Some Like It Hotter

by Isabel Sharpe

  She put up one last doomed attempt at resistance. “So we aren’t...going to put up...topiaries?”

  He tipped her face up to his, watching her intently. “That’s what you really want to be doing?”

  “Um.” Her gaze faltered. “Well, I mean, no, I don’t, but...I’m just excited about...that is, we should get the—”

  “Eva.” His voice was low, husky and achingly gentle. “What are you afraid of?”

  “Afraid? Me?” She tried to laugh carelessly. No luck.

  “Eva...”

  Okay, never mind. She owed this man honesty. “I don’t know.”

  “Describe your feelings.”

  “Well, one minute all I want to do is drag you behind the counter and have you do everything you’ve ever dreamed of to me.”

  He blew out a breath, looking as if he was having to keep himself from doing exactly that. “And the next minute?”

  “I want to run as far and fast as I can go.”

  “Ever felt this before with anyone?”

  She closed her eyes, shook her head minutely, hardly able to breathe. Was she falling in love with him? Could he tell? Would he make some excuse to get away from her, like, Gosh, sorry, Eva, I forgot I’m scheduled right now to blast off for another solar system?

  “Hmm, this sounds serious.” He laid his palm on her forehead. “Yup. You’ve come down with a bad case.”

  “Oh, no.” She forced a giggle. “I’m afraid to ask what I have.”

  “But wait, there’s more.” He touched her hair, done up in an off-center bun and decorated with feathers. “I have it, too.”

  Eva stared up at him. Was he saying... No, no, this was too bizarre, he must be teasing. “Is this horrible condition transmitted sexually?”

  “It starts that way. Then it spreads emotionally.”

  She shuddered comically, her heart still pounding double time, half hoping he’d say exactly what he meant and half hoping, please, for sake of her own peace, that he wouldn’t.

  “But the good news—” his arms came around her; he kissed her again “—is that since we both have it, we don’t need to worry.”

  “Whew.” She wasn’t so sure. This wasn’t her plan. Not to fall for him like this, so intensely and with such an air of finality. Love for her had always been a fun and delicious game, transient and nonthreatening to her character and her freedom.

  He kissed her again, long and lingering, then faster and hotter, until her body temperature rose to match. She’d worry later; she’d cope with this confusing conversation later. Right now they needed nice, clean, uncomplicated sex to put everything back into balance, to get them into familiar simple and primal territory.

  She pulled his perfectly ironed light blue shirt out of his perfectly ironed khakis and unbuttoned it impatiently, yanked up his T-shirt to expose his chest and pressed kisses to the smooth skin, inhaling his scent, as always amazed how this very basic exchange of physical information was so arousing. She loved the way he smelled. She loved the texture of his skin, the way it felt, yielding and warm against her mouth. Her fingers found the bulge in his pants and undid his zipper to reach in, hungry for the taste and feel of him everywhere.

  He interrupted her, stripping the shirt from her body, unhooking her bra, clearly as anxious for her skin as she’d been for his. They came together breast to chest, and together emitted a sigh of relief—the horrendous separation of the past several hours had finally been ended.

  The respite didn’t last long. Soon they were struggling to shed the rest of their clothes, giggling when things didn’t go smoothly—a sock still hanging ridiculously from a toe, balance threatened by standing on one leg, the condom in his pocket needing to be sheepishly retrieved after a macho move of hurling his pants into the back office. She loved that he was able to laugh at the good, bad and ugly, not feel as if sex were a performance, a power play or a bid for ego stroking or attention.

  He whispered her name, pulled her tightly to him, devouring her mouth. She moved her hips against him, pleasuring herself and stimulating his already steel-rod erection, savoring the feel of his body tightening, the response of his breath, the deep, soft noises he made, the way he touched and kissed her everywhere.

  Then his hands were on her hips, turning her away from him. She understood, braced her hands on the end of the counter and arched her back, offering herself to him, glad for the early darkness of October and the thick rain clouds making the light too dim for passersby to notice what they were doing.

  He was there behind her, a warm solid presence, stroking between her legs, making her shiver.

  “Mmm, that is a beautiful spot...and here, too. And especially...here.” His fingers slid inside her, the pressure and movement making her gasp. “You like that?”

  “Oh, yes.” She could barely get the words out. “Yes, I like that.”

  “Same here.” His fingers withdrew. She heard the sounds of a condom going on, then he grasped her hips and his searching penis gave her a warm nudge.

  Leaning forward, Eva lifted her bottom, reached down between her legs and guided him.

  The nudge became a pressure, the pressure grew, then he sank slowly into her. She moaned at the feeling, her nerves coming alive.

  Even with Ames behind her, he was no anonymous figure in the near darkness. Eva was hyperaware of his every movement, his every breath. She knew his eyes were half-closed, his jaw held tight. She tuned in to his breathing so she’d know best how to pleasure him, clenching her muscles to squeeze him tighter, lifting or lowering her buttocks, pushing back against his thrusts harder, slower, faster.

  His hands covered her breasts; he pinched and gently tugged her nipples, adding to her arousal.

  Eva moaned again, reached down and rubbed her clitoris, the extra stimulation making her orgasm only a matter of time.

  Sensing her urgency, Ames increased his pace, rocking her body with his thrusts, both of them making primal noises of pleasure.

  Warmth flooded Eva’s body.

  She was going to come.

  Her climax hit in a sharp burst that convulsed her muscles, making her gasp...then it tapered off and gathered again, grew into something much bigger, so big she reared back, crying out as if the oncoming wave was a physical thing frightening her.

  The second orgasm hit and she went over, barely coherent, unaware of anything but the push of Ames’s cock and the immense pleasure that had taken control of her body and brain. Over and over she cried out, until Ames grabbed her hips and pushed violently, shouting as he came into her, pulsing and rocking until he, too, finally came down.

  Then silence, except for their hoarse breaths. Eva stayed bent over the counter, hair fallen over her face, her heart pounding. She’d never experienced anything that powerful, physically or emotionally. She didn’t want it to end. She didn’t want to come down to the reality of what it might signify.

  But of course she had to. Ames’s erection receded. The counter became uncomfortable against her body. They couldn’t stand here naked in a deserted store forever.

  “Eva.” His husky, awed voice told her he’d felt what she had. He pulled out of her, turned her toward him, gathered her rapidly chilling body in his warm arms and kissed her with such tenderness that tears threatened. When he pulled back, his eyes were reflecting what she felt.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “No. No, it wasn’t.” She shook her head, clutching him to her as if she’d drown without him. “We were supposed to put up the topiaries.”

  He laughed briefly, stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m not talking about the topiaries.”

  “I know,” she whispered. And then the tears couldn’t stay back any longer.

  “The truth is—” he looked stunned, his eyes wide and dark, his face so handsome “—Eva, I’m falling for you.”

  10

  THERE WERE THINGS Chris had really come to like about her life—or rather, Eva’s life—here in central Californi
a. Like how the coffee shop was open 7:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. instead of 6:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. And how when she’d scheduled herself to work second shift, as she had today, she could sleep as late as she wanted, then get up and go running outside. In late October. No fighting other people for treadmill space at the crowded gym—this was real running. With amazing scenery, wide-open spaces, fresh ocean air...

  Then she could go home and eat breakfast outside in her backyard if it was warm enough. Even bundled up against fog or a mild chill, it felt like an exotic treat. She got her eggs from a farm stand, her bread from a local bakery and all the produce was incredible—fresh and local, not trucked three thousand miles. After breakfast she could check out the competition in the area, or check in with her suppliers or read up on the latest news in the coffee world. All without Natalie around hogging the bathroom or fussing over her wardrobe or fighting with a boyfriend or ex. No sirens, no yelling—the worst noise pollution so far were the lawn maintenance people obsessed with leaf blowers. Special place in you-know-where for them.

  Right now she was on her way to the café to relieve Summer for the afternoon shift. She would work five hours—five hours!—and that was it for the day; she’d still have an evening to herself.

  That’s when the small-town California bliss soured a bit. She’d gone out to dinner or to listen to music a couple of times with members of her staff—Summer, Melinda and Dana. Chris had also become friendly with a middle-aged neighbor couple who adored Eva and who had invited her over for a backyard barbecue. She’d gone to a couple of movies by herself, had joined an exercise class, but she didn’t feel busy enough. As for the wild fling she’d decided to have, so far Gus had been the only serious candidate. That had gone nowhere on their first date, and the second had yet to happen. Most men she might have been interested in were customers, and as much as she’d have liked to drag a few of them behind the counter, that kind of thing was a risky business practice. To put it mildly.

  If she was going to do something appropriate for what happens in California stays in California, she’d better get going soon. She and Eva were due to switch back in another week and a half.

  Chris wrinkled her nose. When they’d decided to do this, a month had seemed to be a perfect amount of time. She hadn’t expected it to fly by this quickly. There was a lot about this place she would miss.

  Slow Pour was about a quarter full, a few of the outside tables taken, and inside—still no Zac. He hadn’t been around for the past week. She’d actually wondered about him, hoped he wasn’t ill. He was annoying, but not evil. She wondered how he’d feel if he knew that Eva was all about Ames in New York. Eva and Zac had given each other blanket permission to go wherever their hearts took them until age thirty, but she’d always wondered if Zac was secretly in love with her sister and hurt by her affairs.

  In that case, he was a wimp for not fighting harder to win her.

  She pushed into the shop, loving the initial coffee-everywhere smell that met her nose, then bent down and pushed the rubber doorstop shaped like a wide-eyed kitten—really, Eva?—into place. Gorgeous air like this should be allowed everywhere.

  “Hi, Chris.” Summer beamed, her abnormally white teeth glistening. Chris had gotten used to Summer’s warm enthusiasm for absolutely everything, and no longer wanted to dose her with something for it. At least most of the time.

  “How’s the day been?”

  “Not bad, just shy of seventy-five transactions.”

  “Not bad.” She nodded approvingly, thinking there should be more. A glance around had her itching to simplify, get rid of the silly and useless things for sale, put in more tables, create a more efficient space, one that would encourage more people to choose Slow Pour for their morning jolt, and that would show tourists driving through Carmia that this was the perfect spot to grab a quick cuppa and a bite and be on their way.

  Chris took over for Summer and found herself quickly fidgeting for more to do. The same customers had been sitting in the same chairs drinking the same cups forever. Only a few new transactions. She played in the back for a while with a blend she’d been tinkering with, and got something close to the balance she was after. Good enough to try out on customers, anyway.

  Back in the shop, she made a slow tour with a pad and pen, jotting down ideas. Now that Eva had made changes at NYEspresso, Chris could start thinking seriously about doing the same here. Maybe she’d close early one afternoon, as Eva had. Maybe take down some of the surfer-dude stuff and local art, expose more clear space on the walls and more of the windows in the storefront. Her theory was that people driving by now saw junk for sale and not happy people drinking excellent coffee.

  She was craning her neck up at the menu, hung on a surfboard, thinking that at least was too much fun to disturb, when she heard someone come in the shop, and she turned, looking pleasantly expectant.

  “Hey, Chris.” Zac lumbered up to the counter, his blue eyes crinkling into a smile.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Good lord, what was that about? “Hey, Zac.”

  She wanted to ask where he’d been, but was afraid that would make it sound as if she’d missed him. Which she certainly hadn’t. She’d just...noticed he was gone, that’s all. Apparently she’d gotten used to having him around.

  “You been doing okay here?” He stood close. She took a step back, grateful at least for the counter between them.

  “Sure, sure, we’ve been doing fine.”

  “I asked how you were doing. Or did we become queen while I was gone?”

  She glared at him, safe behind her irritation. “Do you deliberately make up ways to harass me or does it come naturally?”

  His grin was slow and easy. “Yes.”

  Chris rolled her eyes, appalled to feel color coming into her cheeks. “What’ll you have?”

  “Just coffee.”

  “I’m working on a new blend, want to try?” One thing she really liked about Zac—he knew his coffee. “Forty percent Colombian, roasted Full City, then the rest is split fifty-fifty, Mexican roasted French and Kenya roasted City.”

  “Sounds interesting.” He didn’t even blink at her use of vocabulary indicating the level of roast.

  “I’ll be right back.” She went into the back office to scoop up grounds from the batch she’d been playing with into a paper cup. “Here, see how it smells to you.”

  He leaned forward and sniffed quickly, then inhaled long and slow. “Nice. I’ll try a cup.”

  “Good.” She put a clean filter in the dripper and wet it from the kettle kept at a temperature just under boiling. Then she dumped the water out and put grounds into the filter.

  “Have you talked to your sister lately?”

  “Sure.” She poured carefully, moistening the coffee as evenly as possible. “We’re in touch all the time.”

  “I miss her. How’s she doing in New York?”

  Chris glanced at him, then put the kettle down to wait for the coffee to preinfuse. He didn’t look particularly distraught, but then maybe he was one of those stoic guys who never showed emotion. “Good.”

  “That’s all you can tell me? Good?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Is she happy there?”

  “Yes. She’s loving it.”

  “Is she getting out much?”

  “It’s New York—are you kidding me?”

  “She dating anyone?”

  Damn. That was the one question she didn’t want him to ask.

  “Oh, well, I mean...” She picked up the kettle again, started pouring slowly in a circle, pretending to concentrate so hard that she couldn’t say any more.

  “I’m not surprised. What’s he like? Do you know him?”

  “Zac...” She put the kettle down again. “I’m not really comfortable talking about this with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know what she’d want to keep private.”

  He looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “Eva and I have, l
ike, zero secrets from each other. If she’s found someone, I’m happy for her.”

  “Really?” Chris stared at him curiously. This was the reaction of a man who could be planning to marry her sister someday?

  “Yes, really. Why would I lie about that?”

  “I...guess I thought you had feelings for her.”

  “Chris.” He leaned in. Up that close, his blue eyes were mesmerizing. “Do I strike you as the kind of guy who would be okay letting a woman I had deep romantic feelings for run off to New York and screw whomever she wanted?”

  Chris should check the coffee to see if it had finished dripping and needed another pour, but she could not take her eyes away from Zac’s. She was pretty sure they had been glued there. She wasn’t even that sure what he’d just said. Something about having feelings for Eva. Or no, something else. She broke their gaze, hit mental rewind and paid attention that time. “How would I know what kind of guy you are?”

  “If you stick around, Chris, you might find out.”

  She poured the second round of water over the grounds, more flustered than she wanted to admit, even to herself. “I’m leaving in a week and a half.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Of course I have to. I have a life to go back to.”

  “Yeah?”

  She was exasperated with him all over again. “Yeah.”

  “What about Eva? If she’s having fun with someone, she might not be ready to come back here.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Why? Have you talked to her about it?”

  “No.” She was getting upset, which was completely stupid, because there was absolutely no reason for her to be. Zac was just being his same creepy self and putting pressure on her for some bizarre reason. Because he wanted her to find out what kind of guy he was? So she should change her life plans? The ego! Jeez! Give her a break.