by Lea Nolan
"Um, I don't know." Her mind spun as she calculated all this new assignment would entail. Moving meant breaking her lease, finding a new apartment, packing her belongings, then navigating a new city she'd only ever flown through on layovers en route to other airports. Suddenly a calmer, more rational thought occurred to her. "Hal, is this the only option? Can't I stay in Baltimore?"
"I doubt you'd be comfortable staying in this office, considering the proximity of your former teammates and all."
Having to see Pierce and Lolita occasionally would suck, but if it meant staying in her home, she could bear it. "That won't be an issue. As a partner, I won't interact with them much."
"Not with Lolita. But Pierce is making partner, too."
Hal might as well have punched her in the gut. "He is?" She gripped the juice glass so tight it nearly cracked.
"Your team's done spectacular work. We feel he's earned it," Hal answered.
Pierce had earned it? Ha! That was a good one. The only thing he'd earned was a lawsuit and a swift kick in the ass. Too bad she had to settle for only delivering the first. But she didn't have to stand by while Hal sang her ex's praises. It was about time he learned the truth.
Setting her juice down before she flung it against a wall, she let fly the words piling up in her head. "Our team hasn't done spectacular work. I have. Pierce has spent more time logging hours with Lolita than on his cases," she snapped. Throwing him under the bus might have been petty, but it sure as hell felt amazing.
"I can only go by the work product. Which as you know, is excellent. On paper, Pierce deserves it as much as you. He's billed more than enough hours to justify the promotion," Hal said, sounding not at all sympathetic. How could he be this clueless?
The room spun. "I can't believe this. Or those hours. He's faked them. Aren't you concerned about the consequences of defrauding our clients?"
"Look, I'm on your side, but Jerry's Team Pierce. They've bonded at all those happy hours. Jerry sees himself as Pierce's mentor. There's no undoing this."
It figured. Jerry Hoffman, the firm's other named partner, arrogant ass, and glad-hander extraordinaire, had jetted to Jamaica to watch the happy couple's nuptials. No wonder he was Pierce's benefactor. They were both lazy credit-stealers and empty, puffed suits. Jerry prided himself on stretching a two-hour lunch to five while everyone else killed themselves working.
Once again, Pierce had beat her with her help. If she hadn't worked so hard, he wouldn't have been able to take so much of the credit for her team's success. Or spent so many happy hours brown-nosing Jerry. It wasn't fair. No matter what Pierce's billable hours looked like, or what Jerry thought, her ex didn't deserve to make partner. And she didn't deserve to be shipped out of state.
"So if I don't set up the new Atlanta office, I'll have to deal with Pierce in Baltimore. It's fine. I've done it before. I can do it again."
"Uh...I don't know quite how to say this," Hal said.
Oh no. Now what? She sighed. "Just spit it out."
"We only have the budget for one new partner in the Baltimore office. If you stay, you won't get the partnership. Pierce will be your superior."
Shaken, Wren retreated a few steps backward, and reached for the arm of the sofa to stay upright.
Those assholes. They were forcing her out. Away from home. Away from the city she grew up in.
And, she suddenly realized, away from Smith.
An unexpected pain jabbed in the space between her ribs. This was not happening. And yet it was. This was injustice on an epic scale.
Lava boiled in her gut. "Why does Pierce get to stay and I have to leave?"
"He's married now. If he relocated, the office would lose both him and Lolita," Hal answered as if it was the most obvious, self-evident realization, and she had to be an idiot to miss it.
A short, bark of a laugh flew from her throat. "Well, thanks for letting me know how much I'm worth."
He sighed, obviously growing impatient with her tedious feelings. "Come on, now, Wren. You know how much I respect you and your work. This is a great opportunity. Don't waste it. We need to know by Monday."
"Fine. I'll be in touch."
She threw the cell phone on the sofa then stormed out the back door, crossed the deck and ran out to the dunes. Balling her fists, she threw her head back and screamed into the wind.
Smith noticed Wren as soon as she stepped into the busy restaurant. Leaving his sous chef to tend to the rib eye on the grill, he exited the kitchen.
Beautiful wasn't the word to describe how she looked. She was exquisite. Pink, wind-blown cheeks, rose-colored lips, and wavy brown curls that framed her face. More impressive than her outward beauty, she had a warm and generous heart, and her brain was beyond compare.
Yet she'd called him brilliant only last night. Talk about ironic. At first, he'd shunned the compliment, but after sleeping on it, he decided it fit. Because, unlike all the other assholes she'd been with, he saw her. Knew what made her tick. And had helped bring clarity that lightened her burden.
With any luck, their talk had put that douchebag in her rear-view mirror for good, so she could concentrate on Smith. If not, he didn't know if he'd survive another encounter like last night's. Her half-naked body, sensual touch, and sexy legs straddling his lap nearly put him over the edge. He wanted her. Badly. And while he was willing to wait until it was right between them, another close call might give him a coronary. Or a serious case of blue balls.
Smith caught her eye as he approached the host stand. A smile bloomed on her kissable lips. But he detected something else, too. A storm brewed behind those gorgeous green eyes.
"Hey," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "You okay?"
Her lips bent a little more. "Yeah, I'm good."
He wasn't so sure.
"Where would you like to sit?" He scanned the crowded dining room. As usual for a Friday night, they were packed.
"The bar's fine. I'll be closer to you," she said.
Perfect.
Smith got her settled with a menu and had the bartender pour her a glass of their best merlot. Wren ordered the special, a lamb ragout with herbed risotto, then sat back and watched his every move in the open kitchen. Knowing her eyes were on him, he put on more of a show than usual, chopping at high speed, flipping entrées in the sauté pan with just a flick of his wrist, and flambéing with extra-large flames.
When the dinner rush finally subsided, he joined her at the bar, delivering a funnel cake he'd whipped up just for her.
"This isn't on the menu." She gaped at the pastry layered with caramelized banana slices and vanilla bean ice cream.
"You never have to eat off the menu here. Your wish is my command."
Wren laughed. "You'd better be careful. I might never leave."
Dear God, let that be true. Smith wanted this woman in his life every day, in whatever way he could have her. She might not stay on Heron Harbor, but Baltimore was two and-a-half-hours away. He'd drop everything if she asked him to make that drive.
Wren cut into the funnel cake and offered him the first bite. He shook his head. "Nope, you go first. The best part of cooking is watching people enjoy my food." Smith leaned toward her, his elbow propped on the bar.
"Okay. Your loss." She slid her fork into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed and a moan escaped her lips. "Mmmm. You're going to be the death of me. Or make me gain ten pounds."
Smith's gaze traveled her body. "You can afford them."
"Oh really? Then so can you." Wren cut a second piece and offered it to him. "Eat."
How could he refuse this gorgeous woman? He opened his mouth and let her feed him.
The creamy, melted bananas were the perfect counterpart to the crunchy funnel cake. He had to hand it to himself. This was good. Probably good enough to replace the existing bananas foster dish on the menu.
"I was watching you in the kitchen. You're amazing."
"I do my best." After struggling at so many other things, he kne
w he was a great chef. There was no reason for false modesty.
"Well, your best is pretty great. Have you given any more thought to your expansion plans? Because people on the mainland deserve to have this in their life." She popped another bite in her mouth, this time tossing her head back in bliss as she chewed.
"I don't know. I've got some ideas. Baltimore's a great location. Especially the Inner Harbor." The idea popped into his head so he went with it. But now that he'd put it out there, it was genius. A perfect way to expand while staying in Wren's orbit—if she wanted him.
She lowered her head and met his gaze. A dark cloud crossed her eyes. She swallowed hard. "Oh. That's...a good idea."
Obviously not.
He must have said something wrong. Maybe he'd completely misread this thing between them. Because it was absolutely clear that, despite her words, she most definitely didn't want him opening up shop in Baltimore. Time to reverse course. Fast.
Smith shrugged, attempting to come off as casual as possible. "Or not. After the whole franchise thing tanked, I'm not in any rush."
Wren pulled a smile in place, not exactly fake, but not real either. "Oh. That's probably smart." Her voice trailed off.
Which left him confused. Was she glad he backed down from the expansion idea, or not? Best to just change the subject.
"My mom stopped by this afternoon. She said she ran into you earlier."
Wren's expression shifted again, the clouds parting as she smiled. "Yes. At the post office. It was great to see her again even though I spent most of our chat avoiding her questions. Either she's a psychic or you've told her about us."
Smith lifted his hands, palms out in surrender. "I haven't said a word, I swear. But it doesn't take supernatural powers to notice I've taken more time away from the restaurant than usual during your visit."
She chuckled. "That's true. Madeline made it very clear she's happy we've reconnected."
"So am I," he ventured, trusting his gut enough to reach his hand across the bar and brush his fingers over her knuckles.
"Me too." Wren took his hand in hers. A far-away look crossed her gaze.
"Hey, I can tell something's up. Talk to me." He clutched her tight.
She paused. "I got some good news and some bad news today. Which would you like to hear first?"
"I'm a perpetual optimist. Hit me with the good," he said, glad for anything that might turn her mood.
Wren fingered the stem of her wine glass. "I've been offered a promotion to partner."
She wasn't smiling. Why wasn't she smiling?
Still, he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her. "That's amazing."
Her body was as stiff as marble. "You should have asked for the bad news first," she whispered into his ear.
Releasing her, he eased back in his stool then braced for something truly awful. "What's the bad news?"
"I have to move to Atlanta to take it."
Shit. Atlanta was a lot more than two hours away. Staying in Wren's orbit just got a million times harder.
This wasn't bad news. It was horrible—for him. She'd busted her ass for years and deserved this promotion. He shouldn't be such a selfish jerk.
Sucking up his disappointment, Smith pried his lips into a smile. "Congratulations."
"Thanks." Her tone was as flat as the cutting board in the kitchen.
"Stupid question, but aren't there any open partner positions in the Baltimore office?" he asked.
A weary half-laugh burst from her throat. "Not for me."
"But Atlanta is a great opportunity, right?"
"Funny how everyone keeps saying that." She stabbed her fork at the melted ice cream dripping into the holes of the funnel cake.
"So what's the down side?"
Wren counted down on her fingers. "Working in a city I don't know, having to take the Georgia bar, opening a new branch office, and," she met his gaze. "Atlanta is far away."
Smith nodded, their eyes locked. "It is." Too fucking far away.
"I don't know anyone there. I'd be starting from scratch."
"Are you going to take it?" He swallowed hard, afraid to hear her answer.
"I have until Monday to decide."
Good. There was still time to convince her to stay. "Which way are you leaning?"
Shaking her head, she leaned close. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
Her sweet apple-nectar scent swirled making him swoon. "What do you want to talk about?"
"How quickly you can take me home and to your bed."
Chapter 11
Smith had never closed down his kitchen so fast. He didn't know what had changed Wren's mind since last night, and he didn't care. The woman he loved asked to be taken to his bed. Nothing could stop him from granting her wish.
By ten o'clock, the customers were gone, the staff released, and the restaurant locked for the night. Five minutes later, Smith pulled his truck into his driveway, then walked around the passenger side to help Wren down from the cab.
Gazing into her eyes, he clasped her hands. "Still time to change your mind."
"Absolutely not." She rose on her tip toes and kissed him with such longing and passion that he nearly took her against the side of his truck.
Instead, he scooped her up in his arms, making her squeal, then carried her up the brick walk and through the front door of his house. Kicking the door shut behind him, he mounted the stairs and brought her to his nearly finished bedroom, setting her on her feet at the end of his bed.
The moon cast a silvery light, illuminating the shadows of his bedroom and bathing Wren in luminescence. She looked like an angel sent from heaven. Fitting since she had the power to bring him to his knees.
"You're so beautiful," his whispered words a prayer as his fingers traced the delicate line of her jaw, and the subtle roundness of her cheeks.
This woman. His woman—if only he could capture her heart as she'd captured his. He wanted her so badly he could taste it. But first he wanted to taste her.
Dipping his head, Smith threaded his hands through her hair and kissed her, long and slow, savoring the sensation of her lips against his. On a whimper, Wren's mouth parted in invitation and he thrust his tongue deep inside. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his back, pressing her breasts against his chest.
There were too many damn layers of clothes between them. Needing her soft, velvety skin against his, Smith yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then, with his gazed locked on hers, he unfastened the buttons on her tunic until it slid off her smooth shoulders.
Smith's breath caught as he ran his fingers over her lavender lace bra. The hard pearls of her nipples strained against the fabric. Reaching behind her, he unfastened the clasp, then slipped the straps down her arms. Stepping back, he dropped the bra to the wood plank floor and stared at her perfect, naked breasts.
Lust shot through his core. A battle waged inside his brain, one half of him desperate to toss her on his bed and take her, fast and rough, unleashing years of raw, pent-up desire, while the other screamed to slam on the brakes and take this slow, savoring every curve on her luscious body. Taming his ferocious urge, he opted for the latter, but only because it'd give him the time to play out every fantasy he'd ever imagined about Wren.
Bending his head, Smith took her breast in his mouth and nipped and sucked on her pink flesh.
Wren moaned and her back arched. "Yes, Smith. Oh yes." Her fingernails dug into his scalp.
His mouth roamed, kissing and licking her sweet skin until it found the other breast. Flicking his tongue against her nipple, he sucked it into his mouth and grazed his teeth across the tender flesh. His hand slid down her stomach and inched toward the waistband of her leggings.
Wren took a small step back. "Not yet."
Shit. What the fuck had he done wrong now? "What'd I do?" he asked, on the edge of panic.
"It's not what you did, but what I want to do," she said with a sly smile. "For you." She dropped to her
knees and reached for his belt buckle.
Fuck yeah.
"This night keeps getting better and better," he said, stroking her silken hair.
Wren chuckled. "It's only begun." She tugged the buckle loose then took her time opening each button on his fly, driving him half-crazy with anticipation as her tongue swept over her lips.
Finally his jeans eased over his hips and slid down his legs. His boxer briefs followed a second later. Stepping out of his clothes, he kicked them aside.
And then Wren took him in her soft, beautiful hands, his flesh hot against her cool skin. Her thumb teased, stroking his length then flicked the rim of his head.
Fuck. His fists curled as he bit back the urge to explode. Under her spell he felt like a damn teenager again. A live wire with no self-control.
Her mouth closed around him and he nearly fell to pieces. Hot and wet, her tongue slid over his skin. His heart raced, then skipped when her lips clamped tight and she sucked hard.
A sound he'd didn't recognize rolled in the back of his throat. Half-beast, half-human, it was proof of how easily he lost himself under Wren's touch.
Reaching out, Smith rested one hand on her shoulder while the other cradled the back of her head. His hips thrust forward and her mouth glided over him in a rhythm that yanked him to the edge. Her lips tightened, and her tongue curled around his length.
Want and need collided like two freight trains hurtling toward each other on the same track. He had to have her. Now.
In one smooth move, he pulled back and lifted her off her knees, hiking her up in his arms.
"But you were so close," she exclaimed, breathless, her lips swollen and dark red.
"I want to come inside you." His words were a command that made her shudder.
Striding to the bed, Smith laid her down and crawled toward her. Wedging his body between her legs, he inched her leggings down her legs. Throwing them over his shoulder, he reached for the lace waistband on her lavender panties, pausing only to kiss the wet center between her legs.
Wren's neck arched and she sucked in a breath. "You drive me crazy," she gushed.
