The Right Guy

by Kate O'Keeffe

  “You don’t have to do this, Jake. Any of it.”

  He reaches across the table and places his hand on mine. I don’t want to let his touch send a jolt of electricity up my arm, or feel the warmth spread across my belly. But it’s like he has some sort of new gravitational pull I’m incapable of resisting—ever since that moment we shared outside the psychic’s tent.

  His eyes are intense. “I want to.” With one hand still on mine, he picks the camera up and turns it toward me. “I especially like this one.”

  As I look at the screen, my breath catches in my throat, and my body begins to tingle. It’s an image of us together, locked in that kiss, his arms around me, my fingers in his hair. We look good together, great, like we are meant to be—like we’re in love.

  My mouth goes dry. I look from the image on the camera screen up into his eyes.

  “Taylor, that kiss—”

  In one swift moment, I slide my hand out from under his, take the camera from him, and switch it off. “Yeah, that’s a good one. She totally bought into it that we were a couple.” Making light of that moment that was anything but is the safest thing to do right now.

  He cocks an eyebrow. “We were very convincing, don’t you think?”

  I can’t let this happen. He’s a total player, and I’m his sister’s friend, and we’ve known each other forever, and he’s like a big brother to me, and his family is my family, and . . . and so many reasons not to go there with him.

  So why the heck do I want to lose myself in his arms?

  CHAPTER 10

  Jake

  I can’t help myself. It’s like she’s got me under her spell, and I’m powerless to fight my feelings for her anymore. Showing her that photo of us kissing was a cheap shot. I know it, and I bet she knows it, too. But, man, that kiss? It was electric and so full of emotion, full of want, full of everything I feel for her all mingled together. Of course I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to kiss her until our lips were raw, kiss her until we couldn’t kiss any more. But doing that on the steps of a church with a couple of tourists looking on weren’t exactly the ideal circumstances.

  You see, we’ve kissed before, and I remember what it’s like to touch those full, luscious lips and have her gorgeous, curvy body pressed against mine. I know what it’s like to taste her, to breathe in her scent. To want her more than anything. And in a flash, I’m back to the night that changed everything for me. The night the realization I wanted her more than I wanted anyone, anything, smashed into me like a freight train.

  She was sixteen. I was in my first year in a kitchen, the lowest of the low, learning the ropes, totally out of my depth. It was a warm summer’s night, and I’d put up with my fair share of verbal beatings from Chef that evening. I’d messed up. I deserved it. And he made sure I knew it, trying his best to humiliate me in front of the whole staff, calling me every name under the sun.

  Chefs can be like demigods in their kitchens, and this guy thought he was the supreme freaking leader. They bark, you respond. By the time I left for the night, I was really feeling it. I knew I wanted to be a chef, no, I needed to be a chef. Talented as he was, and knowing how much I could learn from him, I wasn’t sure I could put up with his ass hat behavior a day longer.

  But I knew I had to if I wanted to succeed. And I had to succeed. Hate him as I did, that chef was my ticket to security, to my own restaurant one day. He made me one step closer to not being at the mercy of someone else—like my dad had been when he lost his job, changing our easy, carefree world forever when I was twelve. No. I needed to make it, I needed to stand on my own two feet. I just needed to suck it up.

  That night, I’d come home to my parents’ place where I was still living. I dropped my things at the front door. I grabbed a Coke from the fridge, opened it, and let the cold liquid slip down my throat. I heard laughter out back so I pushed open the screen door.

  Ash had a group of friends over, most of whom I knew. I scanned the group. There were about three guys and five girls, all kids I recognized from school. My eyes found Taylor, sitting on a chair swing we had hanging from the old oak in the back yard. She was wearing a pair of jeans shorts and a sleeveless blouse, her eyes closed as the swing swayed back and forth.

  She looked breathtaking in a way I hadn’t ever noticed before. This was Tay Tay, my kid sister’s bestie, a kid I was used to seeing around the house most days of the week. Only now, she was almost a woman. Her beauty hit me, right in the guts, and I knew I had to go to her.

  I made my way across the yard and plunked myself next to her, making some stupid comment I’ve now forgotten. She opened her eyes and looked at me, her characteristic smile spreading across her beautiful sixteen-year-old face. She replied to whatever I’d said, but it’s not her words that squeezed my heart.

  It was her.

  The need to touch her, to kiss her, was almost overwhelming. I had not expected it, but I knew in that moment on the swing I wanted Taylor Jennings with a ferocity I’d never known before. And I haven’t known it since, despite searching for it with an assembly line of women, virtual carbon copies of each other.

  None of them came within a mile of Taylor.

  I remember trying hard to concentrate on what she was saying, all the while watching her lips, wishing they were on mine. And then, as if answering my silent prayers, she leaned across to me and touched my chest lightly with her hand.

  “Kiss me.” Her voice quavered.

  I wasn’t sure if she was nervous or what. I wasn’t stopping long enough to think. I slipped my hands gently around the back of her head, burying my fingers in her thick dark hair. She tilted her head up to me, and I leaned down to meet her, at first brushing my lips tentatively against hers.

  As we kissed, I struggled to hold back this crushing, new desire I felt for her. I needn’t have bothered. Her response told me everything I needed to know. Within seconds, we were kissing as though our lives depended on it, arms around one another, our bodies becoming one.

  And then, as fast as it happened, it was over. Taylor shrunk away from me the moment she was teased by one of her friends, some faceless girl I wished had never existed. She got up from the swing, shot me an apologetic smile, and dashed back to her friends.

  I was left, sitting on the swing in the half-light, worked up to breaking point, these new, blinding feelings I had for her swirling around inside. I didn’t move, I didn’t know what to do. And then Ashley, shooting me a steely gaze, telling me never to come near her friends again. Especially Taylor, a girl who may as well have been my kid sister.

  Me, stupidly agreeing.

  And now, sitting at this table, she’s closing me out, pushing me away. I know there’s been a shift between us, and I know she has feelings for me, just as I do for her. From the moment she looked at me in that new way at Fisherman’s Wharf last weekend, I could sense that change.

  And this time I’m not going to let anything come between us. This time I’m damn well going to do whatever it takes to win her heart.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jake

  I sit on a hard, wooden bar stool, my arms crossed. We’re at a stupid nightclub, one of my least favorite places to be. It’s too loud, too busy, too full of drunk people. I glance around. Most of the bridal party seem to be having fun dancing, doing shots. Not me. I’m too busy seething, watching events unfold before my eyes—events I have no control over but wish to hell I did.

  Taylor’s leaning up against the wall of the nightclub, one leg hitched up, her foot pressed against the wall behind her. She’s drunk—funny, cuddly, cute drunk, the way she was at her twenty-first birthday, the way she was when we went out to celebrate her new job.

  It’s not the being drunk I mind so much. It’s who she’s with. Scratch that. It’s who she’s flirting with. It’s the all-too-smooth guy from the hotel I saw Taylor talking to last night, the one she took a photo of. The one I saw flirting with other women when I went back to the bar after dinner. Rob, she said his name wa
s. Sounds about right to me.

  And now he’s standing right up close to her, one hand pressed against the wall beside her head, flirting his freaking balls off. It makes me want to punch things—most of all him.

  With every toss of her hair, every tinker of laughter, my anger rises. It’s like she’s doing this on purpose to torment me, to make me think that kiss we shared this afternoon meant nothing to her.

  Only, I know it did.

  He places his hand on her waist. I lock my jaw. Sure, I know Taylor’s no nun. But this guy has got to be her worst decision yet. It’s as obvious as balls on a bull what he’s trying to do, and she’s just leaning against that wall, lapping it all up.

  The night started out well enough. We had a reasonably good meal out at a taqueria in the town, even if Tim stood up and read out a sappy poem to Ash. Of course, she blushed and cried. It was all pretty sentimental. If it hadn’t been my kid sister and one of my best buddies, I might have thought it was a bit lame. But it wasn’t. It was sweet and honest, and anyone could tell how deeply in love they are.

  Taylor and I had been our usual selves, the kiss we shared this afternoon seemingly forgotten—or shelved at least. We’d laughed and joked, ribbed each other, just had fun with the rest of the group. It had felt like the old me, the old us. It had felt right.

  And now? Let’s just say there’s nothing right about what’s going on here.

  “Come on, Jakey,” Chloe purrs beside me. “Do a shot with me.”

  “No, I’m good.” I know I’ve been ignoring her, but she’s a big girl, she can go talk to someone else if she wants.

  “Please?”

  I glance at her, and she smiles sweetly at me. I’ll admit it, Chloe is the kind of woman I used to go for, back when I thought dating a stream of women would get Taylor out of my head. She’s easy on the eyes, blonde in a not-so-born-with-it kinda way, fun. The type I don’t find challenging in the least. She’s wearing a top so low-cut tonight I can almost see her shoes. My guess is “subtle” is not a word in Chloe’s vocabulary.

  “Well, if you won’t, I will.” She picks up a full shot glass from the bar and knocks it back.

  But I’m not looking at Chloe anymore.

  Rob has removed his hand from the wall and is leading Taylor onto the dance floor. He turns to face her and takes her by the hand as they begin to dance. And the jerk can actually dance. Unlike me, who looks like I’d rather be doing anything else—because I would rather be doing anything else. This guy has got the moves, and Taylor is lapping it up as she moves to the music, looking gorgeous and sexy and all the things that are killing me slowly.

  I’ve got to look away—she’s not dancing like that for me.

  As I said, I need to punch something.

  “Tell me all about your restaurant. I want to know everything,” Chloe says.

  “Sure.” I’m more than happy to talk about Manger. I’ve been away for just over twenty-four hours, and I miss it. The buzz of the place, the food, the non-stop action. Even Frederick. Okay, that’s taking things too far, but I miss the place all the same. “Ever eaten there?”

  “You know I have, Jakey. I came out to the kitchen to see you to say hi. Remember?”

  I don’t remember, but there’s no point in upsetting the girl. “Sure, I remember.”

  She places her hand on my chest. “Next time, I might get the famous chef to sign something.” She glances down at her breasts and then back up at me, a smile on her face.

  Yeah, it’s official: subtle isn’t a word Chloe is familiar with.

  “Well, next time you come, dinner’s on the house.”

  “You’re the best, Jakey,” she purrs.

  As I talk some more to her about Manger, my tightly wound back begins to unknot. I tell her about how I started out, how I’d put everything on the line to get the place. How it was a huge gamble at the time, a gamble that’s paid off tenfold. I leave out the bit about how I want to break free from Frederick, go out on my own. That’s personal—sharing it with Taylor is one thing, but not this woman.

  I was lucky enough to have Isabella follow me from the place I’d been working before Manger. When we announced we were leaving, the head chef had literally turned beet red with anger. I half expected steam to come out his ears. He swore our venture would fail, if not through lack of customers, then through him blackening my name.

  It all came to nothing, just your typical megalomaniac hothead chef talking shit. All too common in our testosterone-fueled business.

  I tell her about my passion for food, the way in which I love to create new dishes, fusing unexpected ingredients. I really get into it, and it feels good. And I’ll admit, thinking about my kitchen, where I call the shots, is the best part.

  Not like here, knowing Taylor’s with that ass hat, when I know she should be with me.

  The music changes to a song with a slower beat. Chloe links her hands around my neck and pouts. “Dance with me, Jakey.”

  I look down at her as she gazes up at me. Why not? There’s no way this evening could get any worse. On the dance floor, Chloe wraps her arms around me, and we sway to the music. We’re dancing close to Taylor and that jerk she’s with. Although it kills me to see them together, being this close means I can at least keep an eye on what’s happening between them.

  And right now, it’s bearable.

  Just.

  And then it happens, and I stop dancing. Taylor’s head is tilted up, her lips locked with that idiot in a kiss. Holy crap. What is she thinking? Taylor may have gone for some dicks in the past, but never a guy as bad as this one. She deserves more than him, so much more.

  She deserves me.

  “What is it, Jake?” Chloe says, bringing me crashing back to the nightclub hell. She’s realized I’ve stopped dancing, if that’s what you could call what I’d been doing up to this point.

  “Nothing.” I begin to sway to the music again because what can I do. This isn’t the wild west. I can’t just grab the guy and punch his lights out. Can I?

  Screw it. Taylor can make her own mistakes. I may have been a pseudo big brother in the past, but she’s a grown woman now. Maybe she’ll be happy with Rob? Maybe they’ll be good together? I let out a low puff of air. Who am I kidding? This is killing me. Especially after what we shared this afternoon.

  “I’m getting a drink.” Without waiting for Chloe’s response, I stomp off the dance floor and return to the bar. I get the barmaid’s attention and order a couple of tequila shots. Chloe follows me, and we down them.

  “Go, Jakey!” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “Party time!”

  I shoot her the best smile I can muster. It’s probably more of a grimace, but I do not care. I order another round of shots. What the hell? I may as well try to enjoy myself.

  Ash materializes at my side. “Having fun?”

  “Yeah. Lots.” It’s a step too far to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

  She punches me on the arm in that familiar sibling way. “Good.” She totally misses my tone, too much in her own love bubble to notice. She leans her elbows back on the bar, surveying the dance floor. “This is just what I wanted, you know? My closest friends together, having a great time.”

  “Great time” is stretching things for me, but I don’t mention it. “That’s awesome, sis. You deserve to get what you want.”

  She turns to me, and I notice her eyes welling up. “Thanks, Jake. That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

  I rub her back. I will her not to cry. I’m no good with women crying, even my sister. It makes me want to fix whatever’s upset them, make it right.

  “You know you mean a lot to me, don’t you?” Ash says. She’s so sappy when she’s had a few drinks.

  “Sure I do.”

  “No, I mean it. Yes, you’re my brother and I love you, but you’re also a good friend. The best.”

  I smile at her. “Ditto.”

  She looks back to the dance floor. “And someday, I want you to have what
I have with Tim.”

  “Sis, I’m not gonna date your fiancé.”

  She chucks me on the arm. “Oh, ha ha. You know what I mean. I want you to find someone, someone who makes you happy, someone you love with every fiber of your being. Like I do with Tim.”

  Although I will myself not to do it, my eyes have a mind of their own as they sweep the dance floor, roving for their target. She’s still dancing, still looking as gorgeous as ever, still with that guy trying to glue himself to her.

  “Trust me. It’s the best feeling in the world,” Ash continues. “And when you get it, you won’t ever want to lose it.”

  I glance at my sister. I’m happy she feels that way, truly happy she’s found that perfect guy for her. But for me, right here and now, this has got to be the exact opposite of the best feeling in the world.

  CHAPTER 12

  Taylor

  What am I doing? I agreed to a quick drink back in the hotel bar with Rob after we left the nightclub together, and now we’re sitting side by side on a two-seater sofa. His arm is slung around my shoulders as we look out at the moon, high in the sky, illuminating a silver strip across the ocean.

  It should be so romantic. Instead, it feels . . . wrong.

  Maybe it’s because I’ve had a little too much to drink tonight? Okay, a lot too much. The nightclub had definitely been spinning around me after one too many tequila shots, so I’m trying to be sensible and drink some water—despite Rob urging me to stick with alcohol.

  I know, I know. Too little too late. I say better late than never.

  “I have had the best time with you tonight,” Rob purrs into my ear. I can feel his warm breath on my neck.

  It feels, well, to be perfectly honest, it feels unpleasant. There, I’ve said it. I don’t want to admit it, but it’s true. Sure, we’ve had some fun tonight. The dancing was great, and we’ve been flirting our butts off with each other. Always fun.