by Tawny Weber
8
“HE’S AMAZING. SIMPLY AMAZING.”
“You said that. Like, twenty times already,” Minna pointed out, most of her attention on the carrots she was peeling for her I’m-a-bride-and-have-to-fit-into-my-dress salad. “So why aren’t you spending this evening with Mr. Amazing instead of me like you have the last four nights?”
“He’s meeting up with his friends at the pub, then he said he probably had something to do. I’ll see him tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Adding a dash of Dijon to the balsamic and olive oil, she bit her lip to keep from giggling.
She would see Zane Bennett tomorrow. Just like she’d seen him every tomorrow since they’d damn near dented her front door. It was like a dream come true.
“It’s not just sex, you know,” she blurted out. Her hand froze on the jar of honey. “I mean, there is sex. Its amazing sex. But there’s more. We talk. I told him all about my dreams for The Sweet Spot and he had a lot of great suggestions. He even knows someone in California who has an online bakery business. Apparently she started with cookies but does all sorts of stuff now. Not sexy stuff like I do, although he said she’d probably be totally awed by it. He offered to call her and see if she had any advice for me.”
She went on to explain how Genna was the wife of one of his SEAL friends, and how she’d made a huge success of selling sweet treats online.
“Maybe you and this Genna can go into business together,” Minna suggested. “Just think, you could get the internship, move to California and have a ready-made partner.”
“I’d never move there. My home is here. My family is here. I have security here,” she said, laughing as if the idea of leaving her hometown and family was totally ludicrous. “Besides, can you imagine me chasing after Zane all the way to California? He’d freak. I mean, I imagine he’d freak. But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d want to keep seeing me. Not just because the sex is amazing—it is amazing. But we have something special between us.”
She paused in the act of drizzling honey over the oil mixture to sigh.
“He’s amazing. Not just because he’s a SEAL, although, hellooo, sexy. But he’s got this great attitude about everything. The way he talks about life, about his teammates, his challenges. It’s so inspiring.”
Last night, it’d inspired her to lick buttercream meringue icing off his pecs. Well, that and to update her website and Facebook page with photos of her latest cake creations.
“Viv. I was talking about the culinary internship. Not Zane.”
“Oh. Right.”
Whisking with all her might, Vivian stared at the bowl as if the answers to the universe were somewhere in the foam.
“Oh. My. God.” Jabbing the carrot like a sword, Minna shook her head. “You’re getting gooey over the guy. What about your vow? The no-goo vow?”
“I’m not getting gooey.” Vivian rolled her eyes as if the mere thought was ridiculous. But it wasn’t. Because her emotions were heading fast and furious toward that sticky, icky, messy place that was goo.
“I think it’s great,” Minna declared, grabbing an apple from the bowl on Vivian’s counter and dicing away, green peel and all. “Every woman needs to go to goo at least once in her life.”
Since Zane got her going every time he smiled, Vivian figured she was covered for this and several more lifetimes.
“So other than the great sex, what’s it like to date the great Zane Bennett?” Minna asked when they settled at the table, each with a huge salad and a glass of wine. “Does he take you to fancy restaurants or on long romantic drives? Or is he more a sporty date kind of guy?”
“Dates? Oh. Hmm.” To give herself time, Vivian stabbed a big chunk of salad and chewed. “He took me for a ride on his Harley a couple of nights ago. We rode up to Lover’s Peak.”
“On a Harley?” Her fork halfway to her mouth, Minna froze in confusion. “How’d you do it on a Harley? Weren’t you worried about the bike tipping over or something? Was the engine running?”
“Minna,” she said, laughing. “We didn’t do it on the motorcycle.”
He’d had a blanket tucked in his saddlebag. “We sat on the ridge overlooking the lake and watched the stars. It was pure romance.”
“Ohhh.” Looking as if she was having fantasies no about-to-be-married woman should have, Minna sighed. “That sounds great. Where else have you gone?”
Where else?
Buying time, Vivian sipped her wine.
“I made him a candlelight dinner last night.” And a chocolate-frosted dessert eaten off each other’s naked bodies, topped with whipped cream. “The night before he stopped into the bakery to help me with another batch of chocolate candy.”
It’d taken twenty minutes to clean all the chocolate off the stainless-steel table after he’d finger painted her naked body.
“Wow. Romantic and sweet,” Minna said. Her gaze locked on her salad as if she were expecting a thousand extra calories to jump out of it, so she missed Vivian’s frown.
Romantic and sweet. And private. Other than that first time for drinks, she realized they’d never gone anywhere public together.
“It’s not just sex,” Vivian said defensively. “I mean, yeah, we have a lot of sex. Great sex. Multiorgasmic sex. But that’s not all we’ve got between us.”
Was that all they had between them? That was all she’d intended to have between them. But now? Her stomach clenched against the sudden shaft of pain at the idea.
Vivian shook her head before Minna could voice the words to go along with her startled expression.
“It hasn’t even been a week, so it’s crazy to think it’s, like, a relationship. But it is. We talk. We have tons in common. We like the same books, movies, music. He told me about a lot of the places he’s seen. Oh, not the battles or secret stuff. Places like Japan and Bahrain and Cuba.”
“I thought he lived in California.”
“He’s stationed there now, but he’s had other assignments and sometimes just travels.” Imagining how incredible it must be to see so much of the world, Vivian sighed. “Some of his teammates bring their wives, so they get to see the world, too.”
“Viv—”
“I’m not crazy,” Vivian interrupted before Minna could finish her squeaked protest. “Like I said, I know this is just sex. Still, he’s great. Did I tell you that he helped me refine my business plan?”
They finished their salads and were well into dessert—baked apples with rum ice cream—by the time Vivian had finished outlining all of the great ideas they’d come up with.
“All I have to do is convince my parents to let me use the bakery kitchen when they’re closed Sundays. Then I can put the evenings toward getting these ideas into play,” she explained, swirling her spoonful of apple through the melting puddle of ice cream. “The Sweet Spot will be a success in no time. Talk about living the dream, right?”
“Uh-huh, right,” Minna said, cutting off a fragment of cinnamon-spiced apple sans ice cream. “Not to crumble your cake or anything, but to use the professional tools, don’t you currently have to sneak in kitchen time? Because, why?”
“Why?” Feeling a pout coming on, Vivian watched the ice cream dropping off her spoon. “Probably because I haven’t pushed the issue. I mean, I’ve asked a lot. A few dozen times, maybe. But I haven’t shown them my business plan.”
Minna’s stare lasted for a solid ten seconds before she shook her head and switched her healthy bowl of just apples for Vivian’s ice cream and caramel-covered one.
“So, you and Zane,” Minna said around a mouthful of sugary goodness. “There’s a lot of romance?”
Nice subject change. Vivian frowned.
She debated either pushing the issue or, better, snagging her dessert back. But they both knew that even if she wrapped
her business plan in a plain brown wrapper and had it presented by a nun, her parents were going to prude up. They would lecture, they would nag, they would heave great sighs of shame.
Was that why Zane didn’t want to take her anywhere in public? Was he ashamed, too? Vivian chugged the last of her wine, scowling at the empty glass.
“How’s Mike taking it?”
“Mike?” Mike could do no wrong in their parents’ eyes. Of course, he’d inherited their prude gene, so he never tried.
“Yeah, Mike. I haven’t heard about any recent hospitalization, but I’ve been pretty busy with my wedding prep, so I might have missed a thing or two.” Minna rolled her eyes at Vivian’s blank stare. “Do you really think your big brother would like the idea of his little sister with one of the Bad Boy Bennett brothers?”
“Oooh, Mike.”
Zane was hiding their relationship from Mike. Relief surged through Vivian so fast she felt dizzy. It wasn’t shame that had Zane keeping things on the down low. He just didn’t want to upset her brother.
That was so sweet. She’d never had a guy care like that. A guy who’d defy the bro code for her. Who’d worry about her family accepting him. For the first time, she realized that this thing between her and Zane wasn’t a game. Wasn’t just a way of making her favorite fantasy come true.
It was more than that, she admitted. She felt more. And—as terrifying as it was to even think—she wanted more.
Vivian took a deep breath and, freaking out a little because it was never easy to put her emotions out there, admitted, “I think you’re right. I think I’m falling for Zane Bennett.”
* * *
GUY’S GOTTA DO what a guy’s gotta do.
And sometimes what a guy had to do simply sucked.
But Zane accepted this duty the same way he’d handled swabbing the head or KP when he was an ensign. By seeing it as a challenge. Something that, since he had to do it, he’d do damned well. Then, the minute it was over, he’d erase it from his memory.
Sitting next to a giant panther’s paw, he rode down the street to the beat of “Party Like a Rock Star.” His brother was on one side, Mike on the other, and their bros were lined up, shoulder to shoulder, under the panther’s snarling head.
“This sucks,” he said, not sure why he kept the comment under his breath when nobody could hear them over the music.
“Just kill me now,” Xander said, his words pure disgust. “I knew we should have dismantled this thing. Or blown it up.”
Mike elbowed him in the gut. “What’d he say?”
“Xander likes the panther,” he lied diplomatically.
“You were supposed to be riding on that saddle up there,” Mike pointed out. “We’d even lined up the local news to report on it and had a video crew doing a mini documentary.”
Zane credited his navy training for keeping him from falling facedown off the float.
“I almost made it a challenge,” Mike continued with a laugh. “But hey, you’re already in the middle of trying to score with Quinn, right? Didn’t seem right to double you up.”
Thank God for Quinn.
Quinn.
Oh, shit. Zane scanned the crowd for the pretty brunette, tension still ripping through his shoulders even when he came up short of a sighting.
He hadn’t seen her in a week. Not since they’d had coffee. And he’d been so off his game, he’d totally blown asking her out again. And he hadn’t set foot in Myer’s since that first night.
It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about the challenge. Exactly. It was more that he’d been busy. Distracted. Focused. Yeah, focused. A guy had to have priorities, and the last few days with Vivian had required all of his attention.
Still, a challenge had been issued. And he owed it to himself—to his friends—to give it his all.
“Wasn’t Quinn supposed to be part of the parade?” he asked Mike.
“Yeah, she was supposed to reprise her role as homecoming queen but she refused. Said she’d abdicated her crown years ago.”
“Whoa, though,” Mike said, leaning back and putting on his fake shocked face. “What’s up with that? Shouldn’t you have her schedule down solid by now? All her favorites memorized? A solid handle on the moves she likes, how to score and what it’ll take to bring home the win?”
About to offer a snappy comment on how sad a guy would have to be to know all of that about a woman, let alone how tacky it was to play a woman like a ball game, Zane caught sight of Vivian through the crowd. Wearing a hot pink sundress with tiny straps and a tight waist, she leaned against the corner lamppost outside of the bakery, watching the parade go by.
She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail with a fluffy bow that matched her dress, leaving her face unframed except for that sweep of bangs and the huge sunglasses she wore in defense of the bright morning light.
Pleasure surged as he relaxed into a smile, sending her a special wink and a wave. Zane hadn’t expected to see her. He hadn’t even mentioned the parade. They didn’t talk about the reunion events much. Partially because she wasn’t really involved, although she’d mentioned a cake. But mostly because while he was grateful to the reunion for bringing him back into town, he was more interested in talking about Vivian.
Since he did know her schedule, he was surprised to see her out for the parade. She worked in the bakery kitchen from four in the morning until ten, then shifted to the front counter unless she had a heavy decorating schedule.
He knew her favorites, too. Red was her color, although turquoise was a close second. She loved chocolate, erotica and pushing the decorating envelope. Hated fake strawberry filling, pornography and something called basket weave, which he was pretty sure was some sort of frosting.
As for moves, she hadn’t objected to a single one he’d made, he remembered with a grin. He’d scored enough to set new records—for both of them, thank you very much—and as for bringing home the win?
He smiled at Vivian again before she passed out of view and realized that she was it.
Vivian was his win.
Shit.
What was wrong with him?
Had the air gotten thinner all of a sudden? Zane tried to breathe, but couldn’t quite find enough air to inflate his lungs.
He glanced at Xander. The guy was looking pretty damned satisfied but wasn’t saying why. Zane had always been able to read his twin. But this time he couldn’t tell was going on in Xander’s head.
As if reading his thoughts, Xander glanced over. His ready smile faded at the look on Zane’s face.
“You okay, man?” Xander frowned at him. “What’s got you so stressed?”
“Challenges.” Zane stared out at the crowd, forcing a smile as he waved to their sister and her two kids. “Dude, do you ever think we’re too old for this crap?”
“The only ones who aren’t too old for this crap are Joel and Teddy,” he said, nodding at their nephews. Xander scowled at the panther as if he wanted to rip its head off with his bare hands and mount it on a wall. “And even that’s a maybe.”
Zane started to correct him, to explain that he meant the challenges, not the float. Dares were for kids. When did they cross the finish line to claim their adult status? he wondered as the float came to the end of the street and the parade wrapped up. They were navy SEALs. Wasn’t it time to grow up?
“Dudes, bet you miss daily exercise, don’t you?” Kyle greeted as they jumped off the float. “Wanna race to the auditorium? The senior center is serving up a pancake breakfast.”
“I’m not running across the parking lot to get a stack of pancakes,” Zane retorted.
“Bet I get there first,” Lenny shouted, taking off at a run.
Zane and Xander exchanged eye rolls. Then they glanced down. Sneakers instead of dress shoes.
That mean
t, oh, yeah... It was on.
As one, they sprinted toward the pancakes.
9
TAKE A LITTLE CANDLELIGHT, add some romantic music and a bottle of wine. What do you get?
The perfect evening.
Vivian danced across the room with a jiggly butt wiggle that she was pretty sure did amazing things for her skirt. Like make it cling to her hips in a very enticing way.
And enticing was job one on an anniversary. And twelve days counted as an anniversary when fourteen was the end.
She boogied her way into the kitchen to check the lasagna. Tangy sauce scenting the air? Check. Golden cheese bubbling? Check. Bread buttered and ready for broiling? Wine open and breathing? She glanced at the counter. Yep, ready.
She puffed out a deep breath, checked the straps of her halter dress and shook back her hair.
Ready.
She was so ready.
She heard the front door.
Woot. Talk about timing.
Almost skipping, she headed out of the kitchen, only to stop midhop in the doorway.
“Mike? What do you want?”
“Am I interrupting?” Brows raised, Mike made a show of eyeing the candlelit table. “Or am I interrupting? Got company, Viv?”
“No, but I will soon. So go away.”
“Go away? Nah, I think I’ll stick around.” He dropped onto the couch, spreading his arms over the back cushions and propping his feet on the steamer trunk she used as a coffee table. “Smells like lasagna. You make a killer meal, Viv. Got extra?”
“Go away,” Vivian said again, nudging his feet off the table. “Far, far away.”
“But I’m so comfortable.” He gave her a hopeful look.
“Why are you here?”
“You’ve got mail.” He reached inside his jacket, then shook his head and pulled his empty hand free. “But what do I have? Bummer that it’s not lasagna.”
“You’re going to have a thump on the head if you don’t give me my mail, get off my couch and out of my living room.” Vivian shifted from one foot to the other, then back again. She glanced at the door and nervously bit her lip. “Seriously. We’re adults, Mike. Quit being an irritating big brother and go away.”