His Kiss (Summer in New York Book 2)

by Jolyse Barnett

  Fifty-five minutes later, he was still sitting there, staring at a blank screen, that infernal cursor blinking at him, a maddening reminder of his lack of productivity. His mind filled with memories of her voice, those brown eyes with flecks of green, that willowy beauty…instead of his characters’ traits. This house had always been his refuge and inspiration, but since he’d returned home from Jade and Ben’s wedding, he’d produced nothing.

  Zero new words.

  That wasn’t good. What if his friends were wrong and his fears were right? He would be back to where he’d started, Seedy Underbelly fading into oblivion with all the other literary fads.

  He shook his head free of the negative thoughts. He needed to chill. He was just shy of thirty and had survived far worse than an episode of writer’s block. There was no need to panic. He took a deep, cleansing breath and was reminded of his dinner, mouthwatering scents wafting into the room that made his stomach growl long and hard. He glanced at the time in the lower right-hand side of his laptop’s screen.

  The roast should be ready.

  Conceding temporary defeat, he turned off the laptop.

  After Ashleigh had destroyed his dreams of domestic bliss with her and their baby, he’d risen like a phoenix out of the ashes to regain sobriety, determined to have a happy home on his terms. He taught himself how to cook by watching the Food Network and spending countless hours and days perfecting his technique. Cooking soothed him.

  He removed the roast from the oven and placed it on the granite counter. While the meat rested, he sliced baby Portobello mushrooms and onions, tossing them into a frying pan to sauté. His mouth watered from the tangy aroma of the meat mixing with the earthy ingredients frying and the seasoned veggies baking in his second oven.

  Dinner plated, he moved to the kitchen table and sat. He picked up his fork then set it down. It was too quiet. The whoosh of the ceiling fan in the nearby solarium wasn’t enough to block out the noise in his head. Grabbing the remote off a nearby counter, he clicked on his home stereo system and picked up his fork again. Tim McGraw’s My Best Friend played. His older brother and sister had both married their hometown sweethearts, his brother with another child on the way and Jade exploring the Caribbean for her honeymoon. He’d never met a woman he viewed as a friend, much less a best friend.

  He dropped his fork onto the table and pushed away his plate.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been big on analyzing his life, other than accepting his mistakes and moving on, focused on not repeating them. He’d allowed a woman to distract him from his life goals once before and look where that had gotten him. Now he had a budding career and a sweet contract. He couldn’t allow memories of a sexy woman on a moonlit beach to interfere.

  Talking with her had been as much fun as kissing her.

  He leaned back in his chair and threaded his hands through his hair then clicked off the music before pulling his plate toward him. Picking up his knife, he cut off a chunk of meat. He was better off alone. Let the world assume a starving artist lived at his address. Life was simpler that way.

  *

  “Thanks for shopping at Body Gear Athletics. Come back soon.” Elizabeth handed the customer her receipt and a twenty percent off one item coupon to use on a future visit.

  Her sister, Claire, waited until the customer carrying the two large shopping bags was out of the store before happy dancing around the display of socks she’d just restocked. “That was incredible. Best one yet today, and the A.M. sales weren’t too shabby either.” She raced over and held up a palm.

  Elizabeth high-fived her sister and laughed. “A grand Grand Opening! Yes!” She checked the time on her phone. “And it’s already half past one. I feel like the store opened five minutes ago.” Her phone chimed, pulling her attention back to the screen. A text popped up. “Oh, it’s Michael,” she said, referring to their twenty-three-year-old brother.

  Tory frowned. “Don’t tell me he’s not coming? He promised.”

  “He sent me his congratulations and apologizes for not making it.” She read the rest before tucking her phone away. “Sounds like girl troubles.”

  “Shocker.” Claire stage-whispered.

  Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder toward the storage room to make sure her mother wasn’t listening. “What’s the deal with Ashleigh and him, anyway?”

  “No clue,” Claire replied. “I thought they’d broken it off for good the last time.”

  Tory shrugged from her temporary perch on the end of the counter. “They seemed so happy a few weeks ago at Lake George.”

  “I guess I’ll catch up with him later.” Elizabeth glanced at her list of interview appointments for employees. It was going to be a late evening.

  Tory slid off the counter and rolled her shoulders. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m getting hungry. Anyone want run over to the Brown Dog Café?”

  Claire smacked her lips. “Yum. Another great reason to open a business on a Friday, the one weekday my favorite place is open for lunch.”

  Their mother approached with an armful of promotional water bottles. “Why don’t you two girls run out then.” She placed the Nalgene bottles on the counter Tory had just vacated. “I’ll stay with Elizabeth.”

  “What do you want?” Claire asked.

  “I’m not hungry.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  Her sisters and mother looked at her then each other.

  “But…I imagine I will be by the time you return, so if you could get me a reuben and steak fries, that’d be perfect.”

  “I’ll have a Caesar salad and an iced green tea,” their mother added.

  The worry came off her mother in waves. Her sisters threw her a look of sympathy before beating it to the door.

  Elizabeth left the register to hug her mother. “I told you not to worry. I’ve got this, okay?”

  Her mother nodded.

  “Thanks for everything.” She sniffed back sudden tears. Not only was she overwhelmed by reaching the next phase in her career, but this town held powerful memories for her entire family.

  “We’re so proud of you.” Her mother wiped away tears of her own. “I’m sorry your father couldn’t stay longer, but you know how Gram and Gramps are. They didn’t want to take away from your special day. Once the news crew showed up on their Ironman tour of Main Street, your grandparents got a bit jumpy. Even local media can make assumptions. You’ve accomplished this on your own and deserve all the credit.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I get it. Do you think anyone in town knows who they are?”

  Her mother shook her head. “It’s best that it stays that way. They can live here like all the other folks and not be judged for the past.”

  “I guess it helps all of us that they’re so private.” As a kid, Elizabeth had always wondered why her grandparents rarely left the family compound on the north end of Mirror Lake. Now she understood. Her father’s grandfather may have built the family empire, but he had done it on the backs of his employees. He probably wasn’t any different than other east coast mine owners during that era, but she knew that didn’t make it right. From what her parents told her, Gramps had worked long and hard to turn things around at the Starling mines and refinery. Once he’d learned the truth about the family business after his father’s death in 1979, he’d complied with all federal and state legislation and renegotiated with the miners’ union. In spite of his efforts, his family name was still despised by many of the townspeople. To protect his children and grandchildren, her grandfather had made the unorthodox decision to change the family name to Gram’s surname of Desmond.

  Her mother pulled back and grasped her by the shoulders. “All your planning and hard work is paying off. But I can’t help but wonder if something’s wrong. You’ve seemed different the past few weeks.”

  “Yeah…that.” Elizabeth sighed. “Please don’t misunderstand, Mother. I’m really excited about the store, but I’ve been thinking about Lake Placid
a lot lately and what this move means to me.” She turned away with the pretense of organizing the stack of running shorts on a nearby display. How could she tell her mother, that for all her business acumen, she was a hopeless romantic? She yearned for a happily-ever-after like her parents enjoyed, like both sets of her grandparents lived. But she didn’t want anyone to feel badly for her. They worried enough about her since…no, she couldn’t tell her mother how lonely she felt, how much she wanted to find the right guy for her. Besides the ensuing concern her revelation would cause, the matchmaking would be nonstop.

  “Please tell me,” her mother begged. “I can’t leave New York knowing something’s amiss. I won’t.”

  Elizabeth stopped sorting the running shorts into piles according to size and sighed. There was no way around it. She had to tell her, if only so her parents would go on a well-deserved vacation. She turned to face her.

  Her mother’s expression was tight. “Please, Elizabeth. I know something’s been bothering you. You haven’t been yourself since Lake George.”

  She nodded and looked down at her cross trainers, part of her work outfit, struggling to get her emotions under control. She moved to another display and began refolding women’s quick-dry tee shirts. “I’m fine. It’s just that, as wonderful as today is, and how much I appreciate you all being here for the opening, I kind of wish…” She trailed off, uncertain how to put into words all she’d been feeling the past weeks. “I guess you could say I look forward to when I have someone in my life like you have Dad.”

  Her mother heaved a sigh of relief. “Ah, the silly story your father told you about us.” She laughed. “I always told him you were too fanciful a child to fill your head with notions such as love at first sight.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “He seemed to buy into it.”

  “Well, he had reason to, I suppose. After all, we did move pretty fast. Looking back, I can see why my parents were concerned. I was barely eighteen and he twenty-two.” Her smile was wistful. “He was so handsome. I’d never met a more beautiful man. And how he could skate. He may not have won medals like Eric Heiden did, but he was an incredible athlete. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him. I’d just finished my ice dancing routine and he glided onto the ice. All muscle and power. For a big man, he sure was graceful. Still is. Anyway, mine was the final practice of the morning so when he skated by me and flirted, I flirted back. I figured, why not? The Olympics was high pressure but also an opportunity for young men and women to enjoy the thrill of the chase.” She shrugged. “So I let him chase me.” She danced around the display of track suits. “It was as if I’d known him all my life the way he moved with me on that rink. I think I fell in love with him by the end of the morning.” She stopped and smiled, pulling herself back to the present. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t seem crazy when he proposed ten days later.”

  Elizabeth walked to the cash register. “And you said yes.”

  She nodded. “That was even crazier, I suppose.” Her mother began to rearrange the sports bras left in disarray by the morning rush then looked her eldest daughter in the eye, her voice soft. “Tory said you met a guy in Lake George but that it didn’t go anywhere. Is that what this is about?”

  Elizabeth felt the heat rise on her face, just like every time she thought of the mysterious stranger on the beach.

  “I know I can’t tell you what to do, sweetie. You’re a grown woman, but if you would, consider this. I took a huge risk marrying your father. I was young and foolish. And your father, well, he was your father, so sure of himself. I was damned lucky it all worked out.”

  “You both were,” Elizabeth replied, then added as an afterthought, “I imagine the money helped.”

  Her mother threw her a sidelong glance. “I had no idea your father had that kind of wealth. Remember, that was right after his father had taken over the family business and was mired in lawsuits and such. Besides, I soon learned that money can cause more problems than it solves. Be careful, sweetie. You’re a successful businesswoman as well as a wealthy by birth. If you meet a guy, be certain he likes you for you and not your money. I would hate for you to be taken advantage of by an unscrupulous man.” She rifled through the running tank tops on the women’s rack and held up a pale orange one. “Do you think Claire would like this?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I’m ready for a relationship, but you’re right. I won’t settle for just anyone.” She pushed away thoughts of her blond-haired, mystery man.

  “As you know, your father and I have plenty of friends from nice families with single sons.” She shot her a hopeful look.

  “Mother. Really?” She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through this a hundred times. If I need help finding a guy, there are plenty of dating sites available.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Forget I said it. I know it makes me sound snooty and you know I’m not. Your father and I just want you to be happy with whomever you choose. Just use your head along with your heart.” She headed to the back of the store with the extra hangers. “And get out there.” She pointed the hangers in the direction of the front door. “Don’t work too much, and hang around people your age. It’s unrealistic to expect the man of your dreams to walk through your front door and whisk you away.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Elizabeth called over her shoulder.

  A few moments later, after her mother had disappeared into the storage room, the shop door’s little bell rang.

  “Hi, welcome to—” Elizabeth’s air supply cut off and the blood from her brain fled south to her erogenous zones. If she weren’t temporarily frozen to the spot she would have pinched herself.

  He stood inside the entrance, staring at her as if she were a mirage. The suit he’d worn that first night had been replaced by an ab-hugging tee, straight leg denims, and shin-high leather boots. All black—a striking contrast to his sapphire eyes and dark blond hair, with streaks of lighter strands, which fell about an inch below his ears.

  “Hey.” Same deep voice. He began to walk toward her, slow and purposeful, a smile tugging at the corners of that sexy mouth. “Would you happen to sell cowbells?”

  She reached blindly for her water bottle under the counter and took a huge gulp to relieve her suddenly parched throat. Oh my. She shook her head. Cowbells? An oddly pleasant tingle swept down her spine. He’d found her. Her mother was dead wrong. The man of her dreams was standing right there in front of her.

  Now what?

  She licked her lips. No, no, no. Her tongue needed to behave—even if he did look good enough to eat. She couldn’t be so brazen. The businesswoman in her understood supply and demand. If she made it too easy, he’d lose interest. She’d already sent the entirely wrong message the first time they’d met by asking him to kiss her. She eyed him up and down. Okay, so the guy was hot, molten hot, just like she’d remembered.

  He stopped and shook his head in disbelief, reaching out a hand across the counter separating them. “It’s really you. You’re here.”

  She gazed at her hand in his and nodded. “I’m here.” Was he too much? Or meant to be? “May I help you?”

  He grinned.

  She had to be with him. Alone. “Mother, I’m going outside for some fresh air. I’ll return in a few.”

  “Sure, sweetie. I’ll watch the front. The girls should be back with our lunch soon.”

  “Thanks.” She walked around the counter, her hand still in his. She couldn’t stop smiling. She was a bundle of nerve endings.

  He, on the other hand, was the epitome of cool. One hand in his pocket. Lazy smile. Happy, roving eyes.

  Somehow she reached the door without her legs giving way beneath her, the bell ringing softly behind them as they stepped onto the sidewalk outside her shop nestled among the row of high-end boutiques and restaurants on Lake Placid’s Main Street.

  She turned left to head south on the sidewalk, weaving through the steady stream of tourists and athletes.

  He spoke first. “Hard to believe, the first store I wa
lk into today and it’s yours. You’re here. You said you owned a store in upstate New York, but I never figured in a million years—” He shook his head. “It’s almost like we were meant to—”

  She giggled like she was back in middle school. “I know. It’s crazy, but here you are, and here I am, and it’s my grand opening.” She pointed over her shoulder at the neon green and pink signs plastered in her shop’s front windows. She stared at his mouth, remembering the touch of his lips, the taste of his tongue, hot and yearning, foreign and exciting. “You’re even more beautiful than I’d remembered.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Heat rose up to her cheeks.

  So much for a conservative approach.

  “You gonna ask for another kiss?” he teased, tugging her into the entrance for Mirror Lake Park, a span of lush grass with wrought-iron benches lining a circular walkway.

  The sun glinted off his blond streaks, his lean, muscled arms graced with a healthy tan. The edge of a tat peeked out from below his tee shirt’s right sleeve. His eyes, when she finally dared meet them with hers, hinted at the dark wonders he’d show her, if she were brave enough to take the risk.

  How she wanted to. There were other people in the park. But no one seemed to notice them.

  She didn’t want regrets, but what harm could one tiny kiss cause?

  She stopped walking and tugged his hand, inviting him closer. She inhaled his clean, masculine scent and placed her hands firmly on that unyielding chest of his, feeling the power of his heartbeat beneath her touch. She felt dizzy from the serendipity of the moment. Needing to anchor herself with his strength, she touched his open mouth with hers. His heat had her wrapping her arms around him, holding him close, feeling his long, lean body against her, his arms supporting her as they swirled together from one mind-drugging kiss to another.

  A car honked as it whizzed by on Main Street and they pulled apart.

  Her hands flew to her face, her cheeks warm from his kisses and the amused stares from onlookers. “Small talk ban be damned. What’s your name?”