Crossing his legs, he accepted that he was horny, and attracted to a woman who was an uptight mess. Not the way he’d thought to start his day.
❋
Celia opened the suitcase and pulled out a wrinkle-proof sundress she’d bought on a trip to the Caribbean two years ago, before Preston’s death. She’d believed his lies about being too tired to make love during the four day get away. Even rubbed his temples for him so he could fall asleep in her lap. Her perfect body, without an ounce of jiggle, had remained untouched the whole trip. After the last year of therapy, she’d come to realize that he’d created her into his ideal woman-to be looked at, but not touched.
She’d been so lonely, kept isolated from any possible friends. Enough.
She walked into the bathroom connected to the bedroom, tugging her stained shirt from her shorts and pulled it over her head. The best thing about her weight gain was getting breasts. She liked them, liked the curve of her hip as she stepped from her shorts. The inch of extra at her waist had to go, but all in all, she preferred this body to the anorexic mannequin she’d been.
Celia slid the dress over her head, feeling the silky material settle against her skin. She was really here-there was really a gorgeous man in her living room, waiting to take her to breakfast. She couldn’t let him distract her from her goal. But hey, a woman had to eat.
She brushed the coffee from her breath, reapplied deodorant, fluffed her hair, and slicked a faint rose gloss across her lips.
Her toes, Coral # 3, flashed with vibrant color as she slipped her feet into sandals. She stepped back, getting the whole look in the mirror. “Much better,” she told her image. She resisted the urge to smooth every flyaway hair, instead, dipping her head upside down and ruffling it all before she flung it back up again.
She left the bathroom before she talked herself out of going.
“Ready?” she asked, just before reaching the living room. Dax sat on the overstuffed wicker couch, leaning back against the cushions. He’d opened the drapes a foot or so, and watched the beach.
“Yeah. You’re fast.” He tilted his head and spread his arms to the sides. “You look great. Now I really got to get out of this wet suit.”
Celia swallowed.
He looked great–better than great. Delicious. Edible. A mix of savory and spice.
“Let’s go.” Feeling awkward, Celia led the way to the door, holding her keys in her hand. Was she making a mistake? So what if she was? This man had seen her with a coffee-stained shirt, a flat tire, and shaking a can like a hooker in a massage parlor, promising a happy ending. She’d already embarrassed herself, but he wasn’t running for the nearest sand dune.
Dax walked out of the condo, waiting for her in the hall as she locked up. She was quiet as they went down the elevator to the parking garage, taking in the new feelings and sorting them in importance. Dax’s hotness? Not a priority, though it was good to realize that her libido wasn’t dead.
Dax’s kindness was dangerous, as compelling as his sensuality. He moved with confidence, his lean muscles flexing behind the layer of lycra. She liked his short curls, the hint of zinc he probably wore daily on his nose. His bare toes brought a smile to her face, but she was careful to keep it to herself. He was bohemian. She had to be all business.
Her priority, after filling her belly, was ensuring Ambrosia opened without a hitch.
“Are you all right?” he asked, starting the jeep.
“Yes. Though this feels surreal.” She’d wanted a change, and got it. Dax had guessed correctly–she’d been the perfect wife, in the perfect neighborhood, with the perfect car and yet she’d been blindsided.
He nodded with understanding and didn’t ask any more questions as he drove them the few blocks over to a business street that was mostly empty.
“Beach is that way, one block east. Short cut is through the alley.” He pulled into a parking spot. “You can come up if you want, or wait here. It will just take a minute.”
She nodded, looking around the area. Sensing he didn’t want company, she said, “I’ll stay. No rush. You’ve been so patient with me!”
He hopped out, the formfitting wetsuit showcasing the lean muscles in his thighs and arms. She tried not to look at his great ass, but it was impossible to resist a quick peek as he went inside the two story building.
Dive Shop by the Sea. Laughing, she got out of the jeep and breathed in. Saltwater made the air heavier, damp. It wasn’t hot, but she felt perspiration line her forehead and spine. Humidity would ruin her make-up and hair.
She stretched her legs, looking around her new home. There wasn’t much time for speculation before Dax came back, locking the door behind him. He wore beige cargo shorts and a light blue polo, and beige leather sandals. Odd to see him with something on his feet.
“Do you always keep clothes at work?” she teased.
“I live in the studio above the shop,” he said. “Bachelor pad does not do it justice. Come on, the Grille is over a block. The weather is beautiful. Are you okay to sit outside?”
“Yes, please.” She patted her cheeks. “Where there is a breeze, if you don’t mind.”
“Believe it or not, you will acclimatize.”
“I might stop sweating like I’m in a sauna?”
“Yeah.” He grinned, taking the lead.
“Does this place have mimosas?” How decadent, to sip champagne so close to the sea.
“Yep.”
“It’s only, what, seven by now?” She laughed, shaking her head. There was so much to do that one mimosa would send her straight to bed for a nap. “No alcohol. I don’t dare.”
“Why not? You’re living in paradise.”
“Paradise.” What if the cost of living here was too high?
Chapter Three
Celia and Dax took an outside seat at the restaurant. Potted plants she’d have to learn the names of added color and a garden feel to the sidewalk. Giant green umbrellas shaded the round tables. Her heart skipped a beat as she absorbed the view of the ocean, less than a block away.
The turquoise blue water spoke to her soul, and despite her hunger, she wished she could go stick her feet in the sand. There would be time enough for that, she told herself, letting Dax scoot her chair in. He’d given her the seat facing the water.
“Quite the gentleman,” Celia quipped, glad she’d changed into her sundress. September was hot, even so early in the morning. “Your mother would be proud.”
“She would be,” Dax agreed. “But she died five years ago.”
Celia sank back, the death of her husband still fresh in her mind. “I’m sorry.” A year wasn’t long enough to completely fade the pain.
A short, bubbly blonde waitress came over with the two menus and two waters with lemon slices. “Morning, Dax. Ma’am.”
Celia blinked. Ma’am. When had she turned into a ma’am? Not quite thirty, but obviously a stick in the mud.
“Hi Rachel,” he drawled, waving away the menu. “Meet Celia. She’s new in town-opening up a restaurant,”
“Café,” Celia corrected, taking hers.
“Café.” Dax gestured for her to keep talking.
“Sorry.” Celia shrugged, reminding herself to loosen up. “Anyway, my café, Ambrosia, will be opening next week.”
“Where at?” Rachel asked, her eyes bright as if she really cared. Exactly the sort of waitress Celia wanted to hire.
“Two blocks up from here, away from the beach. Sadly.” Celia pointed to the ocean. “Rachel, I don’t know how you get any work done. It’s taking everything I have to keep my sandals on.”
Dax lifted the menu. “We can get egg sandwiches and coffee to go. Sit under the pier.”
Celia lifted her glass of water. “No, no. I don’t want to be any trouble. Besides, I hope that by the time we’re done with breakfast, my car will be fixed.”
“Oh no-what happened?” Rachel asked.
“I drove into town on a flat tire. It wasn’t quite dawn yet when I heard
the pop.”
Rachel grimaced. “Rim will be ruined, if you had to drive far that way.”
Celia looked up in surprise. “It makes perfect sense when you say it-but honestly, it never occurred to me that I would damage anything, besides the tire.” She took a grateful sip of the lemon water. She was sweating so much she’d be a husk by the end of the day. “I just wanted to get here.”
“And now you’ve arrived. Time to eat.” Dax tapped the table. “Coffee for me. Eggs over easy,”
“Whole wheat toast and a side of fruit,” Rachel completed Dax’s order. “The big mystery is whether you want ham or bacon.”
The blonde laughed, and it was Dax’s turn to shrug. “Guess I’m a creature of habit.”
“You know what you like,” Celia said, hoping to have a hundred customers just as loyal. “I’ll take coffee as well, with cream on the side.” She glanced at the menu, struck by the image of Eggs Benedict. She looked away from the delectable but calorie laden breakfast. “I’ll have the egg white, ham and tomato omelet. Whole wheat toast. No potatoes.”
“You’ll be sorry,” Dax said. “Best ever.”
She’d learned to cook while watching the various cooking shows on television. She’d eaten her way through grief by attempting to make the meals, gaining forty pounds in the process. Rich butters, duck, cream. Eight months passed before she realized she couldn’t fit into any of her clothes. No way did her bastard of a dead husband deserve to completely ruin her life.
“Not this time, thank you.”
“No problem,” Rachel said, heading inside.
Celia turned those delectable meals into delicious, healthier versions. Ran two treadmills into the ground, and got the hell out of Ohio. Hello, South Florida. Turning a little crazy in her grief made her realize that she hadn’t ever made true friends--her mother didn’t count--and she had nothing tying her to the base of her humiliation.
“What are you thinking?” Dax asked. “You’re frowning.”
Celia pressed two fingers firmly between her brows. “An unwelcome trip down memory lane.”
“I hate those,” Dax commiserated.
She leaned back, admiring his attitude. “You don’t have a single care in the world-or at least, it doesn’t seem that way. I envy you.”
He held his hands up, fingers pinched together ‘om’ style. “The façade is working. Good to know,” he chuckled.
“I don’t believe it. You are calm to the bone. Very Zen.”
“Yoga.”
“You do yoga?”
“It isn’t just for women. Besides, it helps with balance on the surfboard.”
Celia looked at the flat ocean, unable to keep the teasing from her voice. “Really?”
He grinned. “The water doesn’t always look like this.” Pausing, he added, “Mostly, though. Sometimes I go to California. Hit the waves there. Never been to Hawaii.”
Celia closed her eyes briefly, the image of her dead husband and his floozy blowing kisses from the airplane before they leaped to their death clear in her mind. “I don’t care for Hawaii.”
He tilted his head, but didn’t push the conversation. Instead, he waited, content as a cat in the sun, for their breakfast to arrive. The golden rays highlighted the bleached strands in his curls, and Celia noticed that his brows were just as gilded.
Rachel brought coffee, and a server followed with their platters of steaming food.
Celia’s mouth watered. Fresh tomatoes, ham and melted cheese. She should have remembered to hold the cheese, but it looked so good, she was going to enjoy every last calorie.
“Here you go,” Rachel said, sliding her plate before her. “Anything else I can get you?”
“This is perfect,” Celia said, putting her paper napkin in her lap. She was using cloth at the cafe, and glad of it. She’d weighed the costs of laundry versus paper, and decided the few extra cents was worth the trouble-not that she was a snob, but cloth added a touch of permanence.
Rachel waved and left, not hovering, which Celia liked. She looked up, using her fork and knife to cut a slice from her omelet. “Do you come here often?”
Dax stopped an inch from putting his toast in his mouth. “Mm. Three times a week. Between breakfast and dinner, there aren’t that many choices within walking distance. I can’t wait to check out your menu.”
“Even though it’s something new?” Celia teased.
“If it tastes good, I’m game.”
She put the eggs in her mouth, letting the fresh tomato and ham linger on her tongue. Egg beaters, no doubt, but the tomatoes had to be locally grown. The ham was decent, not too salty and not too thin.
“First meal at Ambrosia is on me,” she said. “You have gone beyond friendly neighbor.”
He chewed and gestured with his free hand. “I don’t know what kind of neighbors you used to have, but here, we’re decent.” He winked, the action flirtatious. “For the most part.”
His half-smile promised something wicked, making it difficult for her to swallow.
Her mouth dried, and goose bumps raced along her skin in blatant contradiction to the hot weather. She felt something turn in her belly, and it wasn’t the delicious omelet or the coffee.
Her face flamed as she imagined feeding Dax the omelet, bite by bite, teasing him with the tip of her fork. Nipping his lower lip. Well, hell. Now what was she supposed to do?
Her phone rang, and she dropped her fork in the middle of her eggs and cheese with a squeal. “The gas station.” She answered as if she’d had helium for breakfast. “Hello?”
Dax scowled. “What’s wrong with your voice?”
Celia shook her head, cleared her throat and tried again. She was tired. Her guard was down. She was not thinking of Dax. “This is Celia.”
“Hi. This is Khanti. Your car is done. You do have a spare, by the way, but not one you can drive around on for long. We had to replace the rim as well as the tire. My husband couldn’t fix the flat.”
“That’s all right. I shouldn’t have driven so far.” She’d been afraid to stop in the dark, alone, so even in hindsight, she would have made the same decision. “Thank you.”
“So, eh, you’ll be here to pick it up?”
“I’m just finishing breakfast. If I turn around, I think I can see your gas station sign.”
Silence. “See you then.” Dial tone.
“That was Khanti.” Celia tapped the end button. “She does not find me amusing.”
Dax didn’t pretend he hadn’t been listening. “She has a dry sense of humor.”
“She thinks I’m a ditz.” Celia picked up her fork, wiping down the handle with the napkin. “It’s all right.” Her face heated. When would she stop being the poster child for Idiot Central?
“She’ll get to know you,” Dax said. “Are you okay?”
“Exhausted.” Celia ate another bite, knowing that she had to put more in her stomach than coffee. Build up her strength.
“What made you decide to drive all night?”
“Believe it or not, I didn’t think it out.” She avoided looking at Dax, concentrating instead on chewing.
“You’re right. I don’t believe it. You seem like the type of woman who writes her name on the Tupperware. I saw the different maps you’d printed out for the trip all over your passenger seat of your car.”
She squirmed beneath his sultry gaze. “I just wanted to leave town. And I did. No stopping before my new life.”
“The old life must have really sucked,” Dax said.
“It did.” Celia refused to elaborate. She was so emotionally on-edge she’d probably start bawling.
“You have to give me a hint.”
“Why?” Celia swirled the egg in the cheese, her belly tight. “So I can be the poor crazy woman who came to town all broken?”
He laughed. “Is that who you think you are?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“You don’t know me.”
&nb
sp; “I told you, I’m a pretty good judge of character. I’ve got to be, renting out diving equipment. Teaching people to scuba. Some people you know will be all right in the deep water-others you have to watch, or they could hurt themselves.”
“What about me?” she asked.
“I think I’d trust you in the deep.” He wiped his mouth, his plate clean. “After a few lessons,” Dax said, his eyes twinkling.
“I’ve never dived before.” She looked out at the expanse of ocean, imagining what it might be like to explore the ocean floor. “I know how to snorkel, though. A little bit.” Celia had learned on her honeymoon, seven years ago. “How did you become a good judge of people? I mean, you think they’re one way…” And they end up fooling you. Or making a fool of you.
His eyes clouded. “Trial and error. That, and I spent more time watching folks than talking. My little sister gabbed your ear off. I listened.”
Celia smiled. “Does she live here too?”
“Nah, Darcy’s in Melbourne with a degree in marine biology. She’s so together, she’ll probably end up running Sea World.”
Celia easily imagined a female version of Dax. Tall, lean, smart and naturally blonde. “Any other siblings?”
“Nope.”
He’d mentioned his mother had died. “Dad?”
Dax scooted back his chair. “Aren’t you going to finish that breakfast?”
Celia looked down at her plate. She’d created a habit of leaving a quarter of the food, if not half, for later. It was challenging to see what she could do with leftovers. Part of the game was not allowing them to be served in the same form. “No, I’m through.” Suddenly the rest of her day yawned before her and she closed her eyes against a wave of panic.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She opened them again, looking out at the gorgeous blue water. Breathe in, breathe out. Maybe she’d learn yoga. Dive. Surf. No time. “I have a lot to do. It can be, well, daunting.”
“You’ve heard the saying, ‘how to eat an elephant?’ haven’t you?” Dax asked.
A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle) Page 142