“No, no. I’ll be fine. I’ll go back over later, after we’re done taping today.”
It was very early, with the sun just casting the first bit of a glow on the horizon. With production not slated to start until one in the afternoon, the lot was deserted and all the trailers were closed up and dark, as had been all of the town square when they’d driven through it.
Baxter turned back to Lani. “Shall we go upstairs, try to get at least a bit of rest?”
“If the offer comes with a steamy, hot shower, you have a deal.” She wriggled a little in the light sweater she had on. “I want to wash the plane off me.”
“I understand the feeling. Come on then, off you go.” He let her lead the way up the stairs, while he shouldered their carry-on bags up behind her.
She unlocked the door and turned on the overhead fan and the light, then crossed the room to crack open the dormer window so the air could circulate a bit. She’d have to remember to close it again before they went down to work, so it wouldn’t get too hot when the sun came up. She heard Baxter put their bags down, but before she could turn back, he’d come up behind her and slid his arms around her waist.
She sighed and leaned back against him. “I’m glad I went, but I’m glad I’m back.”
He kissed the side of her neck. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“Thank you for taking me. It was fun. I liked getting to see that side of you. It was pretty intense and crazy, but you were so great the whole time. So patient, and always a friendly word for everyone.”
“Everyone was working just as hard as I was.”
“Well, I was proud of you, and happy to be with you.” She shifted enough to look up at him over her shoulder. “Do you think any reporters from the excursion will trail us back here?”
“I don’t honestly know. I’m not sure we exactly fooled anyone.”
“I thought the same thing.”
“But it would be nice if they’d respect our privacy, at least until we’re done filming.”
“Yes, it would.” But she knew better than to assume that. She sighed again, and leaned back against him.
He tightened his hold on her, as if feeling the same things.
“I can’t believe it’s already Tuesday,” she said a few moments later.
“I know.” His voice was a bit gruff. He turned her around in his arms, then framed her face with his wide palms, tipping it up to his as he pushed her hair back. “I don’t know how we’re going to do it, Lei.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “I don’t, either,” she whispered, her throat suddenly tight.
He kissed her then, and though it started gentle and sweet, when she threw her arms around his neck, the exchange shifted instantly into something hungry and demanding.
He backed her toward the bed, lips locked, as they each began to peel off their clothes. But before she bumped up against the bed, he scooped her up in his arms.
“Baxter, what are you—”
“I believe the lady requested a steamy shower. You’re providing the shower, so it’s only fair I provide the steam.”
Her laughter quickly turned to gasps of pleasure when he let her feet slide to the tiled bathroom floor, and did just that. Partly by tugging the knob for the shower and setting it to hot ... and partly by slowly undressing her the rest of the way, as the room filled with steam. Only when she was completely naked, and he’d kissed his way back up the entire length of her torso, ending with a sweet nip to the side of her neck, did he pick her up and step them both into the walk-in shower.
“Baxter—wait, you’re not all the way undressed—”
“I will be. Come here.”
Water cascaded over them as he pulled her up against him, then walked her back until her skin met the tiles. She gasped. They were still cooler than her skin, despite the steam swirling around them.
His shirt was open, his belt unbuckled, and his trousers unbuttoned. His feet were bare, but that’s as far as he’d gotten. He slid her up the wall. “Wrap your legs around me, Lei,” he said, then took her mouth again. He was demanding, insistent, and something about him, standing in the shower, half dressed, with her naked and wrapped around him just made it all the more arousing for her. As if he was so desperate for her, so hungry for her, he couldn’t wait to have her.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched away from the tiled wall as he slid his mouth down the side of her neck. He pushed her higher still, and ran his tongue over one nipple, then the other. She jerked against him, grunting as pleasure shot straight down through her core, making her ache to feel him there.
She sank her fingers into his wet hair and held his mouth where she wanted it, then let go as he allowed her to slowly slide down the wall, licking his way up, under her jaw, and back to her mouth. She shoved his shirt off his shoulders as he shoved his tongue into her mouth.
She took it, suckled it, held on, then gave hers to him in return. She unlocked her legs from around his waist, and though her knees were wobbly and felt about as sturdy as pulled taffy, she shoved at the waistband of his pants.
Kissing the side of her neck, palming her breast with one hand, he managed to help her strip off the rest of his clothes.
She started to pull him back to her, but he spun her around.
The move surprised her, but she was so deeply entrenched in her need to have him inside her, fully, hard, and fast, that the primal feel of the position only served to intensify every nerve ending, every twitch, every flicker of pleasure.
She braced her hands on the tiles as his hands spanned her hips and guided her back onto him. She groaned, a deep, guttural sound, as he slowly pushed himself into her. She shifted her hips up so she could take him in even deeper, and it was his turn to growl.
The shower was small enough that he could brace his back on the opposite wall, and slide down a bit, bending his knees so she was almost straddling him backwards, but the angle was perfect and she whimpered as he began to move inside her. Every stroke set off a whole new wave of sparks, the friction exquisite as he reached places inside her that their previous positions hadn’t allowed.
She used the wall as leverage, pushing back as he thrust into her, panting as she started the climb toward what she knew was going to be the most shattering climax she’d never experienced.
As if sensing it, maybe feeling her tighten around him, he shifted up slightly so he could slide one hand around her as he held her hip steady with the other. He slid wet, slippery fingers up to toy with her nipples, making her cry out with the sharp tug of pleasure that was wrenched from her.
Then he slid his hand slowly down, over her stomach.
“Oh, oh,” she gasped. “I don’t know if I can—” The very idea of him rubbing his fingers over her when she was already so stimulated she could barely stay balanced upright made her start to shake.
“You can,” he said. And proved himself right.
She climaxed the instant he touched her. Wracking, wrenching waves of pleasure shook her so hard, she saw all those stars he’d been talking about.
She’d barely gotten past the crest of it, was still shaking hard from the wave upon wave of sensations gripping her, when he pushed her forward and she instinctively pressed her palms hard and flat against the tile ... and pushed right back.
He shouted as he thrust hard into her, and came, in deep, shuddering jerks, every bit as strong as the climax that had just rocked her.
They were both panting, she was almost whimpering, and then he was sliding out, turning her into his arms, moving her into the far corner, shielding her from the spray of the shower with his body as he tucked her tightly against him. They struggled to stand without shaking, to breathe, and she clung to him even as he held on to her. Neither of them spoke. He had his cheek pressed to the top of her head, she had hers pressed to his still thundering heart.
How long they stood there, she lost all track. But, at some point, he reached behind him and turned off the show
er. He kissed her softly, so at odds with the ferocity of how he’d just taken her, it made her heart squeeze tightly in her chest. She’d taken him every bit as voraciously, and felt every bit as tender toward him.
He grabbed towels and dried her off, then wrapped another one around his waist after giving his hair a quick rub. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her to bed.
They gasped at the coolness of the sheets on their still damp and heated skin, but he quickly pulled her to him and they curled into their place, their space. She remembered he kissed her temple and she kissed the spot over his heart ... then, mercifully, sleep claimed her before her thoughts of their time being almost over did instead.
And, in her dreams, they lived happily ever after.
Chapter 18
Baxter gave up on the candles, then adjusted the plates and flatware laid out on the linen tablecloth for at least the fiftieth time since he’d placed them there. How had it gotten to be their last night?
They’d finished the final taping the night before, and had enjoyed a Laura Jo–catered wrap-party, with all the cupcakes they’d made that day as their celebration cake. He had eaten little to nothing all day, and still had no appetite. It wasn’t because of the feast the night before, or the long hours he and Rosemary had spent going over all the tape, getting the rest of the location shots done, and making certain they weren’t missing anything before they packed up and left Sugarberry behind.
He was due to head back to New York on an early flight in the morning for another weekend of promotional stops; then he’d meet up with the crew in Texas on Monday. They’d really tightened up and streamlined the setup and production that went with the taping through the course of their stay, so they hoped to be taping by Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday morning at the latest. The team would already have gone through the recipe selection and testing process by the time he arrived, with him teleconferencing throughout. He would spend a little time with the bakery owner, who, in the case of the Texas stop, was actually a mother-daughter team. They had some very interesting takes on infusing Tex-Mex flavors into their desserts and baked goods. That would be the theme of the Texas show. Hopefully he’d quickly establish a good rapport with them.
From there, he’d be heading north, first to Missouri, then to Minnesota, then on out west to the coast of Oregon, followed by a trek back south again, to Arizona. Their tour would end with two stops in the east. One in Maine, the other in Amish country, in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, then it was back to New York.
All of that would be happening without Leilani.
“Hey, there,” she called out. He looked up to see her coming down the path between the dunes.
For their last dinner, they’d decided to eat under the stars, at the little picnic table pavilion where they’d spent that first long evening together, walking the beach, and letting down their guards.
She was smiling as she ducked into the pavilion.
“It’s too windy for candles,” he said inanely. He was afraid if he said even one thing he was really thinking, it would all come out in a rush of emotional need and want. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t burden her. It was enough that he knew how he felt. And he was pretty damn sure she felt the same way. It would have to be enough.
“It all looks so beautiful,” she said of the nice china he’d borrowed from Alva, along with the silver.
“Thank you. I kept the plates covered. Sand. Would you like some wine?”
“I’d love some.” She slid onto the bench opposite the spot where he was standing. He poured them each a glass, then took his seat.
They were smiling, ostensibly relaxed ... but what it felt like was the first truly awkward moment they’d ever shared.
“Lei—”
“Bax—”
Both spoke at the same time, both broke off. “You, please,” he said, as much to be a gentleman as to buy himself some much needed time to gather his wits.
“No, nothing, just ... this is nice. I’m glad you thought of it.”
They’d already decided they weren’t going to spend that night together. He had to leave at four in the morning and drive all the way to Atlanta to catch his flight out. They knew they wouldn’t get any rest and it all seemed too wrenching a thing to do, parting in the wee hours after yet another sleepless night.
The previous night had been like that. They’d spent it together, but any imagined long talks into the wee hours, summing up their thoughts and feelings, and finding a way to part that seemed more kind and less brutal, hadn’t been realized. They’d made frenzied love to one another, then clung together in silence, then done it all over again, and repeated the cycle until they were finally forced to leave the room to go down to work.
Neither of them had spoken of it, but when he’d suggested a last dinner on the beach, and said he thought it might be best for him to retire to the Hughes’s B&B later so he could pack ... she’d looked relieved.
And though that had hurt, he understood. He’d felt almost hollow, and it had taken every last scrap of his considerable will to remain focused on the requirements of work. It was all going to happen whether he thought about it or not, so he chose not to waste precious moments on the inevitable.
“What’s on the menu?” she asked brightly. Maybe overly bright.
“Oh, right, sorry.” He lifted off the cloches. “I thought we’d stick with traditional foods.”
“Mmm, I know that scent. That’s Laura Jo’s fried chicken.”
“It is. And Alva’s potato salad. One of my chefs contributed the rolls. I tossed the salad.”
“And two cheesecake cupcakes,” she said, as he uncovered the small basket to the side. “Perfect.”
“I also have lemonade or tea.”
“The wine is fine.” She made a big business of picking up her chicken leg, fiddling with the skin. “It all looks so good. I don’t know where to begin.”
“Neither do I,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at his plate of food.
She felt his gaze, and put her chicken down, meeting his gaze with her own. “I know. Me, either.”
“Are you starving?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It all really looks wonderful, and smells amazing. And I don’t know that I could eat a single bite.”
He nodded, then covered the food up once more. He stood and held out his hand. “Walk the beach with me?” The sun was just starting its descent to the west, so the distant horizon over the water to the east was still golden from the sun.
“Sure.”
They crossed the dunes and climbed past the high tide flotsam and jetsam, then kicked off their shoes and rolled up their pant legs. He took her hand, and they started down the beach.
“How do we do this?” she said.
He knew she wasn’t talking about their walk. “I don’t know. I guess time will simply do it for us.”
“I’m not ready for it to be over,” she admitted.
“I don’t know that I’d ever choose for it to be.” He stopped and turned, pulling her around in front of him, and taking her other hand in his as well. “Does it have to be, Lei?”
“Baxter—”
“I’m not asking you to come to New York with me, but ... does it have to come to a complete and utter end? Why not at least allow ourselves the chance to see what might happen if we keep communicating?”
“Because we can communicate all we want, but all that’s going to do is make us yearn for something we can’t have and delay the inevitable. I don’t want us to get irritated and frustrated by the limitations we’d surely face trying to continue anything long distance. I don’t want this to end with us upset or angry with each other. We’re good now. And this ... this has been the best ten days I’ve ever experienced.” She tried a brief smile. “Taping the show notwithstanding.”
He tried a brief smile, too, only it was close to impossible to sustain. The moment was too bittersweet, and his trademark charm and good humor seemed to have abandoned h
im. Much as she was about to do. Only he was guilty of the same. “I’ve grown used to talking to you, sharing the day, laughing over the mistakes made, and all the brilliant moments.”
“We’ve been spending the days together working,” she reminded him. “So there’s been a lot to talk about.”
“I don’t know that that will change, Lei. When I’m on the road, there will be stories, moments good and bad, highs and lows. I know I’ll want to share them, make you laugh as I describe them. Make you still be part of them, part of my life. Part of me. I don’t think that will change when the tour is over, either. I’ll want to know what’s going on here.” A smile did come. “Find out what kind of uproar Alva’s latest column has created.”
Her inaugural column had indeed featured the two of them, and Alva crowing about how she’d been the first to know, and the first to entertain their celebrity chef in her home. She’d also given the lowdown on the poker tournament, which had stirred up a bigger hornet’s nest, resulting in yet another night in the local lockup for both Dee Dee and Laura Jo. No sangria or volcano cakes had been involved that time, to his knowledge, but some bloke named Felipe had factored in somehow.
If that weren’t enough, two photographers and a tabloid reporter had shown up the day after they’d returned from L.A., wanting to dig dirt on Baxter and his former employee. The town had risen up and barricaded the two of them behind the joined forces of their collective silence on the topic, and Sheriff Trusdale had all but run the three guys off the island. But not before Alva had gotten her scoop, of course.
Lani shook her head, smiling briefly. “It’s probably best you don’t know.”
“You may have a point. But enquiring minds will still want to know. Or this enquiring mind will.”
She looked up at him, the wind whipping strands of her hair about her face. She framed the side of her forehead with one hand to block the slanting rays of the setting sun and keep the hair from her eyes. “I’m going to miss our talks, too. Although I might wish to be spared Rosemary’s latest tirade, I will miss the rest of the crew. I’ve gotten to know them all, and heard about their families back home and ... well, it will be weird not having them around. My shop is going to feel so quiet when all the equipment is gone and it’s just me and my cupcakes.”
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