“Hazardous conditions in P.R., huh?”
I toss my napkin at him. “Yes, working in the public eye . . . hello, stalkers. Or what if I get bit by one of my client’s rabid fans.”
He laughs a deep rumbling laugh. “I wonder where restaurateur ranks on that list?”
Tyler stands and gathers up our bowls. I reach for our now empty wine glasses wanting to help clean up after he’d made such a wonderful meal. Everything was awesome and I can’t remember when I’ve had a more enjoyable evening.
“No, you sit. Enjoy. Do you want an after-dinner drink? Maybe a La Perla?”
He smirks and I burn. The way he is looking at me with his blue eyes so intently focused on me, and the angle of his neck, those wide shoulders begging for my legs to be slung over them—it’s all so very enticing. I want to kiss him.
For once, I don’t think.
For once, I take my shot.
I stand. I don’t remember who moves first, but the sound of ceramic plates clatter together. His hands are in my hair and my hands land on his waist. Then I’m flush against him. Tyler is all hard muscle and he smells so good—clean soap and a spice I can’t identify.
Our lips crash together in a frantic rush. I know in this moment as our lips meet, that all bets are off. This is happening.
I want him, right here, right now. I want my skirt hiked up over my hips, panties balled up on the floor and him pulling his pants down just enough to shove his cock inside me.
Every second sparks like a disco ball. His tongue strokes over mine as my hands glide over the hard planes of his body. He presses against me, I groan feeling the ridge of his cock grinding against my thigh.
“You are beautiful,” he whispers against my lips.
Tyler’s hands move down and cup my ass. Pleasure swims in my chest and I’m drowning in need. I need his shirt off. Need his hands to grip my waist. I need every inch of him against me. Inside me.
“Tyler,” I pant.
The throb between my legs is utter agony. Slickness pools and sweat forms at my hairline.
“Yes, Haven,” he answers, rocking his erection against me once more.
“Mmm, you feel so good.”
“I like making you feel good. I want to make it so good for you, beautiful.”
He kisses me again. My hands pull at his shirt yanking him closer. His hand drifts to my thighs, the gentle scraping of his fingertips over my skin drives me mad.
Then he does something that surprises me—he edges back. I don’t take it as rejection when his hands come up to frame my face.
“I want you,” he says.
My hands circle his wrists. “I want you too.”
“I also want to know you.” He pauses for a beat. “And as much as I’d love to strip you naked and fuck you over this table or the bar or against the fireplace.” His lips map over my cheek and down my neck. “And god, I want to see you naked,” he hisses. His warm breath fans over my heated skin and that’s when my brain registers that my panties are sticking to me in the best way.
“I will make it good for you. I promise.”
Tyler Nichols strikes me as a man who makes good on all his promises.
“I know you will.”
His lips land on mine and he dips his tongue inside my mouth stroking me slowly. “Like you won’t believe.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. I’ve never felt so starved for a man in all my life.
“Are you okay to drive home?” he asks, pressing his forehead to mine.
I smile. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you for dinner and dessert and the kissing.”
“There’s more where all that came from, Haven.” He tucks my hair behind my ear.
A deep breath leaves my lungs as I drag my eyes over his broad shoulders and down his body, savoring this moment.
“Have a good night, Tyler,” I whisper, scooping up my clutch.
“Sleep well, beautiful.”
I don’t allow myself to linger. I shift and walk toward the door. With a permanent smile plastered on my face, I drive back to Sage’s place replaying every moment from tonight in my mind.
A man who can kiss like Tyler, wow, I’m sure that was a preview of what he’ll be like in bed. And I can’t wait to find out. The torture of his promise twists inside me, but in a good way. The waiting might kill me.
Haven
It takes me the better part of the morning to get my notes together for my meetings with Beatrice, Zooey and Kenna. My first call is with Beatrice. She’s an early riser and I know that she’s in the office bright and early at seven a.m.
“Good morning, Haven,” she greets me when I call. “How are you?”
“Hi there, Beatrice. I’m fine aside from the Scott Benson drama.”
“Are we calling it drama?” she asks.
My fingers splay against my forehead. “Maybe. What’s the latest?”
“Not a peep from his camp,” she informs. “Rumor has it, he pissed off his label when they caught wind that he tried to fire MCA. You.”
I laugh. “Well, I’m fine with passing him on to Kenna or Zooey and I’m always available to help with the transition. He doesn’t want me anymore, fine.”
“Well, since Kenna is the lead on several of your personal P.R. clients, I think she’s up for the challenge. Not to mention, her background in music.”
Kenna Tikkas. I scooped up the Rutgers grad two years ago. She got her start working for small labels in Nashville then moved to Los Angeles helping a roster of artists gain exposure—specifically Dalton McCoy and Kylie Clemson.
“My thoughts exactly, B.”
“And yesterday, I went to your condo. I cleaned out your fridge since you won’t be back until next month. I packed all the clothing items that you asked for. They were shipped out bright and early this morning, and I just emailed you the tracking number.”
“Thank you. You are a godsend.”
“So, how was the wedding? Did you meet someone?”
I smile. “I did actually. He’s smart, handsome and a great kisser.”
Beatrice cheers and claps her hands. “Good for you. I just had a feeling about this weekend.”
“We’ll see what happens. I’m only here for the next few weeks. Things might get complicated.”
“Just take it one day at a time.”
I end my call with Beatrice and dial Kenna’s desk phone. She picks up on the third ring.
“Hi, Haven. Zooey is here with me.”
I can picture them both huddled into Kenna’s cubicle—my dream team.
“Good morning, Haven,” Zooey chirps. “Oh wait, is it still morning where you are?”
A smile plays on my lips. “I’m in Kentucky not Europe, Zooey.”
“Is that near Chicago?” she asks.
I move my phone away from my mouth and exhale sharply. “You want to see where I’m from?”
“Yeah,” they both say in unison.
“Pull up a map of the Kentucky Bourbon Trail and look for a town called, Mayfield.”
The sounds of fingers tapping on keys drifts over the line.
“Oh, wow, you’re way out there,” Zooey exclaims.
Zooey has strong written skills, but I want her to travel more. As a California native, she’s very knowledgeable about the city. She’s always up-to-date with breaking entertainment news, and is my go-to girl for the latest in movies and television. But outside of the city, yeah, I look for other sources of information.
“Okay,” I start. “The next few weeks will be a challenge, but I know the two of you can handle everything. And Beatrice will be with you both every step of the way. Use her as a resource.”
They both agree and then Kenna briefs me on the latest news about our clients. No surprises. Nothing I’m not already in the loop about—so far so good.
“Zooey, I need you at the Netflix Q&A with Grady James on Thursday evening. This will be a long night. From our shared calendar it looks like you are free.”
“Yep,
I am on it.”
“Kenna, you’ll be with Harlow Trembley on Wednesday at the Chateau Marmont. This is an all-day photoshoot for her feature in InStyle. Then, on Thursday, I need you over at Extra with Scott Benson. He’s giving a short interview and a performance.”
“Got it, boss.”
“Now, on Friday, Scott will be giving a special performance on E! News. Zooey, I want you there with him since Kenna has the day off.”
The meeting progresses and they update me on their clients and tasks. Kenna updates the calendar while Zooey fills me on new client print features. We chat about social media blasts—heavy on Instagram—and we wrap just in time for lunch. I end the call feeling really good about everything.
I spend the rest of my day answering emails, returning phone calls and typing out creative pitches for my clients. And since I didn’t spend any part of my day running around—driving from one talk show to the next—I’m finished by four o’clock. But honestly, my work is really never done. It’s that I don’t have to be tied to the desk any longer.
Oliver, who I haven’t seen since breakfast, saunters in and flops beside me on the floor.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, and reach down to scratch his head.
He pushes up and lets me pet him until he’s had enough, then he scurries over to the water bowl.
My phone buzzes and Ryleigh’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hey, Ryleigh.”
“Stopped by your office earlier, but Beatrice tells me that you’re still in Kentucky.”
“Yeah, long story.” I fill her in on everything. I wish I could text Sage and ask if she’s heard from Anna.
“Wow,” she says. “So, how does it feel being home?”
“Not as terrible as I originally imagined.” I take a deep breath and then I blurt it all out—everything about me and Scott.
“Girl,” she says, her voice raises an octave. “I knew you were sleeping with that country boy. And for the record, I think he’s an ass.”
“That’s pretty much the consensus.”
“And he fired you?”
I laugh and refill my water glass. “Well, technically, I just passed him onto Kenna and Zooey. They’re handling him from here on out. I am done with Scott Benson.”
“Good, when you get back to L.A., we’ll have drinks at a.o.c. and order a small plate of cheese and marinated olives.”
My thoughts drift to Tyler because the wine bar Ryleigh mentions reminds me of The Saffron House. Right down to the décor. I wonder what he’s up to?
“I hate to cut this short, but that’s my other line. Take care, Haven. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I toss my phone onto the kitchen table and look out over the duck pond. Shit. Was I supposed to feed them? Sage didn’t say anything about feeding the ducks. I pick up my phone and Google: What do ducks eat?
Small fish, fish eggs, grass, leaves, weeds . . . and the list goes on. Grains and seeds.
I swipe my phone and bring up Tyler’s number.
Me: Hey, do you know if Sage feeds the ducks every day?
Tyler: I don’t think so. Why what’s going on?
Me: Just wondering if I should feed them. I am a little worried.
Tyler: They’ll be okay. What about you? Do you need food?
Butterflies take flight and zip around in my stomach. I smile and pull open the refrigerator door. I haven’t been to the grocery yet. There’s a package of turkey, plenty of cheese and yogurt. But that’s what I’ve already had today.
Me: I could eat.
Tyler: Okay, I’ll pick you up after work. Does six work?
Me: Yes. I’ll be ready.
I place my phone on the counter and pull the cat food container from the pantry. “Oliver, I’m going out,” I call out to him. “On a date, maybe. Here’s your dinner.”
Oliver comes running into the kitchen heading straight for his bowl.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy say, “I’ll pick you up.” Not even when I was allowed to start dating. But I didn’t date much back then. Not even in college that I can remember. Surely, some guy picked me up and took me out to a restaurant.
I refresh Oliver’s water and put a couple of treats in his dish.
Now, I need to get ready and do something with this hair. I go upstairs and raid Sage’s closet. She doesn’t have too many dresses, but I find a pretty knit, sleeveless dress with a scoop neckline that fits perfectly.
My phone pings alerting me to an email. One of my clients has been selected for the fall season of Singing with the Stars. That means I’ll have to attend the shows every Monday and Tuesday night because there will be a press line. Hard work. Lots of work. I can handle it. We can handle it.
Can I handle tonight, though?
I like Tyler. He likes me.
I plug in my curling iron and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My fingers dance against my lips. I close my eyes and think about his hands on me and his lips on mine.
Those lips. I feel that tongue on my lips. On my skin. Everywhere.
I feel something, something strange. But a good strange. These feelings all seem new.
I pick up the iron and start curling the ends of my hair just enough to give it some volume. Once I finish, I apply lotion to my legs, and then it hits me . . . I need to shave. Fuck. Flipping on the spray I warm up the water, then I pile my hair on top of my head to avoid wrecking all the work that I just did.
I take way too long getting ready. As I glance at the clock, the realization that Tyler will be here soon hits me like a tidal wave.
I’m hoping whatever Tyler has planned that I am not underdressed or overdressed. Lord. I’ve never stressed out so much about what to wear.
Then I think, did I ever try to impress a guy? Not that I need to impress a guy with clothes, hair and makeup, but looking my best for him makes me feel beautiful.
Pressing my palms to the dress, I do a final check. Curling iron off. Makeup put away. Sink rinsed out.
I turn off the lights and walk through the guest bedroom and into the kitchen. The sun is still high in the sky. I lock the kitchen door and walk down the hallway to the sunroom.
Blue, blue skies and it’s nearly six in the evening. I can’t remember a time when my weekday evenings felt like this. At this time back in L.A., I’d be wrapping up a photoshoot and racing back to the office or to my next appointment. I step outside and inhale the fresh air.
Standing here in the sun, I allow myself to appreciate the moment. I don’t hear blaring car horns. There’s no smog.
Silence fills the space aside from the rumbling of Tyler’s truck cruising down the road.
Am I seriously standing here in a sundress and flip-flops waiting for a guy? I’m so happy and excited. Is this even real?
Tyler pulls into the driveway, maneuvering up and around and coming to a stop where I’m standing.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says after putting the truck into park. “Hop in.”
I feel like I’m living inside a movie. My body leaps and so do I, right off the backsteps.
Rounding the back of the truck I feel Tyler’s eyes on me. I can’t help the smile that crosses my lips. He reaches across and pops the door open for me. I climb in and he leans into me capturing my lips with his. His scruff scrapes along my skin. A bolt of desire lands right between my legs and my nipples harden against the fabric of my bra.
I have never been so hot and bothered for someone as much as I am for Tyler. Holy moly. What is wrong with me? It must be all this fresh air. It’s screwing with me.
He pulls back. “You ready, sunshine?”
“Sunshine,” I repeat. “What happened to beautiful?”
“With your blond hair and those tan legs, rockin’ this yellow dress, you look like summer and sunshine. Taste like it too. And you’re beautiful and all mine . . . for tonight anyway.”
I laugh. Such a charmer. He looks so good. The fabric of his grey t-shirt is pulled tight over his arms, sho
wing off his biceps. His jeans hug his thighs and I can’t help that my stare lingers.
“A girl could get used to all your flattering comments.”
He shoves the truck into drive. “I want the girl to get used to being told that she’s beautiful. And smart.” He stops in the driveway and leans over to kiss me. “And did I mention beautiful?”
I laugh, cupping his cheek. “You did, handsome.”
Tyler
“Are you going to clue me in on where you’re taking me? And are you sure that I’m dressed okay?”
“Remember I told you that you looked beautiful?” I kiss the back of her hand. “Hope that answers your question.”
Seeing Haven tonight was just what I needed. My law office project hit a snag this morning. The carpet tiles the crew had laid over the weekend popped up from the subfloor. I spent the morning on the phone with my rep because they’d sent the wrong adhesive. I double checked my order. Sure enough, I’d ordered the correct product and it was even on the bill of lading.
However, the labels clearly stated the incorrect product. People need to pay better attention. I’m more pissed that my crew didn’t catch it. There’s no excuse for not reading labels.
Thank goodness Jace and George had things under control at the restaurant. At least all was right there.
When Haven sent me the earlier text it pulled me right out of my sour mood. I’d just given the crew an ass chewing and fired my lead guy. Being with her chases away all the heaviness.
When she tells me about her day and how she pretty much kicked ass, I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face. I grasp her hand in mine as I drive us toward downtown Mayfield. There’s a 50s style drive-in I want to take her to. It was on that Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives show once, had the whole county buzzing.
There’s a lot of things I want to do with Haven. Things I’ve never given much thought about with any other woman.
I want to take her to my bed and keep her there for a month straight. But since I’m not about to be that guy, I’m going to treat her right and soak up every moment while she’s here.
I don’t like thinking about her leaving to go back to L.A. But that’s the way life goes. Life happens and we can’t stop it. Most of us are lucky enough to hop on the train and enjoy the ride.
Beautiful March Page 11
