by Laura Moore
Max. She should have guessed he’d be here. It made sense that Alex and Gen would invite him. But for some reason she’d assumed he’d be back in New York in his swank designer-decorated apartment, setting female hearts a-flutter.
Now she had to calm her own.
—
Gen, Lauren, and Ty were sitting on the patio, their chairs turned in the direction of the lawn that stretched between the back of the house and Gen’s painting studio. At the sound of her daughter’s voice—Grace was still updating Dakota about everyone and everything—Gen smiled and rose to give her a hug. “Dakota, we’re so glad you’re here. Gracie, sweetie, could you go tell Tilly that Dakota has arrived?”
“Sure.” Gracie took off at a run.
Lauren looked over and smiled. “Hey, friend, long time no see. I’d get up, but Carney’s decided I’m a fantastic pillow.” A dark gray Irish wolfhound rested its cinder-block-sized head on Lauren’s feet.
“Understood. Glad to see you rather than the inside of your fridge.”
“Which gleams, thanks to Lupe and Tanya. And those burritos you made last week were amazing. Ali ate an entire one. The lasagna was a hit, too. Katie didn’t even pick out the vegetables,” Lauren said.
In addition to sending Lupe and Tanya, two of Dakota’s employees, to Lauren’s farmhouse to clean and do the piles of laundry, which consisted mostly of pairs of breeches and short-sleeved polo shirts, Dakota did a weekly grocery shopping and prepared a few easy meals for Lauren and the girls.
“I’ll put the burritos and the lasagna in the menu rotation. Ali and Katie are…?”
“With Zach’s parents. A trip to the American Girl store was mentioned.” Lauren raised her brows.
Dakota grinned in return. As kids neither she nor Lauren had been very doll-oriented. She turned to Ty Sheppard. “Hello, Ty. It’s great to see you again. How was your summer?”
“Crazy but good. And you?”
“Crazy but good,” she echoed.
They shared a smile.
Ty Sheppard was the ultimate in cool. Raised by her autocratic real estate mogul father, she’d stood up to him and walked away from her inheritance in order to save Steve Sheppard’s horse farm, Southwind, from being sliced into multimillion-dollar lots for multimillion-dollar homes. While Dakota had founded her business on serving these potential homeowners, she didn’t want to see the area’s natural beauty destroyed or have its farmland lost to the Hamptons version of McMansions.
“Dakota, what can I offer you? Coffee? Tea? A mimosa?” Gen asked, gesturing to a teak table laden with carafes, pitchers, and glasses. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket.
No mimosas if Max Carr was about. He made her brain fuzzy enough. Would he know she was still obsessing about their kiss? “I’d love a coffee.”
“You take it black, right?”
“Please.”
“A woman after my own heart.” Gen grinned. “I don’t like anything coming between me and my caffeine.” Handing her a steaming mug, she said, “Come and take a seat next to Lauren and Ty and enjoy the show.”
That’s when Dakota understood why the chairs had been dragged into a line, all facing the lawn. Some serious male beauty was on display.
The Hamptons were not bereft of good-looking individuals. But the three men playing football with eight-year-old Connor topped the male beauty scale. Alex Miller had the classic, clean-cut features to match his dark blond hair and blue eyes. She knew he played squash, his speed evident as he sprinted down the length of the lawn to catch the ball flying through the air. Steve Sheppard’s features were more rugged and his physique honed from the hours he spent in the saddle. But it was Max who made Dakota’s breath catch. Taller and more muscular than the other two, he moved with the effortless grace of an athlete in his element.
Connor was his receiver. He’d raced down the lawn as Alex and Steve bore down on Max. Max nimbly evaded them, sidestepping and dodging, while cradling the football in his large hand and waiting for Connor to reach the end of the lawn, the end zone. When Connor turned, Max feinted one more time, slipping past Alex’s outstretched hands, and let the football fly.
It was a long pass. Many with less strength would have had to drill it. Max threw it with ease. He knew exactly how much force it would take to make the ball land squarely between Connor’s waiting hands without knocking the boy over.
Connor’s yell of triumph as he clutched the ball and then slammed it onto the ground before performing an NFL-inspired victory dance had everyone clapping and the mothers cheering loudly.
“All right,” she heard Alex call, “now it’s getting real. You better wake up, Carr.”
“That’s right. Alex and I are done being nice to you and Connor,” Steve said.
Max made a motion with his hands. “Bring it on.”
“Yeah, bring it on!” Connor chimed.
From her chair, Tyler said, “Connor is in testosterone heaven.”
“I’m right there with him,” Lauren said. “How about you, Dakota? Are you enjoying the show?”
She refused to admit how very much she liked watching Max move. “Aren’t we being terribly sexist here? Shouldn’t we be out there playing against the men rather than ogling them?”
“Oh no. That would be a terrible waste,” Ty said.
“I don’t believe in this ‘don’t objectify men’ business,” Gen said. “What about Michelangelo’s David? It’s a celebration of the human form at its finest. What we have here before us is the modern-day inspiration.”
“Poetry in motion,” Ty said with laughter in her voice.
“Hear, hear.” Lauren raised her coffee mug. “I hope to see a painting of this scene in the near future, Gen.”
“Life size,” Ty suggested.
For a minute silence reigned as they watched the men playing and laughingly hurling insults at each other, the comments undoubtedly milder due to Connor’s presence, but no less imaginative.
Yeah, a painting depicting the three men in action would be very well received. “Okay, I’ll agree that there’s a lot to appreciate on the lawn right now, but I still think we should go out there and show them how to play the game.”
“You go right ahead, Dakota.” Lauren waved her forward with a grin. “I’ll cheer you on.”
“Sorry, Dakota. I’m having too much fun watching Connor bond with Alex and Max,” Ty said.
“And I’m more into baseball than football,” Gen said. “Besides, we’re going to eat soon. Tilly was just waiting to put the popovers in the oven. They should be ready now.”
“Warm popovers. Now I’m in heaven,” Ty said.
“Warm popovers with cheddar and bacon,” Gen clarified with a smile. “Tilly put Brooke in charge of adding the bacon, so they should be extra delicious. That little girl likes her bacon. I’m counting on the mimosas to balance them out.”
“Popovers and mimosas. My stomach is rumbling already,” Lauren said.
“Good. We have to celebrate Max’s arrival in the neighborhood,” Gen said. Turning to Dakota, she said, “So I hear you agreed to help him get Windhaven spic-and-span and looking beautiful.”
“Um, yes. That is, I guess so.” Maybe it was good that she wasn’t out there playing football. She couldn’t manage to answer even a basic question about Max without fumbling.
Dakota felt Lauren’s curious gaze on her.
“So Max is a new client?” she asked.
Dakota cleared her throat. “That’s right.”
“Go you.” Lauren’s smile widened. “I thought you were taking an extra-special interest in him, even with him moving into the family digs.”
“Was I?” She kept her voice casual. “Then it was purely for professional reasons.”
If they’d been alone, Lauren would have jumped up, letting Carney’s shaggy head land with a thunk on the flagstone, and called Dakota on her BS. Instead she demonstrated her restraint, offering a grave “Of course.”
“So you heard about Windhaven?” Dakot
a asked.
“Gen mentioned it when she introduced me to Max. But I should have guessed when I heard the ungodly howling coming from Dunemere Lane.”
“Yes, it was quite the scene.”
“I wish I’d been a fly on the wall—a happy fly on the wall. Mimi and Piper deserve to be taken down several notches.”
“Mimi certainly does.”
“And what has Piper done for you lately, and by that I mean in the past twenty-five years?” But, knowing the comment would lead nowhere—she had already told Dakota countless times to cut her ties with her family because none of them, not even Piper, deserved her loyalty—Lauren said, “Oh, look, the game’s broken up and your new client is taking an interest in your presence. I’m sure it’s merely for professional reasons, of course.”
—
Max had known Dakota would be coming. Gen had mentioned it when she greeted him at the door. “Hi, Max. How’s the house?”
“I like it. The view is pretty incredible.”
“Yes. I thought I’d landed in paradise when I was invited by Alex’s great-aunt to live out here and use the studio. I could paint the ocean every day and it would offer a different scene each time. And the light out here? A painter’s dream.”
“I can see how that would be. The sunrise was pretty spectacular.”
She led him through the house. It was nice. Lived in. “So Alex is on the patio putting out coffee and champagne. A few friends will be joining us, all locals. But you’ll know Dakota.” She glanced up at him. “Did you hire her?”
“Yes.”
Gen smiled. “Alex said you were smart.”
He’d been on alert since Gen’s announcement. He told himself he was curious whether Dakota would have the same effect on him as yesterday. He had his answer the minute she arrived, walking hand in hand with the older Miller girl. Everything inside him tensed with awareness.
He made sure not to look directly at her. Alex and Steve Sheppard helped. They were decent players, making him focus on the game. And Connor’s enthusiasm was contagious. He spent some minutes teaching Sheppard’s kid how to snap and giving him pointers on passing. The boy was sharp. Still, Max’s gaze kept flicking over to where Dakota was talking to a blond-haired woman named Laura—or was it Laurie? The two seemed close.
Alex must have received a signal from his wife. “Have to suspend the game, guys. Brunch is ready.”
Connor grumbled as loudly as any kid taken away from a game, but he quieted when Max promised to work on more moves after they’d eaten. Then he wished he’d let the boy continue his disgruntled squawking. The noise would have been a welcome distraction as he walked toward her.
She wasn’t wearing a poncho today.
She was standing with Gen and the other women. A cream-colored sweater revealed mouth-watering curves just south of her collarbone. Her waist was small, her hips sweetly rounded, and her legs, encased in faded jeans, even longer than he’d imagined. Combined with that arresting face and siren’s voice, she was a bombshell. He was in trouble. Deep trouble.
“Hello,” she said with a slight nod.
“Hi. Thanks for the email.” As promised, she’d sent him a list of cafés and food shops close to East Hampton. “I went to the place you mentioned in Sagaponack. Pretty good croissants.” The woman had clearly fried his brain. He was reduced to talking about croissants.
“Loaves & Fishes? I’m glad you liked it. The owners are friends.”
The words were polite, but Dakota wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. So she was still pissed about the kiss.
“I was surprised at how crowded it was.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, nodding. “It has quite the following.”
“I asked the woman behind the register about setting up an account and putting your name on it.”
“Oh.” She gave a tiny shake of her head, and it made her dark hair brush her jaw the way he wanted to. “They don’t do that.”
“That’s what she said.”
“We keep all the receipts for client purchases. You’ll receive a detailed inventory down to the last croissant.”
“So you’re still working for me.”
She looked at him, and from the flare of awareness in her eyes, he knew she was thinking about the kiss, too.
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Yes. Yes, you did.” It seemed Dakota was a woman of her word.
—
Gen ushered them into the sunroom, where a large round table was set with a blue-checked cloth and yellow flowers in little vases. The pretty, homey arrangement made Max uncomfortable, as if he were wearing a suit two sizes too small. He didn’t make a practice of sitting down to a table like this, one that spoke of family and good times.
“Max, why don’t you sit here?” Gen gestured to a chair. “Dakota, you take the seat next to him.”
Max pulled out the chair that Gen had indicated was for Dakota. She hesitated and then murmured, “Thank you.” Her wool sweater felt soft against the back of his fingers as she took her place.
He sat, hyperaware that he was going to be eating a meal inches away from Dakota and listening to her throaty voice. He was half hoping she’d do something like speak with her mouth full of food so he could shake his fixation when a cellphone pealed. The jingly notes were familiar. They were from a popular chick flick Rosie and her friends had liked to watch, getting up to sing and dance at key scenes…his signal to run for the hills, round up some guys to play ball, or go and tinker with an engine in the garage.
It was Dakota’s phone. That much was evident from the flutter of activity near his left hip as she grabbed at her pocket and silenced the ringing. “Sorry,” she muttered.
Across the table, Lauren—that was her name—sent Dakota a look of weary empathy. He didn’t get what that was about, but Dakota must have. She lowered her gaze as if needing all her mental faculties to unfold her napkin.
His discomfort with the cozy atmosphere lessened as he ate a stack of waffles and breakfast sausages and something Gen told him was a popover. His awareness of Dakota did not. He felt the space between them acutely. Imagined closing it so his thigh touched hers. The electricity from the contact—anything but simple—would be an instant crackle and snap.
His focus was such that he noticed her reflexive flinch each time her cell vibrated and how afterward it was harder for her to relax and rejoin the conversation flowing around them.
Someone really wanted to talk to her. From the frequency of the calls the odds were that it was a single obnoxious caller rather several at once.
A jealous boyfriend?
Nah. He didn’t know Dakota, but he suspected she wouldn’t put up with shit like this from a man. So who, then? A client with a burst pipe? Again, that didn’t feel right. Something told him she would have taken the call and ridden out to rescue a client who didn’t know the working end of a mop.
As he picked up the rustic ceramic mug that Alex had just refilled for him, her cell buzzed yet again.
“Why don’t you answer it?” he asked in a low voice.
She started guiltily.
So she thought he wasn’t paying attention, hadn’t noticed her cell vibrating every few minutes? Good. Let her be clueless. Because it felt as though he were noticing everything when it came to Dakota. And he was none too happy about it.
“I can’t.” Her whisper was fierce. “She’ll stop. Eventually.”
To have the caller tagged a “she” pleased him. He told himself it was because he liked to be right. “Who is it? An irate client?”
“I wish.” Her tone was resigned. “It’s my mother.”
He took a bite of popover and chewed. “She worried about what you might be getting up to at noon on a Sunday?”
The question surprised a laugh out of her. Its husky sensuality felt like a feather trailed down his abs. He shifted in his chair.
“Piper worried about me? Hardly.”
He filed that comment away. “So what’s up?”
“Some drama or other. I don’t know and, damn it, I do not care,” she enunciated quietly. When her cell buzzed again, she picked up her coffee and took a long sip.
“Want me to answer it?”
She nearly spat out her coffee. When the others glanced at her, she made a show of coughing. “Sorry, I swallowed the wrong way.”
Once everyone had returned to their conversations, she cleared her throat and said, “Thanks for the offer. But it wouldn’t solve the problem. Not by a long shot.” After a careful swallow of coffee, she said, “And what about your parents? Do they resemble burrs?”
His internal locks clicked into place. “Burrs?”
“Yeah, burrs. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t get unstuck.”
“No.”
“Lucky you.”
He pushed his plate away. “Yeah.”
He had to get out of here. A quick glance around the table told him everyone had finished their food and was merely lingering over their drinks. They wouldn’t realize he was bolting. “Hey, Connor, want me to show you how to throw the perfect spiral?”
—
Over Tilly’s protests, Dakota and Lauren helped her clear the dishes while the others, including Gracie despite her professed dislike of football, went back outside to watch Max and Connor.
“What’s up?” Lauren asked her as they carried stacks of plates into the kitchen.
“Nothing.” Except for her complete obsession with Max. Whatever dysfunction her family claimed, it appeared to be nothing compared to Max’s. The Carrs must be pretty messed up if he couldn’t talk about them at all. He’d left the table far too abruptly for her not to guess at the cause.
“So what were you and Max talking about? It seemed kind of intense.”
“Piper was pulling her usual trick with the phone. He was curious.” When her phone vibrated again, she sighed. “I wish she’d get a life.”
“Like that’s going to happen. She loves being the idle rich.”
The phone went silent for the time it took to carry a tray of mugs into the kitchen before buzzing again. “This is ridiculous. Why can’t I train her, or at least get her to acknowledge the basic rules of calling?”
Lauren made a pffft sound. “You know Piper doesn’t respond to training or rules. Like jobs, they’re for other people.”