Celia chose a lemon hibiscus sachet she’d bought at the farmer’s market along with some local honey and sat at her cozy table overlooking the water. It was dark, yet, with tinges of light creating charcoal shadows. The occasional white cap of water from the waves caught her eye.
She allowed her mind to wander, and Dax came to the forefront. He’d brought gorgeous flowers, and made her laugh. Their frequent ‘accidental’ touches held a promise of something more, if either of them dared to take it.
Celia’s fascination with Dax had little to do with his physical attributes, though she admitted he was hot as hell. He moved with masculine grace, lean strength. Instead it was their insane chemistry that made her wonder what it might be like to take things further. Maybe once she had Ambrosia established-but in order to keep the promise she’d made to herself, she didn’t have time for anything that distracted her from her main goal.
The light came in purplish-gray smears above the water. Golden-rose clouds hovered close to the horizon. The ocean was turquoise, the same color as Dax’s eyes. I’ve got it bad.
Her phone dinged, signaling a text.
She grinned, seeing it was from Dax.
Dad’s fine. Morning
Morning, she quickly typed.
Slept like shit, not that you asked
She chuckled, imagining his droll tone. “Me, too.” Celia held the button and spoke out loud, letting her smart phone do the work.
You all right?
“Of course. Emotional overload,” she said. “Too much going through my head. Thanks again for the flowers.”
No problem
She waited, wondering if he was done.
Come down
“Where are you?”
Look out your window toward the beach
“I am.” She realized she had more than one set of windows overlooking the water. “In the kitchen.”
All of a sudden Dax appeared on the sand below, two coffees from the gas station in his hands.
“I’m coming!”
Excitement, happiness, joy...she didn’t take apart the emotions. Just felt them, threw on shorts and a t-shirt, brushed her teeth in seconds, and ran out of her condo.
Dax met her on the beach.
“Morning,” she said, slightly breathless. “I should have brought a towel.”
“What for? Sand is soft enough.” He gestured toward a sand dune. “Is here good?”
“Yes.” Anywhere with him was perfect. He wore a pale gray t-shirt and shorts. His feet were bare and he wiggled his toes when he caught her looking at them. She lifted her gaze and melted over his smile.
He handed over a coffee. “Khanti says good morning.”
“I didn’t expect for last night to go so late,” Celia said, unable to stop from smiling back. “It was really great.”
“Yeah.” He held her elbow as she sank to the soft sand. He came down at the same time, so their hips bumped. He stretched his legs out, she sat cross-legged.
She noticed the blond scruff on his jaw, the damp curls over his ear. He must have showered already, she thought, her stomach tumbling just because Dax was near. “Your dad?” she asked, trying to keep up the pretense that she was unaffected by his presence.
“Exhausted.” Dax took off the lid of his cup and blew on the steaming brew. “He’s been sick. A couple years ago, this was before my mom died, he had a bad infection in his lungs. Made him prone to coughs. Bronchial stuff. The worst part was he had to quit diving.”
“He can still snorkel and swim?”
“Yes, but it’s nowhere near the same experience.” He nudged her bare knee. “I can’t wait to show you the difference.”
“I haven’t had time to do more than splash in the surf,” she said. They sat shoulder to shoulder, despite the wide expanse of the beach. It was thrilling. Tantalizing. The smells of the ocean, the wind, the coffee. Dax. “Let alone think about diving.”
“I know. We’ve all been busy.” He stared out at the horizon, his left hand resting at her back as his right balanced the coffee cup on the sand between his legs.
She sipped, savoring the rich cream mixed with dark roasted coffee beans. “You remembered how I like it.” Preston never would have thought such a detail about her important.
“Of course,” he said, tilting his head toward her. He caught her staring at him and smiled the killer half-smile that showed off his dimple.
It sent anticipation, longing, straight to her head, and down to her lower belly. She laughed with the rush of raw feeling. Her toes tingled, her mouth dried. She couldn’t be more aware of him.
“What’s funny?” He trailed his fingers up and down her spine.
She wore a thin t-shirt, but could have been wearing armor and she still would have been seared by his touch. “I feel like a teenager,” she confessed.
“Why?”
Giggling, she set her cup to the side before she spilled it. “I’m almost thirty years old. I’ve been married. But I have the giggles because, Dax, I think you’re cute.”
Instead of laughing with her, his eyes smoldered and his fingers massaged small circles just below her neck. “I think you’re cute too.”
“I know.” Celia held her stomach and laughed harder. Finally, she rested her head on her drawn-up knees, looking at him, looking at her. “You’re probably regretting bringing me coffee this morning.”
“Not in a million years.” He turned so he was facing her. He set his empty cup to the side, eyes narrowing as he took her measure. His sun-bleached hair glinted like an angel’s halo and his delectable mouth promised heaven. His blue eyes darkened just before he leaned across their space and he kissed her.
Celia closed her eyes and met his mouth, kiss for kiss. His lips were commanding and tasted like coffee. He applied just the right amount of pressure before releasing her lips, leaving her wanting…more. More kisses, more Dax.
She opened her eyes, seeing that he’d scooted back an inch. It was way too far. “Why’d you stop?”
“Kissing you is dangerous,” he said, his voice low.
Celia no longer felt like laughing. “I am not dangerous.”
“Wrong. You’re the most dangerous sort of woman. Cool on the outside, all hot on the inside. White flames burn hottest, didn’t you know?”
Celia’s hands trembled, her body firing at his words. She bowed her head, remembering what her late husband had preferred. Dark and sultry. Like Veronica.
Dax took her by the chin, stealing a sip from her lower lip. She saw the desire in his eyes-for her-and her toes curled into the sand. “You are sexy, Celia. Beautiful.” He slanted his mouth across hers, claiming her mouth in a kiss that made her nipples ache. “Let me take you to dinner.”
She drew in a steadying breath, her hand on his thigh. Kissing, maybe more, sounded perfect. His nearness clouded her reason, and she echoed his word like an idiot. “Dinner?”
Dax, so close that his stubble scratched her cheek, rubbed his hand along her back, his fingers dipping under her shirt to tease the edge of her shorts. Warm, strong. Solid. “Go out on a date with me.”
Celia shrank back, remembering why this was out of the question. “No-see? Now that is not a good idea.”
Dax slowly withdrew his hand. “Why?”
“I’m just starting my new business.” She averted her eyes, wanting him to touch her some more. Wondering if it was a mistake.
He chuckled. “I’d be a distraction?”
“It’s not funny, Dax. First I lived for pleasing my parents, then it was college and my late husband. I need to make Ambrosia a success, for me.” She scooted herself back on the sand so she could think without Dax’s pheromones in the way.
It didn’t work.
He curled his hand around the nape of her neck, and gently tugged her toward him, maintaining eye contact as if they were connected by an invisible thread. It fired every sensuous nerve ending in her body, and she parted her lips, anticipating the taste of him.
He h
esitated as they were inches apart. “Celia, you are a ‘success’, with or without your business. I’ve never met anyone as brave as you, do you know that?”
She lowered her eyes, craving him but not believing the brave part.
Dax wouldn’t let her look away. He dropped a kiss on her nose, then took another slow kiss from her eager lips. So close-she was practically in his lap and she just wanted to get closer. “You’re the whole enchilada, Celia.”
“You’re biased.” She’d never been this desired, this wanted. He couldn’t hide his need for her; she felt it straining against her hip.
“Are you going to have dinner with me?”
“We can talk about it.” She reached up for his mouth but he shook his head, stubbornly keeping her from getting more kisses.
Would it hurt, having dinner? Sharing a meal? At this moment, she’d share more than that if he asked her, so probably a burger wouldn’t kill her. Or harm Ambrosia. She nodded.
His kiss rewarded her answer, and he deepened the pressure against her mouth. Celia turned so she could slip her arm around his shoulder, her fingers grazing the hair at his neck. Dax took tiny nips of her lower lip before flicking his tongue across the bites.
Her body was one big throbbing nerve ending, and only Dax could soothe her.
“Breakfast tomorrow?”
Angled so that she was partially across his lap, Celia forced herself to sit up and think, for heaven’s sake. Breakfast tomorrow meant a night in bed, and she had to be ready for her opening day. “No, sir. I’m going to get a good night’s sleep tonight, alone.”
He held his hands over his heart as if she’d really cut to the quick. “Do you think I’m the kind of guy to fall into your bed after a meal, Ms. Langdon?”
Celia sat back on her heels, her eyes widening. “You’re a guy.”
He laughed and pulled her back, so she was sitting between his legs, facing the water. He wrapped his arms around her and they just sat, learning how to be in each other’s space.
Dax was lean muscle to her softer curves, but he didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t super-model thin. His hand on her hip was warm. Possessive.
The sun finally broke free of the clouds on the horizon. A golden path shone from the water to the beach. God, it had been so long since she’d been held so closely, as if she were infinitely precious.
His phone rang, startling them both.
Reality crashed on their strip of paradise, and Celia immediately remembered why it was a bad idea to get involved with anyone.
But Dax...he made it impossible to say no.
He reached into his pocket. “If it’s Veronica, I’m not answering. That woman is high maintenance, and I’m not even dating her.”
“She’s like a character you’d watch on reality television.”
“Don’t tell her that. She’ll get Umberto to buy her a show.” He looked at the screen, and frowned. “Darcy.”
“Your sister?” Celia scooted out from the warm cocoon of Dax’s embrace. “Get it!”
He nodded and pressed answer, but he’d missed the call.
“I’ll call her back in a few minutes.” He reached for Celia. “Come back.”
“I’ve got to get going,” she said, backing away from his compelling charm. “I have so much to do. Thanks for the coffee, Dax.”
“You are not getting out of dinner,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
His phone rang again. He answered, “Hey Darcy, what’s up?”
Celia blew him a kiss and waved good-bye, running back upstairs to her condo. Where she could go over their kisses, their words, the feelings he inspired.
Chapter Thirteen
Celia opened the café at five; an hour and a half earlier than any customer was invited to show up. She hung the framed certificate from the inspector over the sink in the back. He’d come last night at six thirty, his very last appointment of the day, and done only as a favor to Julie. After he gave her the piece of paper that said she could cook and serve, she dished him a plate of her signature Ambrosia Salad. He’d left with a smile on his face, anyway. She’d been too sick with worry to eat.
She still didn’t have her sign. Last night she’d bought a chalkboard easel and written Ambrosia on it in purples and greens.
What if nobody came?
What if Randall Wallace broke their lease?
What if she failed miserably?
At six on the dot, she turned the oven on and put in the two quiches to warm. She started the coffee, and did another walk around her café. The dark green tile offset the deeper green edging along the walls which were painted beige, with purple accents. She’d set the tables with dark green cloths, alternating beige and purple napkins. Tall indoor palms were in each of the corners, adding a touch of the tropics to Ambrosia.
The smell of percolating coffee scented the air, in harmony with the bacon quiche in the oven. Sweet and savory pastries lined the refrigerated shelves. Her assortment of whole leaf teas were arrayed so that her customers could browse.
Customers.
She closed her eyes, her fingers curling over the edge of dining chair. What if her desire to live her dream caused her to lose the last bit of security she had?
Security, she’d learned fast and hard, was a slippery thing to grasp.
She jumped at a knock on her window and hustled to the front door. She saw Dax’s profile in the dim light before sunrise and her shoulders slumped with relief. Happiness. It had been hard to sleep last night, wishing he was there beside her. But not calling had been the right thing to do, for her sanity.
She opened the door and ushered him inside. “We don’t open for another fifteen minutes, mister.”
“I can smell that coffee down the block.”
“Really?” She hugged her middle rather than hug him. She was afraid if she touched him all of the energy she was putting into keeping her shit together would waffle, and she’d fall apart.
“Yeah. And whatever you’re cooking? I’ll have two.”
“You have to wait, Dax. Why are you here so early?”
“I missed you.”
She shivered, wanting to snuggle right under his chin. She bet she’d fit perfectly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just upset because I cancelled dinner last night. The inspector didn’t leave until after seven.”
“If I’m upset, it’s because I didn’t get to see you again.”
They stared at one another, the air between them sizzling. She knew he was remembering the morning on the beach, the feel of their mouths fused. I am. Celia held herself too tightly to give in to his kisses. “I missed you too.”
“So.” Dax shrugged, looking handsome in a polo, plaid shorts and sandals. “I figured I’d come to you. I want to be your first customer.”
“That’s sweet. And you’re wearing sandals!”
“Couldn’t chance getting kicked out because of the ‘no shoes no service’ rule.”
“I would never have done that to you, I promise.”
“You are a good woman, Celia.” He seemed startled by the words as they left his mouth, and his skin flushed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, her body responding to the desire in his heavy-lidded gaze. She moistened her mouth and swallowed.
“Like what?”
“Never mind. Coffee?”
“Want me to wait until six thirty?”
“It’s five minutes from now.”
“I know a way to make five minutes pass like a snap.”
Dax was at her side before she could blink, his arms around her as he captured her mouth in a kiss that claimed his territory.
“This is why,” Celia said as she pulled back for a breath, “I took a rain check last night for dinner.”
“You really feel all these tangled up emotions too? Sweaty palms? Itchy skin?”
Celia fanned her face, escaping behind the counter to put distance between them. He could stay in the café. She’d be close to the refrigerated case, and
hopefully cool down. “That doesn’t sound at all attractive.”
“I can’t get enough of you,” his voice trailed off and he rubbed his head, then pointed to the tea cup clock hanging on the wall. “It’s six thirty, Celia. Happy Ambrosia Day!”
This was her first day of business, and Dax was her first customer. When she’d dreamed about this new beginning a year ago, she’d never imagined having another man in her life. It scared her, actually. It wasn’t part of the plan.
She stepped behind the register and smiled. “Welcome to Ambrosia. Can I interest you in a slice of fresh baked quiche?”
❋
Dax ate his quiche at the small counter, just big enough for four bar stools. He’d watched Celia nervously check the time, and the oven, and the food. Her second customer didn’t come until seven. Dax had been ready to call in a few favors, and get some customers in the door.
Not necessary now, he thought with pride. By seven thirty, five customers had come in-a few from the street, following their noses, while others had the postcards she’d been handing out around town in their hand. A free entrée, to go with their tea or coffee.
She was adorable, wearing a sleeveless silky sort of dress that bounced around her knees. Purple, to match the inside of the café. She’d swept her smooth blonde hair back into a bun, with a seashell clip at the side.
“Come on in,” she said as a man hovered at the door.
“You serve breakfast?”
“Yes, sir. Coffee, and tea. A selection of muffins. Quiche.”
The guy was too busy watching Celia to listen to her spiel, but he took the seat she directed him to, and ordered the bacon quiche as she suggested. At one point, Dax ran the cash register while she dished out plates to a party of four women.
There was a lull about ten minutes to eight, and she slipped her arm around his waist. It wasn’t a kiss, but Dax understood. At least it was physical contact, something he craved from Celia no matter how she gave it. She said, “Thank you. I didn’t think it would be busy so soon. I have Teresa coming, but not until nine.”
Her face was flushed, her cool blue eyes bright. She looked like she was ten and had just gotten a pony for her birthday. He kissed her cheek. “Happy to do it. You belong here.”
A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle) Page 152