A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle)

by Uvi Poznansky

  “No. Sounds unappealing.”

  “One bite at a time, Celia. Next thing you know, it’s all gone.”

  Great. The Zen Master was giving her tips. “I’m a foodie, Dax. Unless we’re talking an elephant ear from the fair, which is deep fried dough drizzled with honey and dusted with powdered sugar, no elephant for me.”

  They each got to their feet. The ease they’d developed over breakfast became awkward as Celia wondered what to do next. “I guess I’ll go get my car.”

  “Want me to come with you?” Dax asked.

  Yes, she did-in the worst way. But she’d promised herself that she’d be self-sufficient. Make it on her own. She couldn’t let her own fear sabotage her healing process.

  “No. I see the station from here.” She pointed to her condo, which read Caspian’s Nest in aqua blue along the side of the building. “I see where I live. I’ll be fine. You, Sir Dax, are released from hero duty.”

  His dimple flashed before he shrugged and looked down the street to where his business and apartment were. “I really don’t mind.”

  It took all of her willpower to keep from reaching out for his hand. She clutched her purse to her middle like a shield.

  “Later then. Oh. Rachel?” Dax waved toward the waitress/hostess. “Can I borrow a pen?”

  She came out of the restaurant, her smile infectious. “Sure. How was breakfast?”

  “Delicious,” Celia said. “I’m sure I’ll become a familiar face.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you,” Rachel said.

  “Add the breakfast to my tab, will you, Rach?”

  The blonde nodded.

  “I can buy.” Celia opened her purse and reached for her wallet as Dax shook his head no. “I wanted to!”

  Dax scribbled something on a napkin, then handed it to Celia. “Call me, if you need anything. Maybe we can have a drink or something.”

  The unaccustomed flair of attraction she felt for Dax made her doubt she’d call anytime soon. He might have learned how to be a good judge of character, but it was obviously not in her skill set. She’d picked a lying, cheating bastard to spend her life with and had done her best to mold herself into his perfect helpmate.

  Where had it gotten her? Caught in a life that became suddenly meaningless, that’s where. She’d run a charity in her late husband’s name, gone to council meetings on his behalf. The great Doctor Langford. She’d created a world for him that had collapsed with his betrayal. The social issues, the fundraising--it mattered on its own, but she’d done it out of commitment to her husband. The belief that they were in something together that could better if not the world, at least their part of Ohio.

  No more, she’d promised herself. She would take charge of her own destiny. As Dax’s touch lingered on her palm, she pushed the interest in him aside. No time for emotional entanglements-she had to succeed at all costs.

  He waved and walked off toward the Dive Shop.

  Rachel tapped her pen against her order pad. “It’s a small town. We can’t help but see each other. Might as well appreciate the view, right?” She gave Dax’s retreating figure a grin of approval. “I think you should call him.”

  Celia eyed Rachel, backing up a step. Did small towns consist of everybody butting into your business? “He’s just being nice.”

  The vivacious twenty-something shook her head as if Celia was missing the obvious. “Are you married?”

  “No.” She’d shared enough of her personal troubles for one day. Celia was a private person at heart.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Internet dating?”

  Celia held her hand to her chest. “God, no.”

  “Don’t knock it,” the bubbly blonde smiled.

  “No,” said Celia. “Really? But you’re adorable. Surely you have guys calling all the time.”

  She shrugged, putting the pen behind her ear. “The downside to the salt life is a lot of people don’t stick around. Don’t ya ever get lonely?”

  “Rachel, I don’t think that’s,” any of your business. Married for seven years, and they were the loneliest of my life. Finding her passion in cooking saved her from misery. “I just moved here.”

  Rachel nudged Celia, her eyes looking older than her years. “I think everybody’s trying to find someone to share this crazy life with, you know?”

  “That’s not what I want.” Celia forced herself to answer honestly. “I mean, I want to share with others, through my food. My café. I don’t want another husband.”

  “So you were married?” Rachel asked, her eyes flashing with humor.

  Uncomfortable, Celia nodded. “Yes. He died over a year ago.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “I dated this shaman for a while, well, not that we ‘dated’, you know, but anyway, he told me that the reason people come to the ocean is to mend the rifts in their soul. Cool, huh? But you seem pretty together.”

  “I’ve tried, thank you.” Celia’s shoulders rose stiffly.

  “Ah, don’t get mad,” Rachel said with a tinkling laugh. “I’m nosy. Can’t help it. I just want to know people. What makes them tick.”

  Celia lowered her angled chin. “I’ve spent the last year getting to know myself. That’s hard enough without trying to figure out everybody else too.”

  “Maybe that’s where I should look next,” Rachel mused. “Inward.” She gave an exaggerated shudder and walked back inside the restaurant. “Nah. Too much work. See you around, Celia!”

  Celia wasn’t sure what had just happened, but it felt like she’d made the beginnings of a friend. In her past, she would have made her judgment in seconds and cut the waitress from her life. But she was going to be living here. Everybody would know her business, and she’d know everybody else’s. It was unavoidable, unless she hid away in her condo like a princess in an ivory tower.

  No. She’d searched for a community, a home. She would damn well participate in it.

  She walked down the street, pausing to admire the store fronts. Late September was hot, school had started, and the ‘season’ where snowbirds came from all over the world, mostly New York, didn’t begin until November. There was a deserted feel, and she slowed her pace.

  Born into a medical family, only child of two prestigious doctors, she’d been groomed to be a physician. When it became clear that she threw up at the sight of blood, had no head for Latin, and no burning desire to find a cure for any of the diseases she couldn’t pronounce, her parents steered her toward medical management.

  She’d fallen hard for Preston Langford, a young doctor with an impeccable reputation. Celia made sure she was everything he needed. Her parents were proud, he had no family and was happy to take on hers. The sterile environment she’d grown up in was what Langford wanted too. White, glass, stainless steel.

  In therapy after her husband’s death, because it seemed the right thing to do, the psychiatrist asked her what she wanted. Celia hadn’t known where to begin. It had been so long since thought of herself as someone who could make choices that didn’t involve other people. Like, kindergarten. She specifically remembered bringing home a finger painting, bright oranges and purples and greens. Her mother, home for a rare dinner as a family, praised the chaos of color but then said it was too messy to be considered real art. Her parents had then gone on to discuss what art meant, and the conversation went over Celia’s head.

  What stuck in her mind was that color was messy and chaotic and had no place in their organized home. Neat and tidy, that was what mattered.

  Celia crossed the street, and saw her car, all four tires the same, parked near the garage. She went inside the station and smiled at Khanti. “Thank you. How much do I owe?”

  A man came out of the back, wiping his hands on an oil-stained towel. “Hi! Celia Langford, is it? I’m Nino. Girl, you sure know how to ruin a tire.”

  Celia winced.

  He stuffed the dirty towel into his back pocket. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt, black scuffed
work boots.

  Khanti gave an exasperated sigh. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

  “It was delicious.” The food. Dax. “The view was beautiful.”

  “Were you by yourself?”

  Celia cleared her throat. “Uh, no. Dax was with me.”

  Nino chuckled. “Pretty lady in town? Why am I not surprised you already went to breakfast?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Celia said, denying any sort of attraction.

  Khanti took the bill her husband handed her, quickly adding the numbers on the register. “Here you go.”

  Celia accepted the receipt and tried to keep a neutral expression, but her denial made things awkward. “Thank you.”

  Stopping at a hotel would have been much less expensive. Her funds were tight, so tight they squealed, but once she got her café open, and people to share her food, Ambrosia would be a success and she wouldn’t have to worry over anything besides which brand of salt to use. She hoped.

  “Where did you move?” Nino asked.

  Celia pointed out the window. “I live over there. The condo with the pelican on the side.”

  He washed his hands in the sink, dried them on a paper towel and held his right out to shake Celia’s. “You will either love it here, or go stir crazy.”

  She accepted the calloused welcome. “I’m not afraid of the quiet, but not too quiet. I’m opening an organic café. I need customers.”

  “More of a burger guy myself, but Khanti will eat anything with grass shavings.”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Why do I bother? You are a cultural rock.”

  He playfully smacked her on the rear. “You like our differences.”

  “I can’t argue that,” Khanti said with a grin.

  Celia cleared her throat. The married couple had an interesting relationship. Playful. She hadn’t seen anything like it since her college days.

  “What are you planning to do today?” Khanti asked.

  Instead of allowing the overwhelming feelings inside her head, she imagined an elephant ear with honey and powdered sugar. One bite at a time.

  “Grocery store. Then driving around town to get my bearings. The organic market? And,” she stopped to enjoy the excitement in her belly. Part fear, part thrill. “Opening up Ambrosia.”

  “Next week seems soon,” Nino said.

  “I’ve done most of the prep work online.” One thing she knew was how to put something together. Her café was the most important event she’d ever taken on.

  “We will be happy to hand out flyers, if you’d like,” Khanti said. “And make sure you stop by the chamber of commerce. Carolyn runs the desk.”

  “Great idea!” She’d created five hundred to pass out. “Thank you, again, for this morning. Fixing my car. I’ll come back later when I’m not so tired to talk about those flyers. I plan on giving each business owner a few complimentary meals in exchange for word of mouth.”

  “Smart,” Khanti said.

  Nino smiled wide, his tone teasing. “So long as the food doesn’t suck.”

  “Do not listen to him.” Khanti gave her husband the evil eye.

  “He has a point,” Celia conceded. “But trust me, my food does not suck.”

  Chapter Four

  Inside the Dive Shop, Dax waited for his cell phone to ring like a girl with a crush. Would Celia call? Wouldn’t she? If he was a betting man, he’d guess no. He’d seen the look of panic in her eyes as he’d winked at her.

  September, for offshore diving, was usually calm unless there was a storm on the Atlantic. Out of the country tourists made up the majority of his business, and a good season often paid the slow summer month’s bills. This year’s boom mini lobster season covered doctor’s bills for his dad, too.

  He surfed the internet instead of the ocean, waiting for his 1 o’clock appointment. Perched at the counter on a padded stool, he wondered how long the underwater photo shoot would take. Would Celia call while he was in the ocean? The store phone rang and, disappointed, Dax answered. “Dive Shop.”

  “Dive Shop, this is Dax might be friendlier,” his sister, Darcy, commented.

  “You come home and answer the phone, if you’re so concerned about it.” Damn, he missed his younger sibling. She’d been home for Memorial Day weekend, and she’d brought her older professor boyfriend with her. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the situation, and they’d left after staying just one night.

  “I was thinking I should, maybe.”

  Dax sat up straight. “What?”

  “I just got off the phone with Dad. He doesn’t sound so good.”

  Dax breathed in, searching for some of that Zen Celia thought he was born with. “Dad sounds like shit, unless he’s been using his oxygen, which he doesn’t like to do. Don’t come for longer than a weekend, Darcy.” Even that might be too long to keep up the charade.

  She had a chance for a life outside this little island. A great life, filled with the kind of adventure a girl like Darcy craved. Not everybody was meant to live on a thin strip of land. He liked it, but his ex-fiancé sure hadn’t.

  Dax’s college experience in Gainesville had netted him a bachelor’s degree in marketing, a wicked bout of homesickness, and the wrong girlfriend. She’d fallen for a surfer boy, but wanted all of the amenities of a banker. She’d run back to New York after the first Christmas without snow.

  Before Mom had died, and Dad got sick, Dax had dated some. He now poured his time into keeping the business up and running. Taking care of his father. Finding solace in the waves. He wanted his baby sister to have choices.

  “Don’t lie to me, Dax.”

  “I am not lying.” Dax exhaled, crossing his fingers. “How’s your project going?”

  She hesitated, and he could picture her leaning back in her chair, one foot stretched out, the other tucked beneath her butt. She’d frown, not sure if she should believe her brother, or not. Finally she said, “I’ll be done by the end of October.”

  “Then what?” Dax imagined a ton of offers lined up.

  “I don’t know.”

  He started to realize that something was different in her voice. “Are you all right, Darcy?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed, but she was the one lying now.

  “Tell me.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Since when is marine biology top secret?”

  “It’s not that.”

  Which meant a man. Probably the old professor. He waited.

  Darcy said nothing.

  Damn it. She had to be hurt pretty bad if she wasn’t going to talk about it. “Do I need to take a drive north?”

  She huffed into the phone. “I can take care of myself. Don’t go all big, bad brother on me. I made a mistake, is all.”

  “Mistakes can be fixed.” Dax sat on the end of his seat.

  “I’m not sure I want to fix this one.”

  Her voice had a steely edge he hadn’t heard before. “Come home.” He’d figure out a way to explain once she arrived.

  “Nah. If Dad’s really okay, then I’ll just wait until Thanksgiving, like we’d planned.”

  “You aren’t that far away. Couple hours.”

  “Don’t make me sorry I called. I just wanted to check in with you guys. Dad hadn’t emailed me any corny jokes in a few days, so I was getting worried.”

  He bowed his head. “Internet’s been down, thanks to the construction by the beach.”

  “I got to hear all about it,” Darcy said, her laugh forced. “The new development is ruining the town. I remember how put out he was when we got a street light on Ocean and Front. You good, Dax? Dad said all you do is work. Dive.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “You’ve got to find a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t want one.” Celia Langford came to mind. She was a woman. Bikinis and beers on the beach had a place, but she was more than that. Not a local, though. There was a risk she wouldn’t stay. Wouldn’t fit.

  Some people needed the cit
y.

  He needed the sand. The water.

  “A steady lay?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t be a brat, Darcy. I don’t tell you how to live your romantic life. Stay out of mine.”

  “I have one. You don’t.”

  “Out.” He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see.

  “Fine.” She paused. “Hey, Dax?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is Dad going to get better?”

  It hurt to hear the question, knowing how he had to answer. “He looks great. You just caught him in a bad moment, Darcy.” Dave Smith was dying. If not by Christmas, then the beginning of the year, according to the professionals in the white coats.

  “Promise to call if anything changes.”

  “Cross my heart.” Dax hung up, feeling crappy about leaving his sister in the dark. For her own good. Dax didn’t like it, but his dad made him swear. Darcy had lost her shit when Mom died, and Dad wanted to protect his baby girl.

  The door chimed, and his appointment entered the building.

  Just under six feet, with olive skin and ebony hair, the barely-covered model was trailed by two photographers in wet suits. They were both shorter that she was, and carried cameras on their shoulders.

  “Veronica, welcome,” Dax said, coming around the side of the counter. He kissed her cheeks. “Felippe. Jorge. You ready to hunt for treasure?”

  “I am ready, Dax.” Her Persian accent was thick, her eyes dark brown and lined with black. “But not too deep, yes?”

  The reason he’d scored this particular high paying job was that he lived in an area famous for its shore diving.

  People could go out 150 feet to discover a coral reef, and a hundred feet after that, remnants of a sunken ship. Veronica worked for a prestigious jeweler, selling gemstones. She was so exotically beautiful she could sell sand on a beach.

  The single flaw was her fear of being underwater and getting eaten by a shark. This was their third day filming. Or, attempting to film.

  “Did you find anything that worked for you in the shots from yesterday?” Dax asked, looking from Veronica to the photographers.

  They nodded, but Veronica’s eyes teared. “I think we can do better. I make my living with my face. It cannot be so-so, yes? The images must convey desire.” Her husky voice suggested sex, hot and heavy. Her eyes glistened seductively as she leaned forward in a subtle, sensual gesture. Dax swallowed. Hard.