by Lisa Bingham
“Yes, I’m sure she’ll volunteer to help,” she said with very little enthusiasm.
Then again, her conscience inserted, Dannette would be wise to do so. After that clinch Alex and I shared, we both need a chaperone..
6
RILEY, ALEX AND DANNETTE made their way in Alex’s car to the proposed site for Riley’s chocolate shop.
“You’re sure about a chocolate shop?” Dannette asked Riley.
“Yes, indeedy,” Riley replied.
Dannette’s expression was vaguely pitying.
Riley wished for the tenth time that morning that Alex hadn’t cleared his entire day and arranged for Dannette to accompany them to the brownstone. Riley would much rather have been alone with her friend.
Alone, in his arms, kissing…
Stop it!
Riley eyed Dannette’s neatly pressed jeans and stark white shirt. Riley was sure that Alex hadn’t explained the entire project to Dannette. She’d brought a large duffel filled with paint chips and fabric swatches, little knowing that such stages in the refurbishment were weeks, perhaps even months, away. No doubt the woman would take one look at the building, shudder to the tips of her Italian shoes and proclaim it beyond repair.
Just as Riley hoped she would do.
It was time Alex saw that his bride-to-be didn’t share his same craving for physical activities and adventure. Despite his current occupation, he was a man who liked to get dirty, to work with his hands.
And what hands he has to work with.
Alex pulled to a stop in a coveted parking space across the street from the building, and Riley quickly stepped onto the curb, needing the fresh air and sunshine to chase away the insistent image of Alex stripped to the waist and dappled with sweat.
“This is it?” Dannette asked after waiting for Alex to round the car and open her door.
“Yes. That corner section,” Riley said, pointing.
“How much of it?”
“The entire right side, all three floors.”
“Hmm.” Dannette’s eyes narrowed as if she were studying a rare flower. “The area is charming. I can see evidence of a good deal of restoration in the other brownstones.”
Riley slid a glance at Alex. “That’s the same impression I had.”
“Show me inside.”
Riley hesitated. For the moment she had earned a guarded measure of approval from Alex’s flancée—a fact that validated her plans in some odd way. But once Dannette got a good look at the interior, she would probably take sides with Alex and urge Riley to sell the place.
Alex’s brows rose as if he’d read her very thoughts. Without words, he dared her to make a dramatic presentation of her plans.
Unfortunately, Riley had never been able to ignore a dare.
“This way.”
She led them across the street and up a shallow set of stairs to the beveled-glass door. “The building next door holds an exclusive antique clothing, store and a jeweler’s. Across the street are two bistros and an outdoor café. An art center is planned for the next block, as well as a small movie theater.”
“That should prove ideal to your purposes,” Dannette remarked.
Swinging the door wide, Riley ushered her guests inside, then stood with her back braced against the lintel, waiting for the gasps of horror, the cries of disbelief.
“Oh, Riley,” Dannette sighed. “This…is…wonderful!”
Riley blinked, wondering if she’d heard correctly or if her brain had begun to manufacture the answers she wanted to hear. “Excuse me?”
Dannette pivoted in a slow circle, observing the proposed sight from all angles. “I can see now why you thought about a candy shop. With hardwood floors and glass-fronted cases, it would look like something straight out of Victorian Americana.”
“That’s what I thought,” Riley echoed weakly.
Dannette’s cheeks grew flushed with excitement. “I think that I would use all natural moldings around the doors and windows. The leaded panes are wonderful, so I’d keep as many of them as possible. Rag runners would add a hint of color, as would some period wall coverings on this wall here, and here.”
As she pointed to the spots, Riley’s mood altered from astonishment, to pleasure, to annoyance.
Dammit. This is my candy shop, my project, my plans.
But when she turned to inform Alex that she’d changed her mind and would handle the renovations herself, she hesitated. His eyes had narrowed and he was regarding the space as if he’d never seen it before. For the first time in many years, she saw a spark of excitement deep in his eyes. She could nearly hear his mind whirring with ideas.
The thought should have pleased her, but instead she was struck with a sense of pique. Riley should have been able to instill in him that same sense of creativity. But it had been Dannette who had inspired him. What’s more, Riley couldn’t fault her for such a fact. She was the man’s flancée, for heaven’s sake, and unknowingly, she’d passed another of Riley’s tests.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
Why did the woman have to be so nice, so engaging, so downright…perfect? There had to be something Riley could hold against her. Something that would make the woman fail the fiancée investigation.
But what?
What?
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Alex devoted himself to hard, backbreaking work. Originally, he’d been hesitant about refurbishing the brownstone—even after agreeing to do it. He hadn’t felt that it would be a good idea to spend so much time with Riley—intimate, companionable time interspersed by backbreaking work and moments of infinite silence.
But he hadn’t seen how he could withdraw from the project. Riley had come to his own aid so many times in the past that he couldn’t refuse to help her because of a kiss. A simple kiss.
Let’s be blunt here. Two kisses. Two passionate kisses that had left him shaky in the knees.
Dammit, he wasn’t even supposed to want to kiss Riley.
But he had wanted to kiss her, he admitted reluctantly. And he wanted to again. Their embrace had proved more disturbing than he would have thought possible. His reaction to her had been an instantaneous, overwhelming hot rush of passion.
Alex had tried to forget about those fleeting minutes. He’d tried to concentrate on work, the wedding and the carpentry work he’d been asked to do, but every time he turned around, something reminded him of Riley’s presence. If it wasn’t the crumbs of a sandwich in the kitchen, it was the photographic equipment strewn throughout the apartment, her socks clinging to his in the drier…or that blasted fertility statue.
For the first time in years, Alex found his imagination working in overdrive—especially once he’d begun to dismantle the sad remodeling attempts that had occurred in the building over the years. Underneath the layers of paint and wallpaper, the false ceilings and walls, he found the original marble floors, and wainscoting. With each day and each new discovery, he remembered how wonderful it was to work with his hands. To actually build something. And with each hour, he wondered more and more how he’d wandered away from construction to design. Bit by bit, he’d allowed his work—and his life—to become very dull, sedate and filled with routines.
Unfortunately, the shop was not the only thing being built. As he and Riley worked closely together, he was reminded time and time again that Riley was a woman full of energy and an infinite capacity to love. She was passionate in her goals. Passionate about her chocolate shop, her friendships, her future.
And him…If he gave her a chance, gave her one indication of how much he hungered for another kiss, she would be just as passionate about him…
But he couldn’t allow such a thing to happen. He’d made commitments—and he would stand by those promises. Dannette was a wonderful woman who would be a perfect wife and a perfect mother. He shouldn’t wish she could be more like Riley—even though he was beginning to see that Dannette’s perfection lacked the same excitement his job lacked. Both situations were secure and stable, but�
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Predictable.
Safe.
“Is it lunchtime yet?”
Alex jerked when Riley’s question intruded in his own thoughts. Reflexively, his finger curled around the trigger of a drill and he nearly screwed his thumb to the wall.
Snapping his hand back, he stuck the wounded digit in his mouth to relieve the pain of the cut he’d received.
“Your finger’s filthy, Alex. You really shouldn’t stick it in your mouth,” Riley said, hands on hips.
“Yes, Mom,” he drawled, pushing away the thoughts that had caused him to lose his concentration. Thoughts about this woman. How good she tasted. How she made his blood pump faster than it should.
“Hel-lo,” she said, waving her hand in front of his eyes until he blinked. “You’re certainly in your own little world today.”
“Sorry.”
“So do you want lunch or not?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“A tuna-and-pickle sandwich. Maybe some rockyroad ice cream.”
He stared at her as if she’d lost her grip on sanity, and she shrugged.
“Ever since I arrived in the United States, I’ve had the oddest cravings.”
His eyes narrowed, and he flicked a glance at her flat stomach. Pickles and ice cream? No. She couldn’t possibly…She wouldn’t have…
“Is there a reason for such cravings?” he inquired suspiciously, surprised by the jealousy he felt at the thought of Riley’s being pregnant by another man. Was that why she’d left Africa so abruptly?
He scowled, and Riley laughed.
“Relax, Alex. My cravings are due to nothing more than my stomach’s odd whims.”
“Riley,” he began carefully, still not satisfied. “You know that if you need help, I’ll always—”
“I am not pregnant, Alex. Frankly, the condition would be impossible unless I proved to be a test case for conception by osmosis.”
His lips quirked and he wished he’d never brought up the subject. He’d never been comfortable discussing Riley’s sex life. Not even when they were young and her infrequent dates had resulted in her slugging some boy in the gut when he bothered her with his “gropings.”
“There’s been no one serious, hmm?” he asked as casually as he could.
“Not for years and years,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.
“You should find somebody, Riley,” he said in utmost seriousness.
“Just like you, huh?”
“Marriage would agree with you.”
“How?”
“It would give you some—”
“Roots? You keep harping on that point as if I were a houseplant.”
“You admitted yourself that you were getting tired of wandering.”
“Which is why I plan to open my chocolate shop.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “I still think the whole plan is crazy. What in the world do you know about candy?”
“Not just candy, Alex, but chocolate.”
“So what do you know about chocolate?”
Her eyes twinkled with such sudden mirth that he was immediately on his guard. Taking his hand, she laced their fingers together and drew him to the door.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
THEY RETURNED to his loft with the screech of tires echoing in the underground garage. As he peeled himself from the passenger seat of his car, Alex supposed he hadn’t been thinking with a clear head when he’d allowed Riley to drive. Who knew when she’d been behind a wheel last?
“You really should take a refresher course,” he said as he followed her to the elevator.
“Why? I haven’t hit anybody.” She paused, then added, “Yet.”
Her crooked grin caught him in the gut.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Alex.
“So what does all this have to do with your knowledge of chocolate? Or have you brought me back for that tuna sandwich you wanted?”
“As a matter of fact, I plan to see to both items over time. But first, I intend to make you eat your words about my chocolate.” She grimaced. “No pun intended.”
He was escorted to his own living room and told to wait on the couch.
It wasn’t until he sank into the plump leather cushions that he realized how tired he was. The physical labor required to restore the building had pleasantly tested muscles that hadn’t been reached during his workouts, and the efforts he took to keep up with his work at the office required most of his mental energies. Combining those responsibilities with the fact that he was finding it harder and harder to sleep at night made him suddenly feel bone weary and he yawned.
“How long are you going to be?” he asked, kicking his shoes off and lying full-length on the couch.
“Just a few minutes. I brought samples home with me, as well as all of the ingredients necessary for some test recipes.”
“Ingredients?” he echoed as he plumped a pillow under his head.
“The best Swiss chocolate.”
“Ahh,” he responded, as if he understood, when in fact he didn’t. But then he supposed such an understanding wasn’t necessary. Riley had a way of getting to the heart of whatever she wanted, so he was sure her objective would be crystal clear by the time she’d finished with whatever demonstration she had in mind.
Riley emerged from her bedroom carrying an armload of chocolate boxes and assorted ingredient packages labeled in a half dozen languages. But when she stepped into the living room, it was to discover that Alex had vanished.
Her brow creased, and padding farther into the room, she finally saw that he was stretched out on the couch. Asleep.
Setting her materials on the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, she tiptoed closer again, then leaned over the high back, staring down at Alex, who was sleeping so peacefully.
Poor thing. The past few days had tested him to the limit, she was sure. Riley felt guilty about her own part in exhausting him. Well, not really guilty. But she supposed it was selfish to have him work with her on the renovations.
If the truth were known, finances had very little part in her reasons for insisting he help her. No matter how much Alex believed that things would remain the same with their friendship, Riley knew that everything would change once he was married. Even if there were times when she had him to herself, Dannette would be lurking in the background. As his wife, she would have the stronger claim to him.
Too bad.
Resting her chin on her elbows, Riley stared down at Alex, her stomach doing odd flip-flops at this rare opportunity to watch him without being watched in return.
As a young girl, she’d worshiped Alex. He’d always been her hero—and in accepting such a role, he’d assumed godlike proportions in her eyes.
But now that she was older, she realized that her expectations had been unfair to him. He was a man. A man with faults and needs. He was made of flesh and blood—although she had to admit that his flesh and blood was well put together.
Riley shifted, reaching to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. His skin was warm, the hair silky fine.
He shifted slightly, and she became instantly still, but he did not awaken, so she grew bolder, touching the slight hollow of his temple, the broad plane of his cheek, the angle of his jaw.
He really was a beautiful man. Inside and out. She didn’t want him to marry Dannette. Not because Dannette was a bad person. No, Alex’s fiancée was passing the array of tests with flying colors. Riley couldn’t fault him for choosing Dannette, but she still couldn’t help wishing that he’d continued his life as a bachelor. Or that he’d selected someone else.
Someone like me!
The thought raced through her consciousness, and Riley tried to thrust it away.
I don’t want to marry him. I don’t.
But as much as she might tell herself that she didn’t want to marry Alex, the idea lodged in her brain like a burr. Unable to help herself, she imagined what her life could be like—returnin
g to Alex each evening, spending all of her free time in his company, having the right to touch him.
A wave of languid warmth washed over her. Dear heaven, what would it be like to have Alex holding her, kissing her each and every evening?
No. She couldn’t allow herself to think of Alex in that way. He was her friend.
But still it was impossible to ignore the sensations flooding her system. The thrum of desire was more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced. Because of its strength, she was finding it harder and harder to remember what was right and what was wrong. As much as she wished to avoid complications and confrontation, the fact remained that she wanted Alex for herself.
Her hands began to shake, and she drew back, jumping to her feet. If she touched him one more time, she would probably wake the man and attack him.
She took a step back, determined to be “good” and do the right thing, but a hand snapped around her-wrist and she gasped.
“Why stop now?” Alex murmured, his eyes dark and glittering with the same sensual awareness she knew her expression mirrored.
“I—” But she could think of no explanation for her actions.
When he drew her down to him, she went willingly. Soon the back of the couch proved to be no barrier, and she was sliding over the top to be pulled onto his body, her legs slipping intimately between his own, her breasts flattening against his chest.
His kiss was long and slow and searching, filled with a blatant need that she had never experienced in any other man before. His hands roamed over her shoulders and down the length of her spine, then settled on her hips, nestling her tightly against his arousal.
She gasped, wrenching free to stare down at his dark eyes.
“What have you been thinking about?” she whispered in a husky tone of voice.
“You.”
A delicious heat pooled in her lower body.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured.
“No,” he agreed. “No, we shouldn’t.”
Then he was kissing her again, hungrily, greedily, his body twisting so that he could press her more firmly into the cushions. His leg wound around hers, and one hand lifted to cup her breast and mold it to the shape of his palm.