Recipe for Temptation

by Gina Gordon

  These feelings had to remain in Hawaii. It was the only way to keep his past buried.

  “You want to tell me something?” Veronica asked. He heard a rumpled thud. Maybe the positioning of a pillow. “Where’s Penn?”

  “She’s lying down.”

  Recovering from the massive orgasm he’d just given her. He hadn’t meant to take their shower to sexy town. He’d started off wanting to take care of her, to pamper her.

  True, eating her out wasn’t exactly the care he’d planned on giving her. But it had worked out for everyone, hadn’t it?

  “I think… I think I’m going to tell her.”

  Penn wanted him to open up. But the thought of spilling his guts, telling her about all the crap from his past, made him nauseous.

  Which was why he was now on the phone with Veronica, asking, without asking, if opening up to Penn was the right thing to do.

  “Tell her what?” Veronica’s voice was so calm, so casual, yet determined to get an answer.

  There were less than a handful of people in the world who knew about his past. Veronica was one of them. They’d grown up together. Shared a lot of the same experiences. She’d seen it all—or most of it.

  She was usually so perceptive. Another reason he’d called her. He could have cryptic conversations without having to spell everything out, and she always knew exactly what he was saying.

  But maybe her pregnancy hormones were messing with her Cole-receptors today. It seemed she needed things spelled out.

  But suddenly she gasped, and his hidden meaning must have dawned on her.

  “Is that why you called me? You want me to say it’s all right to tell her about your mom?”

  He shrugged. Not that she could see it. “Maybe.”

  “If you want my opinion… I think she can handle it.”

  Penn was a strong, determined, independent, and successful woman, capable of many things. But processing her feelings for a man with a past like that might not be something she wanted to do, let alone would be capable of.

  He had no home, no true parenting to speak of, no role models until Vivian Madewood, and all the instability and floundering that came along with that kind of life. People ended longer, deeper relationships for much less.

  “Don’t you think I’m too big a mess?” he asked.

  “A mess? No way.” Her response came out so fast it made him feel a little better. The fact that she hadn’t hesitated meant she truly believed it. “A huge pain in my ass? Definitely.” She laughed. “But I still love you.”

  A short silence passed between them.

  “Cole, what is this all about?”

  If he couldn’t talk to V, how could he possibly talk to Penn? “Um…”

  She let out a long sigh. “Look, I’m going to tell you something you’re not going to like.”

  “Terrific.” He braced himself on the couch, letting his hand grip the arm so tight his fingers turned white.

  “Cole…”

  Here it comes. He was moody. Guarded. Too high-profile and too closed down for the risk to be worth it.

  “You’re wonderful,” she said.

  He stilled, letting the words wash over him. The unexpected and completely false statement had caught him off-guard.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  He shrugged again.

  “Stop shrugging when I can’t see you, Cole Murphy. You know how much that annoys me.”

  She should have been a teacher. Or, as her younger siblings always said, a prison warden. Her serious tone was enough to get the hair on his neck to stand up. At times, she was downright scary.

  He heard stifled groans and heavy breaths. She was trying to get up. Over the last couple of weeks he’d really noticed a change in her. She waddled instead of walked. She was slower to do…everything. He’d never been witness to a pregnancy up close and personal before. It was some serious shit.

  “As much as I love our conversations…”

  He laughed. “Sure, you do.” Their conversations were almost always one-sided.

  “Finn is coming to get me for a doctor’s appointment. But can I leave you with one last thought?”

  “Sure.”

  “You only have to ask yourself one question: do you think Penn is worthy of knowing who you really are?”

  In the shower, he’d touched himself without a second thought. Without any thoughts at all, except for the way Penn tasted and the way her moans revved up his own desire. That had to mean something. Something far more important than sex itself.

  Hell, yes. She’s worthy.

  He trusted her, and he knew his secret would be locked in the vault. But more important than her being trustworthy was his decision to trust her in the first place. Exposing his past, his deepest, darkest secrets, meant more than just telling her the truth.

  He was falling for her.

  And that was even scarier than facing his past.

  Now all he had to do was hope he didn’t end up a splattered mess on the concrete when it was all said and done.

  Cole had flashed his money around once again and arranged with the concierge for a candlelight dinner in a thatched hut on the water. Now the evening had even more importance. Tonight he was going to blow her mind. Not only with the scenery and the romantic gesture, but by telling her some of his shit. The shit she’d been wanting to know forever.

  He was ready. He could do this. She wouldn’t judge.

  He sat on the sofa, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of a magazine while he waited for Penn to finish getting ready.

  “Hi.” Her voice carried softly from the door of the bedroom.

  He looked up from the magazine, and immediately his dick tightened at the sight of her. She wore a short, red dress with a thin brown belt wrapped around her waist. There were no shoulder straps, so it hugged her breasts perfectly. She’d put sunglasses on top of her head, but they were barely noticeable between the black waves of her hair. She’d done something with it. Something to make the shiny strands curly…but not. God, he sucked at describing girl stuff.

  “Are you going to pick your tongue up off the floor?”

  He snapped his gaze up and looked at her face. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring at her breasts the whole time.

  “Sorry, I—” He took a deep breath and regrouped. “Damn. You look fantastic.”

  “Fantastic enough for wherever we’re going?” Her body fidgeted, and her eyebrows perked up. “Aren’t you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  He stood and walked over, and put his hand on her hip.

  She took his gesture even further and pulled him closer. “You look pretty fantastic, yourself.”

  He’d dressed in a pair of white linen pants and a purple-checkered button-down shirt.

  She nuzzled his neck, inhaling deeply. “But I do prefer how you look with your clothes off.”

  He growled. They were on the same page when it came to where their clothes looked best. On the floor.

  He smacked her ass, partly to shake her out of the smoldering desire that had flared between them as soon as she embraced him, and partly to keep his own mind focused. “You ready?”

  She nodded and threaded her arm through his.

  He gestured to the door, holding out his hand. “Your romantic evening awaits, my lady.”

  They walked through the hotel, turning a few heads. Yes, he could definitely get used to having Penn on his arm. If nothing else, for the ego boost. As far as anyone else knew, they were ideal for each other. Deep down, he knew Penn cared about him. She’d displayed that time and again over the last three years. They’d developed a real friendship, and over the last few days, nurtured a sexual chemistry he’d never experienced with anyone else. But that didn’t mean she was equipped to handle his baggage for the long haul. It might tear them apart. Which made his growing feelings for her all the more dangerous.

  But he had to try.

  They walked
side-by-side, being sure to keep their distance until they were behind closed doors, and were greeted at a small boardwalk by Jason, the hotel staff member who had arranged the evening.

  “Mr. Murphy. Everything has been prepared just as you asked.”

  She gasped, and her eyes turned a shade of cobalt as she caught sight of the small hut positioned on a low cliff above the water. “Is that where we’re going?”

  He nodded, shook hands with Jason, and handed him a fifty.

  Cole motioned Penn ahead of him, but he stayed back and whispered to Jason, “Remember, no interruptions until tomorrow morning.”

  Jason handed him the key. “Of course, sir.”

  “Cole, this is so beautiful.” Penn had stopped to admire the foliage that lined the boardwalk. “Look at these flowers.” Her hands brushed across the lush pink blooms. Off to the right was a rock garden. Between two of the biggest rocks sprang a slow trickle of water that fed into a pond below where several koi swam around, their mouths opening and closing as if they were trying to have a conversation.

  The thatched hut was sitting on a deck that had been built into a rock cliff a good twenty feet above the water. Waves crashed directly below them. Pretty damn romantic, especially for his first time trying to pull off something like this.

  They walked up the small set of carved stairs that led to the hut’s door, a set of California shutters which he unlocked and pulled wide, opening up the space to the warm Hawaiian breeze.

  It was a lovers’ paradise.

  “Oh, my,” Penn whispered as she went inside.

  At the back was an oversized pillow that acted as a mattress, surrounded by several other small pillows and blankets. The shades of yellow, pink, and blue brightened up dark walls that were made up of what looked like bamboo.

  In the middle of the room, a table had been set up for two. A silver bucket sat on a rolling cart beside the table, chilling a bottle of champagne, along with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  On the other side of the table was a makeshift kitchen. Jason had set up a small grill, and a second rolling cart was laden with all his ingredients and cooking utensils.

  She whirled around. “Are you going to cook for me?” Her jaw was practically on the floor in delighted surprise. And he was ecstatic that he’d been able to put it there.

  He’d never seen her like this, with an edge of vulnerability to her excitement. She was always firm and set in her opinions and statements. But not tonight.

  Something was different tonight.

  “Cole… I don’t know what to say.”

  He stood by the door, admiring the way she reacted to every inch of the hut. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  She let out a gasp of awe. “Beautiful isn’t the word.” She traced the edge of the champagne bucket with her finger as she slowly spun in a circle. “And you did this for me?”

  When she looked up at him, he nodded. Her eyes were filled with emotion. And tears. Penn, who didn’t cry over anything.

  She joined him at the door, and he tugged her into an embrace, her back to his front. He wrapped his arms around her waist and breathed deeply. It wasn’t the fresh scent of the outdoors that infused him; it was Penn. Her lightness. Her unwavering support and belief in him.

  He didn’t want to move. Ever. Even if a typhoon blew across the island, he wasn’t moving. Because here he was comfortable. And dare he say…happy. Once they stepped off that plane, there was no way of knowing if this feeling would last.

  It was time he told his friend the truth. But first, he had dinner to make.

  He headed to the table, grabbed the bottle of champagne, and opened it with a pop. Bubbles spilled out with a splat onto the floor as he filled two crystal glasses.

  He held out a glass to her, then lifted his. “To good friends.”

  Their glasses clinked.

  “Hungry?”

  She nodded and licked her lips. “Starving.”

  The first thing he did was fire up the grill to get it nice and hot. Next, he made citrus marinade for the mahi-mahi. He squeezed the juice of an orange and lime, then combined it with oil, salt, cilantro, and some honey.

  While she was delighted with the champagne, she must have noticed he hadn’t taken more than a few sips of his. “Ready for something stronger?” she asked.

  “That’d be great.”

  She mixed him a Jack and Coke and placed it near the grill for him. It was amazing that she always knew exactly what he liked, what he needed.

  She shifted in her seat, searching for something on the ingredients cart.

  “What, no dessert?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  She was smart to notice there was nothing on the tray to whip up for dessert. Little did she know, he’d arranged for a chocolate fondue to show up a bit later.

  “I’m not sweet enough for you?” He grinned, but already knew the answer. His moods were far from sweet.

  She slid out of her chair and sidled up to him. “Oh, you’re plenty sweet. And I’ll be indulging in that sweetness”—she leaned in and nibbled his earlobe— “a little later.” She bit down, and the twinge of pleasure-pain shot straight to his cock. “On second thought, why don’t we have a little taste test right now?”

  She grabbed the champagne bottle and her glass, and walked over to the pillow bed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sexy sway of her hips.

  That tiny red dress rode up her thighs and exposed the bottom of her ass cheeks when she bent over to set the champagne on the floor.

  The hut had sliding shutters on three of its sides, and at that moment he was happy with his decision to keep only the main ones open. He didn’t want anyone getting a glimpse of her perfection, or catching them in the act, because every movement was on purpose. She even spread her legs a little to give him an eyeful of the black lace that covered her.

  “We’re having mahi-mahi,” he said, trying to distract himself so he wouldn’t attack her on the spot. “With mango salsa.”

  He started dicing the mango. The sweet smell of the fruit and the fresh tomatoes he’d chopped earlier wafted up and infused his senses. But she was pulling out all the stops to turn later into right now.

  He did his best not to look at her ass and focus on cutting up the mango and red onion for the salsa, but she made it difficult to concentrate. He probably shouldn’t even be using a knife at the moment. He was liable to cut off one or more of his fingers. A trip to the emergency room was not how he wanted tonight to end.

  “And pineapple fried rice.”

  In another predetermined move to get him hard—mission accomplished—she kneeled, then crawled across the giant pillow, turning to settle in the center with her back against the wall. She made no attempt to close her legs. They remained wide open for his viewing pleasure. She crooked her finger at him, begging him with her eyes to come over and ravage her.

  But there was ample time tonight to do what they did best. First, he wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Wanted it to be built on something more than sex. Yes, once they set foot on home soil everything they had built here in Hawaii would end. But he needed to let her in and share this with her, because once they got home, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

  But then she traced her finger up the inside of her thigh. The knife he was holding dropped to the cutting board.

  “You are so not playing fair.”

  She smiled coyly.

  Well, two could play that game.

  He strode over to her. His erection throbbed in his linen pants. His pulse had doubled, and he had no doubt that his need for her was written all over his face.

  He dropped to the floor, his knees hitting the softness of the pillows. He crawled up her body, planting light kisses on her feet, her calves, her thighs. Tickling his nose along her warm, sweet skin until he was face-to-face with the sweetest part of her. She pulled up her dress so she could see what he was doing, exposing her entire lower half. He flicked out his tongue and ever so light
ly grazed over the lace of her thong. She moaned, and her head fell back against the pillows.

  “You’re not hungry?” he whispered against her core.

  She moaned again. “You’re all the food I need.”

  He didn’t stop there. His mouth moved up, pressing a kiss to her stomach, then the peak of each breast through her dress, until he reached more exposed skin. He laid open-mouthed kisses on the swell of her cleavage. He kissed her collarbone, her neck, her nose, and forehead. And finally, when she was panting and her fists were curled around the pillow under her, he placed his lips to hers. With the same rhythm, he ground his hips between her legs, letting her know just how hard, how ready, he was for her. And just when she whimpered into his mouth and reached for the fly of his pants, he retreated.

  She whimpered again, not in ecstasy but frustration. Her bottom lip jutted out, and she looked up at him with disappointed eyes. “You’re so mean.”

  He pressed one last kiss to her lips, then backed away from the bed, shifting his pants as he returned to the grill.

  When the food was finally prepared, she moaned over every bite. Needless to say, between that and the way she’d teased him from the bed while he was cooking, he’d had an erection for the last hour.

  He was on his third Jack and Coke. The more time that passed, the closer he got to having to start his confession. Telling her things he didn’t really want anyone to know. But his brain had just the right amount of buzz going, and his nervousness settled more with every sip.

  “Everything was so delicious. Thank you.” She wiped her mouth gently with the white cloth napkin. “Not that I would expect anything less.”

  He dropped his gaze to the floor. He loved cooking, loved making people happy with his food, but never knew what to do with the compliments.

  This was the perfect opportunity. He had a solid buzz. Solid enough to drown out the persistent don’t do it that pleaded with him from the back of his mind to keep her from knowing exactly why he was the way he was, and give her the opportunity to bolt. Or worse, feel sorry for him.