Of course, everyone walked around after dark with a bucket of lobsters. She had to remember she wasn’t in New York. “Where is DT’s Kitchen?”
“It’s between my living room and the backyard. Wanna join me?”
Another smile touched her lips. “What can I get there?”
“Lobster, shrimp, corn on the cob and golden potatoes. For dessert I’ve got a big serving of me.” His voice deepened. “You interested?”
“Mmmm. Sounds good.” Really good.
Devon’s invitation for Sahara to join him had come from out of left field, but he couldn’t help himself. With moonlight bathing her face and her lips looking so kissable, he’d pretty much lost control. He wanted this woman and there wasn’t any reason to keep making excuses. She would be gone soon. Why not take advantage of a good thing?
“Do you want a ride or meet me there?” he asked.
“My car is right down the street.”
As they continued down the sidewalk, they found Harold out of breath and leaning against her car. When he saw them, he crammed something in his pocket.
“Everything okay, Harold?” Devon asked.
“Those young’uns.” He pointed down the street, before he looked down at the flat tire on Sahara’s car. “They let the air out of your tire.” Devon started to set his bucket and sacks on the ground when Harold grunted. “You two go on with your plans. I’ll get this fixed and have your car delivered to Sleepy Cove.”
Sahara frowned as she gazed down at the tire. “I can’t ask that of you.”
Well hell. This wasn’t exactly how Devon had planned to spend the night. “I’ll change the tire.”
“There be two flat tires,” Harold rushed in to explain. “One on the other side. Unless the lassie be having two spares, you be out of luck. Hand over the keys. I’ll take care of this.”
“Better do as the ol’ barnacle says.” Devon looked over his shoulder to see Byron move out of the shadows, Errol behind him.
Errol tapped his cane on the sidewalk as he joined them. “When the man’s mind is made up, it’s made up. We’ll call Larry. He’ll take care of everything.”
Devon glanced at the tire and then Harold. “Are you sure?”
“You be questioning me abilities to make a damn telephone call?” Harold grumbled.
“No, sir.”
“Keys!” he barked.
Without another word, Sahara dug into her purse and handed the man her keys.
Byron leaned against the car beside Harold. “You two have a nice evening.”
Devon didn’t quite know what to do. It went against the grain to let these three elderly men do something he was completely capable of doing. But they did say they would be calling Larry, one of the local mechanics. In the end, he thanked them and he and Sahara went on their way.
By the time they pulled in front of his house and climbed out of the truck, his body was demanding hers. The scent of vanilla with something spicy was intoxicating. There was the short, yellow sundress and heels she wore. The vision of her long legs wrapped around his waist was something that just wouldn’t go away.
Devon gathered the lobsters and groceries from the back of the truck. He had left the lights on and hadn’t locked his door because he knew he’d be right back.
When he awkwardly reached for the door, she said, “Let me get that.” Stepping to the side, she allowed him entrance and followed him into the kitchen.
After he set the pail in the sink, he placed the remaining groceries on the marble counter top next to the refrigerator. Next to his grill on the deck, he had a large propane cooking pot already filled with water. He had even prepared the herb sack before he’d left to go shopping. All that was left was to start the fire.
Focused on what he had to do, he pivoted a little too fast and ran chest to chest into Sahara. Tipping back on her heels, she released a squeal and began to fall. Devon reached out, caught her by an arm and pulled her to him.
“Damn. Sahara, I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s my fault.” Her nervous laughter drew his attention to her perfectly carved lips. “I got too close. I was watching those stupid lobsters, and I—”
Devon crushed his mouth across hers.
Sensual attraction erupted whenever they were together, causing him to lose focus. She had a way of making him forget himself, even his hunger and self-preservation, as the truth spilled from him. “I’ve missed this.” He’d missed her more than he even realized.
She melted against him. He felt her soft sigh against his lips. “Me too.”
Moving slowly, he curled his fingers in the lower back of her sundress and eased the material upward. When the dress was around her waist, he smoothed his lips to the valley between her breasts, where her perfume was the strongest, and inhaled.
“You smell good enough to eat.”
She cupped the back of his head and guided him to one of her breasts. “Don’t let me stop you.”
A growl rumbled in his throat. But he didn’t want a layer of material keeping him from her skin. In seconds he had her dress over her head. His heart nearly stopped when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were full, inviting. Sahara stood before him in nothing but her heels and a lacy yellow thong. His cock twitched and hardened. He tugged at his T-shirt and pulled it off, tossing it on her sundress. He took her in his arms, felt her diamond-hard nipples scrape across his chest. As he roamed his palms down her silky back, he spun her around to face the counter.
“Devon?”
“Shhh.”
Tucking his thumbs into the elastic of her thong, he dragged them mid-thigh to where they trapped her legs together. Then he reached for the refrigerator and pressed the ice dispenser button. Ice clunked around and a single cube dropped into his palm. When he placed the ice at the nape of her neck, she gasped and arched. Slowly he slid the coldness down her spine. As he traced it between the cheeks of her ass, over her anus, she released a breathy cry that made him smile. The second the cube touched her warm slit, it began to melt, water drenching his hand.
Tingles erupted in his groin. He had to fight to breathe, to contain the excitement rushing through his bloodstream. “Hot.” So fucking hot.
When he stroked her clit, circled the ice around the bud, she bucked and attempted to widen her stance to no avail. He did it once more, evoking the same reaction before he slipped the cube inside her.
Her breath hitched. “Oh my God. Devon.” A shiver visibly raked through her.
Moisture dripped down her thighs. The sight was arousing. He reached for another piece of ice and inserted it inside her. He added a couple more pieces until a puddle developed on the floor.
Her legs weren’t the only ones shaking. His balls tightened, throbbed. White fire built in them with staggering speed.
Placing a palm on her back, he drove her forward. She grasped the counter. Bent over, he could see her reddened flesh glistening from the water and her own juices. He had never seen anything so sensual. He opened a drawer and chose a dull butter knife. With the flat side, he spanked her tender flesh once, twice.
Her hips flew forward as she choked, “Devon!” A wave of long, strawberry hair flew as she jerked her head around and her gaze slammed into him.
The burn in her eyes increased the snap of his wrist, increasing the rhythm and pressure against her sensitive skin. When she screamed again, her body stiffened, her head lolled forward as her folds pulsated with her climax. A velvet-smooth moan slipped from her mouth.
Her reaction, the way he felt, was too much for Devon.
The knife fell from his hand. Trembling, he reached for the button and zipper of his jeans. His hands shook as he drove his pants down around his ankles. Without hesitation, he aligned the head of his cock to her opening and thrust. The fire and ice sensation was like lighting a roman candle. His orgasm ignited from the base of his groin, burning quickly, accelerating and shooting like a bullet from a gun. Stars burst behind his eyelids. The explosion was ear
thshattering as it tore through him, leaving him breathless, quivering, and he wasn’t the only one moved by the experience.
Sahara’s legs gave. Before Devon could react, they were both on the cold and damp wooden floor. She reached for him, holding on to him as if he was the only thing keeping her from drowning. How long they lay quietly in each other’s arms, he didn’t know. What he did know was letting this woman go would be the hardest thing he had ever done.
Chapter Five
Laughter surrounded Sahara as Victoria Michaelson placed a pacifier in her mouth and spit, projecting the thing a foot in front of her. According to their host, Josie Collins, this particular game was called Spit the Binky. The goal of the game was to propel the pacifier with gusto as far away as possible. Not very civilized, but the group of women standing in line with Vic were doing their best to outdo her, because the winner received a Sommerso figurine made by Sky. The colorful S-shaped artwork had to be worth a couple hundred dollars, but still not enough for Sahara to embarrass herself. At least it was easier and more dignified than the Diaper Designer game. The roll of toilet paper her team received ended up wrapped around Sahara’s hips and through her legs so many times it looked more like she wore a snowball than a diaper. The picture Katy snapped was definitely one she didn’t want hitting the Internet.
Guess you could say baby showers weren’t Sahara’s thing. They brought out the maternal instinct, a secret yearning she didn’t trust. Working with her mother’s charity for abusive children, she had seen too many kids raised by single parents. Then there were her friends and acquaintances, divorced or worse, who stayed together living in misery. If children were a product of these marriages, they were the ones who suffered. No. Sahara was fine with the direction her life was heading. Her thoughts were shattered when Carmen Smith released a squeal when her binky soared past the rest.
The redhead who worked as a cocktail waitress at Hauk’s pub did a little jig. Her long vintage skirt flowed around her ankles as she shamelessly teased her sister, Aimee. “I won. Ha. Ha. I won.” Aimee gave her a playful nudge.
Sibling rivalry. Guess no matter your age you’re never too old to spar with your sibling.
Sahara thought of Leo and scanned the room for Sky. Instead of locating her soon-to-be sister-in-law, her gaze landed on a woman sitting off by herself. She was usually good with names, but she couldn’t remember the brunette’s. What Sahara did remember was she had been introduced as the new owner of Ol’ Lady Landry’s house. Sahara gave the woman in a floral dress a once-over and wondered if Devon had been a good boy when he had met with her a week ago? Did he find her attractive or was Carmen more his taste? After all, he appeared to be interested in Sahara and although her own hair was strawberry blonde, Carmen’s was a beautiful auburn.
Sudden warmth spreading across Sahara’s cheeks made her pause. It wasn’t possible. She hadn’t felt a good case of jealousy since she was a teenager, but judging by the rapid beat of her heart and the heat burning her cheeks, it was undeniably resentment. She attempted to mentally brush it away, but it only grew uglier when Lauren walked past her. Or maybe Devon’s taste for women was blondes. From what Harold had told Sahara a couple of days ago, Devon had dated the shapely blonde on occasion. Of course, according to Vic, who had the pulse of this little coastal town beneath her thumb, he had sampled many of the women in Whispering Cove. Yet all that had changed over the past week.
Sahara smiled with self-satisfaction. Devon might have been Mr. Playboy before she got here, but she was the one waking up in his arms each morning. Since he’d returned from South Carolina she had spent each night at his place.
Thank goodness for Errol who had kept her nephew, Jake, busy. So far the teen hadn’t found ways to get into trouble. In fact, he’d been tagging along with Errol without any encouragement.
Harold, too, had also been a godsend. The man had the uncanny timing and pull to wiggle her out of some of the wedding activities. In fact, between dress fittings, flowers, the bakery and the caterer, she had spent every moment with Devon. But their time together was temporary. It was Sunday, only six days away from Leo and Sky’s wedding. Sahara would be leaving shortly after. She and Devon would return to their own lives.
A sense of melancholy swept over her. Again she attempted to rid herself of self-defeating thinking. She and Devon came from different lives—wanted different things. She was on the fast track. He was content to live in his childhood shadows.
Someone called her name and she raised her gaze to see Sky waving her over. It was time for Tabby to open her gifts. As Sahara took a seat by Sky, she couldn’t help wondering how long it would be until she had a little nephew or niece. When she thought of holding a baby in her arms, her stomach tightened. Would a child of Devon’s look like Tabby or maybe he would have a devilish boy who would be the spitting image of him. Sahara had no doubt the Taylors’ dark features would dominate over the Caans’ fairer ones. Good Lord. Where the wayward thought came from, she had no idea.
She released an anxious laugh. “And, that’s exactly why I don’t enjoy baby showers.”
“What?” Sky asked.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
The ohhhs and ahhhs as one after another baby gift was opened set Sahara on edge. But even she had to sigh when a multi-colored glass mobile was unwrapped. It drove home how talented Sky was. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t do with glass. Only when Tabby thanked Lex did Sahara put the name to the quiet woman who owned the large Victorian house on the beach, Alexis. Evidently Lex had commissioned Sky to create the beautiful motorized and musical carousel.
As Brahms’s “Lullaby” played softly, Sahara rose and walked to the window. Pulling back the heavy drapes, she gazed into the star-studded night. When her mind turned toward Devon once again she had to admit she had fallen for him. Leaving would suck.
“You okay, dear?”
Sahara released the drape and turned to come face to face with Devon’s mother. The five-foot-six woman in her early fifties smiled sweetly. She looked like her daughters and Devon. Their olive skin tone and dark features screamed of Italian descent.
“Yes. Of course.”
Mrs. Taylor shifted her feet. “I know this isn’t my place, but please don’t hurt him.”
Taken unaware, Sahara fought to find her voice. “I would never intentionally hurt your son.” She paused, searching for the right words. “Uh. This thing between us. Well. It’s temporary. I’ll be leaving in a week. It’s what he wants.”
“It might be temporary for you, but my son is different since he met you.” Concern burned in the woman’s blue eyes so much like Devon’s.
Sahara shook the thought from her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.” And it was true. She wasn’t quite sure where this woman was coming from. Her son was a diehard bachelor. The whole town knew this fact about him, so why didn’t his mother?
“It should be me who is apologizing. Devon would have my head if he realized I was chatting with you. But that damn cabin is a telltale sign. You see, dear, it’s his sanctuary. He’s pretty picky who visits or…uhm, stays the night.”
The moment got immediately awkward. His mother was beating around the bush, but she knew exactly what was going on. Hell. This was a small town. Everyone probably knew what Devon and she were up to. But somewhere along the way his mother had come to the wrong conclusion.
Until she added, “Besides, I see the way he looks at you. He cares for you.”
Sahara swallowed hard. This was ridiculous. His mother had to be wrong. It wasn’t Sahara’s intention to fall for Devon, but the truth was, she had. Her only saving grace had been that he didn’t want anything more than a summer fling. She knew nothing could come of the time they spent together. At the end of the following week they would part and only be a memory in each other’s minds.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but Devon has given so much of himself and has never asked for anything in return. I just wan
t him to be happy.”
The screech of Sahara’s cell phone startled her. On autopilot, she pulled the telephone from her slacks and looked down to see her assistant’s name on the screen. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this.” She hated to cut Mrs. Taylor off, or maybe it was for the best. Pressing the call button, Sahara placed it to her ear. “Valerie?” Sorry, she mouthed to Mrs. Taylor as she walked out of the room to find a quiet spot in the hallway.
“Good news. I’ve located the owners. They’re willing to talk to us. A meeting is set for Friday with our attorneys and theirs. The surveyors should be there Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Wonderful job, Valerie. Remind me to give you a raise when I get back.”
“Funny. You’re coming back?”
Sahara scowled. “Of course, I’m coming back. Why would you think differently?”
“It sounded as if you and Devon were hitting it off.”
“You’re the second one tonight to assume there’s something more between us but—”
“Sex?” Valerie chuckled.
“Arghhh. Yes. Sex!” she said the last word a little too loud. Looking around, she hoped no one heard her.
“Sahara, why is it so hard for you to admit you have it bad for this man? Each time we talk you sound happy.”
“I don’t know what you mean. Besides, I’m happy. I’m always happy,” she insisted emphatically.
“Uh… Not! Says the woman who is a workaholic and almost never takes time out for herself.” Valerie sighed. “But I won’t belabor the point. All I’m saying is if you’ve found someone special, maybe you shouldn’t be so eager to walk away.”
Tension crawled across Sahara’s shoulders. She had heard enough. “Friday, you say?” She rested her finger on the disconnect button. “Let me know the outcome.” Clicking the button, she hung up, whispering, “And I’m not eager at all.” That was the problem. The fact Devon’s mother thought he was falling for Sahara only complicated the situation. She needed him to be strong, because God knows she was losing control.
Feisty Page 6
