One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  “It took some very long nights of trial and error, and more money than I’d like to own up to before I got it right.” He looked at her, the blush gone and pride pushing his shoulders back. “But I designed it.”

  She laid her hand over his arm, excitement coursing between them. “How?” She’d done her research and it was as much metalwork as it was electronic. Just what the hell kind of delivery boy was he?

  He pushed the laptop away and cupped the salad bowl into his palm. After drizzling on some salad dressing, he stabbed his fork in and took a bite. Impatient, she took her aggressions out on a few grape tomatoes of her own.

  He looked up between the hank of hair that always fell forward into his eyes. “I’m a mechanical engineer.”

  She sat back in her chair, her salad forgotten. “Run that by me again?”

  Between crunches of a very good garden salad, he talked about school and the restlessness he felt when he graduated. “I’d worked at FedEx to help pay for school, and the benefits were smart to have. I can’t say the money was what kept me, but it did allow me to tinker with things.”

  “Weren’t you recruited from internships or whatever?”

  Her honest puzzlement encouraged him to talk about it. His parents certainly hadn’t understood. “My dad was ready to skin me when I didn’t immediately place with one of the bigger firms out there. Technically my degree ended up in the liberal arts category because I couldn’t figure out exactly what aspect of engineering I wanted to specialize in.”

  She leaned forward on the table, her eyes warm and open for the first time. “You didn’t want to build things?”

  “Actually,” he finished chewing, surprised to see the bottom of the bowl. “I was the kid who loved to take things apart and figure them out. Drove my mom nuts. I must have taken apart every appliance in the house.”

  As soon as he brought up family, the easy comfort between them faded. She focused on her salad, but stabbed at it more than she ate anything. Hoping to push through and find some common ground, he touched her hand. “What about you? What did you love as a kid?”

  She drew her hand away and he swallowed the disappointment. “I don’t know.”

  “C’mon, Miranda. Everyone remembers something they loved as a kid. Did you like to play teacher? Cook?”

  “If I was a feminist, I’d skin you,” she said almost playfully as she stood with both bowls and returned to the kitchen.

  He blew out a breath. Well, fuck. Before he could overthink anything he followed her inside. The easy familiarity she had with her kitchen told him that she at least had a passing relationship with cooking, but that was about all he knew about her. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  She slotted their bowls in the dishwasher, not looking at him. “I know.”

  He turned her around, rubbing up and down her arms. “I’m not trying to pry or anything, these are just those getting-to-know-you questions.” He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb along the curve of her cheek. “I know you’re beautiful, I know you like red wine that’s not merlot, and that you like gerbera daisies. That’s about it. I want to know more about the real Miranda.” When she closed her eyes, he stayed there patiently. When she opened them again, he brushed a kiss over her mouth. Still, she kept them open, watching him distrustfully. With a sigh he let his hand drift down to her shoulder before he dragged her in for a hug.

  She made it hard to get to know her. The words his mother had said drifted back into his mind. Easy wasn’t always the way to go when you wanted something. Just before he was about to move back and give her space, she pressed her cheek into his chest, curling her arms around his back. “I didn’t have a great childhood, Nate.”

  He smoothed his hand down her intricate hair thing, wanting it to be loose so he could tangle his fingers in it. Waiting for her to say more killed him, but he was learning that patience was key to figuring out this woman.

  “It wasn’t like I was abused or anything. I wanted for nothing.”

  As usual with Miranda, it was what she didn’t say that resonated most. “But…”

  “Let’s just say that my parents weren’t exactly hands-on.” The oven timer beeped, breaking the fragile tether between them. She pulled back, nodding to the fridge. “I seasoned the steaks, why don’t you put them on the grill and I’ll finish in here.”

  Dismissal hurt, even if it was covered in an easy domestic chore. Determined to keep the evening on track, he smiled, fetched the steaks and returned to the veranda. Busying himself with his manly duties, he dropped back into his chair and pulled the laptop closer again.

  Maybe he could bring the conversation back on track. There had been a definite light in her eyes when he’d talked about his invention. He clicked through the tabs on her browser, hoping to find something they could talk about. When he clicked on one with a draft post, he sat back in the chair.

  Well, fuck.

  He wasn’t much of a web geek, but he certainly knew how to get around the rudimentary posting information for a blog. Just how many secrets did this woman have? He closed the lid of her laptop and went back to the grill to flip the steaks.

  The dry spices she’d rubbed into the steak made his mouth water as a few things slotted into place. He’d wondered why so many packages came for her when most of her business had to do with the internet. He’d always thought she’d do most of her work via email. Now it all made sense.

  When she returned, he helped her with the tray she was carrying. “I had no idea Randy was a girl, let alone that I delivered to her all the time.” He sat down and hooked his arm over the back of the chair. “You make or break half of the inventors out there.”

  She blinked at him. “I—” She cleared her throat. He could see the lie forming. Just what did she think she had to hide from him?

  “I’ve been delivering things to you for years, Miranda. RbyR.”

  He could see the defeat as she scooped potatoes and green beans onto her plate. “No one knows I do this blog. I like that I’m anonymous, not to mention it’s not exactly a common site, Nate.”

  He laughed. “Ever thought about putting a counter on your site?” She frowned up at him as he retrieved the steaks. He dropped a T-bone on her plate and then one on his. “You can’t be surprised about this.”

  “Well, I get some traffic, obviously. I get comments and have a healthy amount of email, but everyone wants to market their product when they have an invention. This is what I do, what I know, Nate.”

  “Then you should know that your blog is one of the most widely watched for new products and the reviews can make or break an inventor.”

  She sat back with her hands in her lap, honest puzzlement there. Her mouth quirked up at the corner in a surprised grin.

  He cut a piece of steak and held it to her lips. “Eat.” She pressed her lips together for half a second then opened, scraping her teeth over the tines. Instantly his dick sat up and knocked on his zipper. “You are dangerous.”

  She smiled around the bit of meat and picked up her fork. “I put the site together because I have insomnia.”

  He drop-kicked his hormones off the veranda. “Insomnia equals blogging?”

  “No, funny guy. Insomnia equals infomercials.” She waved her fork at him. “Do you realize how many people buy things at 4 a.m.?”

  “I’ll have to look at my email.”

  She laughed. “Honestly, I bought a few things from infomercials and after a while I noticed that either I didn’t use them or the craftsmanship was shoddy.” She pushed her chair back. “Come with me.”

  He stood, following her past the kitchen and down a hallway. Stella padded after them. The door stood ajar to a wide room washed in cool grays and blues that immediately made him want to drag her inside. A bathroom was attached and he caught her scent. She passed that door and opened the next.

  “Holy shit.” His libido took a backseat to shock.

  She crouched in front of a pile of boxes. Stella stopped for a head rub the
n curled into a mountain of gray fur as if she’d done it a thousand times. “I haven’t gone through these yet.” Shelves lined the room, meticulously labeled with packaging and the gadget itself. Along the far wall, a few exercise pieces lay scattered. He picked up a bright purple exercise band wrapped around a Pilates DVD case.

  “This is incredible.” He turned to her, dropping the resistance bands when she nibbled on her thumb.

  “I look like I should be opening an ‘As Seen on TV’ store.”

  He crossed the room. “Miranda, why do you think you have to keep this a secret?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t have to. I just…well, it’s kind of crazy, right?”

  “I could never figure out why you got so many packages, but this explains a lot.”

  “There’s so much crap out there that I started posting on a lark. I wrote up the reviews on the items that I liked. I went on a few sites and dropped my link and got some pretty good feedback.”

  “Pretty good?”

  “What?” She looked up at him, embarrassment tingeing her cheeks, but she didn’t look away from him. Progress.

  “You’re the reason I sell my Thumb Locks faster than I can build them. I’m going to have to find a distributor.”

  “No. There was a discussion on my site, but that’s it. It’s your design that makes it sell. I envy that. Those kinds of ideas, along with these others,” she waved to the wall of gadgets. “I know how to make things look good on a website, but I don’t know how to create anything.”

  If only he could design something new. “Yeah you do. One of my suppliers called me up and told me I’d been the subject of some chatter on Rated By Randy and he couldn’t stop talking about your site. It seems your blog is one of his favorites. He likes that you don’t just look for advertising from the products, you actually review them honestly. It may be just your opinion, but it has weight.”

  “It’s just a blog.”

  “Just a—” He shook his head, clasping her hand and dragging her back down the hall to the veranda. Night had snuck in while they were in her gadget room. She followed him, flicking on lights as they went back to the patio.

  He opened her laptop and tapped a few keys, rewarded with her system coming out of hibernation. He clicked around until the site came up. Simple and eye-catching, there was little to distract the eye from the purpose of the website. “You don’t have a counter?”

  “I have one but I didn’t activate that widget.”

  “Can you?”

  She sat down with a sigh. “Yeah, I can.” She logged into her site manager, selected one of the various tools for bloggers and activated the simple counter. “What, so I can see that I’ve had…holy crap!”

  He laughed, reading over her shoulder. “One million seven hundred thirty-three thousand—”

  She turned around and smacked his arm. “I can read.”

  “Yeah, that’s hits.”

  “I don’t get any funding from advertising on the site. It’s simply a pet project of mine.”

  “And that’s why it’s so important. Do you know how many sites put up five-star reviews as a kickback?”

  At a loss, she opened her mouth, then closed it again. She huffed out a breath. “As a website developer, I know that, but I keep telling you. I just do it for fun. A blog is pretty cheap to set up and run, especially when most of the information I give is from the individual invention sites anyway. Why are you smiling?”

  He sat back in his chair, his hands folded over his stomach. “How is it, in this huge world, that you are the one who has given me half my success? And you drive me crazy at the same time?”

  “Well, I didn’t have anything to do with your success.” She flicked through the date links and found his post. “I heard about your invention long before I actually put it up on Rated. In fact, I can’t even get one to review. I had so many people writing into me about it that I had to put it up and let the readers do the reviews. The response was staggering.”

  “What do you mean you can’t get one?”

  “When I go to your site you’ve got a backorder for weeks.” She tabbed over to her links and pulled down his website. “And your page is awful by the way. I’ll be redoing that for you.”

  He laughed, leaning forward as she twisted her laptop around for him to see. “I used one of those builders they offer on the website I bought my domain name from.”

  She groaned. “This is why I make the big bucks. You should have pictures and maybe even a few half drawings of the schematics. I’m assuming it’s patented.”

  “Of course.”

  He settled in to talk shop with one of the last people on the earth he thought he could share it with. She grabbed a pair of glasses off a side table and brought up a template for a website. As she talked about what he should and shouldn’t do to accentuate his product, he grew even more fascinated with the woman.

  For the first time, he found something other than the insane attraction between them that could make for a future.

  Chapter Eight

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  Nate laughed. “Okay, I won’t look at you.”

  She reached for her wineglass, pushing her laptop away from them. They’d been working on his site for most of the evening. He was intuitive and staggeringly intelligent. She’d obviously underestimated him thanks to the little logo on his shirt. He knew what he wanted and how he wanted to present his product to the world. He just didn’t know how to do it in web form.

  They were sitting on the floor in her living room, crowded around her long coffee table. And for most of the night she hadn’t thought about ripping his clothes off. Miracle? Maybe.

  Or you’re losing interest.

  His forearm rested on his bent knee, pulling the shirt tight over his biceps. He took her glass and placed it on the table, leaning into her. Her gaze bounced from his eyes to his mouth and her heart kicked hard. Definitely not losing interest.

  Slowly he tilted his head so that he could brush her mouth. They watched each other, the air charged with expectation. Once, twice, then with a flick of his tongue he traced her lower lip. When he stopped, she rolled her tingling lip behind her teeth to hold in the feeling.

  It felt different this time. She wasn’t so crazed, not so desperate to crawl into his skin. Tentatively she rolled onto her knees and touched his chest. It felt good and warm and firm under her touch. She slid her palm up to where the three buttons gaped, but she coasted by the opening, not trusting herself.

  Instead she went for the dark hair that waved and curled around his neck. Through slitted eyes, he watched her. Instinctively she lightly scratched his scalp and was rewarded with a low moan. She let the cool strands slip around her fingers, learning his textures.

  Before, she could barely think around the flood of hormones and thrill of lust. It was still there, she could almost measure the frenetic need crawling under her skin. Instead of fighting it, she wondered if she could harness the excitement.

  Scraping her nails lightly along his jawline, she traced her knuckle along the underside of his chin and into the dent of his cleft. His lips parted, watchful under each soft caress. She traced his mouth with the tip of her finger, her ears filling with white noise when he nipped the pad.

  She let out a shaky breath but didn’t stop her perusal of his face. It really was such a strong face with sharp features. A prominent Roman nose widened and led to his high cheekbones. Instinct led her lips there instead of her fingers. She started when he trailed his fingers over her forearm.

  When her breath caught, he turned his face until their lips lined up again. He didn’t move in, instead he let her make the decision. The instinct to coil around him, to taste the wine on his tongue and to lose herself in his arms warred with what they both needed right now. She didn’t want to break the spell between them. The anticipation was just right.

  She dropped back onto her feet and reached for her wineglass.

  Gratified to see his che
st rising and falling just as hard as hers, she swallowed. She could totally do the no-sex thing.

  With alcohol.

  If you were using alcohol correctly he’d be naked and sweaty.

  She rubbed her mouth against the lip of her glass and ignored the voice. She could do this. When she looked at Nate, her stomach did a free fall. Shit, shit, shit. She pushed the coffee table away and stood.

  “Miranda.”

  Frustration, lust and too many sleepless nights made an ugly brew. “Just give me a second, okay?”

  He followed her into the kitchen and she whirled around. “What part of give me a second didn’t you get? That means back off.”

  “You think this is easy for me?”

  “I don’t know, Nate, you’re the one that wants to do things ass backward. We already fucked.”

  His eyes flashed dangerously, but instead of making her back up, it revved her for more. She liked the kick of adrenaline. God, how long had it been since she had felt enough to get riled up about anything? But with the pleasure came the pain. She’d started a quieter life because the chase had been like a drug. And with all drugs came the aftermath.

  Rock bottom wasn’t pretty.

  She needed to remember that.

  “Whatever war is raging in your head, just stop it.”

  She backed up. What was it about her that he could read? Had she lost her poker face that completely? He caught her wrist, halting her retreat. “Nate.”

  He smoothed his thumb over her palm again and again. Was that supposed to calm her down? With his other hand he cupped her face and leaned into her. She could bolt. He’d left it up to her to pull back. Then his lips were there and the choice was made. He kicked her heart into overdrive better than any drug she’d tried.

  With a soothing hand, he pushed at the scarf tied under her hair and it slid away. All the clips and pins scattered under his touch. She didn’t know how, didn’t know where they went, all she could focus on was his touch. Just her hair, just her mouth, he didn’t crowd in on her. The kiss was slow, no matter how much she wanted to swallow him whole, he kept the kiss light and sweet until she calmed.