A Small-Town Reunion

by Terry McLaughlin

  He released one clip, and another, and dropped them to the floor as his fantasy came to life. And then he slid his fingers through the hair above her ear. Cool, springy silk over heated, inviting skin.

  He lowered his gaze from her curls to her face. Yes, look what he’d found—Addie. “Addie.”

  “Yes?”

  He lightly pressed his palm against her back, guiding her closer. “Have you been looking?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She lifted her hands between them, hesitated, and then settled them over his chest.

  “For years?” he asked.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Do you think you can smooth out my bumpy parts?”

  Her fingers curled, catching the fabric of his T-shirt in tiny folds. “I don’t know.”

  “I wish you’d give it a try.” He cupped the back of her head and shifted still closer. “Will you? Will you try?”

  “I—” Her lids fluttered closed as his thigh brushed hers. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Yes, you do.” He leaned in and tortured himself with a whiff of her scent. Lemony soap, artist’s solvents, faint florals, warm woman. Addie. “We could start with a kiss and go from there.”

  “A kiss?”

  “Do you need a demonstration?”

  She huffed out a shaky little breath and opened her eyes, tilting back her head to give him a sassy smirk. “I know what a kiss is.”

  “Yes, but you’ve never been kissed by me.”

  Her palms flattened against the muscles of his chest, her fingers sliding over his shirt in a maddening exploration. A frown puckered her brow. “A kiss will change everything. If we do this, we’ll never be able to go back to the way things were.”

  He lowered his head toward hers, tempting her. “Do you mean we’ll never be friends again?”

  “We’re not friends. Not really.” Her breath caught in another tiny gasp as his mouth came within a few inches of hers. “You said you weren’t sure we could ever be friends.”

  “I’m a fool.” He stroked his hand up her back, gently caging her. “You shouldn’t listen to a word I say.”

  She swayed toward him and paused, tantalizingly close. “Friends don’t do what we’re thinking of doing.”

  “No, they don’t.” He smiled and swept his gaze over her face. “But if we’ve never been friends, then we don’t have anything to lose, do we?”

  “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Then hold on tight.”

  He narrowed the gap between them and waited at the brink, feeling her surrender, inch by inch. A tremor, a sigh, the softening of her spine as she eased into his embrace. The whisper of skin sliding along cotton as she smoothed her hands up his body to circle his neck, the citrusy tang of the cleanser near her work sink, the faint laughter of passersby on Cove Street, the smooth concrete beneath their feet—everything surrounding them seemed to fade into the gathering dusk. The only things he knew were the thudding pressure in his chest, and the moist heat of her breath against his lips. And the need to press his mouth—his body—to hers.

  Easy, he reminded himself as he brushed his lips along her jaw. Take it slow. This is Addie. Don’t ruin this any more than you already have. Don’t take too much at first—you can always take more the next time.

  He moved his mouth toward hers, a whisper of a kiss tracing one of her dimples, a subtle move in their slow-motion dance. She retreated the merest fraction of an inch, a hesitant side step. He stilled; she parted her lips. He narrowed the slender gap between them, waiting, willing her to meet him halfway.

  And then her lashes drifted down, down over her wonderful blue eyes, and her soft curves touched his body. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against him, at last. Their lips met once, twice in a teasing trial—so good, so right. And then they seemed to flow into each other and to fit together with their own silent click.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THIS WAS CRAZY, Addie thought as Dev brushed gentle, downy kisses across her cheek and then settled his mouth over hers. This was Dev.

  This was Dev’s hand fisting her shirt in the back and tugging the hem above her waist. This was Dev’s knee shoving between her legs. This was Dev’s low groan echoing through her darkening shop. And the thrill of it was more than she could trap and hold inside.

  More than she could bear, she realized as she plastered herself against him and tangled her fingers in his hair. More than she could handle, she thought as his arms tightened around her and something clattered to the floor beside them. And then she stopped thinking, and he stopped holding back, and they both started taking in long-starved, greedy gulps.

  Addie grasped the collar of Dev’s shirt, afraid to let go. Dev, Dev, oh, Dev. The words—the thought of him touching her like this, at last—pulsed through her, a chant as rhythmic and natural as her heartbeat. And the feel of him heated every part of her body that came into contact with his—fingertips, arms, breasts, thighs, lips.

  His arms banded around her waist to crush her against him, and his hot breath scorched a path over her forehead. She thought he’d whispered something in her ear before he nipped its edge, but she couldn’t hear anything above the surflike roar of her blood and that pounding chant.

  Dev, Dev.

  She shouldn’t have thrown herself at him that way, opening to the hot, moist sweep of his tongue through her mouth and answering with a deep, thorough taste of her own. Shouldn’t have given him such easy access, letting her head fall back with a groan as he nibbled his way down her throat. Shouldn’t have invited more, bending her knee to slide her leg along his until he grasped her thigh, pulled her higher and ground his hips against hers.

  But this was Dev, and he was the only man she’d ever really wanted. And this might be her only chance to touch him like this, to test her fantasy of what they could be like together. Oh, she wanted so desperately for it to be good. And oh, he made it good, so good, for her.

  Dev, Dev.

  “Addie. Addie.” He tugged at her hair, drawing her head back, bringing their faces close. “I never knew.”

  “That’s because you never—”

  Just in time, sanity slipped into the cool sliver of space he’d opened between them, stopping her before she confessed to years of painful, pitiful, unrequited infatuation. “What do you mean, you never knew?” she asked.

  “How good this could be.” He pressed his mouth to her chin again, teasing his way along her jaw to that spot behind her ear that made her shiver. “Mmm. Good. So good.”

  “Yes. It is. It was.” Close call. She shoved against his arms, shifting back a few inches. How could he never have known? How could he never have guessed? She’d thought there’d been something between them, something…“It’s also getting late,” she said.

  He raised his head to stare at her, blinking as though she’d thrown a switch on a spotlight and aimed it his way.

  “I think this was a mistake,” she said.

  “You do?” he asked, still blinking.

  “Don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Let’s try it again.”

  “Dev—”

  “Yes, yes,” he murmured, drawing her in again. “I’m right here.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Where else did you think I’d be?” he asked with a smile.

  “Well, I—” She sighed against his mouth as he dropped another of his soft, sweet kisses on hers. Yes, he was here…for now. But he’d be gone by the end of summer. Or sooner, if he got bored. Bored with life here in the Cove. With her. “Never mind.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Moment over?”

  She blew out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. And then she straightened, nodded and patted his chest—his broad, warm chest—before backing out of his embrace. “Moment over.”

  He slid his hands into his pockets. “At least I got my grinding done.”

&
nbsp; She smiled weakly at the thought of the grinding that had taken place. “Yes,” she said, gesturing lamely in the direction of his project. “And it turned out really well.”

  She groaned and shut her eyes. When she opened them, he was grinning at her. “You told Teddi hers was great,” he said.

  “Yours is great, too.”

  “You told Virgil he has a knack for it.”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. Considering. Teasing Dev with a smile. “I did.”

  “Okay, then.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket and stared at them, frowning. “What comes next, anyway? After the caming and soldering?”

  “Glazing.”

  “Is that easier than grinding?”

  “Messier. Bring Rosie with you.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “No.” She headed toward her door to unlock it for him. “But it’s something she could help you with.”

  “And then…we’re finished.”

  “That’s right,” she said as she turned to face him.

  “Class over.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you going to offer any other stained-glass classes this summer?” He cocked his head to one side. “Mosaics, for instance?”

  She rested one hand on the doorknob and the other on her hip. “Good night, Dev.”

  “You know, I’ve been rethinking that whole friendship thing.” He sauntered toward the exit and then paused a few feet away. “I can’t figure out why we’ve never given it a shot. I’ve always liked you, you know.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” His casual tone helped her nerves smooth back into normal range. “I’ve always liked you, too.”

  “I figured. You were just too stubborn to admit it.”

  “Maybe I was waiting for you to say it first.” She opened her door and leaned against the jamb. “Good night, Dev.”

  “I don’t suppose you—”

  “Good night, Dev.”

  “Right.” He stepped through her doorway. “By the way, I also like the way you teach.”

  Her cheeks flamed like torches, and she was certain they’d spontaneously combust at some point if she didn’t get rid of him. “Good night, Dev.”

  “Yeah.” He gave her a smile that sizzled through the rest of her, too. “It is.”

  DEV STEPPED THROUGH Tess’s office door Wednesday morning, carrying one of the syrupy, flavored coffees she drank as if they were the elixir of life. “Morning.”

  His cousin glanced up from her computer monitor. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bringing you this.” He set the takeout cup on the edge of her desk and dropped into her apple-red visitor’s chair.

  “Is it a bribe?” She sniffed suspiciously before sipping. “Should I be searching for ulterior motives in the mocha?”

  “Were you always this cynical?”

  “Were you always this calculating?”

  He shrugged at the possibility and swallowed some of his plain black brew. “What’s that?” he asked, gesturing with his cup toward her screen.

  “The floor plan for a suite of medical offices.” She manipulated the mouse and added another line to the plan. “Dr. Samuels. Remember him?”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “And kicking. Just brought in young Dr. Samuels as his new partner, and this—” she nodded at the screen “—is going to be their new place.”

  “Georgie Samuels? All-county quarterback Georgie Samuels?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Wow.”

  “Scary, huh?” Tess shuddered. “Wouldn’t want young Dr. Samuels throwing a pass in my direction now.”

  “Wouldn’t think he’d try.”

  “He did, once.” She swiveled in her chair, a cat-got-the-canary smile on her face. “The summer before my senior year.”

  “Please. Spare me the details.” Dev drained the last of his coffee and pitched the cup into Tess’s stylish waste bin. “Do you use accounting software?”

  “Of course.”

  She minimized the plan on her screen and tapped a few keys as he moved to stand behind her, leaning over her shoulder to view the display. “Is this research for one of your stories?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Depends on what I find out.” He noted the name of the software when it opened—the same he’d seen on the papers in Geneva’s files. “How long have you been using this program?”

  “Less than a year. Since I opened my business.”

  “So you wouldn’t know about upgrades.”

  “Upgrades.” She shuddered. “Don’t say that word out loud. You’ll draw the attention of the evil nerd spirits.”

  “Would you know if certain functions are stable from one version to the next?”

  “There are functions I’ve never looked at. We have an understanding—I don’t poke around where I don’t belong, and this thing doesn’t wipe out my invoices.” She tapped another key and another set of columns appeared. “What is it you’re looking for?”

  “The audit trail.”

  Tess pointed to an item on the menu bar and selected it to show a cascade of choices on the screen. “See here? ‘Audit trail.’ Clicking this item—turning this off—is a very big no-no, my accountant tells me. One of the seven deadly bookkeeping sins, along with losing receipts and forgetting to back up your records—not that I’ve ever been guilty of either of those, you understand.”

  Dev grinned. “Of course not.”

  “On the other hand,” Tess said as she wiggled the cursor away from the dangerous spot, “could be a handy plot device if a mystery writer were working on a story about embezz—”

  She froze and then slowly turned to face him. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t dare do that to Addie. Or to her mother.”

  “I’m not trying to do anything to anyone.” He leaned forward, studying the screen. “At this point, I’m simply trying to understand what happened.”

  “There’s nothing to ‘understand.’ Lena was accused of embezzlement. Geneva refused to bring charges. Case dropped. It’s a matter of record. Knowing why won’t change the facts.”

  “I’m going to find out.”

  “There aren’t enough mochas in the known universe to convince me to help you dredge all this up again.” She pressed a couple of keys, and her monitor screen went dark. “Leave them in peace.”

  “A peace that’s left them in limbo?”

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “My father was involved in this, too.”

  “He’s dead. Sorry, Dev,” Tess added, cringing, “but he can’t be hurt by this. Not anymore.”

  Dev dropped his hands to her shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “You’re going to hurt her.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  “You can’t help it. And when you leave, she’ll be hurt again.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He headed toward the door. “I told you—I’m sticking around until the end of summer.”

  “Oh, great. That’ll make everything so much better.” Tess leaned her elbows on her desk and buried her face in her hands. “I’ve got months of anxiety to look forward to.”

  “You’ll get over it.” He opened her door and turned to face her. “I’m not going to turn my back on the past or run off to the city when the going gets tough. Not anymore.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “WHY, DEV,” ADDIE SAID as Rosie lifted the neck strap of one of Tess’s frilliest aprons over his head on Thursday afternoon. “I never would have guessed pink would be such a good color on you.”

  The scorching glance he sent her was a potent reminder of what had happened after class two days ago.

  You’ve never been kissed by me.

  And when summer ended, she’d probably never be kissed like that again. Dev would be gone in a few weeks, and until that time, she intended to kiss him every chance she got. To store up memories to stash beside her fanta
sies. Memories of fiery, bold, primary-color kisses that put her muted pastel dreams to shame.

  Hold on tight.

  “Let me get that for you, Virgil.” Addie moved around the table to tie a string bow at the back of Virgil’s waist. “Looks like this apron has seen its share of barbecues.”

  “When I put on an apron, I don’t mess around.” Virgil adjusted the band around his neck and stepped back, arms raised. “Good enough for the goo?”

  Addie nodded. “Good enough. Is everyone ready?”

  “I guess so.” Teddi stared at her container of black glazier’s putty with obvious revulsion. “Are you sure that stuff we rubbed on our hands will keep them clean?”

  Addie held up her own. “You never see any black on mine, do you?” She scooped half a handful of the putty onto a paper plate and pressed her thumb in the middle to make a shallow well. “Okay, dig in. Get your putty on your work area, and I’ll come around with the oil.”

  Rosie plunged her hand into Dev’s container and scraped up the right amount of oily black goo. “Awesome.”

  “Good job.” Addie added a bit of linseed oil to Rosie’s putty. “Now knead it like a little loaf of bread.”

  “What’s kneading?”

  “I’ll show you.” Dev folded the putty, pressed with the heel of his hand and then flipped over another fold to press again.

  Addie stared, amazed. “You bake?”

  “No.” His smile was a slow, stroking tease. “I dated a baker once.”

  Addie stared at his hands as they squeezed and pressed and massaged the black goo, and she imagined the feel of those hands moving over her skin as she kissed him.

  “Let me do it.” Rosie took over the chore, and Addie moved around the table, checking on her students’ progress.