by Lea Nolan
Wren's knees wobbled. She wrapped her arms around his firm torso, pulling herself against him. Fierce need swelled in him, sending heat straight to his groin as a low growl rumbled in his chest. They kissed for what seemed like hours, discovering each other as raindrops spattered the porch roof. Finally, breathless and filled with so much want he could scream, Smith pulled away.
"Wow," she said as her chest heaved.
"Yeah. Wow." His hands found her hips. She felt good. Real. This was actually happening. How had he gotten so lucky?
"Do you want to come in?" Her lips were red and swollen with desire.
Fuck yeah.
But it wouldn't be right. After a lifetime of wishing to be in this exact spot, he couldn't believe what he was about to say. Raking his fingers across his scalp, he silently swore. "There's nothing I want more, but I shouldn't."
Her beautiful brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Because you've had a lot of wine and I don't want to make a mistake here."
Wren shook her head. "There's no mistake. I'm inviting you in."
Clasping her hands in his, he kissed her delicate fingertips. "I know. But I'd rather you make that decision sober. Trust me, things can go sideways in the light of day. I've seen too many friendships fall apart when things turn physical."
Her succulent lip slipped between her teeth, making him that much harder. She thought for a moment then nodded. "I hate it, but you're right. With my crap luck, we'll have crazy hot sex and then something horrible will happen and we'll never speak to each other again."
"I don't want that to happen." Although the crazy hot sex would be nice.
"Neither do I. So there's only one thing to do. We stick to being friends and forget the sex stuff."
That was not the direction he wanted this to go. Time to pour on the famous Smith Connors charm. Threading his fingers through hers, he grinned. "Or, we see how you feel when you're sober?"
A dark shadow crossed her face and she stiffened. Whatever was going on in that beautiful head of hers, it wasn't good. Even though Wren hadn't moved an inch, she seemed at least ten feet away. She pried her hands free and moved his arms down at his side.
"No. Every time I go from being friends with a guy to adding sex, things fall apart. Our history is too good to let it get spoiled. We've got to agree to be friends for life. And nothing more."
Panic clawed at his rib cage.
What the hell had he done? This was self-sabotage on an epic level. Smith needed to salvage this fast. But how?
His eyes landed on the ceramic seagull planter in the corner of the porch. He could swear it was the same one they'd won together at Fun Town, the beachfront amusement park, when they were thirteen. She'd wanted to give it to her father as a birthday present and enlisted Smith's help playing games until they amassed enough tickets to bring the hideous ceramic bird home. Of course her ornithologist father loved it and promptly stuck a fern in the hole in the seagull's back.
It was just one of the many summer adventures Smith had shared with Wren back in the day. One he could build on. He'd use their history to show her he wasn't like the other losers she'd been with. Hopefully it'd be enough to lead to something more.
Taking a step back, he buried his disappointment and focused on the possibilities. "Okay, we'll do it your way. But friends can still do things together, right?"
Wren nodded. "Sure."
"Great. The restaurant is only open for brunch tomorrow. I'll pick you after we close at two." He turned and headed down the porch steps.
"Where are we going?" she called.
Turning around, he grinned. "You'll see."
Chapter 3
Sunlight bathed the bedroom with bright yellow happiness. Yawning, Wren stretched then flipped onto her side and squinted at the clock on the bedside table. No way. Eleven o'clock. She hadn't slept this late in ages. Normally she was up at five a.m. sharp, even on weekends, her internal clock synced to brutal work deadlines.
Throwing off the covers, she hopped out of bed and took an inventory. She was wearing a pajama top, but no bottoms. Her dirty clothes from yesterday trailed across the floor from the door to the bed, and her half-empty suitcase lay off to the side, surrounded by messy piles of clean clothes.
She must have been drunker than she'd realized last night.
Memories cascaded over her. Holy crap. Last night.
When she went to Harbor's Edge and ate the best meal of her life and drank way too much wine.
And walked home with Smith.
And kissed him.
And told him they couldn't be more than friends.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she dragged her fingers through her tangled hair. It had all really happened. It wasn't just a dream.
Smith Connors, regional celebrity chef and Handsomest Man in the World had kissed her. No, worshiped her, or at least as much as she'd let him.
Her cell phone rang from beneath the pile closest to her feet. She slid to the floor and rooted through the clothes until she found it. Raven's face flashed on the screen.
"So how'd you survive last night? One pint of ice cream or two?" Raven asked.
"Neither," Wren answered.
"You're lying."
"I swear." Wren raised her hand even though Raven couldn't see it.
"Then what did you eat? You're not starting a hunger strike are you? You can't move on from that troll if you starve yourself to death."
Wren dug through the pile for her pajama pants. "For your information, I had crab-stuffed mushrooms in a champagne cream sauce, a strawberry-almond-feta salad with mixed greens, and chicken piccata."
Raven gasped. "You went to Harbor's Edge."
"Uh huh. And that's not all." She stepped into the soft cotton bottoms covered with little pink hearts and hiked them up.
"Oh my god. Did you hook up with a guy from the mainland?" Raven sounded as if she might explode with happiness.
"Nope."
"A geriatric local?" Trepidation crept into Raven's voice.
"Ew. No." Wren laughed.
"Whew, thank heaven. So what happened?"
"Smith Connors walked me home. And we kissed."
Raven took in a sharp inhale. "And...?"
"And nothing. I had a little too much to drink so he went home and I went to bed."
Wren could hear Raven's blood pressure rise through the phone. "Wren Elizabeth Donovan, why on earth did you stop at just a kiss? Do you not remember the description of Smith's abs on the jet ski? The man is a god."
Last night on the porch Wren had asked herself that very same question as her lips yearned for more of Smith's amazing kisses. But after careful, though drunken, analysis of the evidence at hand, and ignoring her childhood friend's scorching hotness, she drew the line at keeping their relationship platonic. Wine or no wine, it was the smart thing to do, based on brutal experience.
Pierce was only the latest example of Wren's bad judgement. They'd started out as friends and colleagues at the firm, but their relationship morphed into something a whole lot more. Soon they were engaged and planning a happily ever after that was never meant to be because he betrayed her.
Past relationships had followed a similar pattern, including the soul-rattling deception and crushing break up. Wren couldn't bear that kind of pain again. The only logical solution was to keep sex and love out of it, especially when it came to Smith. Because if things between them went bad and they ended up as enemies, it would tarnish the best memories she had of her childhood.
"We're friends. I don't want to mess that up," Wren said.
"You know what your problem is? You overthink things way too much. There's nothing wrong with a little friends with benefits, especially when that friend is Smith Freaking Sex on a Stick Connors"
"I can't go there. Besides, I already told him we're just friends and he agreed."
Raven sighed. "Your loss. So, what's your next move? Lock yourself in the house all week so you don't accidentally kiss your friend again?"
"No. We're going someplace this afternoon. He said it's a surprise."
"Which doesn't sound like a date at all," Raven teased.
"You're impossible. You know that, right?"
"No, I'm your sister and I care about you."
"I know. I love you, too. Now let me get ready."
Wren's heart pounded when the doorbell finally chimed. Which was dumb. Because she and Smith were two friends going on a friendly outing. No big deal. So why were her palms starting to sweat?
Skipping down the stairs, she hurried to the front door, then took a deep breath before twisting the knob.
Smith looked good.
Better than good, he looked delicious. Dark jeans, tan jacket over a buttoned-down white shirt, and midnight blue sweater that complimented his eyes. Even though he stood before her, it was still hard to believe her skinny young friend had grown into this strapping man.
He grinned. "Hey. Is this still a good time?"
Swallowing hard, she nodded. "Yes. Of course."
His eyes roamed from the top of her head to her toes and back again. "You look nice."
"Thanks," she said casually, as if she hadn't spent the last hour trying on outfits until she finally decided the long sleeve tee, crochet cardigan vest, skinny jeans and boots hit the sweet spot between casual but nice, effortless but polished.
Not that she was trying to entice him or anything. That'd be a waste of time. Because friends didn't entice friends, or lust after them.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
She grabbed her jacket from the hook. "Where are we going?"
He grinned. "Only the best place on Heron Harbor."
Fifteen minutes later they stood in front of the green wrought iron gates of Fun Town, Heron Harbor's tiny amusement park. The sign on the gate announced this was the last weekend of the season.
Wren turned to Smith, arms crossed. "This is the best place on the island?"
His jaw dropped in mock offense. "Have you forgotten how much fun it is? It's literally a town of fun."
"I haven't been here since...I guess I was fifteen. But even then it was kind of a kid place." She craned her neck to peek at the rides inside. "It looks like it still is."
Smith's brow creased. "I don't know how old you think you are, but you're young enough to ride the Drakon." He pointed to the huge fiberglass Viking ship that rocked back and forth on a giant pendulum. Okay, that looked like fun. "Come on, do you trust me?" He flashed her a set of bright blue puppy eyes.
Which were far more appealing than they should be, and so persuasive that Wren's resistance melted away. "Okay. But I can't promise I won't throw up on the tea cup ride."
"Then we'll steer clear of the tea cups." He slid his arm through hers and guided her through the front gate.
They rode every other ride twice, including the Drakon, Gravity Crusher, and Paratrooper Parachutes. They even took a spin on the merry-go-round and Ferris Wheel, before crashing into each other in the bumper cars.
Smith was right. This was fun. More than Wren had had in ages.
It reminded her of all the times they'd come here as kids. Back then, there was a lot more room when they shared one of the ride cars. Now, they fit snugly together, her arm next to his, their thighs pressing against each other. When the motors started spinning, the centrifugal force mashed their bodies even closer. She breathed in the clean scent of his aftershave. And when they flew too fast or too high into the air, making Wren white-knuckle the safety bar, Smith slid his arm around her back to make her feel secure. The best part was she didn't have to ask. Somehow he sensed she needed the reassurance and he gave it.
When they exited the Elevator Heart Dropper, Smith kept his arm around Wren. "You okay? You look a little green."
Her palm covered her stomach. "I think that was my last ride."
"Let's get something to eat." He guided them to the funnel cake stand. The scent of powdered sugar and crispy cooked dough hung in the air. They ordered a large one to split, covered with fresh berries, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream and sat at a nearby table.
"I love these things," Wren purred after she took her first bite. The sweet and crunchy confection was as delicious as she remembered.
Smith chuckled as he cut his own piece. "I remember. We couldn't come here without getting one."
She took another bite and her eyes rolled into her head. "How have I lived without these for so many years?" On the rare times she did manage a weekend on Heron Harbor, she hadn't made it to Fun Town or gotten a funnel cake.
"You've been away too long."
"I've been so busy with work and...other stuff. It's easy to forget things like this."
"And the island." Or the people on it. He left those last words unspoken, but she still read them in his gaze.
"I know I haven't spent much time here but I could never forget this island. It's a part of me." And she realized, so was Smith. Which was why she couldn't risk losing him by giving in to an attraction that could lead to the destruction of their friendship.
He smiled. "That's good to know. Because no one here has forgotten you. You have a little..." Smith reached across the table and wiped some whipped cream from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. His hand lingered, brushing her cheek and sending a thrill of shivers up her spine. Their eyes locked and an electric charge passed between them. "I know this visit wasn't for the best of reasons, but I'm glad you came."
Wren opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by a small blond boy in a super hero T-shirt who rushed up to the table, calling Smith's name.
Smith turned toward the boy. "Hey buddy! How you doing?" He raised his palm and got a hard slapping high five in return. "Ow," Smith feigned as he flicked his wrist.
The boy laughed. "Got you!"
"You did. You're almost too strong for me."
"I am too strong for you!" he beamed.
"Timmy!" A blonde woman sauntered toward them in a clingy tunic sweater, leggings and high heeled ankle boots.
Wren recognized her in an instant. Brittney Ashford, Heron Harbor's It Girl from back in the day. Beautiful, big breasted, and bubbly, Brittney was the object of every teenaged guy's dreams and she knew it. She and her friends spent every summer rocking their bikinis on the boardwalk while girls like Wren and her sisters built sand castles and collected shells.
Back then, Wren would have given anything for a body like Brittney's. Heck, she'd still consider donating a kidney to look that good. Aside from a few fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the woman was flawless.
"I didn't know you'd be here, Smith," Brittney said.
"It was kind of a last minute decision. You remember Wren Donovan, don't you?" He gestured across the table.
Brittney glanced at Wren. "I'm sorry, I don't."
Although she didn't look sorry. She looked...disinterested. And maybe a little irritated. Which was weird.
"Sure you do. Her family owns the big blue house on Beach Drive just off of Terrapin Lane. They used to come every summer when we were kids, but now they mostly rent it out."
Brittney shook her head covered in big soft curls. "I know the house but I don't remember who lived here."
"That's okay," Wren said. "We never really hung out. It's nice to see you again, though."
"Yeah." Brittney's lips bent into a thin smile. Her gaze lingered on Wren as if she was trying to decipher a puzzle.
"We're riding some rides. You want to come?" Timmy asked.
"I'm sorry, bud. I'm visiting with my friend." Smith shot a quick sideways glance at Wren and winked. A bolt of warmth shot straight to her stomach.
"Aw man." Timmy's shoulders slumped.
"Next time, I promise," Smith said.
Timmy threw his fists in the air and jumped in place. "Yay!"
"So, you're just here for the day?" Brittney asked Wren.
"The week, actually," she answered.
"Oh. That's nice." Though Brittney's tone suggested anything but. "Enjoy him while you can. Smit
h's so busy during the week, you probably won't see him again."
It sounded more like an order than a playful warning. Wren almost laughed. As if she could be any kind of competition for Brittney. She wasn't, and couldn't be. This week was just a temporary respite from her life in Baltimore. A week from Monday she'd be back at the firm and Brittney could have Smith all to herself.
Smith laughed. "I'm not that busy."
"Yes, you are," Brittney shot back.
"It's okay. I've got plenty of stuff to fill my time," Wren said with a laugh, hoping to reassure Brittney she had no intention of disrupting whatever was going on between them.
"That's good. Well, we'll leave you to it. Come on, Timmy, let's ride the Drakon." She took the boy's hand and he yanked her toward the rides.
Smith watched as they faded from view, grateful to once again be alone with Wren.
"So that was...interesting," she said.
Smith chuckled. "Yeah, Timmy's a great kid. Rambunctious, but what four-year-old isn't?"
"I meant Brittney's obvious crush on you." She plunged her fork into a chunk of funnel cake and swirled it in a pool of chocolate sauce.
Impossible. "What?"
"She stared at me like I was poaching her property. Trust me. She's into you." Wren popped the fork into her mouth.
The last thing he needed was for her to believe he was interested in anyone else, especially Brittney. He shook his head. "That's ancient history."
Wren raised her brows. "So you were together."
Dammit. He had to make her understand. "Not like that. We hung out when it was mutually convenient. It was a long time ago and we both knew it would never work out. And before you ask, Timmy isn't my son. I was with her before she got messed up with his deadbeat dad. Now, I help her out when I can because I know how tough it can be for single moms."
Because he'd seen first hand how hard it was for his own mother when his father took off without a word or a child support payment. He was only twelve when it happened, but he'd stepped up to make life easier for his mom and younger brother and sister.
But his sense of compassion for Brittney had nothing to do with his feelings for Wren and he wanted to make that clear. He pushed the plate with the funnel cake to the side. Then Smith reached for her hand and looked her straight in the eye. "That's as far as it goes between Brittney and me. We're friends. Nothing more."
