by Jillian Neal
When her breaths came up short, he released her mouth. “I’m going to need to taste that again very soon, but we need to get out of here without alerting anyone to the fact that I just brought you in the Mystic Mermaid’s dressing room.”
Her sweet giggle eased the slight tension that had set in his gut. She’d loved every minute of that, but he didn’t want her to have any regrets now that they were finished. “Okay, you head out like you’d been in here trying something on. When the coast is clear just open the door.”
“I probably don’t want to know how you know how to do this so well.” She bit her lip and watched him tuck himself against the wall with a mischievous chuckle. She slipped out, and a full minute later, eased the door open again. Figuring he should at least buy something for using their dressing room, John picked up a bottle of suntan lotion, a large beach towel big enough for two, and a book that Arley had honed in on about how the Roma tribe had settled Gypsy Beach during the Great Depression. He made his purchases, presented her with the book, earned himself another beautiful grin and luscious kiss, and then led her out of Mystic Mermaids. He assumed they’d scandalized the town quite enough for one day, but he wouldn’t rule anything out just yet.
The heavenly smell of fresh ground coffee beckoned them towards one of the largest shops on Gypsy Beach, Montgomery’s Surf, Turf, and Coffee Shop.
“Okay, so my coffee addiction is probably illegal, at least in the Southern part of the U.S., but I really want another cup now.”
John laughed and guided her up the wooden steps that led to the Montgomery’s. “Baby doll, I’m a lawyer. Eighty-seven percent of my blood stream is coffee. I’ll see your addiction and raise you two cups and some pie here because it’s almost as good as my mama’s.” He winked at her and reveled in her adorable grin.
The heat of her climax still clung to her cheeks, and her eyes sought his, anxious for more of him. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed by what they’d just shared. She was eager for more. What were the possibilities that one perfect woman existed for him? Not very likely, but she was the damn closest thing he’d ever been in the presence of.
They took a booth in the back near a rack of rash guard shirts and a stack of Styrofoam boards. The Montgomery’s served breakfast, lunch, pie, and coffee, but they were also the suppliers of beach gear for all of Gypsy Beach. John had met Mac Montgomery back in the spring when he’d come up to the beach to defend Sienna’s claim on the Inn.
“Mr. Rowan, welcome back to Gypsy Beach, son. How are ya?” Mac approached their table, and offered John his hand and a kind smile.
“I’m good, sir. This is Arley Copeland. She’s visiting from Birmingham. I needed to get out of Atlanta and to see my Goddaughter.”
Mac chuckled and shook Arley’s hand. “I hear ya, and Evie Grace is my all-time favorite customer. She seems to be settling in. Got her daddy wrapped around her little finger, and Sienna, too, which is exactly how it’s all supposed to be. What can I get you two?”
John smiled at Mac’s musings. “Bring us both a large coffee. I believe the lady likes hers with cream and sugar. I’ll take mine black. And two pieces of whatever pie I smell baking.”
Arley seemed pleased that he’d paid close enough attention to know how she preferred her coffee. She nodded her agreement.
“You got it.”
“Is that Arley?”
“What are you up to, Molly Montgomery?” Mac saw that Gypsy fire spark in his wife’s eyes, and he knew something was brewing.
“Sienna was in yesterday. We were chatting about Mr. Rowan there. She wanted a little help with the two of them. Says she’s got a feeling. Ruth taught her what to do, but she was worried it might not work since neither of them have Gypsy blood. I think I might just see what we can do to help our girl. And look at ‘um. They’re both more lost than either of ‘um would admit, and yet the fire burns on. They just refuse to see it. My Sienna saw it right off. She’s smart, just like her grandmamma. Now, you go get their pie, and let me think.”
Mac shook his head. “Yes, ma’am, you just tell me what we need to do. Lord only knows what’ll come from two co-conspiring Gypsy queens.” He winked at his wife and headed into the kitchen.
Molly studied John and Arley discreetly from behind the pastry counter. Perhaps fire was precisely what was needed. Nothing more romantic than a beach fire, Gypsy style.
“No, no, I have a million of these.” John continued to harass Arley who was laughing so hard she was crying. “We could take an hour long recess in my briefs. You could approach my bench and badger my witness.”
“Oh my God!” Arley doubled over in laughter. “These are horrible!”
“You could sue my pants off. I could be pro-boner.”
She groaned, shook her head, and wiped away tears.
“Oh, and my favorite, I can sustain an objection for hours, baby. Hey, and feel free to use any of these in your work.” He cracked himself up.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure I’ll do that!” Arley couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard or felt so light. She was desperate to know what might be coming next. He’d brought her in record time, standing up in a dressing room, and now she couldn’t stop laughing. She never wanted this day to end.
“Please, please tell me you don’t actually use those in bed.” She began giggling again.
He feigned confusion. “You mean you don’t want me to tell you that I’m gonna slap your sexy rebuttal? What could be hotter than that, baby doll?” His mischievous wink was almost as intoxicating as his sense of humor and his wickedly sexy ways. Yep, she was never going to get out of this alive. She hadn’t been to bed with him officially yet, but she was fairly certain John Rowan was the living embodiment of the perfect man for her. Like some cruel universal joke, he was also a guy that didn’t believe in happy endings. This isn’t a book. This is real life. What if it doesn’t have to end? Her brain tried to console her, but she knew better.
“Well, he must’a said something funny.” Mac returned with their coffee and one plate containing two large pieces of what he called Gypsy Beach Pie. It was apparently a specialty of Molly’s and Sienna’s grandmother’s.
“Trust me, you do not want to know.” Arley giggled again. She sank her fork into the pie that looked and smelled heavenly. She didn’t know what Gypsy Beach Pie was exactly, but she wanted to try it.
“You know, son, any guy worth half a salt shaker can make a pretty girl swoon. Takes something else entirely to make her laugh.”
Arley’s heady groan distracted John from Mac’s advice. “That is the best pie I have ever tasted!”
John lifted a bite towards his mouth. “You haven’t had my mama’s peach pie.” But as the crispy salted crust swirled in his mouth with the milky caramel filling, he had to reorder his entire world. Nothing could be as good as his mama’s cooking, but this came pretty damn close.
He lifted another bite, watched the caramel drip from his fork, and shot Arley a decidedly naughty look. “Maybe we should get a few pieces to go, baby doll.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She looked quite intrigued. “I’m game if you are, but you know, all of that eating food off of each other really works better in Romance novels. You’re basically just left with a sticky mess.”
He chuckled and indulged himself in another bite of that pie before he washed it down with a long sip of coffee. As delicious as they both were, they weren’t what he was craving. Everything he wanted to taste resided on her soft skin or deep inside of her. “There’s a lot of stuff that people think will be sexy or romantic that’s total shit.”
“Ocean sex.” She sighed.
“69,” he provided readily.
“Yes! Exactly! You are the first guy that has ever understood that.”
“I doubt I’m the first, but if I’m going down I want you to relax and let me have you. All I want you to think about is how good I’m making you feel. If I’m lucky enough to get a blowjob, trust me, I’m not going to be giving yo
ur sweet little snatch my full attention. I’m gonna be trying not to blow in your face, unless that was agreed upon conclusion, of course.”
She shook his head at his naughty quip. He raised his eyebrows wondering just what she’d make of that.
“Trying to scare me off with your filthy mouth and requests, Mr. Rowan? Think I’m afraid of getting a little dirty? Maybe I don’t mind a facial.”
John’s entire body seized. Damn, damn, damn. She was gonna hang him so hard he wasn’t going to be able to leave the Montgomery’s shop without embarrassing himself.
“I was just pointing out the unnecessary complications of 69, baby.”
“Mm, hmm. Right.”
After securing to-go cups of coffee they continued their journey through Gypsy Beach. “Ryan’s family used to own that house. He sold it when he and Sienna got back together. I think it’s rental property now.” John pointed to the largest home on Gypsy Beach. It seemed almost out of place. Ryan had restored the decks and redone a little of the interior for the new owners. It was certainly the jewel of the cozy beach town.
“It’s beautiful. I bet the view from the top deck is amazing.”
John nodded his agreement. The view was amazing, but the last time he’d been there, he’d brought some woman down here for a weekend getaway. As he couldn’t even remember her name, it must not have meant much.
“I’ve always wanted to live on the water. Nothing as nice as that or anything, and maybe not even on a beach, but a lake or something. I want to go out on a dock and write. Just some little place away from everything where I can hear myself think.”
“I thought you were from a tiny town?”
She huffed audibly. “Tiny towns are the loudest places in the entire world. Everybody knows everything about you, and they all talk ten times more than they ever listen. The louder you talk the more right you must be. That’s how Tilldale is, anyway.” Her shoulders slumped after a shrug.
“Yeah, I could definitely see that. Hey, I need to run in the drugstore.” He steered her inside Wright’s Drug Store as they neared the pier.
“And what are we getting at this completely adorable drug store?”
John chuckled. It did indeed look like they’d stepped back in time. The old soda fountain counter was still functioning. They were serving milkshakes and Cokes.
In fact, the place was so eclectic he was mildly concerned that they may not stock what he’d come in for. He was pleased that the shelves were loaded with modern medications and standard drugstore effects. Locating the aisle he needed, he stared Arley down as he grabbed two boxes of his preferred brand of condoms, a large bottle of lube, and, with a smirk, grabbed a small bullet vibrator.
Her beautiful rosebud lips formed a gotcha grin. “Actually, let’s get this brand. The ones the condom companies make are lame. I need a more powerful vibration.”
Sexy little minx wasn’t going to be outdone, and the raw challenge was driving John mad with desire. He’d never met anyone so forthright and unafraid to be who she really was. He’d never met a woman that could match him point for point in every capacity. She was absolutely intoxicating, a soul on fire, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be consumed.
She lifted a larger, more expensive model and dropped into the basket he’d slung on his arm. Just as he approached the cashier and set the basket down, she disappeared. He looked around but then was forced to purchase condoms, lube, and a hot pink rabbit-style vibrator all alone, a fact that the pimple-faced teenage boy running the register found hysterical.
When he’d paid, she stepped out from behind a spinning rack of North Carolina Tar Heels mugs and ball caps. She couldn’t contain her hysterical giggles.
“I will get you back for that, Ms. Copeland.”
“You totally deserved that, but perhaps I need a spanking.”
This time John couldn’t hold the growl back. It reverberated from his lungs with ardent hunger. He wrapped the hand not holding their purchases around her waist and jerked her into his body. “You’re damned and determined to drive me insane with lust, aren’t you? If you want to be naughty, I’ll take care of that.”
He allowed her no capacity with which to answer as his lips captured hers in a kiss that demanded requisition. A moan of relent spilled from her mouth to his. She wanted and needed to open herself to him and be owned as much as he needed to consume her, fill her, fit her to him and no other. He wanted to brand her, to claim her so thoroughly she forgot about her life before or what might be coming after him.
“I’m tired of waiting.” He turned to head back to the Inn, but she remained rooted to the ground.
“No, not yet. I really want to go in that little bookstore I saw last night by the Lobster Shack. Please. I swear I want to go back and spend the whole afternoon with you, but can we just go there first?”
What doesn’t kill you, Rowan, makes you stronger. He repeated the mantra in his head several times. “Sure.” He sighed and laced her fingers through his as they made their way to the other side of the dock.
He tried to draw deep breaths of the liquid air as they walked. The sky was darkening and humidity was building along the shoreline.
“Thank you!” She leaned and brushed a sweet kiss along his chiseled jaw line. “I promise I’ll make the wait worth your while.”
“I have no doubt, baby doll.” He swung open the door to Bandana Books and reveled in the blast of cold air from the air conditioning. If only he could somehow refrigerate his lust, all would be well. A sign on the wide front porch explained that there was Gypsy magic in this store as well. John hid his eye roll.
A magnetic force seemed to draw Arley into the bookstore. As horny as he was, he couldn’t help but smile. She inhaled deeply of the scent of paper, dust, coffee, and leather that filled the air.
“I love indie bookstores! You never know what you might find. They’re my favorite!”
John chuckled. Normally, he could spend hours in a bookstore himself, but right then his tastes were far more carnal. The entire shop would fit inside his condo, but it was stocked floor to ceiling with books. The aisles were so tight they couldn’t walk side by side. He followed along behind her, watching her trail her fingertips delicately over the spines. He watched her shoulders lower and a genuine smile form on her beautiful face. It was as if she were greeting old friends in the only place she’d ever belonged.
Ordering himself to leash his lust, he allowed himself to really watch her expression change from that forced determination of survival into one of pure bliss. She deserved that, and he felt badly he’d almost argued about coming in the bookstore.
“Look!” Her gasped awe shook him from his reverie. “They still carry Daddy’s books!” She was so transfixed by her father’s books she missed what was on the shelf directly above Dylan Copeland’s last novels.
“Not only your dad’s, sweetheart. Look.” He extracted four of her novels from the shelf.
That fevered heat that drove him wild colored her entire face as he studied the covers. “Uh, yeah.” She swallowed down what appeared to be shame. “Indie bookstores usually buy the books outright, so when the creditors pulled them they were allowed to sell what they had in stock.”
He nodded his understanding and stacked the copies of her novels in the crook of his elbow to be purchased. She was gnawing her lip in terror. He’d pulled out every stop he could get away with in public trying to figure out her preferences in bed and trying to warn her about his own. Nothing scared her. She wanted it all, but it appeared him reading her books was going to be her undoing.
“You’re not going to buy those?” It was half a command and half a desperate plea.
“I definitely am. I want to read your stuff, baby. I’m thrilled they’re here.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m not nearly as good as my dad. He was a much better storyteller, and writer, and …”
“Arley,” he soothed. He placed his thumb over her lips and cradled her face in his avai
lable hand. “Stop downplaying your work. You’re an amazing author. Look at these. You did this. Be proud of your work. I know I am.”
His vow seemed to shock her. Clearly, since her father had passed no one had expressed pride over her work. Fury at her family welled within him, but more than that, absolute hatred at whomever Chase Masters was burned inside of him. How did you date a woman like Arley for six fucking months and never tell her how proud you were of her? Asshole was clearly intimidated, as he should have been. She was far too much for him, far more then he deserved. She was too smart, too beautiful, too real, and he couldn’t handle it. Instead of manning up and becoming someone that would have deserved her, he chose to tear her down. Unmitigated rage had John clenching his jaw and vowing to find Chase and let his fists do a little talking. He shook off the fury. She needed him, and he wouldn’t be the kind of man that let her down. He would prove himself on every level.
“That’s my favorite book of your dad’s. I own like four copies.” He pointed to the large print edition of The Man of Wellington.
“That’s my favorite, too.” She grinned and blinked away tears simultaneously. “I remember when he wrote it. He stayed up night after night for weeks, completely obsessed. I don’t remember him ever working like that on any other book. He was usually so methodic.”
John leaned and brushed a tender kiss across her forehead as he wiped away the few tears that escaped. “Come here to me.” He drew her into his embrace, giving her a place to hide from the world that had treated her cruelly.
“Can I help you find anything?” A woman with a long Gypsy bandana on her head and a store apron hung around her waist stopped on the end of the aisle where they were embracing. She offered Arley a kind, sympathetic smile. “Oh, here.” She raced towards the back room and returned a moment later with several tissues.