Deliciously Sinful

by Lilli Feisty

  Which, of course, would be difficult considering she owned the café where he worked, and he was her employee. But she could never, ever let him touch her again.

  Why did that thought leave her feeling a little empty inside?

  She smiled at Steve, hoping her expression seemed confident and sincere. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “You sure?”

  “Definitely. I just have a lot on my plate.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year. You always take on so much, Pheebs.”

  She shrugged. “I can handle it.”

  He kept staring at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Honestly?”

  “When are you not honest with me? Spill it.”

  He released her shoulder and crossed the kitchen. Turning, he crossed his arms before leaning back against the counter. “I don’t like Nick. I don’t trust him.”

  She laughed, but it was nervous and high-pitched. “That makes two of us.”

  “I see the way you look at him.”

  “Huh?” She tried to sound casual. “I don’t look at him. And what do you mean, look at him?”

  “Like you used to look at Bear back when we were in high school.”

  “Th-that’s ridiculous! I never look at Nick that way.” She shook her head. “And I never looked at Bear any way. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, Phoebe. You’re an open book.”

  She tore the lid off the yogurt carton and tossed the piece of foil into the garbage. She was too irritated to wash and recycle the foil.

  “Steve. I’m not an open book. And even if I was, so what? I have nothing to hide.”

  Steve lifted a brow. “Is that so? Then where were you around three this morning?”

  She whipped her head up to stare at her all-too-aware brother-in-law. “W-what?”

  “I’m a heavy sleeper, but did you think I wouldn’t notice someone coming and going in the middle of the night, in and out of the house where my daughter and sister-in-law live?”

  She should have known. Steve might be laid-back, but he was also very protective of his family. And she knew if anyone ever threatened anyone he loved, he wouldn’t back down. Phoebe knew her kindhearted brother would resort to violence if need be.

  Phoebe should have thought about that.

  She shrugged and pulled a spoon from a drawer. “You caught me. I went for a walk.”

  “A walk.”

  “Yup.” She spooned some yogurt into her mouth.

  Smooth, creamy, and chocolaty. She couldn’t help but savor the flavor. And savor the memories of last night with Nick.

  The prick.

  “I know. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take some time for yourself. Take a break once in a while.”

  She broke away from Steve’s knowing gaze and crossed the kitchen. She placed her mug in the big white cast-iron sink. “No time. Even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

  “Why don’t we take Jesse and go to the coast? We haven’t been over to the beach in ages.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Steve rarely suggested going to the coast. When his wife, Judy, was alive, they’d spent a lot of time at the beach. Since she died, it was difficult to persuade Steve to go. Too many memories. It was hard even for Phoebe. They’d spent so much time there, it seemed Judy’s presence was washed into the air with each wave that crashed onto the sand.

  “Really?” she asked.

  Steve nodded. “Yeah. I think it would do us all some good.”

  “Okay. We’ll plan it over the next week or two. If the weather’s nice, we can camp.” She turned back to the sink to wash her cup. Yes, a break would be a good thing. She had been working her tush off. Maybe that was why she was having this strange reaction to Nick. She was stressed and wasn’t thinking straight.

  Right. That had to be it. Organic pudding is turning you on. Obviously, something is wrong with you!

  Because there was no way—no way at all—that she’d be attracted to him otherwise. Nick Avalon was trouble, and that was certainly the last thing she needed. She had enough going on in her life, and she simply couldn’t afford to make things more difficult by allowing Nick to touch her—either physically or emotionally.

  She straightened. You’re in charge. You’re the boss. He’s only doing this as a way to get some power over you.

  Well, he was going to learn a lesson about real women. There was no way on earth she’d let that man think he held any power over her, because he didn’t.

  None whatsoever.

  Now she just needed to make sure he knew that.

  She looked up and through the window over the sink. A soft wind blew through the redwood trees, and she heard the calming whoosh of leaves in the breeze.

  What was she going to do now? Sex with Nick was totally inappropriate behavior on so many levels. She was his boss, for heaven’s sake. She needed to be in control, and this certainly wasn’t going to help a situation in which she barely held the reins as it was.

  It couldn’t happen again. Never. Ever. It was totally inappropriate. She needed to be able to assert her authority, and succumbing to Nick each time he tempted her with his delicious taste sensations simply would not do.

  First, she needed some space. She’d go to the farm and work. Working on the farm always helped clear her mind, energized her, and gave her strength.

  And she was going to need a lot of strength to stay away from Nick Avalon.

  *

  Sipping coffee on the front porch, Nick stared into the woods. They hadn’t changed in the past week; really, nothing had.

  The day stretched out before him—he didn’t need to be at the café until that afternoon, so he had several hours to kill. It was 9:00 a.m., and normally he’d still be sleeping. But here in Redbolt there were no after-work parties to attend, so out of boredom he’d been going to bed earlier and earlier.

  And he’d been waking up early, too. Back in L.A., he’d sleep the day away until it was time to get up and go to work. Eat, sleep, drink, fuck. That pretty much summed up his life. Oh, and driving of course. In L.A., a person needed a car like he needed oxygen. And if that person wanted to be seen as able to swim with the big fish, that person also needed a vehicle that announced that. Nick figured nothing announced who he was—and he was someone—like the huge Hummer he’d chosen as his method of transportation. Funny, no one out here seemed to care what they drove. Phoebe’s Land Cruiser had to be about twenty years old and looked like it. Everyone drove beat-up old cars. He grunted a laugh. Judging by the selection of cars and trucks on the local roads, a person would have no idea what decade it actually was. Based on how people looked at his Hummer, one would think Nick drove an airplane around town.

  Bumpkins. All of them.

  He lit a cigarette and took a drag. But as he inhaled, the smoke tasted different. The smoke didn’t really do anything for him; he didn’t enjoy it and the cigarette tasted bad. After only a few minutes he put it out.

  Staring into the trees, he stood. Nothing sounded good. He didn’t want to smoke. He didn’t have anywhere to go. He didn’t have any girls he felt like calling for a quick shag.

  Besides Phoebe, but going there was nothing but a train wreck.

  He shook his head. Since when did he avoid train wrecks? It was as if he were living in an obscure alien universe, and nothing was how it was supposed to be.

  He hopped down the porch steps and walked. And walked. He went into the woods, taking breaths of the crisp fresh air. It smelled like trees. The sun created shadows on the ground, and he dodged in and out of the sunlight.

  He heard nothing besides the sounds of his sneakers’ soles hitting the ground, which was covered in fallen needles. No cars, no people, no music. Nothing except the chirp of a bird or a breeze going through some high tree branches.

  When was the last time he’d been so secluded from civilization?

 
; He couldn’t remember. Pausing, he thought back into his past. Way back. And he couldn’t remember when he’d last taken a walk or a hike that didn’t include going to a restaurant, or a kitchen, or a club—or to or from his car.

  For some reason, that struck him as odd. He knew he was city-oriented, but still. Even a city bloke needed some fresh air once in a while.

  Shaking his head at his thoughts—thoughts that would never have popped into his brain until he’d arrived here—he went on. He wound his way through the trees; there were no paths out here, and he navigated fern bushes and other shrubbery he couldn’t identify.

  After a while, looking through the thick branches he was pushing aside as he walked, he caught sight of something large that should have looked out of place but didn’t. He continued toward what looked to be a rusted-out old farm tractor. When he was a boy, he would have loved making such a find. He would have enjoyed wandering around the tractor, looking at how it was made, wondering who’d driven it and how it had come to be abandoned.

  Now, he stopped in front of the old thing and just stared. “Huh,” he said aloud, and his own voice startled him. He was still unused to the silence of Redbolt.

  Circling the corroded piece of metal, he felt the sun on his back.

  Yeah, back when he was a boy, he would have enjoyed making a discovery like this.

  Turns out, Nick still did.

  Chapter Six

  Phoebe came across him in the forest.

  She’d been looking for wild mushrooms when she spotted Nick kneeling beside her uncle’s old tractor, apparently inspecting something near the rear wheelbase.

  So engrossed was he in the inspection of the tractor, he didn’t notice her presence. She took the time to discreetly watch him. He wore dark jeans, those fancy sneakers that weren’t nearly as shiny as when he’d first arrived, and a blue T-shirt with some sort of logo printed across the front. The short sleeves showed off his sinewy arms, and Phoebe took a moment to drink in the sight of him. His arms were long, lean, and tan as he brushed a bit of rust off the metal. He wasn’t as pale as he’d been that first day he’d arrived.

  Funny. One would think that, being from sunny Southern California, Nick would have arrived looking more like a sun god than a vampire. Well, Phoebe thought, it made sense. He probably worked late hours, partied after that, and slept his days away.

  It had been a month since Nick’s arrival in Redbolt. Watching him now, she realized there had been more subtle changes she hadn’t noticed until that moment. Not only was his skin a healthy bronze, but his face looked a bit less gaunt. His hair was a bit shaggier, and he’d lost a little of that wolflike edge he’d arrived with. Not that she wasn’t afraid he’d pounce on her any minute, but he was less…scary somehow.

  In fact, he hadn’t pounced on her at all since that night in his kitchen, two weeks back. That was good. It was a good thing. She’d pretended it had never happened and so had he. His point had been taken. He was a conceited bastard who could seduce any woman he wanted to, even her.

  It was a big mistake. Clenching the bucket in her hand, she approached him. She almost wished he’d make a move on her again, just so she could prove him wrong.

  Because she could resist Nick. She could.

  Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. Ugh. Now she was talking to herself in his voice. Irritation made her bite the inside of her cheek.

  “Nick. What are you doing?”

  With a jerk of his head, he glanced up. “Oh,” he said, clearly surprised to see her. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he stood. “I was out for a walk and I stumbled on this. Just taking a look.”

  She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “You went on a walk? Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. It just seems out of character.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know my character as well as you think you do.”

  Huh. She really didn’t want to think there was a chance of that being true. She didn’t want to see any cracks in the character description she had in her mind. Because right now, she didn’t like Nick, and she really wanted to keep it that way.

  He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, and she wondered why he seemed nervous. She’d never seen Nick Avalon as anything less than what he claimed himself to be, which was arrogant and conceited.

  Which he was. Is. She knew it; everyone knew it.

  So why was she having little nibblings of doubt? Because, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she’d seen something. A smile here and there. A joke. A genuine compliment. And the way he worked with Jesse was impressive. He had shown such patience with Phoebe’s niece it was surprising.

  Or maybe she was just losing her grip on reality due to the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. About Nick’s hands on her body, his tongue on her—

  She derailed that train of thought and narrowed her gaze at him. “I’ve never seen you out walking before. What are you doing outside your cabin? Be careful. Mother Nature might get you!”

  “I’m not worried about Mother Nature, and there’s not much else to do in this Podunk town.”

  His attempt to insult her community had less venom than it normally did; it was almost as if he responded more out of habit or obligation than spite.

  Now he was focusing on her, glancing up through dark lashes. His eyes were sparkling blue, reflecting the bright blue sky. His facial expression was soft, and for the first time, she noticed his features were actually much less harsh than she’d always thought.

  What had changed?

  “What do you have there?” he asked, glancing at her bucket.

  “Oh, I was just out looking for mushrooms.”

  “Find any?”

  Holding out the bucket in front of her, she said, “Just these.”

  He stepped forward and sized up her collection. With his long fingers, he plucked out a coral and brushed the dirt off the stem. “Nice. A Ramaria rubinosa?”

  She hitched a breath and tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered a bit at his knowledge of mycology. “H-how did you know the proper name for it?”

  He shrugged and wiped off some more dirt. The mushroom was large and beautiful, and she’d discovered enough to feature them on that evening’s menu.

  He said, “Believe it or not, I read about produce. And I like mushrooms.” He had to admit he’d never had the opportunity to cook fresh mushrooms like these during any of his stints at restaurants in big cities.

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Phoebe said. “It’s just that not even the locals know the proper names for any of the mushrooms around here.”

  “Well, I would hazard a guess that the locals are looking for a different variety entirely.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Making a swirling motion with his hands, he said, “You know. The magic kind.”

  She jerked the bucket back. “That’s ridiculous.”

  He stopped waving his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Now he was apologizing? Nick never apologized. For anything, and what he’d said was relatively low on the offensive scale.

  She shook her head. “I’m not offended. It’s just that those varieties don’t actually grow out here in the wild.”

  Now he was the one who looked surprised. “And you know this…how?”

  “Well, you can’t just go feeding people random mushrooms. The majority of them will make you sick. I wouldn’t be picking them if I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  He took a step back. “Okay. Calm down.”

  “I am calm.”

  “Only you could make an issue out of a mushroom.”

  “I’m not making an issue out of it.”

  “You got all pissy at me just then.”

  “That’s because you insinuated everyone out here is a bunch of hippies on hallucinogens.”

  “And they aren’t?”

  “Only a few. And not me.”

  “O
f course not you. I’m sure you’ve never so much as taken a drag of a cigarette.”

  “Cigarettes are disgusting.”

  “Never touched a joint either?”

  Biting her lip, she looked to the side.

  Lowering his head, he took a step toward her. “Phoebe Mayle. Are you telling me you inhaled?”

  “Maybe. Just once, though.”

  He laughed. “Did you like it?”

  “Not really. It was a long time ago, and I remember I ate a bag of chips and fell asleep.”

  He smiled. “Yeah. I pretty much had the same experience.”

  She couldn’t take her gaze off his smile. Silence stretched between them, but her brain had turned to mush, and she couldn’t find one word to say.

  She wanted to jump on him. Just like that. Standing there in the sun, in the forest, talking about the most random things—she couldn’t help it. She remembered the way his lips had felt on hers, the way his breath had felt soft on her skin, the way he smelled—like spices she couldn’t quite identify, no matter how hard she tried.

  She clenched the handle of the bucket in her hands. There was something about him, something that drew her. Raw. Physical. Hard. Heart-pounding. Lust.

  As if some kind of magnetic force surrounded them, she could feel the draw between them. Tearing her gaze away, she moved toward the tractor and pretended to find it interesting. But then she felt him beside her. Her heart raced. Her skin flushed. He was so close, so close that goose bumps pebbled up her arms and her body tingled.

  Oh, God, how she wanted to touch him. Just touch him…

  And then she felt his hand on hers. Just the barest whisper as his fingertips went up the back of her hand, but that simple contact sent an electric shock through her, right to her core.

  She glanced over, and he was staring at her. She felt her hands start to shake. But the pull was so strong, so exciting, she went with it. Allowed herself to enjoy the thrill of the moment.

  All that talk about not doing this—not allowing herself to feel the pleasure of Nick’s touch. It went out the window at a single touch.

  He took the bucket out of her hand and placed it on the ground. Then he turned her toward him, using his hand on her neck to move her. She gazed up at him. His stare was so intense it was almost unnerving.