldn’t even blame Taylor this time.
Ada had been all mine.
And then Ada left.
Once again, I’d fallen in love with a woman who might have loved me but ended up loving another man more.
So I swore again: no more feelings. No more emotions. Just sex.
You could keep it at “just sex” with Kayla, a devilish voice whispered inside my head. You don’t even like her, so why not? You could fuck her on every surface possible in that big house of hers. Hell, Taylor could join in if she wanted. Kitchen counters, bathroom floors, up against the windows on the second floor overlooking the road. Hell, anywhere, everywhere. I’d make her scream my n
ame till she couldn’t even remember her own, and I’d enjoy watching Taylor do the same.
Yeah, that would be great, for damn sure.
The problem was, I knew myself a whole lot better now than I had when I was with Laura and then with Ada. The way Kayla looked at me, as if she could see every terrible, horrible thing I’d ever done and yet still kept looking, stirred something inside of me. I wish I could look at her and only see a hot piece of ass to chew on for a few weeks.
But I didn’t.
So I couldn’t pursue my attraction to her.
I couldn’t pursue her at all.
Because like it or not, like her or not, I was afraid that what started as “just sex” between me and her could easily turn into a whole lot more than I was ready for.
6
Kayla
After my moment with Taylor and subsequent run-in with Dom, I finally got dressed. Those two men, despite their shared profession, were as different as two men could be: Taylor—charming and easygoing and oh so sexy he made my teeth hurt; Dominic—bristly and bitter and oh so sexy he made my heart pound. Yes, even after his snarky comment to me, I still found him attractive, a fact I was trying not to think about.
I pulled on jeans and a simple tee, then applied a bare amount of make-up—powder, a swipe of mascara, and lip gloss—before combing the tangles out of my long, wet hair. Just the basics. I would not primp for the handymen in my home no matter how hot they were. I’d made enough of a fool of myself already. They probably had women clients falling over them all the time.
I’d come here to start my life over and to take advantage of an opportunity Tabitha had given me to find my passion, not to flirt with handsome guys who’d end up hurting me in the end.
Granted, they might hurt me in the end anyway, financially speaking, but that wasn’t the same thing. I wanted to know how much they’d quote me for a full renovation. Probably over a hundred K, which meant there’d be no way for me to fix up the place. If that was the case, I needed to start making other plans, like selling and moving to the Bay Area, not continue fantasizing about the men in my house.
I stared in the mirror for a moment more, studying my features. The hazel eyes I’d inherited from my mother looked tired this morning, but my skin glowed, even though yes, my face appeared a little rounder than a year before, as Grant had so graciously pointed out.
In retrospect, gaining those ten pounds had been totally worth it. I’d been able to try delicious foods at restaurants around the city at the company’s expense, and I’d been able to create amazing dishes and desserts by following reader recipes. Best of all, those pounds had helped me get rid of Grant.
Yeah, Grant’s betrayal still hurt, probably my pride more than anything else, but good riddance to anyone who couldn’t love me for who I was.
Thinking about food gave me an idea. Before trying to figure out the rest of my life, I needed to de-stress. My favorite way to do that was to bake.
I headed downstairs to the kitchen to see what I could make with what I’d bought and what was left in Tabitha’s kitchen. The guys were nowhere to be found, but they hadn’t said goodbye and their truck with their gorgeous faces on it still sat in my driveway. After hearing a few banging noises outside, I realized they were evaluating the exterior of the house. While Taylor and Dom continued their work, I’d play around in the kitchen and bake up something yummy, the way Taylor had suggested on the phone.
Hmm, let’s see, what to make? It was summer, and here I was in a quaint little town, so what better dessert to whip up than a light and airy angel food cake with a lemon drizzle? Was Tabitha’s old angel food cake pan still in the cupboard? Yep! Next I opened the fridge and pulled out the dozen eggs I’d bought yesterday, then rummaged around in Tabitha’s pantry, searching for cake flour, cream of tartar, and superfine sugar. Check, check, check.
I zested the lemons I’d bought yesterday and prepared the meringue, humming as I worked. Immediately, all my tension and stress melted away. After carefully sifting and then folding the flour into the meringue, a quarter-cup at a time, I placed the whole thing in the oven. Hopping up onto the counter with a notepad and pencil, I started creating that To-Do list I’d promised myself I would write.
Twenty minutes later I sat staring blankly at my meager list when Taylor strode into the kitchen. He paused and sniffed the air. “I came in to tell you we’d be about a half hour longer, but good god, what’s that delicious smell?”
“Lemon angel food cake.”
“Damn, girl. Hope I get to sample that.” Big, gorgeous smile.
How I’d love to sample him, I thought. But no! No, Kayla. You are not here to put the Fix-It Guys in your mouth—that is why you are making yourself a consolation prize of lemon cake.
“What if I was making it for someone else?” I asked playfully, glad he wasn’t bringing up my little sparring session with Dom earlier or how I’d retreated so abruptly to my room.
“I’d be a horse’s ass and beg you to make one for me. You want a good quote on the repairs, don’t you?” He quickly added, “Kidding, of course,” and gave me a wink.
I rolled my eyes so he wouldn’t think I found him charming.
Which I did. Find him charming, that is. Excessively so.
Taylor didn’t wait for a reply, but instead headed back outside.
I called out after him, “Cake should be done in a half hour.”
“I’ll be outside, drooling,” he hollered back.
Just like me, only for an entirely different reason.
A while later, I pulled the cake out of the oven and set it upside down on a cooling rack, still in its baking pan the way they do in that adorable British baking show. As it cooled, I made the lemon glaze to go on top. I wished I had my pretty cake stand to put it on, but my stuff was still in boxes on a moving van, which would hopefully arrive soon. I set it on one of Tabitha’s cheerful Fiestaware dinner plates instead and drizzled the glaze over the top.
“Wow, that sure looks good, doesn’t it, Dom? Smells delicious, too.”
I whirled around to find Taylor leaning against the door jamb, with Dom right behind him, arms folded over his chest. And I was positive by the way Taylor was looking at me that he wasn’t referring to the cake. He was talking about me, as if my simple jeans and tee were the equivalent of a GNO dress.
His gaze made me shiver.
Dominic replied with, “Yes. Very good.” The man still had his arms crossed tightly and a scowl on his face, but he did seem to be sniffing the air. I swear, one bite of this cake would take the pissy attitude right out of that man.
“Would you two like a slice?”
“Thought you said it wasn’t for us,” Taylor said, grinning.
“I was kidding. Actually, it’s for me, because I like baking. Helps me relax. But you’re reaping the benefits since you’re here.” I cut two slices and passed them over on small mismatched plates I’d found in Tabitha’s cupboards, then handed the men paper napkins.
Now came the best part, seeing Taylor and Dom’s reactions. Both closed their eyes. Both groaned as the cake hit their tongues. Both opened their eyes. Each of their gazes, Taylor’s blue and Dom’s brown, burned into me, as though they wanted to toss the rest of their dessert aside—as if!—and eat me up.
Taylor’s smile broadened. “Holy…this is the most delicious cake I’ve ever had, Kayla.”
“Thanks.” I looked at Dom and gave him a pert smile. “How about you? Still hate me?”
He swallowed his bite, looking uncomfortable. “Why would I hate you? And this is delicious.” He took another bite and his eyes slid shut again, a groan coming from somewhere deep in his chest. I had instant fantasies of that mouth of his traversing the length of my body, but I remembered my promise to stay focused and not let these guys fill my head too much. I had plans. No-men-allowed plans.
But I also had hot builders salivating in front of me. For my cake, but still…
“Listen,” Dominic said after swal
lowing his second mouthful, “I’m sorry about my earlier behavior. I don’t hate you. It's that I have…stuff I’m going through. It’s not you, it’s me.”
We stared at each other a moment, then all three of us burst out laughing.
“‘It’s not you, it’s me?’ Really?” Taylor snorted.
“Watch it,” Dominic warned, an edge to his tone but a softness, too. Another chuckle escaped his lips, brushing over me as if it were silk on my skin.
Taylor was gorgeous when he laughed, but Dom… Maybe because he’d done nothing but glower at me since he’d been here, or maybe because I understood his pain, but seeing him laugh made me want to pump my fist in the air and run a victory lap.
“Angel food cake for the win,” I said, cutting a small slice for myself.
For a second, I imagined Grant giving me his warning look, like I probably shouldn’t eat it, because you know—weight gain. But that wasn’t why I’d moved to Fosterman. I’d moved here to start anew, find peace again, find myself—and all this beating myself up simply wouldn’t do.
I ate the slice of cake, judgment from my ex be damned, as the men finished scarfing down their slices.
When they asked if it was okay that they have another, I felt oddly happy. Tabitha was right—the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. For some men, at least.
I licked the last sticky drop of icing off my finger before saying, “Thanks for fixing the sink and doing the evaluation. Should I write you a check now?” In New York, a serviceman would’ve definitely insisted on full payment before leaving.
Taylor took Dominic’s plate and napkin. He threw the paper products in the trash bin and placed the plates in the sink. “I forgot to price the cost of the faucet before coming out here, so I’ll email you a bill for the sink repair tonight.” He gave me a cocky grin. “Besides, I know where you live.”