Bayside Desires (Bayside Summers Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  She breathed a sigh of relief. She was used to being wined and dined by men who would never say anything like sexy-as-hell kitten, and they definitely would have issues with her being tipsy and sloppy on their first date. Everything about Rick was refreshing and tempting.

  “If you’re worried about what I think of all of this,” he said with a serious tone. “Don’t. It’s life. It’s fun. Besides, I’ve been known to sneak into my brother’s house and fill his drawers with ladies’ lingerie before his dates.”

  “Really?” She loved how he made her laugh.

  “Hell, yes.”

  “I can’t believe you’re really not turned off by my wine drinking and sloppy clothes and all this…stuff.”

  “Not even a little. But if it’ll make you feel better, go shower and change and take care of whatever else you might be worrying about, and I’ll pick up in here. Unless you’re using this as an excuse to blow me off?” A devilish grin lifted his lips. “In which case, I’ll have to turn on the charm and show you what you’d be missing out on with that very bad decision.”

  “You can be even more charming than barely knowing me and being willing to change your plans and clean up my inappropriate toy mess?”

  “Only if you’re lucky.”

  She wanted to be lucky. Very lucky. No part of her wanted to leave him, not even for a minute. “I’d take you up on that very generous offer, but you’d probably clean the place out, and then I’d have to bring Cosmos over to swim in your pool morning, noon, and night as payback.”

  “That would make me the lucky one.” Rick patted her butt, and she clamped her mouth shut to keep a squeak from slipping out. “Go do whatever it is you need to do, and I’ll start loading up my truck.”

  How about you load me up?

  Holy moly.

  Rick made her feel bold and sassy. He was opening a door to who she used to be. Who she’d forgotten she was. She’d suppressed the sassier side of herself when she’d graduated from college. Sassiness had no place around three- and four-year-olds. But apparently Little Miss Sass was done being held back and was trying to rush to the head of the class.

  “No, thanks,” she said. “I think I’d rather stay right here with you.”

  “Don’t trust me alone in the store with her?” He grabbed the blow-up doll and set the empty wine bottle on the table. “She’s pretty damn sexy, and she doesn’t bitch when I curse or get mad when I leave the toilet seat up.”

  “She sounds like the perfect girlfriend.” Picking up a box with MR. MASSIVE printed on the side, she said, “But maybe she’d like to meet a new, battery-operated boyfriend.”

  “Someone’s selling women a load of crap. I’d say that’s Mr. Tiny.”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Such a man.”

  “I’m all man, baby.” He grabbed a whip from the floor and tapped her butt with it. “What exactly was going on in here?”

  She gasped and grabbed hold of the whip. Their eyes connected, sending heat coursing down her body. How was she supposed to form a response when he was looking at her like she was dinner? And why wasn’t she running away?

  Because dinner would be amazing with you. Dinner, dessert, tomorrow’s breakfast. The whip dropped from her fingertips. The sinful look in his eyes made her wonder if he could read her thoughts.

  “Um…” He’d asked her a question. What were we doing? Right. “It started out as a sisterly bonding thing,” she managed. “And somehow turned into one ridiculous joke after another.”

  “And this is your mother’s shop?” He picked up a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs, dangling them from his index finger. “Not that I’m into cuffs, but it looks like Mama knows how to party.”

  She took the cuffs from him and set them on the shelf, glad he wasn’t into handcuffs. Am I glad? Yes! Of course I’m glad. I think. Hm…She tried to focus on her mother, which was surprisingly safer than where her mind was heading. “My mother is an anomaly. I don’t really know or understand her.”

  “That must be difficult.” He stopped straightening up to give her his full attention.

  She’d never shared her feelings about her mother with anyone other than Emery, and she wasn’t quite ready to share them now. Especially since she didn’t trust what might come out of her mouth at the moment. Apparently wine was the key to loosening up and the key to saying things she shouldn’t. She kind of liked the combination, but her thoughts about her mother weren’t cute or funny.

  “It is what it is,” she said, hoping she sounded casual. “How about your parents? Are you close to them?”

  A look of longing washed over him, and just as quickly it disappeared. “My mother lives in Hyannis, where I grew up. She’s great. Strong. Doesn’t take guff from anyone. She loves the outdoors, and spoils Mira’s son, Hagen. And my father…” His tone turned mournful. “He was a great guy. Unfortunately, he died when I was a teenager.”

  That sobered her up completely, her heart breaking for him. They had more in common that she’d imagined. Her mother might be alive, but Desiree could barely remember a time when she’d felt like Lizza was more than a ghost. “I’m sorry. That must have been really hard.”

  He nodded. “It was a long time ago.” His jaw tightened, and she sensed he didn’t want to talk about it.

  They finished cleaning up, and as they left the cottage, Desiree found herself thinking about her mother and Violet again. She might not have a chance with her mother, but maybe something good could come out of this summer after all. A sometimes-cantankerous relationship with her sister would be better than no relationship at all.

  She locked the door behind them, shivering against the brisk night air.

  “Cold?” He wrapped his arms around her, his broad body warding off the evening chill. “I have a sweatshirt in the truck.”

  Maybe two good things could come out of this summer.

  “And exactly how would that be better than being in your arms?” slipped out. Clearly she was going to have to get used to her inner sass coming out if she planned on spending any time with Rick. Which she did. Hopefully a lot of time.

  His lips quirked up, and oh how she loved the haughty grin.

  “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

  Their eyes held for a long, hot moment. It was all she could do to say, “Okay.”

  He kept her tucked against him as they crossed the driveway. She’d never dated a man who was possessive, and she wouldn’t have imagined that she’d like it, but she was becoming very attached to the feel of Rick’s hands on her. There was something addictive about him. He grabbed a sweatshirt from his truck and helped her put it on. It hung to the edge of her shorts, and that, too, felt warm and wonderful, like she was wearing a piece of him.

  He rolled up the sleeves and brushed his fingers tenderly over her cheek. He did that a lot, touching her face, her hair, her hands, her arms, and she found herself wanting more.

  “Boy, do I like seeing you in my sweatshirt.”

  “Not exactly the sexiest outfit for a first date.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. You look beautiful, and now I can pretend you have nothing on underneath.” He winked, and put an arm around her. “Are you hungry?”

  She was too busy thinking about him imagining her with nothing under the sweatshirt to think about food.

  His gaze moved to her mouth, lingering long enough for her mouth to go dry with anticipation, before drifting lower, hovering around her breasts, and then sliding down the length of her legs. His jaw clenched, his grip on her became stronger, and his eyes? Ravenous.

  “Food,” he practically growled.

  She couldn’t help but laugh as he helped her into the truck.

  As he pulled out of the driveway, he reached across the seat for her hand, touching her for what felt like the hundredth time in two days. A little thrill raced through her as his big, warm palm swallowed hers. It was such a small thing, but it felt significant, and their hands fit together perfectly.

 
“Have you been to the Night Affair yet in Truro?” he asked.

  “I haven’t been anywhere. I just got into town yesterday.”

  He squeezed her hand, his eyes darting back to the road. “Good. I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet, either.”

  He drove through Wellfleet to Truro, which was only a few miles away. Rick parked on a side street, and as they headed for the event, the air buzzed with the din of the crowd, the beat of the music, and the heat pulsing between them.

  “This reminds me of the festivals back home, in Oak Falls, Virginia,” she said, taking in the colorful lights twinkling against the dark sky and people milling around tented booths. A band played on a grassy lawn, where people danced and ate at picnic tables.

  “You’re from Virginia? I live in DC.”

  “I thought you lived here, at the resort.”

  “I do for now. We’re renovating a recreation center. I’m going back to DC next month, after the work is done. I bought the resort as an investment with my brother, Drake, and our friend Dean. They’ll run it when I go back home in a few weeks.”

  She mentally calculated how far they lived from each other.

  “How long are you in town?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” How could she not know what her plans were? That wasn’t like her at all, but then again, the last twenty-four hours had been anything but normal. “Violet and I are watching my mother’s business for the summer, and I have to be back at school in mid-August. I guess I’m here for five or six weeks. Unless my mother comes back sooner.”

  They blended into the crowd and Rick draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Are you a teacher?”

  “Mm-hm. Preschool.”

  “A naughty preschool teacher.” He smiled down at her. “I bet all the single dads find reasons for extra parent-teacher conferences.”

  “Hardly, and I’m not exactly naughty.” Although seeing the glimmer of heat in his eyes made her want to be.

  He leaned down and spoke with his mouth right beside her ear. “You were pretty naughty tonight.”

  His gravelly, seductive voice made her insides whirl. “I have a feeling I’ll never live that down.”

  They made their way to the food tent and ate chicken on a stick as they walked around looking at books and crafts and handmade clothing. Rick was easy to talk to, and Desiree felt happier than she had in a long time. After they finished eating, they stopped by the dessert display.

  “Please tell me you’re not one of those girls who survive without sweets.” He flashed that killer smile, making her stomach flutter.

  “Nope. I like everything. My best friend, Emery, teaches yoga and Pilates. I take her classes several times a week, and when I take the night classes, we almost always go out for dessert afterward.” They were just like the women Emery made fun of.

  “Sounds like a great friend.”

  “I love her like a sister. I can’t imagine what I’d do without her.” If Emery were there now, she’d be rooting for Desiree to cut loose and jump Rick’s bones. Her hormones were doing enough pushing; she didn’t need Emery’s pressure.

  He took her by the shoulders and turned her away from the booth. “Are you allergic to anything?”

  “No. Why? What are you up to?”

  “Live dangerously, Desiree,” he taunted. “Don’t turn around.”

  She heard him talking quietly to the vendor but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Anticipation bubbled up inside her. “Rick? Despite what you saw tonight, I’m not very good at living dangerously.”

  She felt the heat of him behind her.

  “One more second, beautiful.”

  Every time he called her beautiful or sweetheart, she melted a little inside. His seductive voice and those smoldering eyes, coupled with a few well-placed sweethearts, made her mind wander down a dirty path. She felt herself smiling and wondered if he knew he could use those endearments to his advantage.

  He draped an arm over her shoulder, holding a bag and a drink in one hand and startling her from her thoughts.

  “Dessert.”

  Why, oh why, was she thinking he would make a much better dessert than whatever was in that bag? It’s like he’d blurred the well-defined boundaries she usually lived within. “Wonderful. What is it?”

  “If I told you, it would ruin the fun.” He guided her to the next booth, where they were selling incense and scented candles.

  “Oh, I love candles,” she said, bending to smell them. “I’m kind of a candleaholic. My apartment is full of them.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. I’m going to learn all your secrets, Desiree, and then you’re in trouble. What’s your favorite scent?”

  Her mind was reeling with the worst kind of cheesy answers, all of which revolved around him, and she tried—oh, how she tried—to keep them from coming out, but there must have been something in the air, because out popped, “You could just bottle yourself up, add a wick, and I’d be very happy.”

  The sinfulness staring back at her set her body aflame. Oh Lord, now she was thinking about his wick. Lighting it, touching it, tasting it. Holy cow. What was going on? A little wine, a little Violet, and a day in a sex toy shop, and suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about sex. With him.

  “That can be arranged.” His deep voice snapped her back to the moment.

  “Summer,” fell hard and fast from her lips. “Anything summery,” she added, hoping to distract him from her earlier answer. But he was watching her, and she knew he was waiting for that sexy girl who was clawing around inside her and turning up her sassiness about a hundred notches to find her way out.

  She focused on the salesgirl behind the table, who was pointing out candles with summery scents, but her mind was still wrestling with thoughts of Rick’s wick, and his eyes, and the heat of his hand on her waist.

  “…Summer Night, and Summer Romance,” the salesgirl said. “We also have Coconut Delight and Sandy Harbor.”

  Rick gazed into Desiree’s eyes with as much heat as hope, and she felt herself disappearing into them.

  “What do you think, Desiree? Are you up for a summer romance?”

  Summer romance? She wasn’t a summer-romance girl. She was a first-date-dinner-and-a-movie girl with a polite good-night kiss. A three-week-rule girl. If she wanted a guy after three weeks of dating, she’d consider sleeping with him. But right this second, she was a holy-hell-please-light-my-fire girl.

  No.

  Just say no.

  I’m going to say no.

  She swallowed hard, stood up straighter, the way she did when she faced her students’ parents, reminding herself she took pride in being a responsible person. I can do this.

  She gazed up at Rick, who had yet to take his eyes off her, and her inner sexy girl gagged that good-girl chick, and “Absolutely,” came roaring out.

  RICK STRADDLED THE bench of a picnic table near the band where they’d chosen to eat dessert and guided Desiree into the same position, straddling the bench and facing him. He reached behind her, put his hand on her butt, and hauled her forward, until her knees pushed between his legs and the bench. “Much better.”

  “Not very ladylike,” she said with a tease in her eyes.

  He bit back the dirty, though honest remark that sat on the tip of his tongue. You could sit naked on my lap and you’d still look ladylike. Christ, he wasn’t a scumbag, and he didn’t say things like that to women. But Desiree was awakening primal desires he’d buried beneath seventy-plus hours of work each week for years on end.

  Reminding himself to slow the hell down, he said, “I want to see your face.”

  He lit one of the candles they’d bought with the complimentary matches the salesgirl had thrown in as the band began playing a fast-paced song.

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a romantic,” Desiree said.

  “What would you have pegged me as?”

  “I don’t know. You’re not like the guys I know.”

 
“Are they mostly teachers and single dads?” He tossed out a line, hoping she’d bite. He was dying to know if she dated often and what her life back in Virginia was like. He was all for blowing the competition out of the water.

  “No, definitely not. I would never date one of my students’ fathers. I don’t date much, and according to Emery, the guys I usually go out with are a little boring. She calls them ‘nice.’ But you’re a nice guy, and you’re not at all boring.”

  “Hey, nothing wrong with nice,” Rick said.

  “No, she’s right. Nice guys can be a little boring.” She whispered the word boring.

  He looked around. “Are they here? The boring guys? Why are you whispering?”

  She smiled, and he wanted to see that smile all day long.

  “Because it feels rude to say it out loud.”

  “That’s the preschool teacher in you speaking. People say Drake is a nice guy, and he’s not at all boring. Then again, he’s also persistent and opinionated, but not like me. I’ll get in people’s faces and speak my mind. It’s a bad habit of mine, learned it from my father.”

  “Like Violet,” she said.

  He nodded. “Probably very similar. I like her, by the way. She watches out for you.”

  She squared her shoulders. “I don’t need watching over.”

  “Everyone needs someone to watch out for them.” Thinking of how different his life had been since he returned to the Cape and how great it was spending time with his family and friends, he added, “Life gets lonely without close friends.”

  “I have close friends, but I can take care of myself.” Her brow wrinkled, and she took a sip of the iced tea he’d bought with their dessert. “Who watches out for you?”

  “Drake. Dean. I don’t know, friends and family.”

  A wistful look washed over her face, and he remembered her comment about her mother. He wondered if she had any family in Virginia. “You didn’t seem to want to talk about your mother, so I won’t push even though I’m curious. But can I ask about the rest of your family? Do you have any other siblings? Is your father in the picture?”