by Melody Grace
Oh God, she was really doing this.
You may as well do it right.
Drunk on the feel of him and the giddy surprise racing in her veins, Paige boldly teased his lips open and stroked her tongue into his mouth.
It was intoxicating. The taste of him, like bourbon, slipping sweet into her bloodstream. Declan growled against her, tangling one hand in her silky hair as the other roamed over her body. Paige shivered under his touch, already lost to the sensation. He bit down softly on her lower lip, and Paige moaned into his mouth, shocked by the surge of desire that flooded her body, circling tighter and craving more. She wanted him, all of him, hard against her, groaning in her arms—
In front of everybody?
Her voice of reason saved her, just in time. Another ten seconds of that man’s mouth, and she would have been rolling around on the sand, to hell with the consequences—or police reports for lewd conduct.
Paige dropped her hands—that had somehow wound their way around his neck—and stepped away. But even without his heat pressed close, her blood still surged hotly with the sheer electricity of the moment.
She felt alive.
“There,” she said breathlessly. “At least I’ve done one interesting thing.”
Paige smoothed down her blouse, fighting to hide her fluster. But she couldn’t help breaking into a massive smile, proud of her one reckless move. “Thanks,” she added, while Declan stood there looking stunned. “Enjoy the rest of your night!”
And then she walked away.
* * *
What the hell just happened?
Declan shook his head, still dazed, and watched Paige’s silhouette disappear into the shadows. It just showed you: you never could tell. He’d had her pegged as the good girl, with that neat blonde braid and buttoned-up blouse, which meant she was strictly off limits. Sure, he’d earned that playboy reputation, but Declan loved women—which meant he didn’t love breaking their hearts. No strings, no stress, no regrets. As long as everyone knew the rules, nobody got hurt.
And everyone had a real good time.
Which is why he’d mentally ruled Paige out the minute she’d introduced herself. Messing with Eliza’s sister? That was just asking for trouble. Besides, Paige seemed immune to his charms: laughing in his face over his pick-up lines, like he was the last man on earth she’d let down her hair for.
Until she’d proven him wrong.
Damn, that kiss . . .
Declan’s blood was still surging from the feel of her, that tantalizing sweetness, and the hot curves of her incredible body. He hadn’t seen that kiss coming, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to let it pass him by. And when she’d moaned against him, breathless and soft . . . It was just a shame he didn’t get the chance to show her what a real moan was, flat out in the bed of his truck under the stars, with nothing but the ocean breeze between their skin.
At least, not tonight.
Declan’s pulse returned to its normal steady beat, and he smiled. Sweetbriar Cove was a small town. With her sister coupled up with his buddy, Cal, this definitely wasn’t the last he’d be seeing of Paige Bennett. Hell, the way things were going with the happy couple, he was looking at holidays and family dinners for the next fifty years.
Plenty of time to see just what she was playing at . . . And if she wanted to play it all over again.
He strolled over to grab another beer and found Cal himself loading up a couple of plates. “So, you’re settling in town for good then?” Declan asked, greeting him with a slap on the back. “Admit it, you couldn’t bear to be away from me any longer.”
Cal chuckled. “I need to keep an eye on my investment. Make sure you’re not running our restaurant into the ground.”
“You mean ‘my’ restaurant,” Declan corrected him good-naturedly. “Just remember the silent part of ‘silent partner.’ ”
Cal grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m happy to sit back and count the profits while you do all the hard work.”
“Huh, maybe I need to check our deal terms,” Declan joked. Taking Cal’s investment had been a smart move that was paying off for both of them. He insisted on complete freedom in the kitchen, and Cal was happy to give it to him. Now, Sage was one of the hottest reservations on the Cape, with a waiting list halfway to Labor Day.
Declan cast his eye around the party, looking for Paige. “What’s the deal with Eliza’s sister, the blonde one?” he asked casually, but Cal knew him too well.
“No. Nope. Absolutely not.”
“What?” Declan protested. “I didn’t say anything.”
“But I know you.” Cal gave him a look. “Anyway, she’s not your type.”
“I have many types.”
“Yeah, but what about those rules you’re always talking about?”
That’s right. Declan liked to say he lived by a code, and as much as he joked about it, the rules had steered him right so far.
One, everything tasted better with butter.
Two, life was too short for cheap whiskey.
And three, good girls were off limits.
Declan sighed. Dammit, Cal was right. “Fine, I won’t sweep her off her feet,” he said, and Cal laughed.
“You mean land her flat on her back,” he replied. “And you can forget that, too. She’s practically family now. I’d have to knock you out to protect her honor, or something like that.”
Declan grinned. “I’d like to see you try. Remember Rio?”
Cal winced, probably remembering the mean right hook that had left him with one hell of a black eye. Their friendly disagreement had gotten out of hand—thanks to a few too many tequilas and a gorgeous girl whose name Declan had already forgotten. But still, his buddy must have really been smitten, because he stood firm. “I mean it, Declan. Paige is a sweet girl, she’s not looking for your kind of fun.”
Declan could have told him a thing or two about what Paige wanted, but he’d never been the type to kiss and tell, so he just shrugged. “Sure thing. But aren’t you jumping the gun? Eliza might be sick of you in a couple of months.”
Cal just smiled. “I think we’re good.” He shot Eliza a look that practically had hearts and rainbows shooting out of the sky.
Declan sighed. Another wingman bites the dust.
Eliza waved, and Cal waved back. “You go have fun with the future Mrs. Prescott.” Declan nudged him in her direction. “I’ll pour one out for your bachelor days.”
“See you tomorrow to go over the accounts,” Cal said, walking away, and Declan groaned.
“You know how to ruin a party!”
He stayed a while longer, catching up with friends. Declan didn’t want to admit it, but he was hoping Paige would make another appearance—and maybe pick up where she’d left off. But the fire burned lower, and people began heading out. His good girl was probably tucked safe in bed by now . . .
Alone.
He headed to the parking lot, and a girl bumped into him, giggling. “Whoops!” She was the cute brunette he’d seen earlier, in her early twenties, with a group of co-ed friends.
“Easy there.” Declan steadied her.
“Thanks.” She gave him a smile. “Hey, we’re heading to a party in town now. Want to come?”
It was the kind of invitation he usually wouldn’t think twice about accepting. But he could still taste Paige on his lips, and after a kiss like that, he wasn’t in the mood to take anyone else home.
“I’ve got an early start,” he said easily, “but you guys have fun.”
“Shame . . .” The girl gave him another smile. “Here, in case you change your mind.”
Before he could stop her, she grabbed his hand, pulled out a lip gloss, and scrawled a number on his arm. “Call me,” she said with a wink, before racing to catch up with her friends.
Declan looked down at the sticky red mess. Maybe he would call her tomorrow. Or maybe not.
After all, he had nothing tying him down.
2
A few months later
>
Paige stared at the fat-free yogurt sitting on her desk and willed it to transform into a delicious breakfast burrito. Meaty and satisfying, maybe with a side of hash brown . . .
Nope, still yogurt.
She peeled back the lid and sighed. For someone who’d pledged to live a life of reckless adventure, she wasn’t doing the greatest job of it. In fact, her grand plans hadn’t really added up to much at all, so far. Besides googling salsa classes in her neighborhood and buying a bright-pink lipstick that was still buried in the bottom of her handbag, Paige’s new, reckless life looked pretty much like her old boring one.
Except kissing Declan. She couldn’t forget that part, even if she tried . . .
It had been months now since that night on the beach, and the memory was still burned into Paige’s brain. She flushed even to think of it, how bold she’d been, but a part of her wished she’d been bolder still: taken the kiss further, invited Declan back somewhere, and discovered just how he’d earned that reputation of his . . .
She shook her head, blushing. In an alternate universe, maybe. Paige had been so embarrassed after that kiss, she’d barely stepped foot back in Sweetbriar Cove for fear of running into him. What would she say? “Sorry I ravished you, no hard feelings?” They didn’t exactly make a Hallmark card for that.
Paige giggled at the thought. Her co-worker, Mindy, looked over from the next desk. “What?”
“Nothing.” Paige pushed her yogurt away. “Do you know if there are still donuts in the break room?”
“Trade you.” Mindy nudged her pastry in Paige’s direction. “Ever since the new Mrs. Johansson started parading around the office in those itty-bitty cut-offs, I’ve been feeling like a lump.”
Paige followed her gaze to the corner office, where their boss, Robert, was fawning over his new bride. Lexi was barely out of college, and barely wearing a strapless tube top under her mane of bleached blonde hair.
“Should I offer her some samples from our toddler line?” Mindy cracked. “That has to be a kids’ size she’s wearing.”
“Shush,” Paige whispered, feeling bad. “We hardly know her yet. And Robert looks happy.”
“Of course he does. He came out of the divorce with a Viagra prescription and Miss November.” Mindy snorted. “He’s living the dream.” She checked the clock. “Ready for the meeting? Maybe our new head designer has some more genius ideas.”
Paige winced. Lexi had been trying to get involved with the company—with disastrous results. “She emailed me last night, suggesting a new line of all-age rompers,” she told Mindy.
“Can’t she just stick to spending his money?” Mindy sighed. “Instead of messing with our whole fall line?”
Paige grabbed her sketchpad, following Mindy into the conference room, where the rest of the staff were gathering. Today, they were pitching for the kids’ clothing collections, and she’d been working all week on some new designs: cute kangaroos, koala bears, and wallabies, frolicking across the outback.
“Australia, huh?” Mindy said, looking over her shoulder. “I could use a vacation, too. Find myself one of those hot Aussie surfers,” she added with a wink.
Paige blinked, the theme dawning on her for the first time. She hadn’t even realized it. So much for putting Declan out of her mind—he was scrawled across every page of her sketchpad!
Maybe she should renew her subscriptions to those online dating services. If she was still thinking about that kiss, it was clear she had way too much romantic energy swirling around.
“. . . get started. Paige?”
Paige jolted her head up to find the room looking at her expectantly.
“Your designs?” Mindy, prompted helpfully.
“Right!” Paige exclaimed, flushing. She quickly pushed the memory of Declan’s miraculous mouth away and tried to focus. “I’ve been working on some new colors for the season,” she explained, finding her place again. “Fun purples and oranges, and new nature looks.”
Her co-workers all cooed approvingly as Paige distributed her designs. Printed T-shirts, little corduroy pants, and cute dresses with animals on the front. She’d been designing the kids’ line for a few years now, but she still got a kick out of the wide-eyed cartoon animals and sweet matching separates.
“These are so cute!” Mindy cried. “And look, surfing kangaroos!”
Paige beamed.
“Blah, blah . . .” A bored-sounding voice spoke up. It was Lexi, glancing up from her cellphone with a roll of her eyes. “If I had kids, I wouldn’t let them be caught dead in them. No offense,” she added with a syrupy smile.
Paige glanced at Robert, but he was gazing at his new bride in adoration.
“Animals are always our top sellers,” she answered, keeping her voice even. “My reindeer line broke our sales record last holiday.”
“Exactly, last year!” Lexi said. “They’re old news. This place needs shaking up, something new that’ll be big on social.”
“Social?” one of the older designers, Trevor, frowned.
“Social media.” Lexi snapped her gum. “It’s where all the kids are.”
“Our buyers tend to be older,” Paige said gently. “They find out about our clothes from word of mouth or seeing them in stores.” Robert frowned, so she quickly added, “Do you have any suggestions?”
“Tons!” Lexi exclaimed. “How about a romper that has, like, ‘Future Jailbait’ on it? We could do a whole line. ‘Future Playbunny,’ ‘Future Prom Queen,’ ‘Future MILF.’ ”
Paige burst out laughing and had to hide it with a cough. “Oh. You’re . . . serious?”
“I think those sound like great ideas, baby.” Robert beamed. “See? I told you she was creative.” He looked proudly around the room, and Paige had to fight to keep a straight face. “Why don’t you girls work it out? Great meeting, everyone!”
Paige headed back to her design station in disbelief. Was he serious? Cartwheel Clothing was a staid, family-oriented company beloved by moms. She could just imagine the response if their catalog went out featuring “Future Jailbaits.” But it wasn’t her problem, she reminded herself. Robert was calling the shots, and if he wanted MILFs emblazoned all over the place . . .
“Penny.” Lexi materialized beside her, tottering on platform sandals. “I feel super-bad about how that all went down. No hard feelings, I hope?”
“It’s Paige,” she corrected her. “And I’m fine.”
“It’s just your designs are kinda, you know, old. I did a semester of fashion merchandising in college,” Lexi added, browsing Paige’s station, strewn with designs and fabric swatches. “So I totes know what I’m talking about.”
She reached for one of Paige’s sketchpads and started to flip through, and Paige realized too late it wasn’t her work book. It was one of her personal design books; she must have brought it from home by mistake.
“Stop!” Paige yelped, grabbing it back. Lexi looked shocked, and she covered quickly. “Sorry, it’s just . . . those are bad. Terrible. Tell me about your ideas,” she said, hugging the book protectively to her chest. “They sound amazing!”
Lexi launched into her plan for an all-ages cropped T-shirt range—“So, like, you can borrow your kids’ clothes!”—while Paige tried to get her heartrate back to normal again. She probably looked crazy, freaking out like that, but her personal designs were just that: personal.
Finally, Lexi waltzed off, and Paige collapsed into her chair. The coast was clear. She opened her book and ran her fingers over the clothing tag she had pinned to the last page.
Aphrodite Designs: the most beautiful lingerie she could dream to life. Silks and satins, and flirty lace trims. Sensuous and seductive . . . and completely anonymous, just the way she liked it.
She’d started the line a few years ago, after a disastrous shopping trip for new underwear. Paige had been looking for something cute to wear on her third date with a new boyfriend, but every store she tried, she just found garish, “sexy” designs full of push-up
pads and underwire. She didn’t want uncomfortable black garters or bright red crotchless panties, so she detoured to her favorite fabric store and set about making something better.
The result was a work of art: soft blush silk that barely skimmed over her breasts, with scalloped edges and a bouquet of tiny ribbon roses trailing across the French-style knickers. Looking in the mirror, Paige could hardly believe she was the same person. She looked sophisticated, sensual . . . Bold.
After all that, the date turned out to be a bust, but Paige had found her calling. She plunged into the project, researching classic undergarments and construction tricks and fine-tuning her designs until she had something that would flatter smaller frames and support the fuller-figured. She experimented with different fabrics and trims, adding some slippery negligees to the collection, until she finally worked up the courage to show them to a boutique in town, pretending she was just the salesperson working on behalf of the mysterious designer herself. They’d ordered ten sets on the spot, and ever since, Paige had quietly sewed away behind the scenes. Making everything by hand took a long time, and she had to turn down more orders than she filled because she couldn’t meet demand, but she liked it that way—it made her designs seem more valuable, something precious and rare.
At least, to her. Doug had hated her “hobby,” as he called it. He would always get annoyed by her embroidering away, and urged her to do something useful instead, like knit socks. “You don’t need all that frou-frou to look sexy,” he’d frowned, “I like you in normal clothes.” No matter how many times Paige had tried to explain it wasn’t about looking good for a man, he just didn’t get it, but still, she noted his disapproval and the way he judged her for it, and it was part of the reason she kept her real identity under wraps. She wound up keeping her materials locked away in the closet, stealing time to work while he was off playing racquetball every weekend. It wasn’t until she moved out and set up her sewing machine in pride of place on her new coffee table, surrounded by bright bolts of fabric, that Paige realized just how close she’d come to keeping a part of herself shut away.