The Trouble With Love

by Beth Ciotta

  Chloe texted back within seconds: THANK U!

  Monica texted: Movin’ on!

  Typically, Luke had called. How bad was it?

  Not that bad. Which makes me feel worse.

  Want to talk about it?

  No.

  Okay, Luke said. Visiting Sam today, but I can swing by after. Give you a lift to Gram’s for dinner.

  I’m not sure—

  Pick you up at four.

  Instead of arguing, Rocky had sucked it up. It’s not like Dev, Luke, or Chloe was going to bring up her indiscretion over dessert. Rocky was fairly certain they’d never mention it again. Still, she felt self-conscious.

  What was Jayce feeling? Thinking? Was he going head-to-head with Dev this very minute? A warning from her would have been courteous, but dammit she was still angry with the man for misleading her in New York. He should have told her he was moving home before they hit the sack. Because of that incredible one-nighter—their second freaking amazing one-nighter—Jayce had her more twisted up than ever, not that she intended to admit that to him. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say when they next met—which she hoped wouldn’t be for a few days at least.

  She glanced at her phone, snuffed a flash of guilt. If Dev did confront Jayce, the cocky PI could handle himself, and besides, this was what he’d wanted. No more secrets.

  Where do we go from here?

  Pushing Jayce from her mind for the zillionth time, Rocky focused on her supposed distraction.

  A new Creepy Cupcake treat.

  The Spookytown Spectacular was five days away. She had plenty of time to prepare and her Gingerbread Pumpkin Cupcakes had already gotten the thumbs-up from the Cupcake Lovers. Not as the featured giveaway, but as cupcakes to be sold in order to benefit the Sugar Tots playground fund. Thing was, Tasha planned on selling her Death By Maple cupcakes and everyone in town knew how incredible those cupcakes were. Tasha’s famous DBMs would sell out long before Rocky’s GBCs. Honestly, aside from the twist of crystallized ginger, her Gingerbread Pumpkins were pretty standard. Any baker with a lick of talent could whip up the same delicious concoction. She hated to admit it, but she’d been a tad irritated when the editor and publicist of Highlife had fawned more over the Death By Maples than any of the other cupcakes they’d tasted from the CL sampler. The more she thought about it, the more it bugged her. She wasn’t about to let Tasha show her up at the Spooktacular.

  Hence a new recipe.

  Rocky had experimented with banana and pumpkin, but while pouring batter into the cupcake liners she’d remembered Monica saying something about using that combo. Desperate for unique inspiration, Rocky had skimmed a few baking sites online. That’s when she’d run across a recipe that had been handed down from one Turlington generation to another. Not that Rocky knew the Turlingtons, but she was a sucker for tradition. She took it as a supreme challenge to put her own spin on a traditional recipe while staying true to the original concept. Hence a mere variation on measurements and spices. Maybe an adjustment on texture. A unique topping design. Something to make it her own.

  Caught up in a creative blitz, she cursed when someone knocked on her front door. It had to be Dev.

  Or Jayce.

  Chloe was manning Moose-a-lotta solo. Gram was at church along with most of the other Cupcake Lovers. Luke was visiting Sam.

  Oh, hell. What if it was Adam? Nice, reliable, always reasonable Adam, coming to bury the hatchet. She’d been hoping to mend their friendship. Just not today.

  Rocky moved quickly, wanting to slay the suspense.

  Don’t let it be Jayce. Don’t let it be Jayce.

  She straightened her spine and opened the door.

  So much for wishful thinking.

  Rocky stared at the Adonis standing on her front porch, her heart bucking like a wild stallion. Faded blue jeans, black peacoat, black boots. How could basic casual wear be so sexy on a man? His longish hair was raked back from his chiseled features. His goatee neatly trimmed. His killer eyes hidden behind those damned aviator sunglasses. She hated that she couldn’t see his eyes, read his intent. She hated that she wanted to jump his infuriating bones.

  “Nice play,” Jayce said.

  Her fluttery insides churned. “Dev came to see you.” Narrowing her eyes, she noted a slight discoloring along the Adonis’s jawline. “Oh, God. Did Dev punch you? Did you hit him back?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Because it was the natural thing to do? Reflex? Pride? “If someone hit me, I’d strike back.” She flashed on the knockdown drag-out she’d had with Tasha a few weeks back. It’s not that Rocky was violent, but she wasn’t a doormat either. “So what happened? Did he tear you a new one? Brand you a disappointment? Lecture you? Threaten you?”

  “He brought coffee and Danish.”

  “What?”

  “He may have dropped a curse word or two; then he asked about my new business venture.”

  “What?”

  “Secret’s out. Guilty parties admonished. Moving on,” Jayce said.

  Rocky gaped. “It can’t be as easy as that.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  Was that supposed to make her feel better? It didn’t. It intimated that she’d made a mountain out of a molehill—for thirteen freaking years. Torn between mortification and fury, Rocky struggled not to slam the door in Jayce’s face. “Okay. Well, I’m glad Dev didn’t shoot you. You’re right. Secret’s out. No one died. Moving on. Good luck with your new venture.”

  She gaped as Jayce ignored the brush-off and stepped inside. Fidgeted as he pocketed his shades, scanned the tarp-covered furniture, the stripped walls, and the sanded banister and newel post of the stairway. She prided herself on maintaining a picture-perfect interior. Currently every room, including the back porch and roof, was in the process of upgrades.

  “I’m not sure who’s living in more chaos,” he said. “You or me.”

  Rocky couldn’t think straight, so she clung to his observation. “Makes me batty. The upheaval,” she clarified. “But the contractors promised they’d be done soon. Two weeks more. Approximately.”

  “Even in the chaos, your flair for decorating shines through. I could use some decorating advice,” Jayce said, knocking her even more off balance. “Since the last tenants moved out, I had the walls repainted and the floors refurbished, but other than that … I’m thinking the kitchen could use an overhaul. New cabinets, appliances.”

  Rocky blinked. Were they really talking home renovations? What the hell? “I can suggest some home décor magazines.”

  His lip twitched. “I’d prefer your hands-on expertise.”

  She scrunched her brow. “You want me to decorate your house?”

  “I shipped up a few of my furnishings and essentials like cookware, linens, sentimental belongings, but for the most part I’d like to start fresh. I want to transform my parents’ house into a home. My home.”

  She had to admit, she was intrigued. She’d only been inside Jayce’s house a couple of times, and she’d always left with the same impression. No sense of warmth. No sense of him. “Have a particular style in mind?” she heard herself asking.

  “Not really. But I am partial to comfort and character.” He gestured to her living area. “Something like this or similar to Daisy’s décor. Something that feels like…”

  “Home.”

  “I need help.”

  Rocky’s heart pounded. The look in his eyes. The tone of his voice. Vulnerability? “As it happens, I do have some time on my hands.” Renovating Jayce’s place would keep her occupied and out from under the construction crew’s feet here at the Red Clover. Plus, it would be fun. “And I do like to decorate,” she reasoned out loud. “I’m a hell of a bargain shopper, if I do say so myself.” Channeling Gram’s reckless zest for life, Rocky took the plunge. “Have a budget in mind?”

  Smiling a little, Jayce pulled his wallet from his inner coat pocket and passed her a credit card. “The balance is clear and the limi
t’s high.”

  “You’re trusting me with a platinum card?”

  “I’m trusting you with my home.”

  Huh. That was kind of hot. And scary. Rocky contemplated the financial responsibility, the thrill of the task, and the danger of spending a lot of time with Jayce.

  “What’s cooking?” he asked with a sniff.

  The trial batch of cupcakes she’d made before she’d decided to give the Turlington recipe a whirl. Rocky glanced at her watch. “Crap.” Two minutes too long. She pocketed Jayce’s credit card, beelined to the kitchen, and opened the oven door. The heat and combined scents of pumpkin and banana overwhelmed. Using a pot holder to slide the muffin pan closer, she stuck a toothpick in the center of the toasty-topped cupcake. “Done. Way done.” She deposited the piping-hot pan on a cooling rack, scowled. “Damn.”

  “They look fine to me,” Jayce said.

  “Shows what you know about baking.”

  “I know nothing about baking.” He moved in behind her, crowding her space, making her nerves jump and her skin tingle. “Maybe you can give me a lesson sometime. Seems a fair trade when I taught you a thing or two.”

  He was referring to their sexual escapades in New York. Rocky’s cheeks burned, and her girly parts ached. She pushed away the memories. Unfortunately, desire lingered. She didn’t want this. Or do I? She’d just agreed to redecorate his house. Which meant she’d be spending a lot of time at his house. With … him. Jesus. “If you think you can erase that argument in New York by distracting me with sex, you’re wrong.”

  “I should’ve told you sooner that I was moving home. I apologize.”

  She blinked over her shoulder. “You do?”

  He nodded. “I’d also like to revisit that discussion regarding our past.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  “I’m sorry if I was insensitive, but—”

  “Let’s leave it at that for now.” She wasn’t ready for another heart-to-heart. She’d had enough of that for one day. At the same time, she gave him credit for trying. Desperate to redirect the conversation, she gestured to the Banana Pumpkin Cupcakes. “As soon as these cool you can taste one. If you like, you can have. Just let me frost them first.” Anything to get rid of the man who scrambled her thoughts and senses.

  Coming clean with Dev had been akin to wiping the slate clean. Jayce seemed intent on rushing forward, while Rocky was still trying to catch her breath. Her mind and heart hadn’t caught up to her new reality—whatever that reality was.

  Mouth quirked in a tender smile, Jayce motioned to the mixing bowls, the flour, sugar, and assorted other ingredients. “Making another batch?”

  “Different recipe. As soon as I put the Banana Pumpkins in the oven, I realized Monica had said something about utilizing that combination for her Spooktacular cupcakes. I could stick with my Gingerbread Pumpkins, but I’m of the mind to knock Tasha down a notch,” Rocky said as she nabbed a package of cream cheese from the fridge. “I found this other recipe … never mind.” She was babbling. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m busy, Jayce.” Go away. “I’m hoping to try out my new cupcakes tonight on Gram and the gang. And—”

  “Dev invited me to dinner.”

  Rocky bobbled a jar of honey. “What?”

  “Thought you should know.”

  Gripping the jar tight, she poured honey over the cream cheese, then opted for her portable mixer over her stand mixer, anything to keep her trembling hands busy. “You turned him down, right? Made some excuse?”

  “He didn’t give me that option.”

  “That cinches it then,” Rocky said as she mixed the icing. “I’m begging off. I’ll say I’m exhausted from the trip.”

  “Are you going to beg off next Sunday and the Sunday after that? Avoid J.T.’s on the off chance I might be shopping there? Shun the Sugar Shack in case I drop by for drinks or dinner? If you think I’m going to boycott Moose-a-lotta, think again. Aside from the Burkes, the Monroes are the most influential family in Sugar Creek. Your relatives are everywhere and they’re an important part of my life. I won’t be a hermit and I’m not leaving town,” he said calmly. “You’re going to have to live with that. With me and what’s burning between us.”

  Rocky spun so fast she neglected to switch off the mixer. Icing splattered everywhere! On her. On Jayce. The counter and floor. Flustered, she cut the power and returned the beaters to the bowl. Heart pounding, she turned to give Jayce hell, only his intimate proximity stole away her breath.

  “If I taste and like,” he said, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her close, “can I have?”

  Her inner thighs tingled. Oh no. She tried to object when he licked icing from her cheek, but all that came out was a low, lusty groan.

  “Tasty.”

  “Honey–cream cheese,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “Rocky Monroe.”

  Oh, God.

  Jayce licked and nibbled her chin, her ear.

  Rocky could feel herself slipping under Jayce’s spell. Control. Take control! She licked a splatter of icing from the corner of his mouth, bit his lower lip in order to warn him off, break the spell, but the aggressive move backfired. A sensual thrill shot through her when he winced, then counteracted with a punishing kiss, a kiss that melted the last of her feeble resistance.

  They were all over each other. Grappling. Kissing.

  Next thing she knew half their clothes were in a puddle on the floor. She should care, but she didn’t. She should stop, but she couldn’t.

  “Upstairs,” she said.

  “Here,” he countered.

  Delirious with lust, she dropped her head back as Jayce trailed hot kisses down her neck, over her shoulders. Her breath caught as he smeared gooey icing over her breasts, then licked and suckled.

  Can’t … breathe.

  She felt his warm, sticky hands on her bare thighs. Jeans, gone. Panties, gone. Naked in her kitchen. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Yet, she heard herself begging for more. Felt Jayce lifting her, laying her on the table. More icing. More tongue and teeth. More delicious delirium as every muscle tensed, her stomach coiled. Then his head was between her legs and one breathless aching moment later … she was done. Spent. Sprawled naked on her kitchen table, senses reeling in the aftermath of a mind-bending orgasm. Not that she was a prude, far from it, but Jesus. “You should go.”

  “Nice try.”

  Jayce hauled her off the table, into his arms, and carried her upstairs. Hadn’t she suggested that in the first place?

  “We’re sticky,” he said, bypassing her bed and heading for her modernized bathroom.

  “Whose fault is that?” Just thinking about the way he’d licked honey–cream cheese icing from her body sent an erotic shiver up her spine. “If you think you’re going to have your way with me in the shower—”

  “I’d be right.”

  They were barely soaked before he had her against the tiled wall. His muscled front to her slick back, Jayce took her from behind. Rocky gasped at the feel of him, trembled, and moaned. A word whispered at the back of her foggy mind. Control. Oh, Jayce was definitely in control. Although that wasn’t exactly right. “Wait.”

  In answer he suckled her earlobe, plunged deeper. Oh, hell, did she squeal?

  One arm around her waist, Jayce intensified the rhythm, the pressure, and Rocky’s body responded—wanting more, needing more. They came as one and she swore she saw stars. Just like the first time. How sappy, but there it was. Freaking galactic stars. “You realize you’ve made matters worse,” she managed as her heart thudded and the water pelted.

  He held her close. “I’m not running from this, Rocky.”

  “You could at least slow down.”

  “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

  She turned in his arms, stared up into his hypnotic eyes. “What does that mean?”

  He studied her long and hard. “Means I’m righting a wrong.”

  “Between you and Dev?”


  “Between you and me.”

  Rocky froze, her mind and body still reeling from Jayce’s erotic assault. “I don’t want this.”

  Jayce, damn his gorgeous, naked self, caressed her cheek. “Yes. You do.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Luke had started skipping church as soon as he’d gotten his driver’s license. Organized religion wasn’t his thing. But he still tried to live life in a godly way and still treated Sunday as a special day—a day of reflection, relaxation, and good deeds. After a leisurely breakfast and some reflection, he’d settled on his good deed. Coaching his cousin Sam on the finer points of wooing a woman.

  Maybe Luke should’ve called first, but that seemed sort of formal and he wanted this talk to be off-the-cuff. Natural. Two guys shooting the shit. Otherwise Sam might feel insulted. He was, after all, several years Luke’s senior.

  “I knocked at the house. You didn’t answer, so I came around.” Since Sam’s truck was in the drive, Luke knew he was at home. Luke’s cousin spent a lot of time in his spacious backyard and the pole barn he’d converted into an impressive workshop a few years back. Sure enough, there he was, surrounded by power tools and stacks of lumber, intent on some sort of blueprint for a new project. Luke moved in beside Sam and eyed the drawing. “What is that? A new jungle gym for Ben and Mina? Where are they anyway?”

  “With Charlie and Sue.”

  Their maternal grandparents. Luke pocketed his keys, more certain than ever he was doing the right thing. Sam needed, deserved, to move on with his life. Amazing he’d gone two years without a woman. Luke hadn’t had sex in three days and he was already twitchy.

  Sam pulled a pencil from behind his ear, erased a couple of lines, and readjusted some measurements. “Building this for Sugar Tots.”

  Connecting with Rachel through her kids. “Beautiful.” Luke smothered a pleased grin. “I mean, that’s thoughtful.”

  “Rachel mentioned Gretchen’s touchy about monetary contributions. She didn’t say anything about actual equipment.”

  “Part swing set, part monkey bars, and fort. The kids will love this.”