He still hadn't figured out what he was going to say to Louisa about a reconciliation. He'd pushed it to the back of his brain, concentrating instead on getting his work done. His work was done now, but he still didn't want to think about it. Maybe it was best to wait and see how he felt once he was in Seattle.
He locked the store behind him and jumped into his HUMMER. The store had been open for the season less than a week, and the rental side of the business was already keeping him extremely busy.
As he drove around the side of the building, he noticed that a light was on deep inside the M &S. More than just the light Stanley always left burning in the corner near the produce. Rob pulled around the back of the grocery store and shut off the vehicle. He got out of the HUMMER and pounded three times on the solid wood door.
He rocked back on his heels and wondered what he was doing. It was late, and he still had a ton to do before he left in the morning.
A few moments passed before Kate called out from behind the closed door. "Who is it?"
"Rob. What are you doing here so late?"
The dead bolt clicked, and she stuck her head out. The light from inside lit her from behind, shifting through her beautiful red hair and surrounding her in a soft glow. Suddenly he knew why he'd come. "I'm working," she answered. "What are you doing out here so late?"
No matter how hard he tried or what was going on in his life, he couldn't seem to stay away from her. She drew him in like a ship to a bright shiny beacon. "I'm just leaving work." The scent of warm cake escaped the building, and he didn't know which made him more hungry-the sight of Kate or the smell of cake. "Are you baking something?"
"Yes." She opened the door wider and stood before him in a white T-shirt with a pair of red dice on her breasts and the words Feeling Lucky? over the top in black. A brown belt was threaded through the loops of a pair of tight jeans. "I'm baking seven dozen cupcakes for tomorrow."
Without a doubt, Kate was definitely better than cake. She didn't invite him in, but she didn't protest when he moved past her into the back of the store. He walked by a meat slicer and grinder toward the bakery tucked in the corner of the large room. A few dozen white cupcakes sat on a stainless steel table a few feet from the duo commercial ovens. He told himself that he wouldn't stay long.
Instead of the usual Tom Jones pouring through the speakers, a female voice sang about not missing someone once she got to Jackson. Rob didn't recognize the song, but he really wasn't into chick music. Especially the folksy angsty stuff that was always about the same three issues: love, broken hearts, asshole men.
"I hear you're pulling the elementary school's float in the Easter parade this Saturday," she said as she shut and locked the door behind her. "How'd you get roped into that one?"
Rob turned and watched her walk to him. He purposely kept his gaze off those dice on her breasts and on the relative safety of her hair. It hung loose about her shoulders and shimmered deep red and gold beneath the long tubes of fluorescent lighting. Just yesterday he'd held her hair in his hands while he'd kissed her throat, and he knew her hair was as soft as it looked. "The principal asked me."
She opened a cabinet and stretched to reach something on the top shelf. Rob's gaze ran down her long body to her feet in a pair of Tasmanian Devil slippers. "You're easy," she said and pulled down a box of Ziploc freezer bags.
"Where're your shoes?"
She looked down, then back up. "At home. These are more comfy." She set the box next to an industrial mixer. "I think my grandfather is getting serious about your mother."
He knew his mother liked Stanley, but she'd never mentioned that she cared for him more than as a friend. "What makes you think it's getting serious?"
Her pink lips turned up at the corners. "He writes poetry now, and they've started critiquing each other's poems."
"When do they do this?"
She stuck her hands in two Tom Jones oven mitts. "Every night after he gets off work."
"Every night?" His mother hadn't said a thing. He leaned his butt into the stainless counter and folded his arms across his green dress shirt with his store name and fish logo on the breast pocket. "How long has this been going on?"
"Since we had dinner at her house last week." She took out two cupcake trays and set them on the counter next to him. "He's been getting home late each night."
Rob watched her bend at the waist and take out two more trays from the second oven. "How late?"
"Ten. Which is late for him. He's usually in bed right after the nine-thirty news on Fox. Sometimes he doesn't even wait until the sports report is over."
"Mom really hasn't said anything, but I'm glad she has someone to share her interest in poetry." Someone who didn't happen to be him.
Kate dumped the cupcakes on the counter and began to set them upright.
He told himself to leave. That if he stayed, he'd touch her. If he touched her he was a goner, but he just couldn't force himself out the door. Not yet. "Do you need help?" he asked.
She looked up at him out of the corners of her brown eyes and smiled. "Are you volunteering to help me bake?"
Except for granola, which he made because he was addicted to the stuff, Rob wasn't into baking. He'd leave in a minute. "Sure."
"That's sweet of you, but you're in luck. These are the last." She handed him the box of freezer bags. "If you want to help, you can put six cupcakes in each. Not the hot ones, though. They get too mushy if you don't wait until they cool."
"How many did you make again?" he asked as he pulled out a plastic bag.
"I have pre orders for five dozen, and I made two dozen extra to sell in the store." She moved a few feet away and placed a large mixing bowl in a sink of soapy water.
Her domestic side surprised Rob, but again, he didn't know why he should be surprised. He really didn't know all there was to know about Kate. What did surprise him was that he wanted to know more. He glanced over at her as he unzipped the bag and shoved a few cupcakes inside. "You think you're going to sell all twenty-four?"
"Yeah, I know I am." She looked at him. "I've figured out the key to selling anything to the people in this town."
He closed the bag and started on another. "What's the key?"
"Giving away samples," she answered, then turned her attention to washing the dishes. "They'll buy as long as they get a free sample." She shook her head, and the ends of her blunt red hair brushed her back. "I used to think my grandfather wasted money on giving away free coffee, but I've come to learn that he lures people into the store with free coffee. Once they're in here, chatting and drinking, they buy other things." She set the soapy bowl in the empty side of the sink. "I'm going to give samples of smoked cheddar next."
He finished with the third bag and started on the last. "You going to trick them into buying it?"
She laughed, and the soft, feminine sound from her lips seemed to slip between his ribs and take up space in his chest. "I'm going to change their way of thinking without them even knowing it." She looked over at him again, her brown eyes lit up and shining. "Soon, I'm going to have them all eating seared tuna and wasabi mashed potatoes."
"Right." Tonight she reminded him of the girl he'd met in the Duchin Lounge several months ago. Relaxed and warm.
"You don't think I can?" she asked, an edge of steely determination in her voice.
He wondered if he should warn the town that they better get used to Japanese horseradish. "I think you have your work cut out for you."
"That's true." She reached for two cupcake pans and stuck them in the water. "But I love a challenge. I figure all I have to do is join the Mountain Momma Crafters, then I'm in."
Rob set the last bag next to the cooling cupcakes, then he shoved a hip into the counter and listened to her while she chatted about turning Gospel into the gourmet eating capital of the Northwest. He watched her hands as she ran the wet washcloth over the pans. At the ends of her long fingers, her short nails were painted a light pink. She set the pan in the empty
sink and turned on the water.
"I'll start them out slow," she continued as she opened a cabinet and stood on her tiptoes. "Get them hooked on focaccia bread then introduce them to flavored olive oils."
Rob pushed away from the counter and moved up close behind her. He lifted the bowl from her hands and placed it on the shelf. She looked up at him over her shoulder. Her hair brushed the front of his shirt, but he felt it in his groin. His hands grasped the edge of the bowl to keep from lowering them to her stomach and pulling her back against his chest. Her gaze stared into his, and it would be so easy to lower his mouth to hers.
"Thank you," she said and ducked beneath his arm before he could give in to his urge to kiss her. She moved to the cupcakes sitting on the counter and tested the temperature with her fingers.
He lowered his arms. "Are you going to give me one of those?"
"What?" She turned around and looked at him. "You want a cupcake?"
He nodded. "Why do you think I'm here?"
" My witty conversation?"
"That too."
"You're a bad liar," she said through a laugh. The warm pleasure of it settled in his chest and reminded him that he'd been lonely for a long time. Starved for soft laughter and feminine conversation. Starved for more than just sex. "I don't have any frosting."
"I don't care."
"Wait." She held up one finger, then disappeared into the walk-in refrigerator. She came back out shaking a can of whipped cream, and Rob couldn't help but notice that her breasts did interesting things to those dice on her shirt. "I used this in my cocoa this morning." She picked up a cupcake and squirted it with whipped cream. "The nice thing about working in a grocery store is that you never run out of anything." She handed it to him. "The downside is that you can get fat."
"You're not fat." Rob pulled off the paper and took a big bite.
"Not yet." She tipped her head back and shot whipped cream straight into her mouth. It was the most erotic thing he'd seen in a long time, which told him just how long it had been.
He took another bite, and he recalled the few occasions when he'd had the privilege of eating a whipped cream bikini. He wouldn't object to eating one off of Kate sometime. He finished off his cupcake in four more bites, then held out his hand. "Give me some of that." Instead of handing him the can, she placed a hand on his shoulder. She rose onto the balls of her feet, and her breast brushed his arm.
"Open up."
He didn't trust her. Not for a second. He stared into her gaze a few inches from his and slowly opened his mouth.
She shot cream between his lips and across his cheek.
"Oops, sorry." She dropped onto her heels.
Rob swallowed. "You did that on purpose."
"No, I swear it was an accident." She shook her head and tried to look contrite, but she ruined it when she burst out laughing.
He wiped his finger across his cheek, then licked it clean. "Accident my ass." He held out his hand. "Give it to me."
She shook her head and held the can behind her back.
"You don't think I can get that out of your hands?"
"No."
Of course she didn't. She was stubborn and competitive, and the thought of wrestling with her turned him on more than a whipped cream bikini. "You wanna bet?"
"What do I get if I win?"
"You won't."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't be so sure about that."
He humored her. "What do you want?"
"You have to tell everyone how much you love jalapeno jelly."
Jalapeno jelly? What the hell?
"What do you want if you win?" she asked.
He smiled. A deliberate, carnal curve of his lips. He knew exactly what he wanted. "I get to lick whipped cream off your nipples." Whipped cream wasn't sex. It was dessert.
Her mouth fell open and her eyes got huge. Then the corners of her mouth curved up, and she spun on her heels and ran through the back room and out into the store. Rob followed close behind and nearly tripped on a Tasmanian Devil slipper in the doorway. His gaze scanned the dark store, and he caught a flash of white T-shirt just as she dashed between aisles three and four. •
"Your white shirt is giving you away." He stepped into the aisle. She stood at the end, a barely discern-able outline in the darkness. If it hadn't been for her shirt and the white can in her hand, he might not have noticed her at all. "Maybe you should take it off right now."
She laughed, a low, throaty caress within the variegated shadows. "Yeah, right."
He walked toward her, and she took a few steps backward. "It'll save me the trouble of taking it off of you."
"I don't want to save you trouble." She moved behind a bin of fruit. The weak light in the corner of the produce slashed across her mouth and shoulder and lit up the dice on her T-shirt. He watched her lips move when she added, "I want to cause you as much trouble as possible."
"Oh, you do." His hands grasped the edge of the bin, and he thought of picking up an orange and nailing her with it. Stunning her for a few fortuitous seconds while he made his move. "You've caused me all kinds of trouble since the night we met." He picked up an orange, but instead of beaning her with it, he pitched it at a cardboard Keebler Elf display and knocked over bags of cookies.
"What was that?" she asked and turned her attention toward the sound. Then before she knew what hit her, Rob was on her, wrapping his arms around her waist, just beneath her breasts and slamming her back into his chest. "Rob!" she shrieked and laughed at the same time. He grabbed the can and tossed it on a pile of fruit. "No fair. You cheated."
"Fuck fair." He breathed in deeply the scent of her hair and said into the top of her head, "I never play fair. Fair is for whiners and weenies." He slid one hand to her belly and bunched her T-shirt in his fist. The sound of his breathing and hers filled his ears. Standing within the dark corner of the store with Kate in his arms, the rest of the world and its problems faded. "I've pictured you here," he said as he slid his other hand up and filled his palm with her soft breast. "In one of my fantasies. You let me eat strawberries off you." Through her shirt, he felt her hard nipple against his palm. His lungs squeezed, and the pit of his belly got tight. His dick got so hard that he had to lock his knees. "Then you rode me like a rodeo queen."
She turned her head and looked up at him. "Where?"
"Checkout counter."
"Perverted." Her lips softly kissed his jaw. "That's where I bag groceries for little old women. I like it."
"Then we had sex a second time in the back on the table where your grandfather cuts meat."
"Am I on top again?" She kissed beneath his chin.
"No. I'm driving that time."
"Stainless steel is chilly."
"Not when we're on it." He lowered his head, and the instant his lips touched hers, the raw, naked edge of desire sliced right through to the primal place in his being that screamed for him to go for it and fuck everything else. To rip off her clothes and touch her everywhere at once. To throw her down and crawl on top.
She inhaled, sucking his breath from him, and he was lost. Lust thumped through his body and grasped his testicles in a fiery squeeze. Her mouth opened and she kissed him. A sweet, liquid warmth that tasted like whipped cream and sex. Their slick tongues touched, and he gave in to the overwhelming urge to touch her everywhere at once. He slid his palms over her breasts, her belly and thighs. He slipped his hand between her legs, feeling her on the outside of her clothes. The heat of her body warmed the seam of her jeans, and he pressed his finger tight against her. He pushed his erection into her behind and felt the deep, primal response that he'd resisted for far too long. It rose up and urged him to devour her. To eat her up and rip out the throat of anyone who tried to stop him.
He bunched her T-shirt in his fists and broke the kiss to pull it over her head. The shirt fell from his fingers and she stood before him wearing a white satin bra that pushed her breasts together. It had been so long since he'd seen breasts that he was afr
aid to move. Afraid it would all fade away-like a fantasy.
Kate pulled back just far enough to look into his face. Her heart pounded in her chest and she fought for breath. The light from the corner lit up the little scar on Rob's chin. She didn't need to see his eyes clearly to know they burned with desire. She didn't need to feel the long hard length of his erection pressed against her to know the depth of his need for her. It surrounded them both in hot waves. Pressing in and taking over. Making her ache for his touch. She'd never felt anything like the weight of it. It was like Rob himself. Big. Forceful. Dominating. And this was one of those times when she didn't mind being dominated by something stronger than herself.
She ran her hands up his chest, and she felt a shudder deep within him. She pressed her open mouth to the hollow of his throat just below his Adam's apple. He moaned and she tasted the warm muskiness of him on her tongue. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from the waistband of his pants. Once she had it open, she touched his hard chest and ran her fingers through the hair she found there. The thick, coarse hair of a man on testosterone overload.
The small lightbulb lit up slices of her and pieces of him. Disjointed. Fragments and shadows, and none of it seemed quite real.
In the dark, he stared at her. So intense she could feel his hot gaze, and she raised her hands to cover herself.
He grabbed her wrists and stopped her. "No. Don't. Let me see you." He finally touched her, running his fingers along one edge of her bra, between her cleavage, and up the other side. He unhooked the center, and the cups parted. He pushed the straps down her arms, then his big, masculine hands covered her. His warm palms pressed against her tight nipples and the ache between her legs constricted into a painful knot that only he could satisfy.
The Trouble With Valentine's Day Page 17