Reaching down, she started to pull off his sweatshirt. He sat up and finished the job, dropping it on the floor.
Outside, they could hear the wind howl across the marsh, driving the rain to lash against the cottage windows as he stared down at her.
His skin glowed warm, golden brown in the low light from the flames. Everything about him struck her as beautiful—the way his hair fell over his forehead, the fathomless depths of his eyes, the firm line of his sensual lips—the combination was lethal. Charlie didn’t think she’d ever forget the way he looked in that moment—or how much she wanted him to make love to her.
Stretching out beside her again, Cooper began to undress her slowly, giving every inch he uncovered the attention of a master sommelier savoring an exquisite bottle of wine.
Whispered words she didn’t understand but didn’t need to, passionate lips and hungry hands that explored, cherished, pleasured, and stoked her desire combined to incite her passion on a one-way road with no turning back.
Slipping one arm under her knees and the other around her back, Cooper rose to his knees, lifting her with him, and cradled her against his chest as he stood up.
“What are you doing?” Charlie asked.
“I’m taking you into the bedroom. If I am going to make love to you, I don’t want our first time together to be on a hard floor, not when there’s a soft bed in the next room.”
She agreed with his logic, and they’d probably both feel a lot better in the morning than if they’d been rolling around on the wooden floorboards.
“You don’t have to carry me.” She ran a hand through his hair, a caress.
“I know, but I like the way you feel against me, so unless it offends you I’ll just keep you right here in my arms.”
“Carry on, then,” Charlie said, and got a well-deserved moan from him at her lame joke.
When they were beside the bed, Cooper set her on her feet and pulled the covers down. Turning, he reached for her and pulled her against him, holding her close, skin to skin, and stroked his hands up and down her back.
He kissed the top of her head, then her ear. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure, but thanks for checking.” Charlie leaned her head back so she could look at him. “Are you?”
Cooper put one knee on the bed and lowered her onto the mattress. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life.”
Charlie figured there were probably a lot of things he’d wanted more in his life, but she wouldn’t think about that right now. His words were a nice sentiment, and she appreciated his romantic nature. She would think of nothing but the moment, and how wonderful he was making her feel, and enjoy it.
Her skin burned where he trailed his lips. The flick of his tongue in the hollow at the base of her neck made her shiver. He moved lower, lavishing her breasts with kisses, molding them in his hands as if he were memorizing them, and then taking her nipples into his mouth, one then the other, relishing each with equal justice, until she didn’t know how much more she could bear before demanding that he satisfy the aching need he’d created.
He replaced his mouth with his fingers, rolling and tugging her hardened, sensitive nipples, allowing her no relief from the exquisite torture, and came back up to capture her mouth.
Charlie moaned, drowning in a pool of desire as he drove her even higher, higher than she could have imagined possible.
“Do you want me now, cara mia?” he murmured, and she could feel the physical proof of his own desire pressing hard and hot against her thigh. She wasn’t the only one suffering here.
“Yes,” she managed breathlessly, barely, and wanted to weep in relief when he rose up and positioned himself above her.
“Open for me, Charlie,” he said, and as she wrapped her legs around him, he drove into her in one swift plunge.
The pleasure he gave her was more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. He left not an inch untouched, unloved, his body against hers, his hands, his mouth, enveloping her in a sensory cocoon where nothing existed but the two of them.
She peaked, the intensity shattering her. He followed, his moan coating the air with pleasure. He lowered himself beside her, his breath coming out in short bursts, his arm like a dead weight across her stomach.
“You still with me?” she asked, her own breathing still a little rapid.
“Ungh.”
Charlie chuckled. “I’m not sure if that’s a yes or no. Can you wiggle your fingers or something to let me know you’re okay?”
She felt his index finger move a fraction of an inch on her belly, and smiled.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered softly. May some of them be of me.
CHARLIE WOKE slowly, not ready to give up on sleep. She burrowed her head against a fleshy pillow and then opened one of her eyes, disoriented.
Bare skin. Cooper. Last night.
She angled her head back and opened the other eye. He was still out. His soft snores told her he was sleeping soundly. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of him, the comfort of him lying next to her in her bed.
She was in no hurry to get up, and since it was Sunday and Finger Cakes was closed until Tuesday, she didn’t have to.
Cooper slept for about another hour. When he woke, he woke fully, not like her, who needed to ease into waking. He pulled her on top of him and kissed her.
“What a beautiful morning,” he said, grinning up at her.
“It’s gray and raining, and I don’t think it’s going to let up anytime soon.”
“It doesn’t matter what the weather, you make it beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes, even though her heart gave a little flutter. He’d told her he liked romance, credited his Italian heritage, so let him play at romance if he enjoyed it. No reason to make a big deal out of it.
“Want some breakfast?” She was starving. They’d probably burned about five thousand calories last night, maybe more.
“I’m famished. Do you have eggs?”
“Eggs, yes, and some bacon.”
“Good. I’ll help you make it. If you have cheese, we can do omelets.”
They worked well together. Cooper fried bacon while Charlie grated some cheese and beat the eggs. She added in a little water to lighten the mix, and a few herbs for flavor.
They ate at the island, taking their time, chatting over omelets and coffee, content to let the storms hold the rest of the world at bay.
After they cleaned up the dishes, they cleaned up themselves. Charlie showered first, and then straightened up the bedroom while Cooper took his.
In the afternoon, they played Monopoly, one of the board games Mary had stocked in the cottage for guests. The game seemed to go on forever, with no clear winner, and they finally called it a draw.
Mary called late in the afternoon. She said she’d seen Cooper’s car parked outside the cottage. She’d made fresh rolls and a large pot of chili, and did they want to come to the Inn for dinner?
Afterward, they’d done the dash back to the cottage, shaking themselves off like wet dogs when they got inside.
And here they were again, sitting on the floor in front of a fire sharing a glass of wine.
Cooper tapped his glass to hers. “Salute!”
“Cheers,” she said, taking a sip as their eyes met over the rim of their glasses.
“I hate to think of you driving home tonight in the storm.”
She stretched out beside him, propping herself up on her elbow, and he followed suit.
“Do you have another option?”
Charlie grinned. Cooper licked his lips and leaned toward her.
She loved the rain.
She hated the rain. It hadn’t let up since Saturday afternoon, and after three days she was so over it!
Charlie reached across to the passenger side of the new, used Honda she’d bought the week before and pulled out the plastic grocery bag she’d stuffed into the side pocket of her purse to tie over her hair.
&n
bsp; She slipped on her raincoat and then collected her purse, lunch bag, and the pitiful excuse of an umbrella she’d gotten off the clearance table at the drugstore for two bucks, into her arms and then pushed the car door open with her foot.
The wind was being a bitch. It pushed back, blowing the door hard against her leg. “I’m not in the mood, Mariah,” she grumbled, remembering how her mother used to sing the song about Mariah being the wind whenever a storm would kick up.
Charlie leaned against the door. She managed to muscle it open with her shoulder and get out of the car before another gust slammed it shut beside her.
The plastic bag intended to keep her hair dry enough that it wouldn’t mutate into a jungle of gnarled, frizzled curls, took on a life of its own. It filled, deflated, and snapped against her head like a delirious sail that had come free of its cleat and now whipped around erratically in the wind.
It took a little effort, but she managed to get the umbrella open without dropping anything. It promptly turned inside out. The flimsy material ripped away from two of the prongs and flapped about, flicking water in her face as it, too, conspired against her.
Charlie tossed the liability into one of the black metal waste receptacles on the side of the street and started jogging toward the store.
Water spilled down her face as the grocery bag billowed forward only to plaster itself to her forehead and cheeks a moment later. With a growl, she tore it off and jammed it under her armpit, clamping her arm against her side to hold it there until she could throw it away.
Heavy, wet curls hung down in front of her eyes, intent, it seemed, on blinding her. No matter how many times she tried to push them back off her forehead, they fell right back to bounce around like happy little springs, oblivious to her darkening mood.
Enjoy your freedom while you can, guys. As soon as we get inside, I’ve got a gum band in my purse with your name on it.
She probably could have stayed home today instead of slogging into town to open up. No one was going to be so desperate for a cupcake they’d venture out in this mess.
Her prediction came true, and mid-morning Charlie sat sipping a cup of coffee at one of the small tables that had hosted a nonstop stream of customers the week before, but which now stood as empty as an osprey nest in January.
She’d iced thirty-six cupcakes when she first got in, six of six different flavors, just in case, but chances were she’d end up having to freeze them. If she was lucky, maybe someone from one of the other shops who’d opened for the day would brave the weather for a cup of coffee or a sugar fix.
With no customers to keep her busy, and her freezers already filled with cupcakes, Charlie didn’t know what to do with herself. She stared out past the large front windows where the rain thrashed relentlessly against the day, her mind free to wander.
Was Cooper in town? She glanced to the right, imagined him sitting in his office on the other side of the common wall that ran between their two buildings.
He might not have bothered coming in with the storm. In his line of work, he didn’t necessarily have to unless he had an appointment or he was taking a turn covering the office phones. He might have, though, and was there, not more than twenty or thirty feet away from where she sat thinking about him.
Charlie smiled, feeling warm and content and a little wicked for her thoughts. He was an unplanned for element in her life right now. She might be making a mistake getting involved with a man so soon after—
She took a sip of her coffee and then closed her eyes, cutting off the thought. She enjoyed spending time with Cooper. He didn’t push…he didn’t pressure. It surprised her just how well they got along considering their questionable start, maybe because neither of them had any expectations. They only had one ground rule: they would keep things uncomplicated. Maybe they really could be friends with benefits—and she did like the benefits.
Getting up from the table, she ambled up to the front of the store, stopping to refill her cup at the coffee bar on the way. The rain drummed against the metal awning which, with the wind blowing straight out of the north, offered little shelter to the rare pedestrian she’d glimpsed rushing past on the sidewalk that morning.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, she sipped her coffee as she looked outside. In the gift shop across the street, someone had strung tiny white lights to frame the windows. They lent a welcoming touch of warmth to the otherwise dreary day.
Looking farther up Main Street, she spotted a single pair of headlights halfway down the block. Charlie watched the car crawl up the street. It seemed to stop every few feet, then move forward a few feet and slow to a stop again before continuing.
She squinted through the rain-splattered glass, trying to zero in and get a better view, sure she’d see some poor, elderly person at the wheel who had ventured out in the storm because they needed a loaf of bread, or bananas, or because they always had breakfast at Mosey’s on Tuesday.
I hope it’s not an old person. I hope they’re not frightened, or confused, or wondering what they should do now that they’re out in this mess.
As the car drew closer she was able to make out a man behind the wheel. She angled her head, took in the shiny black body of the car, gleaming, even in the rain, sleek, big, expensive—familiar.
An uneasy feeling settled in her gut, and her heart stopped beating for a moment before picking up speed. Her breath came faster as the car trolled up the street. Charlie backed away from the window, moving in the direction of the shelves on the common wall that adjoined with Cooper’s building and held an assortment of dainty tea cups, hand-painted coffee mugs, and a collection of whimsical cookbooks.
She plastered herself against the shelves, out of sight from the street as she watched…waited…dreaded. The car came into view and then stopped again, right in front of her shop. She could see the driver lean toward the side window and peer out, scanning the storefronts before focusing on hers.
Charlie swallowed back the lump of foreboding clawing up her throat. Her hands began to shake, and she gripped the edge of the shelves behind her to steady them as one paralyzing thought seized her—Phillip had found her.
AS THE car began to move away, Charlie rushed back toward the front door and locked it with fumbling fingers. Flicking off the store lights, she hurried into the kitchen where she couldn’t be seen by anyone looking in through the store windows, and closed the door.
How? She paced around the work island, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. How had Phillip found her?
He knew little to nothing about her life before him. They’d never talked about her, where she’d come from, what she liked, didn’t like, cared about. At one time she would have welcomed the merest scrap of interest from him in her life, her dreams. But that was before she discovered the only person Phillip cared about—would ever care about—was Phillip.
Had he hired someone to find her?
She continued to pace, worried her teeth around her thumb nail, walked over and checked the lock on the back exit door for the second time.
Did he know this was her store or had he just been checking out the town? Her heart started to race again. He knew. Gut deep she was sure of it. Somehow he’d found out where she was—it didn’t matter how at this point—and he’d come looking for her. Why, after almost three months, would a man who didn’t love her bother?
If he loved her, she might think he came to try and woo her back. But he didn’t; he’d never loved her. She’d never been more than a possession, one he constantly seemed disappointed in, no matter how hard she’d tried to please him.
Charlie worried her fingers through her hair, massaging her temples to try and ease the tension building there.
God! How had she ever been one of those women—needy, dependent, a shell of the person she’d been until she no longer knew who she was? Her, the girl who’d always been so confident and self-assured, the one voted most likely to succeed by her graduating class.
At least Phillip hadn’t man
aged to destroy her soul completely, only send it into hiding. She’d found it, though, maybe not as soon as she should have, but she had found it.
Thankfully a part of her had refused to surrender, had held on, curled up in the shadows of what had become her life, broken but not beaten. Fighting to survive, that part of her had reached out, pleaded with her not to let it die, and when she finally heard it, she’d sat down on the floor in the middle of the luxurious penthouse she’d shared with Phillip for almost a year, and she’d cried—sobbed until she threw up.
With what self-possession she had left she’d latched on to it, the only remaining piece of who she’d been—and it became the lifeline that helped her sever his control.
Charlie straightened, closed her eyes and drew in a slow, lung-filling breath, and then blew it out through her mouth. What was she doing back here cowering, hiding like a frightened child?
She stopped pacing, drew in a deep breath, pushed away the past to focus on the now.
Truth: Phillip was a manipulator, a bully hiding behind a mask of charm. He’d fooled her completely—she’d been too young and trusting, more naïve than she’d realized—but she knew him for what he really was now. He had no power over her anymore.
It didn’t stop her heart from pounding. Some of it was old fear, knee-jerk, but she was stronger than when she’d been with him, strong enough to stand up to him if she had to…and she would.
If he’d followed her here, he had a reason—a self-serving one. Whatever the reason, nothing he could say or do could touch her anymore, not unless she let it, and she’d come too far to allow him any influence over her life again.
Gathering her courage, Charlie went back out into the storefront and unlocked the front door. Phillip had come to Glebe Point. She would need to deal with him sooner or later. She might as well get it over with and then hopefully be free of him once and for all.
THE DRUMROLL of rain continued to beat with relentless persistence against the awning over her front door, the metallic echo heightening the turbulent cadence of her nerves.
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