Love Around the Corner

by Amanda Weaver

  He bit back a smirk as she did her best to brush aside what just happened.

  “It was no problem. Really. But Gem?”

  She looked back over her shoulder.

  “What?”

  “It turned me on, too.”

  One eyebrow hiked northward. “Excuse me?”

  “The first bite of your food I put in my mouth was almost as good as sex.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a compliment.”

  “I said ‘almost.’” He looked her straight in the eye before she could turn away again. “Because I remember sex with you, Gemma, and it was a thousand times better than any meal, even one of yours.”

  She said nothing for a long moment. Then she straightened and turned her back on him again. “I have to go to work.”

  “Sure.” He backed away. They’d done enough. He’d laid a few seeds for her to chew on. Best to give her some space to do that.

  “Thanks again,” she said, making her voice absolutely neutral, as if the last five minutes had never happened. She wanted him; she just hated herself a little bit for it, which meant he still had some work to do.

  “Anytime.” Leaving, when he could still feel her body against his, when he could still smell her and taste her on his tongue, was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But he wasn’t rushing the fences with this. He wanted Gemma Romano, and she wanted him, too. He was willing to be patient as she got used to that idea.

  “I’ll let myself out.”

  “You do that.”

  “See you around, Gem.”

  He turned and left before she could respond. Retreat was what was called for now, to let her come to terms with that absolutely phenomenal kiss. But he’d be back, he promised himself as he made his way back through the house.

  Spudge was still by the front door, and he bent to rub his bony head. “I’ll see you soon, buddy. Keep my spot warm for me.”

  Spudge groaned in assent and Brendan let himself out the front door, stepping into the crisp March air, the bright, late-winter sunshine, feeling like a king.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hours after it had happened, Gemma still couldn’t quite believe that it had. Not that they’d kissed. That she’d kissed Brendan. There was no sugar-coating it or trying to paint it in a different light. He’d been standing there in front of her, looking like he wanted to kiss her but not making any move to do it. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d grabbed him and laid one on him.

  Maybe she should play it off like it hadn’t happened. Actually, she’d tried that immediately and he’d called her out.

  So...it happened. The only question left to answer—and it was a big one—was whether or not it was going to happen again. Now, without hormones clouding her brain, she had to figure out why she’d done it, and how she felt about it.

  Short answer: amazing.

  That kiss had been...damn. She knew the men she’d been with in the intervening years didn’t measure up to her memories of Brendan, but now that she’d...ahem...tasted the real thing again, they weren’t even on the same scale. It was just a kiss, but it had turned her brain into one of those spinning firecracker things, all bright light and noise and chaos. Imagining what might have happened if they hadn’t stopped...well, that made her nearly weak in the knees.

  But then there was that long answer to consider.

  No matter how wit scrambling his kisses were, he was still Brendan Flaherty. She’d trusted him once before—with her whole heart, with every defense down—and he’d walked away from her. Did she really want to roll those dice again?

  Then again, maybe Kendra was right. Maybe she thought too much, took it all too seriously. Maybe she should just take what he was offering and stop worrying about the rest. He could only break her heart again if she let him get his hands on it. And while she was interested in letting Brendan get his hands on many, many parts of her, her heart wasn’t one of them. Could she do it? Could she act on this almost overwhelming desire and just sleep with him?

  But she was only going to have to figure that one out if and when he showed up again. Because she hadn’t seen him. The night crept on and there’d still been no sign of him. Frank and Dennis were here, of course, and she’d fed them, as she always did. But Brendan hadn’t shown up to join them. As if she needed more reasons to be embarrassed, now she was waiting on pins and needles for his arrival like some obsessed teenager.

  “Gem?”

  She startled and turned to look at her dad. John Romano was staring back at her, one thick dark eyebrow arched in question. “Where were you? I repeated myself twice.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Just daydreaming.”

  “You okay, kid? You don’t seem yourself.”

  “Me?” Her voice was too high, and overly bright. “Sure. Yes. I’m fine.”

  “You sure? You’ve been a little distracted for weeks now. Is there something going on you want to tell me about?”

  Yes, there was something going on, but her internal debate about the wisdom of getting naked with Brendan Flaherty was certainly not a subject she was going to hash over with her father.

  “No, nothing. I’m fine.”

  He watched her for another moment, his kind dark eyes full of a mix of concern and uncertainty. She called it his Dad-without-Mom expression—when he was worried about one of his daughters but didn’t know what to do about it. In the first years after she died, Gemma had imagined those moments were when he missed Mom the most. Lately, since he’d found Teresa, she’d seen less and less of that look. The last thing she wanted was to bring it back on her account.

  “Well, if you’re sure,” he said slowly.

  “I am.”

  “Then the table by the door needs a refill on their pitcher.”

  “Oh. Right.” She was supposed to be tending bar tonight, and instead, she’d spent half the night staring into space.

  For all her keeping one eye on the clock and one eye on the door, when Brendan finally did arrive, she missed him, stuck in the back room switching out a keg. The nut on top had gotten stuck, requiring several sweaty, frustrating minutes with a crescent wrench to wiggle it free.

  As she came back out front, wiping her hands on a bar towel, she heard a laugh. A very familiar laugh.

  There he was, with Dennis and Frank. And talking to her father. The two completely separate spheres of her life had just collided head-on.

  Oh, Jesus, what had he said to Dad? Had he told him he knew her? Did he tell him they’d dated? All of that would be news to Dad. And while she knew he wouldn’t be upset about it, he would ask questions...questions she still didn’t want to answer.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said, stepping up behind them. “Keg’s swapped out.”

  He turned to her with a grin. “Brendan here tells me you two went to high school together.”

  Her eyes shot to his. A small smile was playing around his mouth, but otherwise his expression gave her no clues.

  “Um, yes, high school. Right. How have you been?”

  The half smile turned into a full-blown one, and she was suddenly aware of all the hair that had escaped her ponytail while she was wrestling with the keg, the sheen of sweat on her upper lip, and the dust streaked across her tank top. “Since I saw you this morning?” he teased. “Fine. I’ve been fine.”

  Her mouth fell open as she stared at him. He stared back, clearly enjoying her panic. He was going to just blurt that out? Here? In her bar? In front of Frank and Dennis and her father?

  Yeah, Mr. Romano, this morning in your kitchen, Gemma practically climbed me like a tree.

  Then he shifted his attention to Dad. “I ran into Gemma at the market today,” he explained.

  Oh. That was entirely innocent. And pretty much exactly what happened. Why was she being such a basket case about this?

  “Brendan says you’ve taken
pity on him and started feeding him along with these two strays.” Dad hooked a thumb at Dennis and Frank.

  “Brendan’s figured out it’s the best meal in the neighborhood,” Dennis said, clapping Brendan on the shoulder.

  “Our Gemma is a wonder,” Dad said with pride.

  Brendan looked back at Gemma with a knowing smile. “One taste and I was hooked.”

  And just like that, her whole body was flooded with heat. She was nearly light-headed with it. “Um, I... I’ll get your dinner.” Then she turned and fled back into the back room.

  For the next hour, she steered clear of him, waiting on the tables and letting Dad man the bar. He and Brendan seemed to be getting along swimmingly. Every time she looked over, they were deep in conversation or laughing it up about something.

  Fourteen years ago, her heart would have soared seeing him bond with her father. Now it just added to her confusion. She couldn’t very well jump into some fuck-buddy situation with Brendan when he was friends with her dad. Everything was getting too complicated. He was becoming too tangled up in the rest of her life, when she hadn’t even decided yet what she wanted to do about him. Or with him.

  When the last table of customers departed, she had no choice but to slip back behind the bar. Actually, most of the customers had gone. Just Dennis and Frank. And Brendan.

  “Did you know Brendan’s in business here in the neighborhood now?” Dad asked, tossing his bar towel over his shoulder and leaning his elbow on the bar. “He just bought the DiPaola’s building.”

  “Yeah, I heard that,” she murmured. “I don’t know what we’re going to do without DiPaola’s next door.”

  “Can’t say I blame them. Running a business gets tougher every day around here.”

  “Well, us Romanos are a tough lot.”

  “Sure are. Hey, why don’t you take off early tonight, Gem? I know you’ve got a lot of work to do for your catering job. Run on and I’ll close up.”

  “You sure?” It was already too late to try out any new recipes tonight, but she had a couple of cookbooks she wanted to read through, and another shopping list to make.

  “Sure. I think I can handle tossing these two old reprobates out in the street.”

  Dennis and Frank argued good-naturedly with Dad as Gemma took her time cleaning up and tidying the register area.

  Brendan was still here. Would he leave when she left? Would he want to walk her home again? Would he—

  With a growl of frustration, she slammed the cash register closed. She was behaving like she was sixteen again.

  With forced breeziness, she called out, “Night, Dad... Guys.” Lumping him in with Dennis and Frank seemed safer than singling him out by name.

  As she lifted the pass-through and let herself out from behind the bar, Brendan slid off his bar stool and dropped some bills on the bar. “Think I’m gonna head out, too. Thanks for the beers and the conversation, John.”

  “Anytime. Nice to meet you, Brendan.” Great. They were on a first name basis already. Then Dad turned to her, a slight smile twitching under his mustache. “Stay safe, Gem.”

  Ugh, he knew! He knew Brendan had been hanging around waiting for her. That’s why he was chasing her out early. He was doing his best to throw her together with the only eligible male who’d walked into Romano’s in years. He was worse than Kendra.

  Feeling trapped and annoyed—with Dad, with Brendan, with herself...she didn’t know which bugged her more—she turned and left without a word. Brendan was right on her heels. Outside, the wind had picked up and a wall of clouds hung low in the sky. A storm was brewing.

  “Looks like rain,” he said, falling into step beside her.

  “Probably.”

  “You heading home?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay.”

  “You really don’t need to walk me home,” she said pointedly.

  “My apartment is this way.”

  “It is?”

  “Two blocks from you.”

  “You bought an apartment two blocks from my house?”

  “I’m renting, and it’s what was available when I was looking.”

  “You’re a real estate developer but you don’t own your own place?”

  “Eventually I’ll live in one of my buildings. When they’re built.”

  “Right.”

  He was going to live in one of those sleek, expensive new condos springing up everywhere. Someplace with a doorman and an on-site gym and sweeping views of Manhattan. Just as glossy and perfect as he was now. Except...he wasn’t jetting into Manhattan every night to hang out at some hip craft cocktail place like she would have expected. He was hanging out at Romano’s, talking to Dennis and Frank, getting to know her dad. That didn’t quite line up with the perfect suit and the expensive watch. Whatever. He was just trying to get into her pants. Guys would pretend to be into almost anything if they thought it would get them laid.

  “I like your dad. I’m glad I finally met him.”

  “Fourteen years too late,” she muttered. A sharp gust of wind buffeted them. The air felt charged with electricity.

  “Hey, that was your idea.”

  “Good thing, too. I mean, why bother introducing you to my family when you weren’t sticking around anyway?”

  “Gem, it was complicated,” he said quietly.

  “Seems pretty straightforward to me. There was money to be made, and it wasn’t here in Brooklyn.” They were almost there. Only a few more houses to go and then she could escape. Not that she was running away or anything. She wasn’t afraid of anything Brendan Flaherty could throw at her.

  “You don’t know the whole story.”

  “And I don’t need to. It was fourteen years ago. Ancient history.” They’d reached her house, and her hand was on the front gate to push it open when he spoke again.

  “Didn’t seem so ancient this morning.”

  She froze. Damn.

  “Seemed alive and well this morning.”

  “Listen—” She turned to face him, but he was standing so much closer than she expected that whatever else she was about to say vaporized in her mind. It wasn’t fair, the way his dark eyes turned all sleepy and enticing when he looked down at her, or the way his jawline met the hard, corded column of his neck. She was on social media. She’d seen what was beginning to happen to the other guys she’d gone to high school with. Why wasn’t he morphing into some soft-faced soccer dad like the rest of them?

  No, here he stood, all sexy and fit and even better than before and staring at her like he wanted to eat her up. And—she realized with grim resignation—she wanted to eat him up, too. The streetlights picked out every lingering hint of gold and red in his thick, silky hair as the sharp breeze ruffled it like loving fingers—like she wanted to ruffle it. Her mouth was practically watering for him.

  “Yes, Gem?” His voice was pitched low and rumbling, and it sent an answering tremor through her body that she could feel in her stomach.

  What had she planned to say? Probably something sensible about forgetting this morning ever happened. Except right now, she didn’t want to forget it happened. She kinda wanted it to happen again.

  Was that such a terrible idea? Would that open up a can of worms that had been successfully closed up tight for fourteen years? But maybe that can had already burst open. All she’d done all day was fantasize about him. So maybe Kendra was onto something. Maybe she should just sleep with him again and get it out of her system. What was stopping her? Why shouldn’t she just take what she wanted from him and not worry about the rest? Didn’t she deserve it after all this time? Didn’t he owe her a little no-strings-attached fun?

  He stared down into her face with those chocolate eyes of sin and smiled his sexy smile, and her uterus gave a sudden, urgent pulse, some primal hormonal scream of “I want that now!”

&
nbsp; And then it was like her hormones locked her brain in a closet and took over the operation, because she reached for him, her hand fisting in his nice, crisp blue dress shirt. She didn’t need to yank him forward this time, because he came on his own, his hands leaving his pockets and landing on her hips in the same instant.

  In another instant her lips found his, his opened for her, her tongue swept in and tangled with his, a slick, delicious dance that she felt from her hair to her toes, and along every nerve in between. Brendan made a sound in his throat, a low, sexy growl that was lost in her mouth, and his fingers curled into her hips. Her hand slipped up the hard contours of his chest and over his broad, solid shoulder. Oh yeah, she wanted this. So bad she was nearly shaking with it.

  Hooking her arm behind his neck, she pulled herself to her toes, aligning their bodies in some elemental way that seemed baked into her DNA. One of his hands slid up her back, his fingers tangling in her hair, wrapping around her ponytail. The gentle yet insistent tug sent a rush of molten desire through her and her teeth closed on his bottom lip in response. He nipped back in a dizzying tangle of kisses and licks and bites until all that internal debating about whether or not to fuck him had burnt down into a tiny pile of ash.

  And that was before his hand landed on her breast. The pressure, the stroke of his thumb across her nipple through the thin barriers of her bra and tank top, sent a shiver rocketing through her body and she groaned into his mouth.

  * * *

  “Jesus, Gem,” Brendan muttered against Gemma’s hot, sweet, perfect mouth. He’d had no expectations tonight when he’d started walking her home. Just another chance to get her alone and hopefully chip away a little more at that wall of anger. Making out against her front fence, his hand on her breast, had not at all been on the agenda, but he wasn’t complaining one bit.

  She shoved herself away from him as quickly as she’d grabbed hold of him and he let her go just as fast, even though every inch of his body was screaming to hang on. This was where she was once again going to pretend this hadn’t happened, but he didn’t intend to let her get away with it this time.