by Drea Stein
Chase shook his head. “Still, I’d like to be a fly on her wall when her dad comes in and discovers the changes. Reg isn’t what you’d call big on changes.”
Sean nodded, thinking back to this afternoon. He figured Chase was as good a source as any.
“There was this guy Jake there, looked like he used to be a quarterback.”
“Jake Owens. You’re right, former quarterback, now runs a construction company.”
“Yeah,” Sean nodded. That would be good old Jake. An athlete and handy with a hammer. “They aren’t together, are they?”
“I think Darby is the best person to explain their relationship.” There was something that looked suspiciously like amusement in Chase’s eyes
Chase gave Sean a wink, and Sean was about to thank him when he heard the familiar click of heels behind him.
“Mandy.” Sean turned, trying to keep his voice bland. He had wanted to escape to Darby’s without Mandy being aware of it. True to her word, she had stuck around for a few days, claiming she needed a vacation, sunning herself at the pool in a skimpy bikini, keeping an eye on him, waiting for him to change his mind.
“You look like you’re going somewhere,” Mandy said. She was wearing her usual outfit, a scoop-necked shirt, fitted pencil skirt, and heels. She lounged against the door jamb and fixed her blue eyes on Sean. He wondered just how much she had heard and decided that he didn’t care.
“Mandy, you look lovely.” Chase straightened, smiled, and moved in, giving Sean another little wink as he brushed past him. “I was just thinking . . . there’s a new restaurant in the next town over I wanted to try. People have been raving about it, and I thought I would give the competition a little once-over. I could use your opinion.”
Chase was actually holding out his arm to Mandy, and Sean almost had to smother a laugh at the befuddled smile on her face. She desperately wanted to know what he, Sean, was up to, but there was no way she was going to say no to Chase. An opportunity to go out with a successful, good-looking guy like Chase was right up her alley.
With a large smile plastered on her face, she took Chase’s arm. “I would love to.”
Chase gave Sean a nod and a knowing smile and smoothly led Mandy out of the kitchen.
Sean sagged with relief against the counter. Chase might have been a great sailor, but he wasn’t bad as wingman, either.
Chapter 26
Darby was looking through her small closet. It wasn’t that her collection of clothes was small, it was just that an old house had a limited amount of space one could devote to clothes and shoes. Still, she had done the best she could. She had work wear, her lawyerly suits with their skirts, all lined up in a row pushed to one side, beneath them the sensible low-heeled pumps she had favored. Then there were her chef clothes. Cooking was a messy business, and she had an impressive collection of ripped and slightly stained t-shirts.
Sean had said it was a date, but that had just been an off-the-cuff comment, right? She had called Caitlyn, asking for advice, but Caitlyn had suggested she wear nothing but an apron and high heels. Darby had hung up after that, realizing she was on her own. Obviously a pinstripe suit was out of the question, as were a stained t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.
That left her with a choice between a sun dress from last year and a flowered skirt. She looked at the skirt. The truth was that she didn’t know what to wear with it. They were supposed to be cooking, right? So anything white was out of the question. An invitation for disaster. That left the sun dress with the spaghetti straps and the brightly colored pattern.
She snaked it over her head and checked out how she looked. She rooted around in the closet and found a pair of low-heeled sandals. Not fancy, but a definite step up from flip flops. Then she looked at her hair in the mirror. She’d taken a shower, and her hair was damp. It was warm and humid, which meant that her hair would remain curly no matter what she did with it.
A loose ponytail it was. She had a light tan, so she skipped makeup, just adding some mascara and lip gloss. Satisfied that she looked like herself, not too fussy, she went downstairs. Nerves jangling, she waited for Sean.
She had cleaned the house, though it didn’t really need it. The first floor consisted of the eat-in kitchen, a living room with a dining nook, and a sort of sun room that she had filled with light wicker furniture, plants, and books. She had repainted everything a light cream color, so that the stained edgework made a nice, crisp contrast.
Her grandmother had liked heavy, dark furniture, but Darby had sold most of it and replaced it with a few good, modern pieces. One or two small area rugs covered the floor, and some photographs—ones Darby had picked up on haunts around the Village—rounded out the decorations.
Since she had been renting the house out, Darby had included few personal touches or knickknacks, but now that she planned on living here full time, she was looking forward to adding more of her to the space but just hadn’t gotten around to it. Still, even in its somewhat barren state, there was something soothing about it. It was a restful place, a good place to come home to.
She smoothed the skirt of her dress and popped into the small powder room on the first floor. She checked herself in the mirror, added a bit more lip gloss, and debated about whether or not to put her hair down. Shaking her head, she decided to keep it up in a ponytail. Nothing ruined a meal faster than a stray hair.
She walked out through the living room and into the kitchen, debating whether or not to light candles, but then decided that it would be too much. She didn’t want to seem like she had any expectations. After all, this could just be a friendly dinner between two chefs, she reminded herself as she checked on the bottle of crisp white wine she had chilling in the fridge.
She checked for spots on the wine glasses and almost dropped one when she realized her hand was shaking like a leaf. Breathe, she told herself. Suddenly the house seemed silent all around her.
Music. She needed music. Rushing to her stereo, she plugged in her music player and fiddled over her playlists. She had them sorted by mood. There was classical—perfect for writing detailed legal briefs, since there were no words, and then there was her list of heavy metal hair bands—great for a row or a gym workout.
There was the playlist she had used with her college roommates while they were getting ready for a night out—upbeat, party music, and then there was the playlist for when they came home—the “Get Lucky” loop, they had dubbed it. Definitely not that one, she thought.
She needed something fun and upbeat, but not suggestive. Finally she found what she was looking for and, in relief, pressed play. The familiar music of Train’s latest hit flooded over her, and she felt her heart rate slow just a little.
There was the sound of footsteps, the tread heavy on her front porch, and then a cheerful hello. He was here.
#
Sean stepped into the house. He’d been only as far as the front porch, he realized, and he fought down a quiver of excitement. So this was where Darby Reese lived. Ever since he’d been a kid, he’d loved seeing other people’s houses. He knew it was because he’d grown up in such a disheveled way that going to someone else’s house was the only true glimpse he’d had of what a home was supposed to be.
A quick survey took in Darby. She wore a simple sundress, which dipped just low enough in front to allow his imagination to run a little wild. Her thick, red-brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. Some of it had escaped around her face, and he could see a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her lips looked lush and full, and when she brushed her tongue over them, he felt himself tingle with excitement.
The house wasn’t big, and it wasn’t what he expected. If Darby’s house was a prim and proper Victorian on the outside, then on the inside it was more like some sort of mod girl. The dark wood floors, gleaming white walls, and framed photographs all appealed to Sean. The lines were simple and clean, yet there was nothing sterile about it.
“Nice kitchen,” he said, ca
sting an appraising look about it. It was small but well-designed, with plenty of counter space and the perfect triangle of space between the sink, the stove, and a prep area. Top-of-the-line appliances and granite countertops vied with glass-fronted cabinets.
“Thanks.” She caught his look and elaborated. “I kind of bartered for it. Remember Jake, the contractor? He wasn’t getting paid on some big commercial job, but I wrote a letter or two and took care of things.”
“And this was how he thanked you, with a top-of-the-line kitchen?” He felt his blood simmer a little faster at the thought of Darby and Jake. It was an awfully nice way to repay one letter.
She shrugged. “He sent over the labor and got me the materials at cost.”
“You must be one heck of a lawyer.”
She grinned sheepishly. “Well, I am, but we sort of went to prom together, too.”
“Was he trying to win you back?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He had assumed that she wasn’t seeing anyone, but then again, he hadn’t really gotten around to asking.
“Not exactly. He was trying to make up for ditching me at the prom to sneak off with another girl.”
He nodded, feeling as if a weight had lifted from his chest. “Let me guess? Your best friend?”
Darby shook her head, and he thought he caught a glimpse of amusement in her eyes. “Nope, more like my bitter enemy. I beat her out for class valedictorian, and I don’t think she quite forgave me.”
“So, this kitchen is his way of saying sorry?”
“In more ways than one. She was a total bitch and dumped him after she made sure my humiliation was complete. He apologized to me.”
“And that’s it. You shake hands and move on?” He knew disbelief had crept into his voice.
“I never said he was my boyfriend. He was just my prom date. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers. Jake was the good-looking quarterback, always dating the cheerleader. I was head of the debate team and on the academic team.”
“So brains and brawn?” he asked, not quite getting it.
“Jake’s a year ahead of me. He’s like my big brother. He took me to the prom as a favor. Otherwise, my dad wasn’t going to let me go. Reg, that’s my dad, is kind of protective. But Jake still ditched me, which was totally not cool. And since I never told his dad, or mine, about what an ass he’d been, he’s been trying to make it up to me ever since.”
“Excellent negotiating skills, councilor,” he said, moving in closer to her. She took a step back, and he realized that she was nervous. He decided that he liked it when she was off balance around him.
“How about a glass of wine?” she asked, her voice breathy.
“Sounds nice,” he said. He looked around as she poured the wine and said, “So this is your house.”
She was moving around the compact kitchen, but he took a step toward her so there was really nowhere she could go without running into him.
“Yes, my house. My grandmother left it to me.”
“Along with her super-secret recipe book?” he asked. He took the glass of wine she offered, their hands brushing. She jumped again as if she had been shocked and then sent him a look that was half embarrassed, half amused. He took a sip of the wine, admiring its clear, cool crispness, and then set it down. He didn’t need anything to settle his nerves. He enjoyed the electricity snapping between them, the sense of the promise in the air, as if the very house understood the inevitability of them being together.
“She loved to cook. She took over the deli from her dad and ran it with my grandfather and then my dad for almost fifty years.”
“And it’s been a town institution ever since?”
“Something like that. Though I don’t think she ever meant for it to get frozen in time. Sure, she loved her old recipes, but she was always trying new things out. Somehow, I think my dad was always happier just doing the tried and true. I don’t think he ever thought he would wind up running the deli.”
“No?” Since he didn’t think she would object he wandered over to a small shelf where there were a series of framed photos.
“He went into the Navy and then he was working on boats, crewing on yachts and fishing charters down in Florida and the Caribbean. He just liked to be out on the water, go fishing, that sort of stuff.”
He picked up one that was obviously a snapshot of the whole family, from not too long ago, maybe last summer. It was Darby, her mom, a pretty, smiling woman who had Darby’s red brown hair and freckles, and the giant bear of a man he’d heard so much about. They were all standing on a dock, the sun setting in the background with Reg holding up his catch of the day.
“And then what happened?”
“My grandfather got sick, my dad came home to help out, and before he knew it, he met my mom, got married, had me, and stayed here.”
“So do you think he wants to keep you out of running The Dory because he doesn’t want you to settle, the way he had to?”
“Something like that.” Darby nodded. “I mean don’t get me wrong, he’d do anything for me and for my mom. He’d never say that’s why, and maybe he doesn’t even realize it, but sometimes, he sneaks out, how he wishes that maybe things had been a little different.”
“What about your mom, what’s she like?” he asked.
“Well as you can tell, we look a lot alike,” Darby said, moving closer to him and pointing at the photo.
“Does she help out with The Dory?”
Darby burst out laughing. “Not a chance. My mom can’t even boil water. She’s a serious liability in the kitchen. She works as bookkeeper and office manager for a local medical practice. She’s actually a whiz with computers.”
“Well that’s not such a bad skill to have,” he said as he put the photograph down. “And now you’re going to come along and shake things up?”
“That’s the plan.” She said it lightly, as if trying to shrug it off.
“This is a tough business. Not only do you need to know what you’re doing in the kitchen, you have to know how to run a business, make sense of the numbers, tell people what to do, keep a hundred different details straight in your head. You have to be one-hundred percent sure it’s what you want. You have to be ready to burn those bridges behind you because there’s no turning back.” He knew his tone had grown serious, but he had seen too many try and fail at this business and that was something he knew, no matter what happened between them, that he did not want for her.
“Okay. I think quitting my job counts as burning bridges. Also sinking some money into The Dory to redo it shows I’m serious, right?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper as she looked at him. They were half facing each other, only a few inches apart.
He felt it then, the moment when the air between them tingled and zapped with a charge. The music, which he had barely noticed, changed, and he laughed when a look of pure mortification crossed her face.
“I had no idea that song was on there,” she stammered as Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it on came on.
“I like it,” he said. “I think it sums up what I’m thinking about.” He pulled her to him, gently, then, so he could feel her body pressed close to him, the way she felt soft and hard at the same time, and the way it fitted against his. He let his hands slide around from her arms to her back, to pull her closer to him. She didn’t fight him, not this time, but she kept her eyes locked on his.
He lowered his lips, and she rose up to meet him. He kissed her, gently at first, but then he wanted more, more from her than he had ever wanted from anyone else. He took her ruthlessly, his hand fisting in her hair, his other holding her close.
Darby rose into him, her breasts pressed against his chest, and he felt her moan, a soundless moan that nevertheless filled him with desire.
He let both his hands roam over her back, and then he brought one round to her front, felt the hard nub of her nipple. He caressed her and was rewarded with another moan, this one low and urgent. He raked his teeth over her long
neck, burying himself in her smell of strawberries and oranges.
“I want you,” he said, his voice ragged with desire. He pulled away just long enough to look at her, to see the answering look of need in her eyes as she smiled, just a bit shyly. His whole body tensed at that, at her wide, trusting eyes, and he pulled her toward him again.
His strong hands lifted her up, and he practically carried her to the couch in the living before setting her down. His kisses rained down on her, and his stubble-roughened cheek grazed her jawline.
He felt her hesitation and stopped then, dropping down so he was level with her sitting on the couch.
“We can slow things down a bit,” he said, his voice low, knowing he needed to keep the pleading out of it. This had to be all her decision, even though it would cut him to the core if she wasn’t ready.
#
Darby didn’t need to think. She just nodded, and Sean smiled at her. One hand had found the hem of her dress, and it was slowly working its way up her leg, sending delightful shivers up to her core. She felt the heat rush through her, the warm twisting clench between her legs as his fingers found the thin fabric of her panties and pushed them out of the way. A finger, gentle but insistent, found her and stroked her, and she gasped from the sudden fierce pleasure of it.
She opened her eyes and found him watching her, his own eyes a deep, intense brown that pulled her in. It was too much, and when he stroked harder, faster, she threw back her head and moaned, the delight coming hot and fierce, her hand fisting as she rode the wild wave coursing through her.
One hand had dipped below the neckline of her dress, and caught the hard knob of her nipple. He rolled it between his fingers, and she moaned blissfully. She felt the excitement building in her, felt her breath coming in hard, hot gasps as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.