by Tara Sheets
“I don’t plan on ever getting married.”
“Ah.” Emma concentrated on laying another row of flowers in the terra-cotta pot. For some reason, his declaration bothered her. If there was one thing she knew about life, it was that anything could happen. Maybe for people like Hunter, with grand bank accounts and worldly views, there was some secret bargain they could make with the universe. Some kind of pact to ensure that all their plans succeeded. If there was such a thing, the universe never offered it to her.
“You seem to have it all worked out, then,” Emma said. “Must be nice, knowing exactly what your future holds.” Was that sarcasm in her tone? Maybe a little.
He shrugged. “I just know marriage is not a path I want to go down. It didn’t work for my parents and it wouldn’t work for someone like me.”
“Someone like you,” Emma said, tilting her head and studying him. “Where have I heard that before?”
It took a few beats for his dark expression to lift, but when it did, wry humor lit his face.
It was like watching a light go on inside him. As much as she wished it didn’t matter, she couldn’t deny that it gave her pleasure to see the darkness fade and humor take its place.
“When we were kids,” she said, “I once talked Juliette into planting M&M’s under a wild rosebush because I wanted an M&M tree.”
His mouth tilted up at the corners. “And how did that work out?”
Their faces were so close, Emma could see the myriad shades of green in his eyes, noting a thin streak of amber in one. She shivered, trying to pretend his nearness didn’t affect her. It had to be the stupid jasmine potion. She’d be so glad when that disaster finally wore off. Usually Juliette’s small potions only lasted a few days.
“No M&M tree,” Emma said brightly, ignoring her shaky hands as she placed the last cup of pink flowers along the border of her flowerpot. “But the roses smelled exactly like chocolate after that.”
“Well, maybe you didn’t plant the right kind of M&M’s,” he said. “You have to get the organic, cage-free kind. Picked fresh from the vine.”
She sat back on her heels. “Oh, is that right?”
He nodded, his expression serious. “Uh-huh. It’s common knowledge. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“You think I’m making this up, don’t you?”
The pirate smile was back in full force. “Not at all.”
He didn’t believe her. She could tell. On anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared. People had such a hard time believing in magic. But for some reason, she wanted him to believe.
“Okay, then.” She tossed the hand shovel in the soil and stood up fast, slapping dirt off her hands. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
* * *
Hunter followed her without a second thought. There was no man on earth who could resist Emma Holloway with that mischievous grin on her face. She led him around the front of the house to the edge of the woods. The sun was high in the sky already, but the woods were dark and cool. Beckoning to him, she stepped into the shadows.
He followed her through the deep green foliage. She looked like a forest nymph from a fantasy film, winding through the trees, her hair glowing gold in the dappled sunlight.
They had barely gone a few yards when the tiny footpath opened into a sunny clearing. A wild rosebush grew in the center near an old wooden bench. He watched as Emma strolled over to the bench, then turned.
She was standing in a stray sunbeam, the light kissing her rosy skin and sparking off her head. “Prepare to be amazed.”
He already was. There was no denying the attraction he felt for her anymore. He could still ignore it; in fact, he planned to. But he wasn’t stupid enough to pretend it didn’t exist. She was hands down the most alluring person he had met in a long time. A gorgeous bundle of contradictions. One minute she was cool and standoffish, and the next she slayed him with her intoxicating smile and genuine kindness.
Emma picked a wild rose and brought it over to him. Her eyes were shining with laughter and she held it out.
He took it. What was going on? Was she romancing him? There was no way. She barely liked him.
“Go on,” she said, nodding to the flower. “Smell it.”
Hunter’s eyes never left her face, but he bent to the small red rose. It smelled deliciously sweet. Like a Hershey bar. He frowned down at it. “What is this?”
Emma put her hands on her hips and grinned. “What did I tell you? This is the rosebush where we planted the M&M’s.”
He sniffed them again. They really smelled like chocolate. Weird. “What species is this?”
“Who knows,” Emma said as she began gathering a few of the flowers into a bouquet. “You’ll have to ask Juliette. I love them though.” She bent her head to the roses and inhaled. “I could just eat them, you know?”
Hunter’s heart thumped hard in his chest. She was too luminescent; too lovely, even in her old jeans and blue sweatshirt smudged with potting soil.
He could hear the muted conversations from the group at the back of the house, but it was quiet in the clearing where they stood. He felt like they were in their own little microclimate, and she was the sun around which everything revolved. He stepped a little closer, because she was smiling up at him and it was too hard not to gravitate toward all that warmth.
He glanced down at her mouth. So sweet and soft. What if he stole just one kiss? The thought came out of nowhere.
“We should probably get back,” she said quietly.
“Probably.” Hunter didn’t move. He still held the wild rose in one hand, his other hanging loose at his side, fingers itching to touch her.
She took a shaky breath.
He dragged his gaze up from her mouth.
Their eyes locked.
With infinite slowness, he closed the gap between them and reached his arm around her waist, settling his hand on her lower back. He felt as though he were in a trance, like everything else faded around them and the only thing he could see clearly was her. She was warm and soft, and touching her felt right. A thrill shot through him when she didn’t resist. He pulled her body flush against his and she exhaled on a tiny sigh.
Emma tilted her head back, her eyes half closed, her breathing shallow. The scent of chocolate and honeysuckle surrounded him and the urge to taste her was so strong, he almost groaned out loud. If he didn’t kiss her now, he’d go mad. The rose fell to the ground, forgotten, as he wrapped both arms around her and lowered his head.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
When he lowered his lips to hers, she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer. For the briefest, most blissful of moments she brushed her lips against his. The whisper-soft touch of her mouth on his was intoxicating. He was drowning and he never wanted to come up for air. This was heaven.
Emma yanked away, breathing hard.
Hunter blinked, frozen in place. Most of his mind was still mush and the only thing that seemed to matter was getting closer to her.
“Fake.” She shook her head with a nervous laugh. “This is all fake. It’s not real.”
Hunter strained against his desire to hold her again, forcing himself to find his voice. “What?”
Emma gestured to him and her. “This whole thing you’re feeling,” she said in a rush. “It’s because of Juliette’s jasmine potion.”
He frowned and stared down his nose at her, struggling to get his breathing under control. “What?” he repeated in irritation. She wasn’t making any sense and he didn’t like how nonchalant she was acting, as if the tiniest, almost-kiss didn’t affect her the way it had affected him.
“This,” Emma insisted, wagging her finger back and forth between them. “This whole wanting-to-kiss-me thing? It’s because you slammed into me on that running trail and that jasmine spilled everywhere. Remember?”
“I remember,” he said. “But I don’t see how—”
“Trust me,” Emma said, a nervous smile on her face. She nodded and
stepped back, wrapping her arms around her midsection. “Juliette put an attraction spell on that jasmine vial that day, and then it spilled on us. But don’t worry. It was an accident. Anything you’re feeling right now will fade in a couple of days. This isn’t real.”
Hunter took a breath, then let it out fast. “Are you trying to tell me that your cousin made some kind of love spell and that’s why . . .” he trailed off, shaking his head.
“Yup.” She forced a laugh. “Crazy, right?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. It was crazy, all right. Because it was a ridiculous notion. Love spells were make-believe and this desire raging through his blood was very, very real.
“Anyway, it wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said, shrugging. “Sorry for the inconvenience. But it’ll be over soon.” She waved a hand as though to brush the situation away like a piece of stray lint, and started back toward the house.
Hunter stood rooted to the spot, stunned by his desire to grab her and spin her around and finish what he started.
Sorry for the inconvenience?
Her sweet, intoxicating scent still surrounded him, permeating all thoughts except his desire to take what she had almost given. He jammed his hands on his hips and glared at the ground, waiting for his breath to steady. It didn’t. Her bouquet of roses was scattered at his feet and he bent to gather them up.
It was almost as if an invisible string had somehow woven her and him together, and the farther she walked away, the more agitated he felt. Jasmine potion, my ass. She could blame it on whatever the hell she wanted, but he knew desire when he felt it. And he knew what it looked like when he saw it. There had been desire in her eyes. She felt the attraction, too, whether she wanted to admit it was real, or not.
He caught up with her just as they emerged from the woods into Juliette’s front yard.
“Here.” He held out the flowers. “You forgot these.”
“Thanks,” she said breezily, not meeting his eyes. He wanted to say something, but what could he say? The moment was over and she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. But he’d be damned if he’d apologize for it. It had felt too good to hold her, and he wasn’t going to take that back, even if he knew it couldn’t go anywhere.
Hunter followed her back to the house, swearing under his breath. So that was it, then. They were going to pretend nothing happened. Technically, nothing did happen, idiot. He scowled, frustration and desire tangling inside him like dangerously crossed wires on a ticking bomb. Was he mad at himself for almost kissing her, or mad that he didn’t get the chance?
He entered the backyard and his gaze flew directly to Emma, who was already back at her post, planting. A tiny frown creased her brow and she wasn’t making eye contact, which was just as well. If she turned those gorgeous gray eyes on him again he’d likely forget to be cautious and end up panting after her like the puppy.
He walked over to her and picked up the shovel.
“You can take some of that soil over to Gertie and Walter now,” she said, not looking up. “I’m finished.”
Oh, was she? Anger flared, hot and bright. Well, he wasn’t damn well finished. He hadn’t even gotten started. His heart was still pinballing around in his rib cage, and the memory of her soft curves pressed against his body was burning him like a brand from the inside out. But if she wanted to pretend everything was normal, fine. He could play it that way, even though they both knew it was a lie.
Hunter hefted the wheelbarrow and left her there, trying to ignore the simmering frustration shooting through every vein in his body. He had to pull it together. God knew he had no intentions of getting romantically involved with Emma Holloway, so why was he standing in the woods trying to kiss her like a lovestruck teenager? She could try to blame it on some stupid flower potion, but he knew better. He had been attracted to her from the first moment they met. The truth was, he found her irresistible as hell, with all that golden hair he wanted to tangle in his hands as he watched her expressive eyes go dark with desire. Her lips were so perfect and lush, just the thought of possessing them, possessing her, made another bolt of lust spike inside him. The things he wanted to do to her were hot and carnal and . . . Fool! He was a complete fool. There was no room in his plans for her, and he’d do well to remember it.
It was time he focused on the real reason he came to the party.
Hunter clenched his jaw, vowing that for the rest of the day, he would work on getting closer to Sam Norton. Getting the old man to accept him as part of the community was imperative. Sam owned all the properties on the wharf, and if Hunter could somehow find a way to gain his trust, then he could gain everything.
Eyes on the prize. Nothing else mattered. For the rest of the afternoon, he would pretend that Emma Holloway didn’t exist. Not that she would care, since it was clear she planned on ignoring him, too. Maybe if they both pretended nothing had happened, the raging sense of lust would fade away. Maybe.
Chapter Sixteen
The next evening, Juliette pulled the car into the community center parking lot and turned off the engine. Loud, thumping music boomed from the double doors of the building. The Spring Fling party was well underway. “We’re so late, and this time it’s your fault.”
“I know,” Emma sighed. “Sorry.”
She had visited her cousin earlier so they could both get ready for the party together. The decision of what to wear had been long and arduous, with Juliette eyeing Emma’s choices like a small child eyeing a plate of boiled vegetables.
“You aren’t wearing this,” Juliette had announced, picking up one of Emma’s dresses between her thumb and forefinger. “This is a peach floral. It looks like something you’d wear to a picnic.” She tossed it onto the growing pile on her bed. “If you were twelve.”
After a long lecture on why Emma needed to look hot, Juliette finally convinced her to wear a simple red sheath dress. It was fitted, but not too low-cut, which seemed to satisfy Juliette’s need to make her look sexy, and Emma’s need to not feel like she was interviewing for a job at Hooters. The compromise had been hard won.
Now Emma checked her reflection in the passenger-side mirror of Juliette’s car. The balayage treatment Gertie did had been a genius idea. Her hair still looked the same, but sections seemed more luminescent than before, falling around her face in loose waves. She touched up her lipstick and then got out of the car, repeating the silent mantra she’d been saying for the past twenty-four hours: Nothing happened with Hunter. It was no big deal.
Ever since their almost-kiss in the woods yesterday, she had been schooling herself on how to behave when she saw him again. It had all just been a silly fluke. The incident had been a direct result of Juliette’s jasmine potion, and it was most likely faded by now anyway. Still, it was impossible not to think about the way he had pulled her against his hard body, and the warmth of his lips brushing against hers. The desire that flared between them felt so real, she had to keep reminding herself it was nothing. The sooner she forgot about it, the better. The only problem was, she’d been “forgetting” about it all day and it wasn’t easy.
The party was already in full swing when they entered, and in spite of her mantra, Emma couldn’t escape the nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Hunter was going to be there. He was probably there already. Deep breaths, Holloway. Nothing happened with Hunter. It was no big deal.
“I bet Hunter is already slipping in a puddle of Bethany’s drool right now,” Juliette said, snapping Emma’s attention, mid-mantra.
A shriek of laughter pierced the air and Juliette groaned. “There she is. Madame Boobs-a-Lot.” Another ear-piercing shriek. “Singing the song of her people.”
Bethany Andrews was chatting with Hunter near the bar. She wore a lime green wrap dress that showcased her impressive cleavage and perfect tan. Surrounding them were a few of Bethany’s minions, every one of them glued to whatever Hunter was saying. Bethany shrieked again, and Emma thought she saw Hunter wince a little. Or maybe it was just wishful t
hinking.
“Let’s get a drink,” she said to Juliette. She was going to need it. More than anything, she wanted to block all thoughts of Hunter from her mind, but that was like trying to block the sun from shining. Sometime later, Emma was on her third glass of wine. The girls had gone to dance but Emma had declined, preferring to stay on the sidelines.
Her body was like a Hunter Kane divining rod; she was aware of his location at all times. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at him from across the crowded dance floor. It would take a superhuman effort for any woman to ignore him. In dark slacks and a cobalt shirt open at the neck, he looked like the love child of GQ magazine and Versace.
She deliberately turned her back on him and his gaggle of admirers, concentrating on the buffet table instead. Oh look, baklava. She took one and bit into it. Nice. See? She could focus on something else besides Hunter Kane. Easy peasy.
“Hey, Angel.”
All of Emma’s reflexes seized at once. The bite of pastry in her mouth crumbled to sawdust as she turned.
Rodney Winters grinned down at her, his eyes already glassy from whatever he was drinking. His blond hair was artfully tousled, and while he may have still been handsome, Emma no longer felt that giddy pull that used to be there when she was younger. It dawned on her that Rodney had no idea his charm had faded around the edges, like a plastic toy left too long in the sun. He had peaked in high school and was still riding that high.
She gripped her wineglass tighter. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I ran into Bethany this morning and she insisted I come. Drove me here herself so I wouldn’t get away.”
Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was so typical of Bethany. That woman couldn’t miss an opportunity to create drama. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
He shrugged, eyeing her up and down. “I never did like these parties, but I’m glad I made the exception.”