Her Dakota Summer

by Dahlia Dewinters

  He couldn’t see her face, but her tone was teasing. “I don’t know. First year out. It wasn’t what I expected.”

  “Things like that take time.”

  His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could see her a little better now. She held her beer in her right hand and he watched as she tilted the bottle up to her lips. His breath hitched in his chest and he looked away. For lack of something better to do, he picked up his own bottle. Warmed, the beer was less appetizing now, but he swallowed the rest of it anyway and wondered what time it was.

  As if she were reading his mind, she placed her bottle on the table and made as if to get up. “I’m going to go inside,” she said, yawning. “I’ve got a conference call Monday at nine to prepare for tomorrow.” She giggled. “I think summers get me all messed up. What time is it?”

  “Don’t know.” Not wanting her to leave just yet, Dakota reached for her hand and touched the bandage he’d applied earlier. “How’s the finger?”

  “Just fine, thank you.” Celeste’s hand was warm in his. “Much better than I could have done on my own.” She smiled as she eased her hand from his and got up from her seat. “Makes me glad you’re here. Good night, Dakota.”

  Standing with her, he raised his hands and lightly grasped her shoulders. “Stay a little longer?” She was a few inches shorter than he was, where the top of her head was level with his lips. All he had to do was tip her chin up a little and he could kiss her. Instead, he inhaled the sultry blend of coconut oil and gardenias.

  Celeste stood motionless. She didn’t look up at him, nor did it seem as if she were breathing. Adrenaline jolted all over his body and he fought with his common sense. His desire for her was so overwhelming that he had finally decided to just go for it when she spoke.

  “Dakota, no.”

  “What?” His pent-up breath whooshed out. “Celeste…”

  Raising her hands, she stepped backward, leaving him without her body heat. At first glance, he thought she was going to place them on his chest, but she didn’t. Instead she held them about an inch away from his skin so he could feel the warmth of her palms but not touch them. Frustrating as hell.

  “We aren’t going to do this.” Her voice was quiet.

  “But…” He yearned to be close to her. The nearness of her body called to him. “It’s all right. It won’t affect—”

  “No. No.” She seemed to be trying to convince herself. “Dakota. Good night.”

  Before he could speak again, she turned and left.

  He sank down into his chair and finished the last swallow of beer, wondering if she was going to send him packing the next morning.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, the awkward near miss of the night before hit Celeste moments before she tasted the remnants of beer in her mouth. She hadn’t had beer in years, preferring hard liquor to fermented hops. Getting out of bed, she allowed herself a few moments of reminiscing as she straightened the covers, finally determining that neither of them had done anything irrevocable. However, something inside her wished that were different.

  She went through the motions of her morning routine by rote, her mind focused on the middle-of-the-night encounter. Shivering, she recalled the light, warm pressure of his fingers on her upper arms and the heat vibrating under her palms when she had almost, but not quite, touched his chest.

  Celeste yanked open the mini-blinds, hoping the clear light of morning would serve to dispel her foolish thoughts. Dakota oozed sexuality, and wasn’t afraid to show it, as he had so clearly demonstrated. At forty years old, she was the one who had to be in control. She was his boss. He was her nanny, and in a matter of a few weeks, he would be on to his next venture.

  The smell of pancakes and bacon made her stomach growl and she hurried down the steps. Usually, the boys would occupy themselves with cereal until she appeared to cook a proper breakfast, but on this Sunday morning, someone had beat her to the punch.

  “Well,” she said, entering the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Mommy.” Mumbling through a mouthful of pancake, Jackson waved his fork at her.

  “Morning, Mom.” Her more subdued son stabbed at his stack of hotcakes.

  “Morning, gentlemen.” Celeste strode over to the cabinet and grabbed her coffee cup from its hook.

  “Good morning, Celeste.” The sound of his voice, purring softly made the hairs stand up at the back of her neck, and her nipples pebble in her bra.

  She gave him a half-smile and refused to meet his amused gaze. “Morning, Dakota.” She attempted a joke to break the tension. “I hope you’re not going to charge me extra for cooking.”

  “We’ll work something out, I’m sure.” He handed her a plate of pancakes and bacon. “Have some breakfast.”

  This time she dared to meet his eyes. Amused wasn’t quite the term she would use for what she saw there. It was more of a subtle challenge, as if last night was a test and she had passed.

  “Oh, no thank you,” she said. “I only have coffee in the morning.”

  Nodding, he put the plate on the counter and turned back to the stove. “Something about women, I learned not so long ago.” He spoke so only she could hear. “They have to refuse the first time.” After turning off the gas burner, he picked up the plate again and held it out to her. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Celeste. You should really have some.” One side of his mouth tipped up in a smile.

  Without breaking eye contact, Celeste lifted her hand and took the proffered plate. The significance of what he’d said, and how he’d said it was far from lost on her. If she thought he wasn’t going to try again, she was wrong.

  The pancakes and bacon were surprisingly good and despite Dakota’s little game, she cleaned her plate and finished what Jackson had left when he and Malcolm took their books onto the deck. Feeling full and satisfied, she sipped at her second cup of coffee and considered what she was going to do today after she prepared for tomorrow's call.

  Dakota sat down across from her. “More coffee?”

  Celeste shook her head. “You don’t have to wait on me. That’s not part of the job.”

  “I like to,” he said, digging into his own plate. “I’m not worried about the job.”

  “About last night—” Celeste began.

  “You’re going to fire me?”

  For some reason, that made her laugh. “Not at all.” She took a sip of coffee. “But nothing can happen between us. We have to keep this strictly business.”

  Chewing, his face was thoughtful and she was both disappointed and pleased he seemed to agree with her so readily.

  “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

  Embarrassed, Celeste pushed her hot coffee away. “Dakota.”

  “But I will try to respect your wishes.”

  Sighing, she got up from the table. “I hope so,” she said and dumped her coffee in the sink.

  Just before she left the kitchen, she heard him say, “Do you really?”

  * * * *

  A week later, Celeste took advantage of the quiet time after dinner to sneak in some extra work time. She leaned closer to the computer screen, peering at her current assignment, an action-adventure novel with more than a dash of romance for the daring hero.

  A day trader in her former life, though rough going, had made her a lot of money in a short amount of time. The pressure of that and her ex-husband’s profession had been the breaking point in their marriage. Truth be told, Charles had probably been a little teed off that she’d been such a skilled trader, but that hadn’t stopped him from taking his half when he’d decided to leave the marriage.

  Being a freelance editor was so much easier, and she was able to take full advantage of her college English major, after a few brush-up courses at the local community college.

  Celeste began to click through the file, noting punctuation errors and the occasional plot issue, but no matter how much she loved her job, her enthusiasm for working today waned. She sli
d her fingers through her curls and massaged her scalp, eyes closed. Cool shower then bed. Despite the air-conditioning, the summer night was still sticky-warm.

  There was a soft knock on the door and she looked up, expecting to see Malcolm. Instead, it was Dakota. A wide smile burst out on her face, and for once she didn’t care. After working diligently for the last few hours, she needed a bright spot.

  “Come in and save me from my work.” She raised her hand to the back of her neck and rubbed.

  “With pleasure.” He sprawled in the chair beside her desk, providing a good look at his smooth calves, the muscles working under the bronzed skin. The sun had darkened him even more, giving him a healthy look. The scent of fresh grass and another, more mysterious fragrance drifted her way and her nostrils flared, memorizing it.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “The boys are officially in bed. Not sure if they’re asleep yet, but their heads are touching the pillows.”

  “Any problems today?”

  “No, no problems. Frogs and snakes and the like.” He waved a hand. “You heard it all during dinner.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the mention of slimy things. “They seemed to be having a good time.”

  Dakota laughed. “That’s cute, the way your nose crinkles up like that.”

  “Snakes and frogs are a little out of my comfort zone,” she admitted. “I don’t mind the snakes so much, but those jumping frogs. Yuk.”

  He gazed around the office, obviously taking in her plants, her paintings and she supposed, her clutter. “This is a nice office.”

  Celeste smiled. “It’s a little small, but it’s my own private space.” She dropped the pen she’d been playing with into the pencil cup. “No action figures allowed.”

  “It’s good to have private space.” Dakota gazed at her for a brief moment. “It’s also good to share.”

  A warm blush moved over her face and she prayed that her tan would cover it. He was definitely teasing her.

  “Well, yes…” she said to break the growing silence between them. “Anytime you have any issues, my door is always open.” And why did every single thing she say have some sexual overtone? She rubbed the back of her neck again.

  He leaned forward, a look of concern on his face. “Are you okay? I mean, that’s the second or third time you’ve done that.”

  “My neck gets stiff when I sit at the computer for too long.” Her eyes widened when he jumped up, came around the desk and stood behind her.

  “Let’s see if we can remedy that. Do you mind if I touch you?”

  Oh. My. Goodness. Celeste shook her head. “No,” she managed to say. “That’s fine.”

  The soothing touch of his hands on her neck was relaxing, so relaxing she wanted to put her head down on the blotter of her desk and simply go to sleep. Instead, she sat, stiff, as he massaged her neck with gentle hands, somehow getting right to the cramp and easing her tight muscles. She would get through this without thinking impure thoughts.

  “How does that feel?” he asked.

  “Fine. It’s good.” Celeste gripped the edge of her desk, knowing and not caring that the tension would radiate up her shoulders. The blood surged through her veins, sending signals to parts of her body that hadn’t been awake in a long while. She had to put a stop to this.

  “Thank you,” she said and made a move as if to stand up.

  Dakota took his hands from her shoulders and stepped back, giving her room. She stood, rolled her shoulders and smiled. “Thank you, I feel better.”

  “Good.” He walked to the office door, turned and gave her a last look. “Good night, then, Celeste.”

  “Good night, Dakota.”

  As soon as he cleared the doorway and she was sure he had gone downstairs, she closed the door to her office then sank down into the chair he’d just vacated. Her body was humming and she was mortified to note that her hands were shaking. What had happened to being in control of herself, her life? Some twenty-something was making her lose it like that? The cushions were still warm from his body and she squeezed her trembling hands together. Enough was enough. She had to get out and do something for herself besides mooning over her young nanny.

  Chapter Eight

  Celeste sat in the passenger seat, one hand on the door handle. Through the open window she smelled the citrus fragrance of her neighbor’s lemon balm plants. Being around Dakota for the past three weeks had ramped her own temperature up to near boiling and she’d needed some male company her own age.

  Unfortunately, that age and gender appropriate company was another tedious date with her “friend” Michael. She called him when she wanted a male companion without the entanglement of a relationship, though she suspected she was on borrowed time in the friend area. She exhaled, listening to the crickets and the buzzing cicadas in the hot July night. The house was dark except for a light in Dakota’s suite and in the living room, which told her the boys were asleep and Dakota…well, Dakota was tucked away safely. Celeste sighed again and fanned herself. She should have stayed at home.

  Celeste had felt it all night, a nagging feeling in the back of her neck that Michael was working himself up to ask to spend the night. It had been five dates, spread over six months. He was nice, witty, charming even, a wonderful dinner date, but sometime between the fish and the dessert, she’d lost any desire to see him again—ever. Thinking back, Charles had been nice, witty and charming when they'd gotten together, and she’d ended up divorcing him. She was wasting Michael's time and her own.

  Drumming her fingers on the armrest, she made up her mind. “Michael. Maybe we should just be social friends. No more of these dates.”

  He had been fiddling with the radio, but now he turned toward her. The seatbelt cut into the shoulder of his crisp white shirt.

  “What do you mean? I think we’re good together.” His expression was surprised.

  Celeste shook her head. She didn’t want this to be a huge thing. “All the more reason.” She opened the car door and put one foot onto the blacktop of the driveway. “This is going in a direction that wouldn’t be so good for either of us. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to ruin our friendship, you know? Good night.” She shut the door.

  Her heels made a muted clacking sound as she navigated the front walk by the subtle light of the solar lanterns. Lightning bugs glimmered in the night air and she could smell the distinctly summer fragrance of citronella and barbeque smoke.

  The car door shut with a thunk and Michael caught up with her then took her arm.

  “What gives with this, Cel? I thought we were getting along okay?”

  She pulled her arm out of his grasp, climbed the three concrete steps to the porch and began searching for her keys. “I told you that we do get along. We have a nice friendly relationship. Let’s keep it that way. Friends.” She glanced up at him. “I don’t want to keep you from pursuing a real relationship.”

  “Come on, Cel.” He grabbed at her arm again. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “Keep your voice down. The boys are asleep.” Where the heck are my keys?

  “I don’t think you’re being fair. We’ve been seeing each since the start of the year. Granted, not as often as I’d like but—”

  Celeste faced him square on. “When it comes to what I want to do, being fair to you isn’t in my vocabulary. When we started this, I thought it was clear we were just keeping each other company. I never indicated to you that I wanted to take this any further.” She softened her tone, even though she knew it was more about his pride than her rejecting him. “Good night, Michael.”

  “You can’t be serious about this?”

  He won’t give up, will he? “We have to stop wasting each other’s time like this. I’m not looking for a relationship.” She spoke as gently as she could. “Good night.”

  His expression hardened. “You’re not listening.”

  “Michael.” Her voice was sharp, but a slight twinge of fear lurched in her belly and she stepped back.
She closed her hand over her keys in her purse—finally—and she squeezed her fingers around the warm metal, prepared to draw them out and use them if necessary.

  The front door opened and there was Dakota, clad only in a T-shirt and shorts.

  “Celeste, glad you’re here,” he said in a calm voice, eyeing Michael up and down. He turned back to her, concern in his eyes. “Jackson woke up.”

  Saved by the nanny. “Thank you, Dakota.” She stepped into the cool interior of her house, away from the agitated expression of her spurned date.

  Michael spoke to her back. “Who the hell is this?”

  Celeste spun around, her keys biting into her hand. “Not like it’s any business of yours, but he’s my nanny.”

  Michael snorted. “A male nanny? First time I’ve ever seen one. Couldn’t get a real job, son?”

  “That’s not your concern.” Dakota made as if to close the door, but Celeste stopped him.

  “Don’t call me again. Being friends is off the table.” She let Dakota close the door then.

  * * * *

  Dakota turned off the porch light. The man could make his way to his car in the dark. His primary concern was Celeste.

  Celeste sat on the sofa, her purse clutched in her lap. He switched on a low table lamp and sat beside her.

  “Are you all right?”

  Nodding, she took a deep breath. “Just getting it together before I go up to see Jackson.”

  “Jackson’s asleep.” He wanted to bury his nose in that special place at the bend of her neck, inhale her smell so that she would be with him forever. His dick began to swell, rising and pressing against the fabric of his shorts. He shifted on the sofa, glad of the low lamp light.

  Celeste turned to him, a glint of suspicion in her gaze. “Then why did you say…”

  “It was the least obtrusive thing I could say to defuse the situation,” he said. “I didn’t know what the guy was going to do next and I wanted to get you into the house as quickly as I could. I’m sorry for the lie.”