If she didn’t need to replenish the supplies for the popular customer coffee corner at her store, she’d be rooted behind the counter at Gifts for Girlfriends. May had ordered her to take on the shopping duty, however, and pick up something for a snack before her unpleasant scowl scared off the paying public.
Apparently she’d been exhibiting signs of a lousy mood.
On her way to the area where she knew to find a selection of beans and the commercial grinder, Gemma heard her name called. With a ticking click counting down in her head, she might have ignored the voice, except she recognized it as belonging to one of the most reliable patrons of her shop.
Pinning on a smile, she turned to face the woman, who wore fifty like thirty-nine and looked ever-chic in dark-wash jeans, a tunic, and tall, kick-ass boots that didn’t appear an iota less elegant though they’d been clearly loved and oft-worn for over a decade.
Gemma figured they’d lasted longer and been appreciated more than a couple of her mother’s husbands.
“How have you been, Candice?” she asked.
“Better than you,” the older woman said, with kind concern. “You look a little ragged, hon.”
Gemma’s hand lifted to smooth her hair. So, she hadn’t been sleeping much. That didn’t mean anything, not even that she was hung up on her neighbor, whom she hadn’t seen since last Tuesday. After running out on him, she’d made a decision—her fixation on the man was pure fiction. Not real at all.
Candice leaned closer. “What’s going on?”
“It’s February,” Gemma said. “One of our busiest months, after Christmas. Right now we’re getting behind Galentine’s Day in a big way…our celebration of girl pals and besties on February 13th.”
“Sounds like fun,” Candice said. “But you’ve not given up on romance, have you?”
“You know the store is more geared to—”
“I mean you, Gemma.” Candice lifted a brow. “I ran into your mother who said you and Ethan had broken up.”
Oh. “Yes, well, that’s true. But I’m focused on business right now,” Gemma said, shoving aside the hours she’d spent replaying those heated moments in Boone’s kitchen—the rock-solid breadth of muscled body against her, the commanding nature of his kiss, how she’d responded to it, going all melty and practically witless.
“You might want to reconsider,” Candice said, sliding her phone from the slim leather purse bandoliered across her chest. “My nephew Vince recently moved back to the area after working in Napa for the last five years.” A photo bloomed on the device’s screen, showing a lean guy, bordering on pretty, standing surrounded by grapevines and looking like a print advertisement for a buttery chardonnay.
Candice spread two fingers on the screen to enlarge the smiling face. “I promised to find him a Valentine’s Day date.”
Uh-oh. “The thing is…” A sudden ping sounded from Gemma’s own phone, saving the day. The signal indicated she had only a few spare minutes left to complete her shopping.
“I’m sorry, Candice, I can’t really commit—”
“No one’s guaranteeing fireworks,” the older woman assured her. “But you could go out, have a nice dinner, see what happens. Give him a chance, why don’t you? He’s looking to settle down.”
Settle down? exactly what Gemma had promised herself to avoid, lest she make a typical Marquette mistake like the other women in her family. It’s why she’d vowed to go man-less for the foreseeable future. And if she did agree to an involvement, she’d require it have strict rules. First, about the level seriousness—none. Second, about the length of time—limited.
Yet when she’d offered such to Boone, he’d let her suggestion they engage in a fling fall flat on his kitchen floor. When a couple of beats passed by without any reaction from the man, she’d run out of his house. Following that, there’d been silence.
For three-and-a-half days.
Gemma got the message.
Now she pasted on another polite smile for Candice. “I’m sure your nephew is great,” she said, then firmed her voice. “And yay him for wanting to settle down. But I’m just not in the market for anything like that right now.”
Her best customer frowned, looking put out. “But I already told him about you.”
No. No no no no no. Gemma couldn’t help but think, however, of how the older woman had directed the members of her bunco group to Gifts for Girlfriends when selecting the monthly prizes they gave away. Eleven new customers introduced to her inventory, all who’d been flatteringly enthusiastic about the selection and who’d returned to purchase other items for other occasions. “Um…” It’s only one date.
But the thought of it sent her gaze skittering, seeking some excuse or reprieve. And then she saw it...or rather, him.
Boone, moving down an aisle to her right, pushing his own cart.
“Candice, I’m sorry,” she said, infusing urgency in her voice. “I’ve got to go. I see my neighbor and we have, um, things to discuss.”
“What kind of things?”
“Neighbor things.” Gemma made it vague. “We share a fence.” And a kiss I will pretend never happened. Hoping that was appeasement enough for her best customer, Gemma hurried off in the direction of the dark-haired hunky man who looked just as hunky from a distance, in jeans that cupped his ass and another tight shirt that molded his biceps and the long muscles of his back.
Several steps into her hasty pursuit, she slowed and then took a quick glance behind her. Candice, thank goodness, had moved on, meaning there was no real reason Gemma had to actually make contact with the man. She slipped her phone from her back pocket and checked the time, grimacing as she noted how much had passed. Shop, she told herself. Check out. Boogie back to the shop.
Except knowing her neighbor was somewhere in the market nagged at her. Not that she wanted to have to face him, but call her nosy, she was curious as to what he’d put into his basket—especially after the virtual emptiness of his cupboards and refrigerator shelves. So as she filled her cart, each time she passed the opening to an aisle she dared a peek to see if she’d discover him there, loading up on cans of chili or packages of pasta or the kind of breakfast cereal supposed to stick to a man’s ribs. He must have skipped those or she’d just happened to miss him—until the pet supplies aisle.
There, she caught him piling big bags of dried food onto the undercarriage and in the interior of the cart, shoving aside other items wherever they might fit until he had a teetering tower of cat chow.
Cat chow. Color her mind blown, because she’d seen no indication of pets around his place, let alone any in the kitty category.
She was still staring when he navigated the cart, steering it like a container ship, in her direction.
Their gazes met. He froze a moment before continuing forward. “Gemma,” he said on a nod, as if he was intending to breeze past her with just that brief acknowledgement.
But she was partially blocking his path, and wouldn’t you know it, her own cart took that moment to develop a janky wheel. Now she had to try and strong-arm the beast to give him clear passage, all the while fighting the heat rushing over her face.
Thanks to her bothersome, disobedient memory that kept serving up slices of their interlude in his kitchen.
The strangely sweet bite on her scalp as his fingers twisted in her hair, tugged. The heat of his hand as it found its way to her breast. His fevered mouth, restless with need. The taste of passion on his tongue.
Delicious.
She swallowed, trying to find some calm as she made room for his getaway. “Hey, Boone,” she said, her gaze drifting from his. It landed on that mountain of pet food and because it wouldn’t do to demand why he’d been uninterested in her offer of a fling, she said something else. “I didn’t know you had, um, a cat. Or cats?”
He hesitated. “For my dad.” Nudging his cart forward, he’d almost made it by when another shopper blocked his exit.
“Boone!” Candice said, in obvious delight. “I
thought I spotted you.” Her glance took in Gemma, then went back to the man. “You two are neighbors, I’m guessing?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Excellent!” she said, then turned to Gemma. “I’ve known Boone for the last couple of years, since he managed the crew that remodeled my upstairs bath and laundry room.”
“Great,” she said, because acknowledgement seemed expected.
“I can tell you he’s famously punctual, very budget-conscious, amenable to change, and even pleasant at seven a.m.”
“A glowing recommendation,” Gemma said, taking a peek at the person in question who wore his usual non-expression expression.
“And honest to a fault!” the older woman added gaily.
“Another plus,” Gemma said, mentally adding “kissable,” “sexy,” and “destined to be great in bed.”
Candice’s mouth spread in a winning smile. “Which is why he’s perfect to make the case for my nephew.”
“What?” both Gemma and Boone asked together.
“You’ve met him,” Candice said to the man. “Vince has moved back permanently and I’m determined to make him a match with Gemma.”
“What?” This time, only Boone queried the woman.
“You can help me persuade her,” Candice went on. “He’s not like you, I bet you realized that right away. He wants one woman, a settled life, kids. A family.”
“And you’re so sure I don’t?” Boone asked, his voice without inflection, his expression still scrupulously impassive.
“As you made clear the half-dozen times I tried to fix you up.” A mischievous light glinted in her eyes and she wagged a finger at him. “And don’t forget I saw the half-dozen ladies who stopped by with coffee or lured you to lunch. Never the same woman twice.”
“Right,” Boone agreed, rubbing his jaw with one big hand.
“But Vince is looking for someone just like Gemma. Don’t you think they’ll be perfect together?”
Boone turned his head, studying her for several long moments, his gaze roaming from the top of her head to her booted feet.
Though it felt like a flame licked over her, she managed to remain still, except for her curling toes, hidden behind brown leather. When his focus settled on her face, it lingered there.
“Well?” Candice said, which was good, because Gemma was about to scream the word herself.
“I can tell you Gemma’s hard-working, reluctant to accept a handout without offering something in return, and good in the kitchen.” Not a flick of an eyelash betrayed the heated embrace they’d shared in that space of his, but she knew he was referring to it all the same. “Make that very good.”
Oh, God. Her blood rushed just under the surface of her skin and she felt her nerves begin humming, as that…that thing between them snapped into place.
“Boone…” she whispered.
Candice seemed unaware of the sexual tension now spinning out between the two younger people, drawing tight as he continued to regard Gemma with those dark-as-secrets eyes of his. “Yes. Very good,” Boone repeated.
“Wonderful!” the older woman gushed and began scrambling through her purse. “I’m texting Vince right now to set something up immediately…why wait until Valentine’s Day?”
Suddenly alarmed, Gemma stiffened. “Um…”
“Did I mention how pretty she is?” Boone went on, as if she or the older woman hadn’t made a sound. “The kind of pretty that distracts a man. The kind of pretty that makes a man consider sampling a new flavor.”
Gemma frowned, unsure of his meaning. Was she this flavor he wanted to sample? Days ago, he’d seemed willing to drop her like a hot potato.
Then Boone turned his gaze to stare down Candice. “The kind of pretty that a man doesn’t want going out with some other guy.”
Phone clutched in hand, the older woman’s head jerked up. Her eyes widened as she met Boone’s. They looked inscrutable to Gemma, as always, but Candice seemed to recognize something there.
“Oh,” she said, her tone quiet. “I get it. Sorry. You and Gemma…I didn’t know…”
“That’s quite all right,” Boone said, clearly ending the conversation. He placed one palm atop his Tower O’Crunchies to stabilize it and used the other hand to propel his cart forward. Candice instantly made way and then he was pushing past the older woman.
Wondering exactly what had transpired, Gemma watched him go, rooted to the floor. Until he glanced back, his brows drawing together. “Babe,” he said. “You done here?”
She blinked. “Uh…yeah?”
“Then let’s go,” he said, with a jerk of his head. “Check out is this way.”
So they did that, checked out, Gemma first, then Boone right after her. The exit doors whooshed open as they walked out of Duffy’s side by side and he followed as she, bemused, made her way to her car.
There, he took charge, transferring her groceries to her trunk, then slamming it shut.
Task accomplished, they stood toe-to-toe while Gemma tried pulling a couple of thoughts together. With Boone’s help, she’d dodged the Vince-bullet. Yay. But… “I don’t know what to say…for what you did back there, beyond thanks. I’m not interested in Candice’s nephew.”
“It’s going to cost you,” Boone said.
“Sure.” She clasped her hands together. “What would you like? Brownies? Or—”
“I meant what I said to Candice, Gemma.”
Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Goose bumps broke over her skin, though her sweater was thick and the sun shone, warming the winter air. “Wh-which thing?”
“All of them.” His gaze didn’t turn from hers. “All the things I said about you.”
The kind of pretty that distracts a man. The kind of pretty that makes a man consider sampling a new flavor. The kind of pretty that a man doesn’t want going out with some other guy.
“Oh,” Gemma said. If he truly meant that last thing, well, it worked out, then, that she’d sworn off dating.
“So it’s going to cost you,” he reiterated, “and not in brownies.”
“Oh.” As she stared upward, his eyes heated and then his hand ghosted over her cheek, the touch setting off another round of goose bumps, down her neck, across her chest and belly.
Her tongue coasted over her bottom lip. “I’m willing to pay.” The words tumbled from her and then she lowered her voice to whisper, “What exactly do you want?”
Another kiss? She could do that. More kisses. That fling she’d suggested. Her heart started pounding and she didn’t allow herself to think about the time of day, or the dereliction of her duties at the shop, or anything but her neighbor Boone, who was looking at her like she was something to be gobbled in a single, quick bite. Excitement zinged through her. “Just say the word.”
“Words,” he corrected. His hand cupped her cheek again, and the rough pad of his thumb stroked over the crest, causing her to shiver. Want.
“Words,” she agreed. Anything he wanted, she thought, her blood humming, her body leaning toward him. Anything to neutralize this crazy reaction she had in his presence. She’d go home with him right now, she decided, throw off her clothes, and climb on.
Startled by the thought, yet slightly pleased with the hedonistic freedom of it—she smiled at him, even as she began burning from the inside out. “Whatever you say, Boone. Anything.”
“I say you and me.” His lips spread but his smile didn’t appear all that friendly. “On a date tomorrow night.”
Cold doused Gemma’s heated expectation. Anything but that.
Chapter 7
“Why ring the bell, sweetheart?” Gemma’s mother asked, opening the door. “You have a key. Just let yourself in.”
“Uh, thanks,” she said, stepping into the house that smelled faintly floral and distinctly feminine. Given that until recently the place had been the domicile of Vivien and a husband, Gemma had been in the habit of signaling her presence before busting in. That lesson had been learned�
�to her long-lived embarrassment and eye-opening edification—long ago, around Spouse Number Two. “How are you, Mom?”
“Lovely,” she said, linking arms and tugging her in the direction of the room she called the parlor. “Look who’s here!”
Draped artfully on a toile-covered armchair sat Aunt Rita, basking in the late afternoon light that was diffused by the gauze curtains covering the front window. She rose and held out her arms.
Gemma went in for a hug, the familiar scent of the older woman different from her mother’s but just as subtly pleasing. “Auntie,” she said, kissing her cheek. “I’m so glad to see you.”
As they pulled apart, her mother indicated a seat on the floral sofa nearby. “Sit down, and stay a while.”
“I don’t have much time,” Gemma said, hedging. Despite her best instincts, she’d agreed to go out with Boone. He was picking her up at six, and with the shop closing at four and all her dressier clothes stored at her mom’s, she couldn’t settle in for a long conversation.
Thankfully.
They loved to occupy themselves with her business.
The two older women took to their seats, both of them in flowing pants and floral blouses, their makeup impeccable, their dark hair in soft waves around their fine-boned faces. Though their features weren’t exactly alike—they were two years apart—they both didn’t try to hide their age and yet were timeless in their beauty.
The two also had a way of eliciting an uncomfortable confession without a single word.
As they fixed their gazes on her, their blue eyes the same shade as her own, it happened, just as she’d feared it would. Gemma blurted out the reason for her impromptu visit. “OkayIhaveadate.”
Groan. Couldn’t she keep her mouth buttoned for the fifteen minutes she’d allotted to this errand?
The two older women exchanged glances, apparently taking a moment to parse her words. “She has a date?” her aunt said, addressing her remark to her sister.
“I believe so,” Vivien said, then she smiled. “Why that’s wonderful. I was worried you’d turned some wrong corner when you broke up with Ethan.”
ALL IN (7-Stud Club Book 1) Page 7
