by Nina Lindsey
“Hey.” Her soft voice filtered into his ears, and he felt the movement of her body as she sat beside him. “There’s no scowling at Codswallop.”
He pulled himself from the morass of his thoughts and turned toward her. “There’s a lot of fun, though.”
Polly smiled again. He wished he could be responsible for keeping that smile on her face forever.
“My parents used to come here every year,” she said. “Though my mom didn’t bring me along until I was a teenager. She missed a couple of years when she got sick, but last year she insisted on coming even though she was still right in the middle of chemo. So Clementine and Tom loaded up a van, and we went along with them. Stayed all three days, visiting old friends, listening to music, eating and drinking. I think my mother knew the end was getting close and she wanted to have one last really good time with her friends.”
Sorrow passed across her face as she looked at the fire. Luke settled his hand on her knee.
“Sounds like she did,” he said.
She nodded. The band on a nearby stage started playing an acoustic cover of the Stones’ “Wild Horses,” the strains of the guitar accompanied by the crackle and pop of the campfire.
Luke stood and took Polly’s hand, tugging her to her feet. He pulled her to him and slid one arm around her waist before starting to move to the music. She eased closer, her body pressing to his as she rested her cheek against his chest.
He let go of her hand and wrapped both arms around her. Something always settled inside him when she was tucked in his arms like this, her curves fitting perfectly against the planes of his body like she was made for him alone.
“By the way.” He kissed the top of her head. “Where are we sleeping?”
She chuckled. “You mean you’re not going to ask me if we can go home yet?”
“Actually I’m starting to wish you’d wanted to get me alone for longer than a weekend.”
She eased away from him, twining her fingers with his before leading him toward a small blue tent that was set up a short distance away.
“Tom and Anne bring an extra one in case someone needs a place to sleep.” She unzipped the flap. “Tonight, that’s us.”
As she bent over to enter the tent, her skirt stretched across her round ass. They were about to do a hell of a lot more than sleep.
Luke followed her inside, crouching to zip the flap closed behind him. Firelight and passing shadows flashed over the thin nylon walls, which did nothing to block out the sound of music and voices drifting over the field.
Their bags were already inside, and Polly switched on a flashlight attached to the edge of the tent. She unzipped her large bag and pulled out a tightly rolled cotton blanket.
“I figured we wouldn’t need much because it’s so warm.” She unfastened the blanket. “I brought pillows too.”
Luke sat back on his haunches since the tent was too small to even sit up comfortably and watched her work. She knelt by the air mattress, reaching over it to spread the blanket, her bent position giving him a tempting display of her cleavage. Even though he’d been sneaking looks at her breasts all day—and what a sight they were when she was hula-hooping—now he could stare at them all he wanted.
“I brought extra water too, so we don’t have to trek to the water station in the dark.” Polly pulled water bottles out of her bag. “And if you…oh.”
Luke had crawled forward and crouched on his hands and knees, his face only inches from hers. She looked up, her eyes widening. The scent of her—sweat, sun, smoke—fired him with a bolt of lust.
In less than a second, he grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her toward him, his mouth crashing down on hers. Her lips parted on a soft moan, and then he was inside her, his tongue seeking hers, his lust burning hotter.
“Come on,” he murmured, moving them both to sitting positions without breaking the contact of their mouths.
She drew in a breath and lifted her head. Shock darkened her eyes.
“Really?” she whispered. “You want to…here?”
“Hell, yeah.” Luke grabbed her hand and pressed it to the front of his shorts. “I’ve been wanting to all day.”
“But…I mean, there are people right outside.” Polly gestured to the tent flap. “I didn’t think you’d want…”
“Oh, I want,” he growled in the instant before he brought her lips to his again.
He kissed her hard and deep, tasting blueberries and cotton candy, feeling her surrender as she lowered herself to the air mattress, her arms coming up to twine around his neck. He found the edge of her tank top and yanked it down, making a noise of frustration when his fingers encountered the cotton barrier of her bra.
“Wait, I’ll take it off.” Polly pushed him away, giving a breathless little laugh as she pulled off the tank top and reached around to unfasten her bra.
And then her warm, bare breasts were in his hands. Urgency pulsed through his body. He pressed his lips over the half-circles of sunburn reddening her breasts, heat still clinging to her skin. Polly gasped, fisting her hand in his hair and arching toward him.
Christ. Already he was throbbing, as if he’d been in a state of suspended lust all day and was now, finally, able to unleash it. He tugged Polly’s skirt off her hips, running his hands over the curves of her torso and thighs.
He pulled back only long enough to strip off his clothes and toss them aside. His breath scorched his lungs at the sight of her spread out in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of polka-dot panties. She was all curvy, inviting warmth, the filtered light casting shadows on her skin.
“Peach, you’re so goddamned perfect,” he muttered, stroking his hands over her rounded hips. “I could bury myself inside you for days.”
She gave him an inviting smile, curling her hands around his biceps and drawing him down to her. Her hair was a tangle of curls around her flushed face, her body trembling with excitement.
He devoured her sweet mouth as she parted her legs and opened for him. He sank into her. And then she was wrapping herself around him, her breasts jostling against his chest as he pushed into her again and again. Their skin rubbed together, sweaty, grimy, and hot with sunburn, the friction heating Luke’s blood with a thousand fires.
She bit down on his shoulder, muffling her cry as she came. The mild pain of her sharp teeth combined with her vibrations jolted him to the edge. With a groan, he thrust again and shot deep inside her. The sensation tore like an explosion through him. He braced his hands on the sides of her head, his chest heaving as he barely managed to restrain himself from collapsing on top of her.
He fell to the side with another groan and flung his arm over his eyes. Beside him, Polly’s breath rasped through the air. Slowly the world came back into focus, the sound of music and conversation drifting into Luke’s ears. They looked at each other, faint tension suddenly stretching through the air.
Then he broke eye contact and rolled onto his back. He stared at the stretched canvas of the tent above him, unnerved by the emotions crowding his chest, the growing feeling that he didn’t want to leave the haven of Polly and return to his normal, workaholic life.
She shifted closer to him and tucked her face against his chest. Trembles continued to course through her warm body.
“Peach,” Luke said.
She lifted her head, wariness coloring her eyes. He stroked her hair away from her face and ran his hand over her soft cheek.
“Thanks,” he said. “This whole day has been incredibly fun.”
“For me too.” She kissed his fingers as he touched her lips. “If you want to get more of your hippie on, there’s a full moon gathering down in Laguna Beach in a couple of weeks.”
“A what?”
“A celebration in honor of the full moon, and of cosmic alignment and spirituality. There’ll be a drum circle, gypsy dancing, performance artists. Last time I went there was even a snake charmer.”
It was a measure of her influence on him that Luke didn’
t find that at all strange.
“So what do you say?” Polly rested her chin on her hand. “We could take the van, camp out under the stars.”
He looked at the tent above them, where the campfire light flickered through the nylon. He wanted with a force as strong as any he’d ever known to tell her that of course they’d drive down to Laguna Beach, that there was nothing he’d love more than to sleep with her under the stars, to kiss her by the light of a full moon.
“I wish I could.” He slid his hand down her back to her hip. “But I have to go to Switzerland a week from Monday. Meetings and stuff for the Alpine acquisition. I’ll be gone for three weeks.”
“Oh.” Uncertainty flickered across her face. “I didn’t know you were leaving.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Kate reminded me the other day. It’s just a business trip.”
“You must go on a lot of those.”
He did, but before her, he’d never cared where he was going or how long he’d stay there. Now he only wanted to go wherever Polly was and to stay there forever.
He looked at her, struck by a bolt of inspiration. “Come with me.”
Polly blinked. “What?”
“To Switzerland.” Relief flooded him at the idea of not having to spend three weeks without her. “You told me you’d wanted to travel, right? So come with me. Yeah, I have to work, but I can still show you around, and we can take the train to Paris for a couple of days. I know you’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Luke.” Warmth and regret mixed in her brown eyes. “I can’t go with you.”
“Why not?”
“I have to stay and run Wild Child. With all that’s going on and the interior designers coming, I can’t leave now to head off to Switzerland for three weeks.”
He frowned. “You’re the boss. You can do whatever you want.”
Polly ran her hand over his chest. “I’m pretty sure that not even CEO Stone does whatever he wants. And while I would love to go with you, we both know how hard I’ve worked to get to this point. I can’t leave Wild Child right now.”
Luke bit back another argument. She was right, and as much as he selfishly wanted her with him, her dedication to her mother’s bakery was just one of the many things he adored about her.
“Don’t scowl.” She pressed her finger between his eyebrows, smoothing out the crease. “Three weeks isn’t that long. You’ll be back before you know it. And we can call and Skype, right? I mean, as long as I’m on your schedule.”
She lifted her eyebrows pointedly. He tweaked her nose.
“You’re on my schedule all the time, Peach,” he assured her.
24/7. In permanent ink.
“Good.” She kissed his shoulder. “I promise, your trip will fly by.”
“Still.” He threaded his hand into her hair, letting out his breath on a sigh. “If the moon celebration is anything like Codswallop, it sucks that we can’t go.”
“I’m so glad you like it here,” Polly said. “Do you miss your phone?”
“What phone?”
She smiled. As she settled against him again, Luke pressed his lips to her forehead. No, he didn’t miss his phone. But when he went to Switzerland, he sure as hell was going to miss Polly. Probably more than he could stand.
Chapter 19
A happy, dream-like fog surrounded Polly as she went down to the bakery early Monday morning. Sunday had been as magical as Saturday, if a little more fatigued. She’d thought Luke might get antsy about the lack of Wi-Fi, but it had appeared to be the last thing on his mind.
Instead he’d wandered the grounds, danced with her, played hacky sack, made treks to the food stands to buy coffee and sandwiches for everyone in their camping circle, and given her warm forehead kisses while simultaneously patting her rear.
Polly had never before had such a good time at Codswallop. Her mind filled with all the other things she wanted to do with Luke—folk festivals, rainbow gatherings, street fairs, bonfires, community gardens. He’d embraced Codswallop so easily, fitting into her world as if a place had always existed there for him. Maybe it had, just like the place in her heart.
And although his impending business trip cast a shadow over the coming month, they would find plenty of ways to breach the physical separation. Talking, texting, emailing, maybe even finding some creative things to do with video calls…
Hmm. Since CEO Stone’s business trips were probably filled with boring meetings and reports, it would be up to Polly to make certain that his downtime was especially fun.
Her mind began zinging with ideas as she prepped for opening the bakery. Clementine came in with the announcement that a news reporter and cameraman had stopped into Wild Child on Saturday afternoon, claiming they were working on a segment about the new interest in reality baking shows.
“I tried to call you, but your phone was down and I know the connection at Codswallop is iffy at best.” Clementine stowed her bag under the counter. “Apparently the reporter is a cousin of one of the Knight Security men. She was hoping to interview you and didn’t want to wait until Monday. So I gave them permission to film because I thought we could use the publicity.”
“We still need all the help we can get.”
Because one day, Polly would have to keep the bakery going by herself. Clementine would be gone, and though Luke hadn’t given her a time limit for his business expertise, a day would likely come when he wouldn’t be here to answer questions about budgeting or profit margins. And even if he was, Polly had always intended to run Wild Child independently and under her own power, exactly like her mother had.
During a mid-morning lull, she sat at a mosaic table with her laptop to continue putting vendors into the new accounting software.
“These are different.” Hannah sat at a table by the window, a book open in her lap. She waved a cookie in Polly’s direction. “What did you do to them?”
“Cheaper ingredients,” Polly replied. “Mom always used the best ingredients, but I couldn’t afford them anymore and had to downscale.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“Believe me, I know.” Polly glanced up at the sound of the wind chimes jingling above the door.
Luke’s brother Evan was holding the door open. A dark-haired woman wearing a stylish wrap dress, gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and dangling earrings entered, sweeping her gaze over the display cases. She was accompanied by a slender, blond man decked out in a suit and bow tie, holding a large carrying case.
A memory of her encounter with Julia spread over Polly like a bad rash, but she reminded herself to give these people a chance. Luke had been kind enough to set up a meeting with interior design firm partners about remodeling Wild Child, and Polly couldn’t be churlish enough to refuse.
“Hey, Polly.” With a smile, Evan approached her table and lowered his head next to her ear. “I’m here as a peacekeeping force, in case these two give you flashbacks to Julia.”
Polly narrowed her eyes at the couple who were wandering around the bakery, looking at everything with a critical eye.
“As long as they don’t use the phrases roach clips or reefer madness, we’ll be fine,” she muttered to Evan.
“Miss Lockhart?” The woman approached. “I’m Eleanor Pendergrass. My partner Simon Peabody. Pendergrass and Peabody Designs. We’ll just have a look around, if you don’t mind.”
“By all means.”
Polly went around the counter to get a few of her éclair-doughnut pastries from the cold case. She set the plate in front of Evan before sitting beside him. Still wary, she watched the two designers strolling around the bakery, examining the worn, mismatched furnishings and mandala tapestries.
“What are they going to do?” Hannah paused beside Polly.
“Nothing yet. They’re here to consult about remodeling the interior.”
An odd tension radiated from Hannah. “You’re remodeling?”
“We have to.”
“Why?”
“Be
cause it’s part of improving the business.” If you’d been around, you’d know that.
Polly clamped down on the remark and gestured to Evan. “Hannah, this is Luke’s brother Evan. Evan, my sister Hannah.”
“Pleasure.” Evan rose and extended his hand.
Hannah nodded and shook his hand, pulling away more quickly than was polite.
“These are amazing.” Apparently unoffended, Evan sat back down and held up one of the pastries. “I’ve never had anything like this before.”
“It’s called a Declair,” Polly said, pleased by his praise. “My new creation. I’ll get you some more.”
She took his empty plate and went to pile it with fresh Declairs.
“Not even grunge chic.” Eleanor Pendergrass turned a paper lantern around in her hand. “Just grunge.”
Simon peered with faint distaste at an upholstered chair so well-loved the fabric was worn down to the threads in places.
“Retro-tech might work here,” he said, “or perhaps French Rococo with fringed curtains and gilt molding.”
Polly and Hannah exchanged glances.
“That’s not really what Wild Child is about,” Polly told Simon gently.
“Perhaps a minimalist approach then.” Eleanor retrieved a drawing pad from the carrying case. “It creates a very soothing environment. The primary materials would be steel, glass, and concrete—very in vogue with corporate retail design at the moment—and black backgrounds with spotlighting to showcase the products.”
“This isn’t a corporate—” Polly began.
“Excellent.” Simon nodded at Eleanor with approval. “We’ll get rid of all this stuff on the walls so we can have a chic, monochromatic palette. Black tables, silver chairs, a sleek new logo.”
“I’m sorry,” Polly said. “But Wild Child really isn’t about chic or sleek.”
The two designers looked at her. Simon arched an elegantly plucked eyebrow.
“So what are you thinking, doll?” he asked.
“Well, sort of what we already have, but upgraded?” Polly ventured.
Eleanor and Simon exchanged glances.