by Cat Schield
Grinding his teeth together to keep himself from coming, he glanced down and saw her lips curve into the most glorious smile he’d ever seen. With his brain waging a fierce battle against his body, Linc began a steady, torturously slow rhythm, determined to give her everything he had and more.
“You are so tight,” he groaned. “You’re driving me crazy, Claire.”
In answer, her snug, slick walls pulsed around him and he began pumping into her harder, going as deep as he could. She met each thrust with a little chant and sank her nails into his skin.
“More,” she begged. “I want all of you.”
So he gave her everything he had. His breath rasped against her neck as he filled her again and again. Reaching between their bodies, he cupped her, putting the perfect pressure on her clit.
“Come for me.”
And then she was. With a long, searing cry, her body began to shake. Linc clamped his mouth over hers, drinking her pleasure as her body gripped him and started a chain reaction that sent him soaring off a cliff right after her.
* * *
Ten days before Bettina’s party, Claire took her culinary expertise to the Mills-Forrest House and spent several hours preparing a selection for Linc’s mom to choose from. Although Bettina had a reputation for being a tough cookie, Claire had always gotten along well with the Charleston matriarch.
And Claire wanted to keep it that way, which was why for the past couple days her focus had been on brainstorming dishes and assembling her menu. Not on daydreaming about the magical night she’d spent with Linc.
Today’s plan was for her to serve her menu ideas to Bettina as a mid-afternoon snack. While she was occupied doing this, Linc had offered to take Honey to the Children’s Museum of the Lowcountry so she wouldn’t have to hire a babysitter.
It still perplexed her that he enjoyed spending time with the two-year-old. Honey could be challenging at times, although the toddler’s sunny personality made up for the worst of it. But Linc was fond of Honey and, of course, she adored him. Watching them together made Claire’s heart ache because it reminded her that Honey would never know her father. And despite how Jasper had begun changing as his many tours overseas took their toll on his psyche, from the expression on his face when he held Honey in his arms at the hospital, Claire knew he would’ve done anything for his little girl.
Dolly was ironing sheets in a small nook near the kitchen when Claire carried in several grocery bags of ingredients. The older woman scowled as she watched Claire unpack and arrange things on the enormous marble island.
“I told her I’m not helping with the cooking for the party,” Dolly said with an imperious sniff she’d picked up from her longtime employer.
“You already do so much for Bettina,” Claire said, her tone soothing. “I wouldn’t want you to feel pressure to do more. So I hired waitstaff and an assistant to help me prepare all the food.”
With a satisfied nod, Dolly returned to her task, and for the next two hours, the two women worked in companionable silence. For her part, Claire was happy to not have to chat.
As she was finishing up, she heard the distant sound of the doorbell ringing. Fortunately, Bettina had warned her that she was inviting some of her friends, so Claire had come prepared with enough food. While Dolly headed off to welcome the guests, Claire put the final touches on her plates, wondering whom she might encounter today.
Promptly at four o’clock, she carried the first two offerings out to the dining room and found five women sitting around the table. Besides Bettina, Sawyer and her friend Augusta, who’d approached Claire after Linc’s dinner party about catering the food for a fund-raiser, there were two women in their early forties.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Claire said, setting her first menu items on the table. “Today, I have for you a mozzarella and grape tomato skewer with basil drizzled with a balsamic reduction, as well as a salmon and cream cheese bite.”
While Dolly set about pouring glasses of white wine, Claire went back into the kitchen to fetch serving plates with spicy tuna wrapped in pickled cucumber, baked brie with walnuts and pistachios, and yellow tomato gazpacho shooters with basil crab salad crostini.
One of the first chefs Claire had worked for had been a stickler for presentation and had hammered into his employees that food needed to be visually pleasing as well as a festival of flavors. That was why she’d made certain that each selection she presented to Bettina was not only a treat for the palate, but interesting to the eye as well.
By the time she finished setting the last of her eight plates on the table, the women were exclaiming over the food. A warm sense of accomplishment flooded Claire. Cooking was her passion and it thrilled her when people enjoyed what she lovingly created.
“In addition to these,” she said, making eye contact with Sawyer, who gave her an encouraging smile, “I thought we should have boiled shrimp and a cheese platter. And I have a friend who is an excellent pastry cook. For dessert, I could order up a selection.”
“This is all quite nice,” Bettina said, proving far less difficult to please than Claire had anticipated. “I approve of everything.”
“Wonderful.”
“I agree,” Augusta spoke up. “This is all amazing.”
Buoyed by all the positive feedback, Claire grinned. “I’m glad you like it.”
Augusta indicated the two woman who’d accompanied her. “Let me introduce you to these ladies. This is Genevieve Brand and Portia Hillcrest. I brought them along today because they are in charge of organizing the charity polo match to support the local YMCA next Saturday, and they were hoping you could help them out of a jam.”
Genevieve Brand was nodding as Augusta spoke. A thin woman with sleek blond hair and a smooth round face, Genevieve wore a beautiful pale pink suit and a triple-strand pearl necklace that looked like it cost more than Claire had paid for her Saab.
“Our caterer had a family emergency and canceled last minute,” Genevieve said. “We are in a terrible predicament with the event coming up so soon and no food. Would you be able to help us out?”
Claire’s first impulse was to say no. When Augusta had approached her after Linc’s dinner party, asking if she would be interested in catering an event in the future, Claire hadn’t dreamed anything would come up so soon. She didn’t have the facilities or the staff to handle a large party.
“I’d have to talk to Linc.” When Genevieve and Portia exchanged a confused look, Claire explained, “I’m his housekeeper.”
“I’m sure he’ll say yes.” Augusta beamed as if everything was settled. “It’s one of his favorite events, after all.”
“Does he play polo?” The question slipped out of Claire’s mouth before she could stop it.
Sawyer laughed. “No, but he’s big on any charity that helps out kids, and he loves rooting for Austin.”
“By rooting for,” Bettina murmured wryly, “Sawyer means betting on.”
“There’s always a little friendly wagering that goes on during the match,” Portia explained. “Those proceeds also go to the charity.”
“Sounds like a worthwhile event,” Claire said, a little overwhelmed by the weight of these women’s expectations. “Still, I should run it by Linc.”
“Of course.”
“Run what by Linc?” came the question from the doorway.
Claire’s eyes snapped to her employer and her heart skipped a beat. Nor was she the only one affected. A collective sigh went up from the room’s occupants as each took in the charming picture of the gorgeous blond man with an armful of adorable toddler. It was hard for Claire to keep her expression neutral as she was suddenly besieged by the memories of his touch.
“Genevieve and Portia need Claire’s help with the charity polo match next Saturday,” Augusta said to him. “They lost their caterer at the last minute.”
“What an ado
rable little girl,” Portia exclaimed, looking perplexed.
“This is Honey,” Linc said, his smiling blue eyes landing on Claire.
“She’s Claire’s daughter,” Bettina clarified, her tone flat.
“How was the children’s museum?” Claire asked. “Did she behave herself?”
“She was a perfect angel.”
“I don’t believe you,” she replied, all too aware that their exchange was being closely observed.
“You know she always behaves for me,” Linc said, shifting his attention to Honey. “Don’t you?”
“Yes.” The little girl patted his cheek with her palm and giggled.
“They had a fire truck exhibit. She was a huge fan.”
“Whoooo, whooo.” Honey sounded more like an alarm than a train.
“It was nice of you to take your housekeeper’s daughter to the children’s museum,” Genevieve murmured, mild judgment in her tone.
When Claire stiffened at the remark, Linc shot the woman an uncompromising look.
“She’s catering my mother’s party as a favor. The least I could do was save her from having to hire a babysitter today.”
While everyone nodded, Claire stood frozen with humiliation. Once again, it was pretty obvious in the eyes of many people that a clearly defined line existed between the haves and those who work for them.
“Why don’t I take Honey now,” Claire said, sliding around the outer perimeter of the room in Linc’s direction. “You should sit down and visit with these ladies. I can bring you a plate if you’d like to taste the food.”
“No, thanks. Honey and I are going to hang out in the kitchen with you while you finish up.”
Curiosity was almost palpable in the dining room.
“Before you go, Linc,” Genevieve said. “Can you give Claire permission to work our fund-raiser? She won’t do it without your approval.”
Linc shook his head. “She doesn’t need my permission. She’s free to do whatever she wants with her weekends.”
All eyes turned in Claire’s direction as he finished speaking, and she felt like a rabbit that had stumbled into a wolves’ den.
“Then I guess my answer is yes,” she said, eager to escape a situation that had suddenly become awkward and embarrassing. More than anything, she wished the scene with Linc and Honey hadn’t played out in front of these women. Gossip around town already had it that there was something going on between her and Linc. Thanks to his arrival, it was pretty obvious that Claire and her employer were friends and possibly a little too comfortable with each other.
As she left, her gaze fell on Bettina. Linc’s mother wore a slight frown. Claire returned to the kitchen, hoping Bettina wasn’t concerned that Linc had babysat Honey.
“Thank you for watching Honey for me today so I could concentrate on getting everything ready,” she said. “If you want to leave her with me and head out...”
“I don’t have anything else to do this afternoon, so I’m happy to hang out with her until you’re done here,” Linc said, setting Honey on the ground and finding her a couple pots and a wooden spoon. He then demonstrated drumming on the cookware and the toddler set to work making noise.
“Thanks,” Claire mumbled, rinsing the last of the plates and loading them into the dishwasher.
While she finished up, Linc leaned on the counter and surveyed the leftovers. “How did the tasting go?” He reached out and snagged one of the appetizers, popping it into his mouth. “This is fantastic. What is it?”
“Puffed pastry with caviar.” Claire dodged around Linc and began packing up the leftovers. “Your mom liked everything.”
“Terrific.” He tried a tartlet with goat cheese and fig and moaned appreciatively. “Then why are you upset?”
“I’m not upset.”
“Is it because they badgered you into catering the charity polo match next week?” He grinned at her over a shot glass of gazpacho. “Don’t do it if you think it’s going to be too much.”
“It isn’t that...” She trailed off, not wanting to get into her concerns right there in his mother’s kitchen.
“Is it the reason my mother is having the party?” He lowered his voice until only she could hear him. “Are you worried that I’m going to meet someone? Because if that’s it, you don’t need to give it a second thought. I’m only going through the motions to satisfy my mother.”
Claire stopped what she was doing and gave him her full attention. Was she acting like she was jealous? They’d slept together only once and she hoped she’d been clear about it not becoming a habit.
Yet, if she investigated her churning emotions, she suspected the fear in her heart had little to do with concern over whether his next serious relationship would want the live-in housekeeper fired. Claire suspected she was well on her way to falling for her handsome, charming employer.
“You need to take her matchmaking more seriously,” Claire said, denying the truth staring her straight in the face. “She has only your best interest at heart.”
“That doesn’t sound like the sort of advice I’d expect from a woman who had her world rocked by me a few nights ago.”
“My world rocked?” Claire repeated in a barely audible whisper while glancing toward the hall that led into the dining room. Embarrassment and desire warred inside her. “Can we not talk about this here?”
“Relax.” His voice was a husky rasp across her senses. “No one can hear us.”
“Nevertheless.” She tried for crisp and professional but came across tremulous and disturbed. Her breath hitched as his fingers tugged at her chef jacket, making the fabric slide across her overly sensitive skin. “Linc.”
“You know it’s going to happen again. Tonight, I think.” His eyes glittered, making it impossible for her to look away.
“I don’t know that.” But she wanted it to. So badly. Her entire body screamed for him to kiss her. Caution was quickly drowning beneath the flood of desire. “Linc,” she almost pleaded. “It was supposed to be one and done. Just two people who turn to each other in a moment of weakness.”
She managed to tear her gaze away and shot a glance toward the dining room. To her relief, no one was skulking in the butler’s pantry, listening to them, but she really didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
“Weakness?” He took his time tasting the word. “Yeah, I guess that sounds about right. When it comes to you, my willpower is shot to hell.”
“Linc, please.” She was begging now through clenched teeth.
“Those were your exact words that night.”
“Oh, Linc...”
The heat scorching her cheeks wasn’t caused by the temperature in the kitchen. She hungered to take hold of Linc’s knit shirt and drag it over his head. To feel his hands slide beneath her chef whites and claim her breasts.
He set his palm on the kitchen island and leaned toward her, pitching his voice to a sexy murmur that made her muscles bunch in anticipation.
“‘Oh, Linc...’ I’m going to make you say them again,” he vowed, his whole manner leaving no doubt that he wouldn’t stop until she’d given him everything he wanted. “And again.”
Pledge delivered, he stepped back, leaving her quaking and achy and oh, so ready to do anything he asked. From the satisfaction glinting in his eyes, he knew what his words had done to her. A second later, he scooped Honey into his arms and carried her out the kitchen door, and Claire watched after him, a trembling bundle of unsatisfied longing.
Seven
The opportunity to lure Claire back into his bed failed to materialize in the days that followed the tasting at his mother’s house. Claire was completely engrossed in preparations for the party, and while he missed spending time with her, Linc appreciated her passion and wanted her to shine. At least that was what he told himself as his ache for her grew.
At eleve
n o’clock on a Saturday—far too early for him to be coming home from a night out with the guys—Linc eased his BMW into the driveway and parked beside Claire’s ancient Saab. He shut off the engine and in the ensuing silence listened to the insects drone. His jaw ached from grinding his teeth. The whole evening had tested his patience as he watched his friends hit on a variety of women and compete to see who could take the prettiest one home.
Usually he found their antics amusing, but ever since he’d warned Claire he intended to make her moan for him again, he’d been distracted and edgy.
In fact, he hadn’t planned to go out at all tonight. He’d intended to stay close to Claire in case she wanted to knock off early and hang out, but she had plans of her own. Since he hadn’t been all that keen on staying home alone, he’d let Knox and Austin drag him out. He’d pretty quickly discovered that being by himself wasn’t the problem—it was being away from Claire. She’d become like a drug in his system. No one but her appealed to him.
It hadn’t helped that he’d caught a glimpse of London having dinner with Harrison Crosby as he headed toward The Lucky Mojo. She’d looked as elegant and unflappable as ever, but something about the way her date smiled at her kicked Linc in the gut. He recognized a man on the hunt. He’d seen the same expression reflected in his mirror over the past several days.
While he didn’t begrudge London her happiness, Linc couldn’t help but experience a small flash of envy that Harrison could wine and dine her to his heart’s content, while Linc was left skulking around in secret with Claire.
Linc didn’t give a damn who knew he was pursuing her, but Claire was sensitive about the situation and worried because she worked for him. Although he didn’t want to add to her concern, Linc sensed that by keeping their budding relationship quiet and acting like being with her was something he was ashamed of, she would never believe their divergent social positions didn’t matter.
As he stepped out of the BMW, the sound of splashing came from the direction of the pool. He headed for the source of the noise. The thick vegetation surrounding the concrete pool deck gave him cover as he lurked and watched Claire make her way from one end of the narrow pool to the other with slow, lazy strokes.