by Nina Lane
Evan took a sip. “Not bad. Could use sugar, though.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. For him, of course. Where Evan was concerned, the “perfect blend” always seemed to include sugar. The literal kind, as well as the figurative kind that involved hot kisses and touching.
Warmth swept through her. He was sprawled out on the narrow sofa, his big, muscular body incongruous and yet completely at home against the floral print upholstery.
Hannah sipped her coffee, both annoyed and vaguely impressed by how casual he was now after having kissed her and fingered her to the point that she’d been devoid of all thought and focused on pure sensation. After an evening of Evan’s sizzling glances, her body had been primed and ready to let him take her on that delicious ascent toward release—even standing out there on the old landing with its peeling paint and cobwebs.
She exhaled slowly. Lingering arousal coursed in her blood. She told herself it was a good thing that Evan had stopped her exploration of his bare chest and broken their kiss. Not a good thing for her body¸ which still ached with thwarted lust, but for her sensibilities.
She rose to pour them more coffee. Evan picked up a framed photo from a nearby shelf and looked closely at it. “Is this you?”
Hannah leaned over to look at the photo. She’d never bothered really looking at the photos scattered around the apartment, assuming they were all of Polly, their mother, and Polly’s friends.
A strange, bittersweet feeling rose in her. She was maybe twelve in the photo, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, with both of her arms around a smiling, seven-year-old Polly. Behind them, her parents stood, also smiling, with the buildings and orchards of Twelve Oaks stretching in the background.
“That’s me, Polly, and our parents.”
“Great picture.” Evan set the photo on the table. “You were a cute kid.”
“I’ve never seen that picture before. I don’t even remember who took it.”
“Was that the commune where you grew up?”
“Twelve Oaks,” Hannah said. “I loved it there. But after my father died, my mother moved me and Polly to Rainsville so she could open Wild Child.”
“And you hated it.”
She nodded, seeing no point in denying the truth.
“Is that why you started traveling?” Evan asked.
“Partly.” Hannah ran her thumb over the edge of her mug. “I also had a boyfriend… an older guy in his twenties who’d dropped out of high school. He was a surfer with grandiose dreams of finding the perfect wave. I never told my mother about him… I don’t think she would have told me to break up with him, but she wouldn’t have thought he was appropriate for a seventeen-year-old girl. And he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone because he thought he’d get in trouble being with a minor.
“We had all these plans for traveling the world after I graduated. He wanted to hit all these famous surfing spots, and I just couldn’t wait to leave Rainsville and see as much of the world as I could. Then right before graduation, Andrew was killed in a surfing accident. It was awful. I didn’t even know until three days later when one of his friends told me. I couldn’t go to his funeral because none of his family knew about me. I was really lost for a while before I decided that I still wanted to go away somewhere. Maybe Andrew would have wanted me to. So after graduation, I left Rainsville.”
They were both silent for a moment. Old grief simmered in Hannah. She’d loved Andrew in an intense, puppy-love way, but even more she’d loved the carefree life and freedom he’d promised.
And though the spontaneity of traveling had soon become part of her, she knew her wanderlust stemmed from the fear of loss. Her father. Andrew. Her mother. Maybe even Polly, who’d never had the older sister she deserved.
“I’m sorry,” Evan said. “Tough thing for a young woman to deal with. Is that why you haven’t come back to Rainsville often?”
“Maybe. But I could have come back more.” A flush of shame swept over her. “I used my blog as an excuse.” She picked up her phone from the table and scrolled through it. “I have a travel blog… well, it’s mostly a travel blog but it also deals with love.”
She pulled up the blog on her browser and handed him the phone. “Lock Heart: The Things We Do For Love.”
“Love, huh?” Evan squinted at the screen. “Interesting topic for a woman who doesn’t like sugar.”
Hannah wasn’t all that sure she liked love either, not after several failed attempts at actually experiencing it. She was a reporter, an impartial observer who wrote factually about the world’s love customs while sprinkling her posts with personal descriptions of her travels.
“How long have you been writing?” Evan asked.
“Ten years. I started it mostly as a way to let my mother and Polly know where I was, just a general travel blog. It’s still about the places I visit, but the theme eventually became about love traditions throughout the world.”
“How did that start?” He scrolled through the posts.
“The summer I first left, I visited the Milvio Bridge in Rome where people put locks with their names on it, signifying their love. Turned out the tradition came from an Italian novel about two teenagers who put a padlock on the bridge and threw the key into the Tiber as a symbol of their eternal love.
“The padlocks reminded me of my last name Lockhart, and I was still grieving the loss of Andrew, so I planned my next trip to see other ‘love lock’ bridges in the world.
“As I traveled, I started looking for other romantic traditions, like throwing coins into the Trevi fountain, kissing under the Bridge of Sighs, the Qixi festival in China which celebrates a love story in Chinese mythology. I took pictures and started writing posts about those things. And it became a niche for the blog.”
“That’s quite a story.” He handed her the phone. “You’re probably the only person who can say she travels the world looking for love.”
Hannah smiled wryly. “That’s not what I do. I’m kind of a reporter. I report about love.”
“So tell me which report above love traditions is your favorite.”
“I like an old Welsh custom where young men present their beloved with an elaborately carved wooden spoon as a symbol of their devotion,” Hannah said. “The lovespoons are such works of art. Of course, I also have a soft spot for the padlocks on bridges.”
Evan ran his finger across the tattoo decorating her upper arm. Her breath caught at the light, warm touch.
“When did you get this?” he asked.
“The summer I started traveling.” She looked down at his finger tracing the outline of the compass with the tiny paper airplane right at the north point.
She half expected him to ask her about the airplane. Though she hadn’t ever told anyone about it, she’d probably tell Evan. Just like she’d told him about Andrew, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to give him her secrets.
“You know, I’m only here for a short time,” she heard herself saying. “I agreed to stay until Polly gets back from Paris.”
“I know. Six more months, right?”
Something about his tone of voice hinted at determination, as if he had plans for her, for them, during those six months. A note of apprehension struck her.
“Maybe.” She forced her voice to sound offhanded. “I wish I could leave sooner.”
He glanced at her, faint tension lining his mouth. “Why?”
“Not many people realize that my blog is actually my job,” she said. “I spent years building up a readership before I made even a penny from it. Now I’m able to fund my travels through advertising revenue and partnerships, but if I don’t update with new content regularly, I start to lose traffic, which affects my income. And unfortunately, there isn’t much to write about here. Certainly nothing to include in a blog about love traditions.”
She was almost tempted to tell him about her conversation with Elaine Miller of Franklin Publishing, but then something flickered across his expression that she couldn’t quite
read.
“Is that why you want to leave?” he asked.
Hannah nodded. “First chance I get.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“You can’t leave.”
Hannah welcomed the prickle of irritation at his flat statement, as it mitigated the soft feelings she’d been experiencing all evening. “Why can’t I?”
“If you leave, Polly will come back,” Evan said. “And Luke will come with her. No way can he come back before I’ve finalized the acquisition of Alpine Chocolates and dealt with the Fair Trade Foundation.”
“I thought someone else was doing that.”
“Sam Walker, yeah. But I just found out the foundation might still be involved with a company known for large amounts of deforestation… a company we cut ties with years ago.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means that the Fair Trade Foundation could not only have ethical and financial issues, but it could also end up a PR disaster.” Evan’s mouth compressed. “And it means that if Luke comes back and gets involved, he’ll take over. It was hard enough convincing him I could handle it. I need to fix this by myself.”
Hannah didn’t understand why Luke wouldn’t believe his brother was capable of taking care of Sugar Rush. But she didn’t ask because it wasn’t her business, and she didn’t want another avenue into knowing more about Evan Stone.
He turned toward her, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. “We can help each other here, Lockhart.”
“With what?”
“We have three dates from the auction,” Evan said. “Two nights in Napa, a boat trip on the bay, and a date of our choice. You agree to go on those three dates with me, and I’ll prove to you that you don’t need to travel the world to report about love. There are plenty of romantic things right in your own backyard.”
Hannah eyed him skeptically. “What if you fail?”
“I won’t.”
“That confident, are you?”
“I’ve lived in the Bay Area my whole life.” Evan leaned forward, his blue eyes gleaming. “I’ve also had a lot of girlfriends. Believe me when I tell you I know how to bring the romance in these here parts.”
Hannah smiled, though she did not love the idea of Evan taking her places where he’d already taken “a lot” of other women.
“You’re not obligated to take me anywhere,” she reminded him. “You paid for the bid. You can take anyone you want.”
“I want you.”
The phrase rumbled over Hannah’s skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She tried to ignore the feeling, to muster up some irritation over his charm. Unfortunately, being irritated with Evan Stone was like turning down a second helping of steamed mussels at a Prince Edward Island fish shack. You couldn’t do it.
“I need you to stay in town,” Evan said.
“So I just have to go on three more dates with you?”
“To start with,” he allowed. “But there are plenty of other places I can show you. Enough to fill a book about The Things We Do For Love. Maybe even an encyclopedia.”
A shiver trickled down Hannah’s spine. She suspected all those alleged girlfriends would do many things for Evan Stone’s love.
And she certainly needed enough content for a book. Maybe letting Evan show her the romance of the Bay Area would inspire her with an idea for her revised manuscript.
But she couldn’t let it turn into a real romance. She couldn’t let him kiss her and touch her the way he had at the auction and on the landing. Given her uncontrollable response to him, he’d have her naked and spreading her legs before they even got to the second date. He’d have her feeling things for him that she couldn’t afford to feel.
Not even for $8.56.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “But we need to set some ground rules. This can’t be the start of an affair.”
Evan winced. “So much for showing you the mechanical bed at the Love Hurtz Motel.”
Hannah smothered a chuckle. “I’m serious. It’s not a good idea.”
“You forget.” He leaned forward, fixing his gaze on hers. “Less than an hour ago, I slid my hand between your legs and felt how wet you were from one kiss. No way you can tell me fucking wouldn’t be a goddamned brilliant idea.”
Heat flared in her chest. “I mean… with you being Luke’s brother, and me only here for a few more months…”
“This isn’t about Luke or Polly, or about you leaving,” Evan said, still holding her captive in that blue spell. “It’s about you denying what you want because you’re still blaming yourself for hating Rainsville and not being here for your family.”
Hannah’s chest constricted. “Are you trying to guilt me into having a fling with you?”
“No. But I won’t let you say it’s because of Luke or because you’re only here for a few months. I’m not looking for a relationship. I like you, and if you want to have a good time while you’re here, I’m all in. It’s as simple as that.”
Except that it wasn’t. Because she was already feeling all sorts of warm, squishy things for Evan that she’d never felt for another man before, and if she were to mix that up with what would surely be mind-blowing, explosive sex… well, that would result in more complications than she could handle.
She couldn’t even bring herself to go out for drinks with Polly’s friends for fear of establishing ties here. How could she have an affair with this mouth-watering, hunky male who kissed her as if she were the only woman in the world… and then leave?
“But if you think that’s all I want, I’ll prove you wrong,” Evan said. “I won’t touch you all weekend.”
She ignored a flash of disappointment. “And you still think you can bring the romance without sex?”
“Is that a challenge?” He narrowed his eyes. “I can bring it, baby. I’m full of romance.”
“You’re full of something,” Hannah muttered.
“I’ll keep it platonic.” Evan crossed his finger over his chest. “But just so you know, you’re welcome to break the rules.”
Hannah scoffed, although breaking the “no-sex rule” with Evan would be as easy as slipping thread from a needle.
“No sex,” she said. “And no bringing me to places you’ve brought a dozen other women.”
Satisfaction glinted in his expression. He turned his attention back to his coffee.
“Get ready, Sahnehäubchen,” he said.
“For what?” And what the hell did Sahne-whatever mean, anyway?
“Evan Stone’s Operation Romance.” He shot her a smoldering glance. “It’s irresistible.”
That was exactly the problem. How could she resist the irresistible?
Chapter
ELEVEN
Hannah expected to have to make plans and arrangements. She thought she’d have to revise the Wild Child work schedule, complete a bunch of paperwork, and get everything in order.
Instead, when she told Ramona that she was going away for two nights with Evan Stone, the other woman waved her hand and said, “Go, go.”
“But I have to figure out the schedule.”
“Go,” Ramona insisted. “I’ve got things covered here.”
“What about the special orders?”
“Sophie’s taking care of them.”
“You’re sure it’s okay if I leave?”
“More than sure.” Ramona peered at her knowingly. “And I won’t tell Polly you’re taking a trip.”
The guilt fairy cackled in Hannah’s ear. She winced.
“I shouldn’t go,” she said.
“Hannah, you haven’t missed a single day’s work in three months,” Ramona reminded her. “You’re entitled to a couple of days off. And it’s Napa, not Tibet. You can be back home in three hours, if needed.”
That was true, even if Rainsville wasn’t home.
So instead of making arrangements for Wild Child, Hannah made them with Evan, who told her to be ready at four on Friday afternoon. She packed
her backpack and travel bag with routine efficiency, but her jitters reminded her there was nothing routine about going away with Evan Stone. Or any man, for that matter.
She’d traveled with men before, but she’d never been whisked away on a romantic weekend trip whose sole purpose had been designed as a “get to know you” date. And though they’d established the terms of this weekend, there was no pretending she didn’t want to know Evan Stone on much more intimate level.
She closed her backpack and did another quick check of herself in the mirror—black cropped pants, a navy blue tunic (which she tried to convince herself was not for Evan’s benefit), and black flats.
Through the window, she saw his SUV pull up in front of the bakery. Despite her nervousness, a familiar and welcome anticipation rose inside her at the thought of getting on the road again, even if it was only a few hours north.
She grabbed her bags and went downstairs, rounding the side of the building as he approached. Sparks lit inside her at the sight of him—tall and handsome in worn jeans that hugged his long legs and a forest-green button-down shirt.
“Hey.” He reached out to take her bags, his gaze moving over her appreciatively. “I was going to come up and help you with your stuff.”
“That’s all I have.” Hannah indicated her bag and backpack.
“Really? Most women would bring a massive suitcase.”
“I’m not most women.”
“Just one of the many reasons I added you to my list.” He put her bag in the back of the SUV and opened the passenger side door for her.
“What list?”
“The list of things I like.”
The spark turned into an outright glow. “Do I fall between Christmas Eve and steak?”
“You’re tied with sex right now.” He grinned and strode around to the driver’s seat. “Maybe even a cut above.”
“Be still my beating heart.”
Not that her heart bothered to listen. Instead, as Evan settled beside her and started the car, it pattered in a quick, happy rhythm, like an eager puppy scrambling across a hardwood floor.
They started out of Rainsville, and the months-long tightness in her chest eased. She was heading toward a place she’d never been before, which, ironically, had always been the only thing that made her feel at home.