A Date with Desire

by Heather McGovern

  This festival obviously mattered a great deal to Dev, even if she wasn’t 100 percent sure why. Bringing back a beloved event for the town was a nice gesture. Could that be it? Profit didn’t motivate him; he’d hardly mentioned making money. If going to government offices and asking nicely wasn’t his usual thing, any more than asking local businesses for money was, then why was he willing to go so far out of his comfort zone?

  The stubborn set of his brow, the fiery look of determination in his eyes, they spoke of things more meaningful than festivals and fun.

  “We’re almost there.” Dev glanced over, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

  She could come right out and ask him why the festival really mattered so much to him, but that was awfully intrusive coming from someone he’d known a few days.

  As an outsider, she knew his reasons weren’t her business. The agreement was she’d help him make the event happen, and he’d help her vacation. Nothing in there included her poking around in his feelings, asking a bunch of questions about why he cared. Or why he scowled at the prospect of asking business owners to pony up a deposit for something they all supposedly loved.

  “Here it is.” Dev pulled off the parkway and onto a narrow drive. The road curved around, and on one side was a narrow, almost makeshift parking lot; on the other, the most beautiful view of the mountains she’d ever seen.

  A valley yawned off to their right. To the left, and as far as the eye could see, rolling, endless Blue Ridge Mountains.

  Dev had barely stopped the car before she yanked her seat belt free. “Oh my—look at that view!”

  She jumped from her seat and headed straight for the short stone wall that protected sightseers from plummeting down the side of the mountain.

  The air was cool and breezy, and only the occasional car passed on the highway, which was blocked by an island of trees and rocks, breaking the silence. One other car was parked at the far end of the overlook. A pair of ladies took in the view with their binoculars.

  Dev finally caught up to where she’d stopped at the stone wall.

  “This is gorgeous. Absolutely stunning.”

  “I think so too. I think we have one of the best views at Honeywilde, but this overlook rivals it.”

  “I wish I had a phone. I’d take some pictures.”

  He turned toward her. “You really don’t have a phone? The other day I thought you didn’t want to give me your number.”

  At that, she laughed. She had to. On what planet would she not give a guy like Dev her number? “No. I really don’t have a phone.”

  He reached into his back pocket. “You can use mine and email it to yourself. I think there’s a panorama doo-hickey on there, but I don’t know how to do it.”

  “Thanks.” She knew exactly how. After lining up the camera, she slowly turned in a semicircle.

  Dev moved out of the way of the shot, but his gaze remained steady on her. She didn’t need to see him to know.

  He took the phone from her when she was done, looking at the picture. “I don’t think I could function without my phone. And damn, I want to kick my own ass for saying that, but the point is, how can you not have a cell phone?”

  How to explain the absence of communication without going into the whole story, sounding pitiful? “I do own a phone, generally speaking, but since I’m supposed to be up here relaxing and getting away from the grind . . . it was suggested I vacation sans phone.”

  Suggested. That sounded nice and normal.

  Dev studied her.

  Fine, so the weak explanation made no sense. Not in this day and age. “I was working a lot and had to take a break from my job. I wouldn’t break if I had my phone with me.”

  “How much is a lot?”

  “I don’t know. About eighty hours a week?”

  Dev blow out a sharp breath. “Damn. That’s nuts.”

  “How much do you work in a week?”

  “I mean, we’re always working, sort of, but we get long breaks. I get to do stuff like this, with you. My job doesn’t always feel like work. Sometimes it’s fun.”

  Fun.

  She used to think her job was fun. How long had it been since anything in her career could be described as fun?

  Dev tucked his phone away. “Eighty hours seems . . . extreme.”

  Extreme was one way to describe it. Soul sucking was another.

  “I love what I do. But . . . I don’t know. I got so caught up in climbing the ladder, getting higher up in the agency, I didn’t stop to realize how much time I put into it. The success can be consuming, and then one day you look around and you’re working all hours and haven’t taken a vacation in over a year. I was stressed out and, now, here I am.”

  Beside her, Dev moved minutely closer. She wouldn’t have noticed if she weren’t painfully aware of everything he did. Each move and lingering gaze.

  “You don’t have to wait until you’re stressed to take a vacation.”

  Her situation went way beyond something so simple. She could call her time here a vacation all she wanted, but it was so much more.

  “You have a hard time relaxing, huh?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. I had to drive for five hours and rent a little cabin, and you still have to teach me how to have fun.”

  “Yeah, while you help me work. I should refuse your part of the agreement right now.”

  “No.” She spun on him. “No, we have a deal.” Too much downtime and time alone would truly push her over the edge.

  Dev put his hands on her arms, letting them drift down. “Breathe. I was joking. Mostly. Not like I’ll be asking you for eighty hours a week. Hell, probably not even eight. Besides, I’m too desperate to refuse your help.”

  Thank god.

  Her sigh of relief came out shaky.

  “You really are tense.”

  “This helps.” She tilted her head toward the view, stretched out before them.

  “I might be able to help a little more.”

  At least she didn’t giggle like a schoolgirl in response, but her neck warmed up regardless.

  “Not that, you little deviant.” He winked at her. “Maybe later, but for now I need you to sit.” He patted the stone wall that came right above her knees.

  The side of a mountain. She’d be sitting on the side of a mountain; the only thing between her and the miles of forest below was her big bottom on a foot-wide rock wall.

  “What if I stand?”

  “It’s fine. Sit.” He patted the wall again.

  After the slowest sitting ever known to mankind, he twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around. Facing the view.”

  “Um.” Her voice shook.

  “I’m not going to let you fall.”

  She turned, letting her legs dangle off the side of the stone wall.

  His rough laugh rubbed against her edges, soothing them, if only a little. “You’re perfectly safe. I promise. Now . . . shhhhhh.”

  Anna clamped her mouth shut as the weight of his forearms settled on her shoulders.

  Now this, she could get into.

  “Drop your shoulders.” He bounced his arms a couple of times, pressing a little harder each time. “You’re tensing up. Drop them.”

  She tried, but he still had to push down, and maintain the pressure to keep her from drawing them up again.

  “Better. Close your eyes and take a slow, deep breath in. Don’t exhale until I tell you.”

  She frowned. This all sounded too similar to the self-help exercises that therapist Susan had given her.

  Dev waited a good seven seconds before he let her exhale.

  “Slowly,” he instructed when her breath came out in a rush. “One more time.”

  He made her go through the same thing about half a dozen times, but then—then his fingers were in her hair.

  Susan didn’t have a single self-help exercise that included this.

  Strong, deft fingers. Threading through her hair, until he pressed his fingertips against her scalp, a
nd began to massage.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, her lashes fluttering. Because wow.

  The pressure of his fingertips moved from her scalp, down to her temples, then to the back of her skull. With a firm touch, he rubbed in tiny circles that slowly grew larger. Her hair would look a fright once he was finished, but this? This was worth having bird-nest hair.

  Her shoulders drooped further and she let her head fall back, a small moan escaping.

  Dev moved his fingers from the back of her head, digging the pads of his thumbs into the back of her neck and dragging them down.

  At first, she flinched, because she thought it’d hurt, but in the wake of all that digging and pressure came relief.

  He did it again, and again, until her head lolled on the end of her neck, letting him manipulate the muscles there. His touch shifted lower, until he rubbed at a knot between the base of her neck and her shoulder. “Shhhh. Don’t tense up. Trust me.”

  He dug his thumb in and she winced at the sharp throb of pain, seconds away from telling him to stop. Then, the pain eased, the knot giving way.

  She must’ve made a noise of discomfort, because Dev brushed her hair forward, over her shoulder and out of the way. He kept massaging the knot with quiet intensity.

  “That’s it.” His tone softened. “Breathe. You’re doing great.”

  His gentle encouragement, the soothing rumble of his voice, worked at the tension inside her. A resistance, the kind of tension that had nothing to do with the muscles of her neck and back, released.

  “I broke down at work. That’s why I finally had to take a vacation.” The words spilled out, breaking free from confinement. Her refusal to talk about or share the imperfect places inside her couldn’t hold in the ugly truth any longer.

  Dev’s hands stopped moving.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on telling you that.” Though she wanted to. Deep down where she couldn’t lie to herself, she needed him to know.

  She was here because she couldn’t do her job anymore. At all. Or her laundry, or eat properly, read a book, give a darn about the simplest responsibilities when they’d always been her priority. She’d reached a place in her life where something had to change or she’d forget how to get out of bed in the morning.

  Depression.

  The word itself hurt, and her therapist kept using it. Insisting that if Anna didn’t want to take medication, then she needed to make a change. Or possibly do both. Only time would tell, but first Anna had to deal with her loss, and how it affected every aspect of her life.

  Dev stopped rubbing and, for a moment, she doubted everything that said confessing the truth to him was okay. She doubted her judgment, him, the way he’d seemed completely without judgment.

  But he started again, his voice low. “It’s okay. You can—if you need to talk, I’m here.”

  “I was going through a lot.” Like her father dying, out of nowhere, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud. Saying them made his death real, and she wasn’t ready.

  “And working eighty-hour weeks,” he offered.

  “Yes, working every day, all day, but I was failing.”

  “You?”

  “For the first time ever, yes. I’m good at my job, Dev. So good.”

  “I believe it.”

  “And then, I wasn’t. How do you work that hard, for that long, putting in so much of yourself, and all you end up with is crap?” She lifted her hands and let them fall. “I’d been so successful for years before, but this year it’s been account after account, lost. My ideas kept getting rejected. I went from being the golden child to the one you roll your eyes at. I finally went to therapy, hoping it’d help.”

  He stopped rubbing again, this time pulling away.

  Holy crap, she’d told Devlin she was in therapy. Why had she done that?

  It took repeating that fact over and over, in her head, for it to sink in. Her life was a mess, her head even messier, but on the outside she did a bang-up job of appearing “normal.” Together, even—whatever the hell that meant.

  But now, he knew. A guy she’d met a few days ago now knew more hard truths about her than anyone else in her life. What if he thought she was crazy? Now he’d wish he never agreed to do anything with her, much less have her help with work.

  Dev took his touch away, but climbed over the wall, sitting down with his shoulder pressed to hers.

  His gaze was warm, understanding. He wasn’t going to judge her for being a mess, any more than he’d judge her for devouring an entire bowl of ice cream or thinking a dog was a bear.

  “My job is . . . Advertising is creative. It takes energy, enthusiasm. A zest for the projects at hand, and I had none of that. I’d lost it all. Lost my mojo. I was spinning my wheels as fast as I could, going nowhere, and the walls kept closing in. I knew I’d lose my position if I didn’t step up my game, but I couldn’t stop being miserable. Overworked, not sleeping, and one day at work, I just . . . I blacked out.”

  With a heavy breath, he reached for her. His hand on her arm, then her back, offering a connection, though he didn’t say a word.

  “I came to in the stupid copy room, surrounded by people staring. Of course I wanted to cry, but I kept trying to convince everyone I was okay. Instead, I went home and cried until I couldn’t breathe, then couldn’t even get out of bed the next day. I called in and my boss suggested I take a little time off. Her words. A little time off. But I’ll never forget the looks on their faces the day I passed out.”

  She shook her head, swiping at the one tear brave enough to fall. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry. I had no idea you had all of that going on.”

  “I hide it well.” She’d been taught well, not to wear her troubles on her sleeve. Hell hath no fury like her mother when she thought you were pouting. Or had any feelings beyond being perfectly presentable.

  Now she couldn’t do anything but sit there and stare at the mountains, more tears brimming but refusing to fall. Devlin pulled her into the curve of his body. He didn’t say anything.

  No hollow platitudes and no there, there. The quiet acceptance made her crumple, her body sagging against his, even as her cheeks remained dry.

  With the solid assuredness of his body, he held her up.

  At least half an hour went by. They sat until her butt was numb, but inside she was warm. Comforted.

  The sun had slipped a little lower in the sky, clouds casting shadows over the rolling green carpet of the mountains.

  “Thank you for telling me.” Dev finally spoke. “For trusting me enough.”

  “Thank you for listening.” For not saying she was being over-dramatic or stupid.

  “Yeah, well. I’m bad at giving advice. Makes me one hell of a good listener.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I am too.” When she turned to him, he smoothed her hair back, dropping a soft kiss on her lips. “But I do know how to help you relax and have fun while you’re here. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  He didn’t push for more information or the details of her meltdown. He simply accepted her story, and the way he looked at her hadn’t changed.

  Maybe with a little more understanding but still with a gleam of mischief, and a whole lot of want.

  Dev kissed her again, this time not so soft. An intense press of his lips against hers, until the muscles of her shoulders melted like they had during his massage.

  He threaded his fingers into her hair, the tips brushing past the places he’d massaged earlier, and his kiss stole her breath. Hot and needy, but he gave too. Sucking at her lips, cupping the back of her head, making the world spin around until she tilted, off-balance, until she clung to him.

  They sat on the side of a mountain, literally, but she knew she wouldn’t fall. Dev held her, his arms solid and sure.

  Going from finally speaking of her breakdown to kissing in a parking lot was the kind of thing she’d never do. Anna from Atlanta woul
d never speak of her weaknesses, but right now, admitting her imperfections and him kissing it better, was exactly what she needed.

  The soft caress of Dev’s lips, the hum of pleasure building inside, and the thrill of anticipating more. All she knew was this moment.Dev brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheek and she leaned into his touch, consumed by the way he made her feel. This had to be what her therapist meant about living in the now. Present. Everything she felt was undeniable.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Devlin whispered against the shell of her ear, raining kisses along the edge, down her neck.

  Her unshed tears were long gone, but she sniffed anyway. How was she supposed to respond?

  He smoothed her hair back again, holding her face in his hands so she had to look him in the eyes. “You’re amazing. And I feel like maybe you don’t know that, so I’m telling you.”

  “Thank you.” She might not sound certain, but she believed him.

  Dev thought she was exceptional and maybe, if he thought so, she could be. At least in his eyes, for the time she was here at Honeywilde, she could be.

  This time, Anna kissed him; tugged him in by the front of his shirt, a fist full of buttons and cotton, tellingly wrinkling the material and not caring.

  She kissed him the way he’d kissed her after ice cream. Seeking tongue and greedy lips. Taking over, taking what she wanted.

  Dev’s response was instantaneous. A rumble went through his chest and into hers, as he leaned into her. When she broke to take a breath, his words were a hot charge against her lips. “Do that again.”

  This time she kissed him, and let go of his shirt with one hand, to touch that perfect jaw, the soft scrape of his freshly shaved face, before she threaded her fingers through the longest strands of his hair.

  He nipped at her bottom lip and smoothed the bite with his tongue. Then his lips were on her neck as he tugged at the top button of her shirt.

  Her body was going fluid, all stiffness in her back gone, buzzing with need and the promise of needs met. They were on the side of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and if anyone pulled in to park, they’d see. And she didn’t care.

  “I want you.” She curled her fingers into his shirt even tighter. “I want you to do more than kiss me. I . . . I need you.”