Marcus frowned as he stood with her. “I’d prefer to drive you home.”
Elise glared up at him. “I’d prefer you not to.” Even though a part of her—a very naïve part of her—wanted to fall into his arms and cry, a bigger part of her wanted to get the hell away from him. She needed distance from…well, everything. Time to clear her head. To make sense of the world again.
“All due respect—”
Elise held up a hand. “All due respect, if you finish that sentence, I’m going to knee you in the balls, and after the day I’ve had, I don’t need a jail sentence, okay? I’ll be calling a cab.”
“Still a pain in the ass.”
Elise paused mid-step. Averting her gaze, she admitted, “You know, as bad as it should have been, being kidnapped was probably the best thing to ever happen to me.”
With that, she walked out.
And felt Marcus’s eyes on her the whole way.
Chapter Eleven
Strawberry Pop-Tarts. After the meals—scarce as they’d been—she’d had during her time in captivity, the toaster pastries just didn’t hold the same appeal they’d once had. Into the trash can they went. Elise sighed.
It’d been a week since she’d walked out of the precinct. She hadn’t looked back. Unless her thoughts counted, in which case, she was practically living in the past.
Kidnapping and being held hostage was far from anyone’s list of acceptable life experiences, least of all Elise’s list, but she found herself reliving every moment on a loop.
And it wasn’t out of fear. More like nostalgia.
Maybe Elise had succumbed to Stockholm’s Syndrome, because all she could seem to recall was the thrill and excitement, the warmth, and most importantly, the connection. She’d run the gamut of emotions in that little cabin…and she wanted it all back.
Returning to her life should have been a welcome occurrence. Instead, it served as a stark reminder that she was utterly alone and her life was about as exciting as a piece of dry toast.
For just a few short days, she’d lived.
Now, she just felt empty. The sun didn’t shine as bright. The nights were too quiet. The days too long. Food lacked taste.
She was lonely.
But there was nothing to be done about it. It wasn’t as if she could just go out and reenact the whole scenario that led up to her kidnapping and have it happen again. Lightning didn’t often strike twice in the same place.
Elise should know. She’d tried.
The grocery store’s parking lot was completely uneventful, just as it should be.
Sighing, Elise opened the freezer to grab the last of the frozen, microwaveable meals, only to find she’d already eaten it.
“Dammit,” she breathed. Shoulders slumping, she entertained the idea of just waiting it out until breakfast the next morning, but her stomach chose that moment to voice its opinion on the matter, and she knew she wouldn’t make it till then.
Putting on her jacket was a chore, as was stuffing her feet into her slip-on shoes. Everything seemed that way lately. Just a constant struggle to get through the day.
Ah, depression, we meet again.
Thankfully, luck was on her side today, as the skies were clear, nary a puddle in sight, and her car, which had been repaired and returned the previous day, was in working order. She slid behind the wheel and was roaming the aisles of the grocery store in a matter of minutes. Filling the hand basket was a matter of grab and drop—no real thought process behind it. She was eating out of habit rather than for taste.
Elise went through the same song and dance with the teenage cashier as she always did, exchanging mundane pleasantries as per usual and forking over the dough on command. Gathering her bags, Elise gave a lax head tip when the boy wished her a nice day and trudged out into the nippy spring weather.
She missed snowflakes, she mused, as she crossed the parking lot, thinking of the little white puffs that’d drifted down around her that day. It all seemed so long ago, rather than a matter of days. It didn’t seem right that she should look back on any of it with any kind of fondness or longing, but she was.
Maybe it was Marcus. She’d considered this a few times, actually. Her thoughts, while misguided at best, always snagged on him. For a time, he’d made her feel safe and protected. Wanted. She’d never had that before. It was addictive, she guessed. And maybe that’s why she kept looking back. Maybe she just wanted more of that fuzzy feeling that came with lust and attraction.
Maybe she wasn’t crazy, but just lacking something fundamental in her life. Like human connection. Companionship.
Excitement.
A breeze kicked up and Elise, pausing at her car to drop her bags in the trunk, tilted her head back and breathed deep. “I need a vacation,” she muttered. Maybe that’s what she needed to break her out of this melancholy. An adventure to trump all adventures.
Except the only adventure she’d ever had was being thrown into the back of a van and stowed away in a remote cabin in the woods. So the bar was set pretty low.
She was really messed up in the head.
Slamming the trunk lid down, Elise depressed the button on the key fob as she rounded the vehicle. The taillights flashed once.
Then she heard it. A car slamming on its brakes. A door opening. Footsteps running.
Elise’s heart sped up, her breathing shallowed.
When she felt a pair of strong arms band around her waist, she didn’t fight it. Instead, a wicked part inside of her shouted, “Yes!”
Dragged backward, Elise struggled only barely. This was what she wanted, what she’d been looking for. Relief was all she felt as she was once again taken—only this time, it wasn’t against her will.
But instead of being thrown inside the back of a waiting van, she was swung around, her back shoved up against the side of a car. The cold metal bit through her jeans, but the solid wall of warmth at her front chased away the chill.
Confusion swarmed inside her. “What the—” Her words died as she looked up into Marcus’s warm, blue-eyed stare.
Smirking, he cupped her face and pressed in tighter. “You didn’t even put up a fight.”
Elise was practically panting. She could tell him he was right, but she could see it in his eyes that he already knew that…and he knew the reason behind it too.
“I’ve seen you, wandering around like an empty shell, that far-off look in your eyes…” His thumb stroked across the apple of her cheek. “I couldn’t get your words out of my head. About that being the best time of your life. I thought I couldn’t possibly have heard you right…but I did, didn’t I? You need this. You need me.”
Elise felt herself nodding before he finished his sentence. She did need him. She’d never needed anyone more than Marcus. Before him, she’d been alone and content with her life. For the most part.
How naïve she’d been.
It’d taken his considerable acting skills and quick hands shaking up her world like a snow globe to show her how wrong she’d been.
He’d woken Elise up, and now she couldn’t fall back to sleep.
And she didn’t want to.
Elise wanted to feel alive again!
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Marcus whispered beside her ear. “It was the best time of my life too…and I need more. I need you.”
Elise shivered at his heartfelt words. She lacked a ready response, words unable to do justice to how she felt inside. So, she let her hands do the talking for her, her fingers on his hips clenching his shirt tight.
“Buttercup, get in the car,” Marcus said with surprising care. “Let me take you away from here.”
“Where?”
Drawing back, his gaze met hers, and his answering smile twisted her insides. Lowering his head, he grazed his lips across hers as he said, “There’s a little cabin in the woods…”
Elise didn’t need to hear any more. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she lifted to her toes and crushed her mouth to his. She was more than
ready for her next adventure.
***
Looking for a sexy, intense, romantic comedy? Check out more of the Blue Collar series with SWEETEST TEMPTATIONS (Blue Collar Book 1)
From USA Today Bestselling Author J.C. Valentine comes a sizzling story about a young entrepreneur, a hot firefighter, and a first date that will change their paths forever.
Tenacious bakery shop owner Abby is following her dreams. She has everything she could ever want in life--except the fairytale ending. Then she meets Kennedy, a hunky firefighter whose killer smile and easy charm makes her heart pound. But with the kind of danger he faces on the job each day, Abby knows there's no happily-ever-after in the cards. The harder she tries to hold onto her heart, the faster it seems to slip away, but when a series of mysterious events threaten the future of her business and her life, their happiness may be shorter-lived than she realized.
Someone is out to get her, and it's up to Abby and Kennedy to uncover who's behind the destruction. Can they do it before tragedy strikes?
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Read on for the first chapter from SWEETEST TEMPTATIONS!
1
I heard Demetrius and Meaghan’s voice first, signaling it was time to get up. Groaning, I rolled onto my side, peeled my eyes open, and flinched as morning sunlight blinded me and a hundred—no, a thousand—tiny men drove axes into my skull.
Once again, I’d given myself a hangover.
A chocolate hangover.
It was all Dex’s fault. He’d gone to Hershey Town on vacation over the weekend and, knowing how much I loved my sweets, he’d brought me back a trunkful of decadence.
That devilish bastard. I would kiss him if I didn’t think I might throw up in his mouth.
Slapping my hand over the alarm clock, I relished the few moments of silence I had left before my day got crazy.
My business—my baby, my pride and joy—would be celebrating its grand opening today, and I needed to be there bright and early to get everything ready. This was going to be big. Huge. Epic. I was a business owner. A newb. A…well, I guess you could say I was a virgin.
How many times did a person get to claim that title in their lives? At nine o’clock sharp, I was going to pop my own cherry. It had been one hell of a journey to get here, the worst of which involved a bidding war for the building currently housing my new business. That was half the battle. Now, I just had to prove to myself I have what it takes to be an entrepreneur.
Dragging my sorry ass out of bed, I shuffled across the room to the highboy that had been a fixture in my bedroom since before I could walk, and pulled out the first articles of clothing my fingers came across—purple cotton briefs and a neon pink demi bra.
I lifted my shoulders in a tired shrug. Who cared? No one but me was going to see what was happening beneath the apron anyway.
Slipping into the shower, I cranked the heat up high. A sort of preemptive strike to the sore and stiffening muscles I expected to have by the end of the day. I stayed until the water ran cold, a cool ten minutes later. A whole one minute longer than yesterday. Sharing a water heater with neighbors sucked ass.
My mood jumping up a notch, I opened the wooden box I kept on the counter where I stored all my hairbrushes, clips, ties, pins, and anything else I needed to feel like a real woman.
Selecting a brush, I set to work on the mass of auburn tangles that had formed overnight, gritting my teeth on a few stubborn ones. My morning process was this: shower, detangle, style, makeup, dress, and go.
I didn’t do breakfast. Considering my need to taste every single thing I made—strictly for quality purposes, of course—I needed to save the calories for the shop. After having gone through my routine, I slipped into a sensible pair of walking shoes and tucked my wallet into my back pants’ pocket. Purses are for housewives, of which I am not.
“Check you later, Wilber.” Wilber, my hairless cat, stretched across the couch cushion he occupied, turned his considerably chubby belly toward the ceiling, and gave me a bored yawn—his silent command for me to vacate the premises.
Shaking my head, I yanked open the front door and stopped dead in my tracks.
“Good morning, ma’am. Would you like to buy some cookies?”
I looked down at the fat-faced child covered in freckles peddling her boxes of sin, and narrowed my eyes. “Didn’t I tell you last year not to come around here again?”
Innocent blue eyes peered up at me, completely unaffected by the chill in my voice. “Mom told me that you were a shoe-in for at least one box.”
I spluttered, indignant that anyone would assume such a thing about me. Once, in a moment of weakness, I bought an entire stock of Girl Scout cookies. Once. “Now you listen here,” I said sharply as I reached into my pocket and withdrew my wallet. “You tell your mother that I don’t appreciate her presumptuousness.” Glancing behind her, I felt my willpower crumble beneath the allure of purple and green boxes filled with chewy goodness. How did one choose?
“Now, since I’ve taken a vow to never raise my hand to a child, you let your mother know that I won’t make the same promise to her, should she dare to cross my path.” Handing her a wad of cash, I pointed to her completely stereotypical little red wagon. “Give me the whole lot. Actually, you’d better leave one,” I amended. “I don’t want the neighbors to think I’m greedy.” Yes, I was falling for the deviltry of baked goods, but who could blame me? The cookies practically sold themselves.
Having been a loyal customer for so long, she didn’t question it. Skipping down the step, the girl took up the handle to her wagon. She turned a brilliant smile on me. “Thanks, Aunt Abby.”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled. “You’re welcome, sweetie. And good job with your presentation. The wagon adds a nice touch.” Passing me box after box, I leaned inside the open door and deposited them on the table that served as a catch-all. Once the last box was stacked, I closed the door and locked it behind me. Stepping down beside her, I ruffled her mop of curly red hair. “Now go con someone else out of their hard-earned dough. I have to get to work.”
“Are you opening the shop today?” she asked my retreating back.
“Sure am,” I called over my shoulder. “I’ll save you a donut, and don’t forget to tell your mom what I said!”
“I won’t!”
“And tell her I’ll be there Sunday. I’ve got dessert covered.”
My shop was located two blocks from my condo—perfect walking distance. As I rounded the corner my eyes fell on the little slice of heaven I had carved for myself. Along the strip of conjoined brownstone shops, mine stood at the end. The understated sign with the name Sweetest Temptations in elegant powder pink scrolling letters set against a chocolate brown background and a couple of tiny, decorative cupcakes, bookending each word, hung above the door. It was duplicated in the large window and again on the double-sided sign I would place on the sidewalk later. If customers didn’t know I was there, tripping over the sign would surely tip them off.
I sighed contentedly. Oh, yeah, this was right where I belonged. Ever since Grandma Alice took me under her wing, teaching me the fine art of baking, it’d been a dream of mine to own my own bakery. And it was finally happening.
I’d worked for years—slaving away in culinary school, being beaten down, told my food wasn’t even fit for rats to eat—to get here. A sense of triumph rippled through me every time I set eyes on my accomplishment. Grandma Alice would be proud.
Unlocking the front door, the little bell hanging over the door announced my arrival. Too bad I was the only one there. I paused to soak in the atmosphere. The walls were painted a rich yellow. Photos of my recipes, baked to perfection, were framed and hung every three feet. Five small, metal bistro sets were interspersed throughout the small space, standing out against the terra cotta tiled floors. At the back of the room, a long counter sat, piled high with boxes, various types of wrappings, bags, and an old fashioned cash register that I’d picked up at an antique store a whil
e back. Beyond that, a wall lined with enclosed clear display cabinets stood, already half-filled with cookies, cakes, and other goods that would stay fresh overnight.
Since it was too much work to bake everything as it was needed, I had decided the best course of action was to do what I could at the end of the night to prep for the following morning, and bake throughout the day to keep up with traffic.
Good lord, please let there be traffic.
Since I’d already spent the last week readying the place, the only thing left to do was fire up the ovens and get started on making the muffins.
At nine a.m. sharp, I brushed flour from my hands, flipped the locks on the door, turned the sign over declaring Sweetest Temptations open for business, and marched outside to place another sign in the middle of the sidewalk.
Now, the only thing left to do was wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Nearly two hours passed and I was firmly planted in a chair I’d stolen from one of the dining sets, halfway through reading an article on how to please my non-existent man, when a throat cleared.
“Hold on one sec,” I said, holding up a finger. Was it really a turn-on to greet your man at the door wearing saran wrap? That seemed….vacuum packed. I immediately chucked the idea and the magazine. The only thing I would be saran wrapping was cakes and pies. “Can I help you?”
Standing, I reached under the counter and pulled on a pair of thin plastic gloves from the box I kept there. I turned on my bright, I’m-here-to-serve-you smile and aimed it at my very first customer. “Oh…my.” The words weren’t intended to leave my mouth.
Standing before me was the most insanely beautiful man I had ever seen. He was everything a woman with a healthy libido and functioning imagination searched for in a man, but rarely got. Tall, at least six feet. Lean, but thick. I could tell this was the kind of guy who took care of himself. He had that whole dark and dangerous look going, too, with the black as night hair that was finger combed in that I-just-got-laid style women swooned over, clean shaven, clear blue eyes the color of a swimming pool that I craved to jump into, and a mouth that I could see myself licking like frosting on a cupcake.
Taken: A Romance Novella Page 7
