by LuAnn McLane
“What are you doing?” Oh damn he smelled good.
“This.” He dipped his head, gave her a tender, sweet kiss that had her fisting her hands in his shirt. His lips were warm, firm, and when his tongue lightly danced with hers, Betsy clung on for dear life. She was drowning in the kiss, melting against him like saltwater taffy on a hot summer day.
Betsy rose up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. She delved her fingers in his hair and nearly groaned. He deepened the kiss and she felt as if she were floating … Oh wait, John was carrying her somewhere. She wanted to ask what he was doing but that would require removing her mouth from his and so she refrained. He carried her over to the stainless steel table and for a second she thought he was going to do one of those steamy swiping everything off of the table moves and then push her down to make wild love to her …
And then she came to her senses—well, a little bit anyway. “What are you doing?” she mumbled against his lips, wanting to keep some contact.
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.”
“John …” she began, but he put a gentle fingertip to her lips.
“There aren’t any chairs in here and I wanted to feed you something amazing,” he said in a soft, sexy voice. “Well, I hope you think it’s amazing, anyway. Give me your honest opinion.”
“Okay,” she said, still clinging to the making-wild-love fantasy just a bit.
“Close your eyes.”
“Is this some kind of test to see if I trust you?”
“No, but I hope you do.”
“I’m not a fan of having food put in my mouth before I look at it first.”
“Please?”
Betsy was about to refuse but when he smiled she was a goner. “Okay … but remember that snapping you like a twig thing.”
“I won’t forget. Okay, now close your eyes and don’t peek.”
“All right.” Betsy sighed but then crossed her arms and obeyed. She could hear him puttering around and wanted to open her eyes but she’d sort of promised. She could not believe she was actually doing this. Susan must be wondering what in the world had happened to her. Actually, it was Susan’s damned fault she was sitting in John Clark’s kitchen … well, in a roundabout way, but still. “What if you have customers out there?”
“I didn’t hear the bell ding.”
“You were preoccupied.”
“Do you always talk this much?”
“Yes.” She could hear him walk closer and her body responded with a hot tingle that zinged all the way to her toes.
“Open wide,” he requested in a low, sensual voice.
Was this really happening? Betsy nodded and tried to calm her racing heart. This was like some forbidden dream she shouldn’t be having, but if she suddenly woke up she was going to be royally pissed. She opened her mouth and felt a spoon pass her lips. Sweet, cold cream touched her tongue followed by silky smooth, dark chocolate. She couldn’t hold back a moan. She rolled the flavor around in her mouth and then like an eager little bird, she opened for more.
“You like it?”
“Mmmmmm …” She nodded slowly and licked her bottom lip.
“Having your eyes closed makes you focus on the taste and texture. It’s rich chocolate mousse.”
“It’s a party in my mouth. My taste buds are doing a happy dance.”
“I wasn’t sure I had dessert making skills in me but once I got started I couldn’t stop.”
“Well you do, so don’t even think about stopping.”
“I won’t.” John laughed. “More?”
Betsy licked her bottom lip and nodded. “Keep the chocolate mousse train rolling down the track.”
“Your wish is my command.”
8
Sweet Sensation
John didn’t know that he could be so amused and so turned on at the same time but he sure as hell liked it. Being this spontaneous was out of character for him and his heart thudded but he was pretty sure he was pulling this flirtation off with flying colors. Still, he spooned another generous bite of velvety chocolate into Betsy’s mouth and was rewarded with a groan that make him think of other delicious ways to give pleasure. “More?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
Laughing, John dipped the spoon into the chocolate mousse, making sure to get some of the whipped cream. He took a bite for himself. “You’re right, this is amazing.”
“You didn’t try it already?”
“No.”
“So I was your guinea pig?”
“Yes, do you mind?”
“No, I am hereby offering my services as your official taste tester. I will work for desserts.”
“Good, you’re officially on my payroll.” John smiled and gave her another silky bite. For a long time, his life had felt like the aftermath of a tornado and he’d been focused on picking through the rubble left behind. But after coming back to Cricket Creek, he’d started reconnecting to his roots and reexamining the meaning of his life. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this relaxed.
“Good.”
With a chuckle he gave Betsy another spoonful and studied her pretty face. Her auburn hair was windblown and her makeup was minimal, giving her a natural, fresh look that he found appealing. Her delicate bone structure defied her feisty nature and she had a full, cupid’s bow mouth simply begging to be kissed again … and again. She had light lines around her eyes and a freckle here and there, and he wanted to kiss each one of them.
John found her completely enticing. In fact, he wanted to kiss her again right this minute. Funny—John wasn’t usually a spur of the moment kind of guy. He usually thought things through before acting but this living in the moment thing felt like being set free. He was kind of floored that Betsy actually came back into the kitchen with him, not that he was complaining.
“Are you going to keep me waiting?”
“Anticipation is half of the fun,” he said and gave her another bite, including a generous dollop of whipped cream.
“This is just so good.”
“I value your opinion.” John smiled, but he also knew Betsy didn’t want to be attracted to him and he understood why she might be hesitant. She’d probably regret the kiss and this little taste test later, but John wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. He’d take it slow but he wanted to get to know Betsy Brock. When she licked a bit of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth he inhaled a deep breath. Good God. Going slow wasn’t going to be easy.
“Are you going to make me beg for more?”
John laughed, realized he was holding the spoon in his hand while he stared at her mouth. “What if I said yes?”
“Oh John, pul-ease give me more …” She drew out the word and folded her hands in prayer.
John scooped up more mousse but halted when he heard someone clearing their throat.
“Um, am I interrupting something?”
John looked over at Stephanie. “We, uh, I, uh, asked Betsy to give the mousse a try for me.”
Betsy’s eyes opened wide and she looked as if she’d just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Oh!” She tried to wiggle from the table and slid, landing on the floor off balance. She stumbled forward and fell into John’s arms.
“Right.” Stephanie grinned and jammed her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll just go out and refill the condiments.” She turned on her heel. “Let me know when the coast is clear.”
Betsy covered her face with her hands. “Is there no end to the ways I manage to embarrass myself?”
John wasn’t sure if she was joking or serious. “Betsy …” he began, but she looked through her fingers and took a step backward. Her cheeks were as red as a beefsteak tomato.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I know I can’t blame the eggnog this time but this was a mistake.”
“Why?” John wanted to take a step closer but refrained. She looke
d ready to bolt. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“I know, but …”
“But what?”
She looked at him with troubled eyes. “Oh come on, we’re from two different worlds.”
“We’re both from Cricket Creek, Kentucky.”
“Oh John …” Betsy shook her head. “You know what I mean. You’re smart and highly educated. You probably get most of the answers right on Jeopardy.”
John shrugged. “Oh …”
“Do you?”
“Okay, I’m a nerd. My parents were professors. Believe me, I would love to be able to hit a baseball as well as I know ancient history.”
“What do we have in common?”
“It’s clear that we’re attracted to each other.”
Betsy swallowed hard and gave him a long, measuring look. John’s heart pounded with hope but she finally shook her head. “That’s not nearly enough.”
“It’s a good start,” John said quietly, but he could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t buying it.
“Susan must be wondering if I got lost. I need to get back to the shop.”
John nodded, wondering what he could say to change her mind. He decided to get straight to the point. “I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime soon.”
“No.”
“Give me a valid reason why not.”
Betsy raised her hands skyward. “I already did.”
John watched her go pick up her jacket and hurry out the door. He stood there feeling rejected but then grinned when he noticed that she’d forgotten her knitted scarf. Good, he had a reason to pay her a visit. He wasn’t about to give up on Betsy Brock without a fight. He put the scarf up to his nose and inhaled the light floral scent. Rachel had been fond of expensive perfumes, but he found this much more enticing.
A moment later Stephanie walked in.
“Are you going to sleep with that scarf tonight?”
“No, that would be weird,” he said, but she shrugged. “Wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. I dated a guy in college I was really into and he left his sweater behind one night. I slept with it for days.” She gave him a dreamy smile as if remembering him. “Peter Foster.”
“The one that got away?”
“Maybe.” She sighed. “Hey, I’m really sorry I … interrupted. I didn’t mean to chase Betsy away. She ran out of here like the hounds of hell were after her.”
John shoved his fingers through his hair. “Guess I messed that up.”
“Hey, you know she’s into you, right? Betsy gets all flustered every time she sees you.”
John nodded. “Yeah, but she’s fighting it tooth and nail.”
Stephanie pulled a package of napkins from the supply closet. “I know what she’s thinking. She’s a small town girl and you’re a big shot.”
“More like I’m a big screwup.” John blew out a short laugh. “Thought I needed to leave Cricket Creek to prove something. Then I married a younger woman totally wrong for me, which messed up her life too. I worked constantly and lost myself along the way.”
Stephanie walked over and gave him a fist bump. “Welcome to the club. I thought I had something to prove too. I was probably a lot like your ex-wife. Married a handsome, powerful, older man.” She frowned. “He treated me like a possession and not a person.”
“I didn’t do that to Rachel.” John scrubbed a hand down his face. Or did he?
“Hey, we screwed up. I should have known better.”
“Me too.”
“You got it right. We got lost along the way. But now we need to find ourselves back.”
John smiled. “You’ve got the right attitude.”
“I’ve read a ton of self-help books. Like, every book in the self-help section. I know hundreds of inspiring words of wisdom.”
“Is it working?”
“A little.” Stephanie’s smile held a hint of sadness. “I was shallow and self-absorbed and got exactly what I deserved from James Clayborn.”
“And what was that?”
“Nothing. Not one thing.” She raised her palms upward. “His prenup was ironclad.”
“I thought you said you were in interior design.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “I pretended to work in the office of his furniture store. I basically flitted around doing a whole lot of nothing.”
“You have a college degree. It was on your resume.”
“In fine arts.” She shrugged. “Oh John, I coasted through life without a care in the world. Everything came easy: grades, friends, sports …” She arched an eyebrow. “Boyfriends,” she said, and the look on her face made John wonder if she was referring to one in particular. “I never learned to appreciate what I had.”
“So how did you meet your ex-husband?”
“I met James in Lexington while I sold furniture at his store. I’d just graduated from the University of Kentucky and couldn’t land a job with my general degree. John swept me off my feet and then pulled the rug out from under me. But in the end it was my own damned fault.”
“So now what?”
“Good question.” She tilted her head sideways. “I’ve been humbled. I’ve gone from a six-bedroom home to an efficiency apartment.”
“What about your family?”
“My parents were opposed to the marriage from the beginning, so I’ve got no sympathy there.” She made a zero with her thumb and index finger. “Nor do I want it,” she added, but a shadow crossed her face, making John wonder if she was being totally honest. “I turned my back on a lot of people who mattered for a lot of stupid things that didn’t matter one bit.”
“I get that too. Lucky for you that you figured it out way sooner than I did.”
“You’re giving me too much credit. I was a starter wife. Apparently thirty is the cutoff age for James Clayborn or I would likely still be married. I thought the man adored me, even though he paid very little attention to me. I had myself convinced that I was happy living that hollow, shallow existence. I was so stupid.”
“What an ass,” John couldn’t help saying.
“Yeah well, live and learn. But enough about me. Let’s get back to you.”
“Okay,” John agreed, even though he didn’t particularly want to.
“What are you going to do about Betsy?”
“You get straight to the point, don’t you?”
“Part of the self-help program.”
John looked down at the cup of chocolate mousse. “I’m not a man to give up easily.”
“There’s the spirit. Now all you need is a plan.”
“A plan? I don’t know much about wooing a woman.”
“I walked in on you feeding Betsy chocolate mousse from a spoon. I’d say you’re a natural in the wooing department.”
“Really?”
“Uh … yeah.”
“Well, I didn’t have to woo Rachel. She saw what she wanted and took it. So, what do you suggest?”
“Well, for starters you need to train me to do more of the management around here and work less hours.” She tapped her chest. “I’m capable.”
“I believe you.”
“And of course that would require a raise.”
“Did you plan to lead to this?”
“Self-help books.” Stephanie snapped her fingers. “Worked like a charm.”
“I think you should write one.”
“Excellent idea. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you to give me more responsibility. When spring hits, Main Street will be packed. And then when baseball season begins, we’ll be swamped. It’s bad enough now during the holidays, but when people want to eat in the park we’ll be busy constantly.”
“I found that out last year,” John agreed. “But it was my first summer and now I have a regular clientele along with tourists.”
Stephanie nodded. “See, you need me.”
“I got the impression this was only a temporary job for you.”
“To be honest, I thought
so too, but if you’re willing to give me a chance perhaps my thinking will change. Give me a shot and let’s see what happens. What do you say?”
“Okay, deal. But you also have to give me advice on wooing Betsy. You know, girl things.”
“No problem, boss.” The bell over the door dinged. “Looks like we have a customer,” she said and hurried out to the counter.
John thought over what Stephanie said while he waited for the order to be placed. She was smart and capable. He was also considering opening up another deli in Restaurant Row, a great location overlooking the Ohio River just outside of town. He smiled, thinking that in the past couple of days his life had gotten a whole lot more interesting.
And hopefully would only get better.
9
Stuck on You
Susan rang up her customer and then walked over and turned over the sign on the front door indicating she’d be back in thirty minutes. She liked having lunch with Betsy and it gave them time to chat and brainstorm ideas. After stopping to straighten up a messy display, she headed to the break room. But instead of eating, Betsy was sitting completely still with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Something wrong?” Susan asked.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Oh.” Betsy had a knack for being dramatic but by the look on her face, something had really upset her. “Is Aubrey okay?”
“Yeah, just cramming for finals. She’ll be home next week and will be on break for nearly three weeks. I can’t wait.”
“Then why so glum?” Susan asked as she sat down. She opened the bag and pulled out a sandwich. She unwrapped it. “Wow, it’s not like John to get an order wrong.”
“He didn’t.”
“Oh, you forgot what I wanted? No big deal. This looks really good and I’m hungry.”
“No.” Betsy shook her head slowly.
“You thought I might want this instead?”
“No. I panicked, okay?”
“Panicked? Oh … the sneeze!” Susan leaned forward, making the giant Christmas tree on her fringed sweater jingle and blink.
“How does that sweater even do that?” Betsy asked.