by Melody Grace
She needed more.
His palm slid higher, grazing over the swell of her breast, and Paige moaned at the touch. She arched against him, her blood running hot, and an ache twisting low between her thighs—
Suddenly, all the lights turned on.
Paige froze. “What was that?” she yelped, splashing back into the water to hide her nakedness. She peeked her head up and looked around. “Is someone there?”
Silence.
“It must have been a timer,” Declan said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Nobody’s around.” He pulled her closer, leaning to drop a kiss on her bare shoulder, but Paige’s mood was well and truly killed.
“I should get going,” she said, slipping out of his embrace. She submerged and swam underwater to the other end of the pool, coming up for air with a gasp. She needed to put some space between them before she lost her mind completely, and she couldn’t think straight with Declan’s hands on her.
And as for his mouth . . .
She scrambled out of the pool, dripping, and wriggled back into her clothes, not caring that they hugged her skin in wet patches. That had been close. Not just the damp friction of his body against her, but how near she’d come to totally losing all control. She may have thrown caution to the wind tonight, but even New Paige had her limits.
And third base in a hotel pool was way over the line.
She heard Declan splash out of the water, and when she finally turned, he was back in his clothes again: damp, and dripping, and utterly edible—
Nope. Not tonight!
“So, this was fun!” Paige said brightly, like they’d just been to a tea dance. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.” She stopped. “I mean, umm . . .”
Declan grinned, closing the distance between them and tilting her face up to his. “Count on it,” he murmured, his breath hot on her cheek. He kissed her again—a light, almost chaste kiss after the inferno in the pool— then stepped back. “You should get home, have your beauty sleep,” he said, smoothing her wet hair back from her face.
“I can give you a ride,” Paige offered, busily ignoring just how good he looked. She checked she had all her clothes and slipped her sandals back on. “Where do you live?”
“It’s close. I can walk,” Declan replied. He gave her a wry smile. “Cool down a little.”
Paige bit her lip, pleased she wasn’t the only one still breathless and spinning from that encounter. “OK. If you’re sure.”
He walked her out, back to her car, then paused by the driver’s side. “Tonight was . . .” He paused, his lips curling into a smile. “Unexpected,” he finished, and Paige felt a kind of victory.
She’d take that as a compliment.
“Goodnight.” She leaned up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, not quite ready to risk another intoxicating embrace. Maybe Declan felt the same, because his lips only brushed her cheek in return before he stood back and opened her door for her.
“I’ll call you,” he said as she got inside.
“You do that.” Paige managed to give him a flirty smile, before turning on the engine—and almost driving straight into the wall.
“You, uh, need to put it in reverse,” Declan pointed out through the open window, amused.
Paige coughed. “I know. Bye!” She yanked the gearstick, and backed out of the space, driving away before she could see Declan’s laughter—or crash her car into anything else.
She headed out the driveway, and hit the highway again, her headlights shining through the black. The wind was cool on her wet skin through the open windows, but she rolled them down even further, feeling weightless, like she was flying.
Already, the night felt like a dream. The smooth weight of the water closing around her. Declan’s mouth against her own. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.
And she couldn’t wait to do it all again.
10
Declan was off his game.
From the minute he’d arrived at Sage to prep for dinner service, everything was coming up wrong. The show-stopper gorgonzola soufflé batter wouldn’t rise. The flatbreads were more like wafers, and as for his soup? It turned out he’d tossed in cinnamon instead of cumin, and the whole batch was ruined. He was cooking like some novice who’d never stepped foot in a kitchen, and it was all because of one woman.
Paige Bennett.
The good girl who kissed like a femme fatale. The sweetheart who somehow got his heart pounding like he couldn’t even remember. And as for what she did to the rest of his body . . .
All the bracing cold showers in the world couldn’t cool the lust that still surged through him, remembering the feel of her hot mouth pressed against him in that pool, and the sight of her emerging from the water, water running over those curves in their wet, sinful peach silk.
A gentleman would have looked away, but damn, Declan was only human.
“Everything OK, chef?” One of his sous-chefs, Kyle, eyed him nervously.
“Fine!” Declan barked, clattering his pans heavily on the stove. “Toss this, and start over. And this time, check the damn seasoning.”
“Yes, chef!” Kyle gulped, and hurried off to the walk-in refrigerator.
“Was that really necessary?” Jenny swung by with a coolly arched eyebrow.
Declan glared at her. She simply smiled back. “I’m just saying, Kyle is marginally less useless than the rest of your assistants. What happens if he quits on you?”
Declan exhaled. Damnit. She was right. He’d always sworn not to turn into one of those dictatorial nightmares, running the kitchen like a prison. “Kyle!” he yelled. The kid poked his head out, looking anxious. “Great knife-work on the veggies,” he said grudgingly. “You can take the meat station tonight, if you want.”
Kyle lit up. “Th . . . thanks, chef.”
“Don’t let me down.”
Declan turned back to Jenny. “Better?”
“Getting there.” She eyed him carefully. “You’re not usually this cranky with your hangovers.”
“I’m not hungover. I’m just . . . not sleeping, that’s all.”
“Go take a break, clear your head. Before the James Beard people call and demand their award back,” Jenny said.
“I have to prep for dinner service.”
Jenny smirked. “Trust me, the way you’re cooking right now, we’re better off without you.” She sailed off before Declan could reply.
He stifled a yawn. Maybe Jenny was right. It had been two days now since that night in the pool with Paige, and for some reason, he’d barely slept a wink. He told himself it was the long hours he’d been pulling in the restaurant messing with his body clock, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He’d had a taste of her now, a tantalizing glimpse of the passion lurking beneath that sweet-as-sugar surface, and his body was screaming for more.
But that didn’t mean he had to give in to the distraction. If anything, he needed to cool his heels until he had some damn control again—which was why he’d held off from calling Paige and setting up another date. He didn’t go panting after women, that wasn’t his style, and he would be damned if this one was going to get under his skin. He needed to focus on what mattered, the restaurant and burnishing his stellar reputation. Which was why he couldn’t let a single one of these dishes leave the kitchen until he had his shit together again.
It was time for that break.
Declan changed tacks and left the night’s menu behind in favor of some staples: lasagna, eggplant parmesan, and an unctuous boeuf bourguignon. Classic dishes he could make with his eyes closed—and his mind a dozen miles away, back in that pool. He would never put something so simple on his own menu, but it was comfort food at its finest, so he packed it into casserole dishes and takeout cartons and loaded up his truck. He drove over to Poppy and Cooper’s place by the beach and tapped on the door, not sure if he was waking the baby.
Aunt June answered, wearing one of her trademark print kaftans that matched her loud personality. “Well, aren’t
you a sight for sore eyes,” she beamed at him.
“And you look younger every day.” He flashed a smile and leaned in to kiss her cheek. He usually steered clear of the gossips in Sweetbriar, but he had a soft spot for June and her outrageous tales. “I just came by to drop off some food,” he said, holding out the bags.
“Aren’t you sweet? Come on in,” June beckoned. “Cooper’s at the store, and Poppy’s taking a nap, poor dear, so it’s just me and the munchkin.”
“It’s nice of you to help,” he said, following her through to the kitchen.
“Just between us, I have an ulterior motive,” June confided. “I live right next door, and if I can get the baby into a decent sleep schedule, she won’t be waking me, too.”
“Smart move,” Declan laughed, and he began unloading into the refrigerator, which was already stacked with casserole dishes.
“Coffee?” Aunt June offered.
“Sounds great,” he said with relief. “I haven’t been sleeping, and I’ve still got the dinner service tonight.”
“Poor baby,” she winked. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I had the most incredible chocolate mousse at your place the other week. It was orgasmic.”
Declan chuckled. June had a bawdy sense of humor, and he was never sure if she was joking or not. “Well, that’s quite a compliment.”
June leaned against the counter and gave him a slow assessing look. “Who are you dating these days, anyway?”
He gave a vague shrug. “You know me . . . I can’t keep track.”
“Is that so?” June’s smile turned knowing. “Because Franny’s niece took her boys to play laser tag the other night, and she could have sworn she saw you there with that nice Bennett girl.”
“Oh yeah?” Declan studied the inside of the refrigerator.
“Yes.” June sounded amused, and when he finally turned back to her, there was a sparkle in her eyes. “Paige, isn’t it? I don’t know her too well, but she seems lovely. Not your usual type at all.”
“I didn’t realize I had a type,” Declan teased, and June laughed.
“No, I suppose not.”
It was just a light comment, but there was something about her tone that made him pause. Everyone seemed to find the idea of him and Paige crazy, and although Declan knew this was just a casual thing for the both of them, it still felt like a veiled insult. Sure, he liked to have fun, but he wasn’t a total cad. “Is this where you warn me off from breaking her heart?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “Because you don’t have to worry, Cal’s already read me the riot act.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” June said. “Lord knows, you’re both adults, and even good girls deserve to have some fun.” Her smile turned nostalgic. “You know, I dated a chef once. Antonio. He was Italian, and the things that man could do with a risotto . . . An artist.”
Declan laughed. Aunt June had a reputation too, as an accomplished man-eater. He suspected his own list of affairs had nothing on hers. “Sounds like fun.”
“Oh yes,” June agreed. “Of course, this was back when I was young and carefree. He started making noise about marriage and babies, so I sent him on his way. I still miss his risotto though,” she added wistfully.
“Well, swing by the restaurant sometime, and I’ll make you some,” Declan offered.
“Careful,” June grinned. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to give Paige a run for her money.”
Declan chuckled, but then a thought occurred to him. If Aunt June already knew the gossip, it would be about five minutes before everyone on the Cape had heard about the date. “June, sweetheart,” he started, flashing her his biggest smile, but June wasn’t fooled for a minute.
“Uh oh,” she laughed. “That look only means one thing . . . You want something, and it doesn’t involve rice.”
Busted.
Declan gave her a sheepish grin. “Could you maybe keep this under wraps? I don’t mind what people say about me, but Paige is pretty private.”
“So there is something going on.” June looked delighted, and Declan didn’t have the heart to correct her. “Say no more, my lips are sealed.”
“Promise?” he checked. “I know what you and the ladies are like when you get stuck into the hooch.”
June cackled. “Cross my heart. Sneaking around is fun, isn’t it?” she added. “If people knew half the things I got up to . . .”
“I can’t even imagine,” Declan said honestly, but he was relieved to have shut down the gossip, at least for a little while. It was like water off his back, hell, he even enjoyed his outsized reputation, but he already knew Paige would hate walking into a room and finding everyone chatting about her personal life. “I owe you one.”
“So do I get any details?” June asked eagerly. “Just between the two of us, of course.”
Declan smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Still, June looked delighted. “Have you cooked for her yet? There’s nothing so attractive as a man who knows his way around the kitchen.”
“Not yet . . .” Declan replied, just as the sound of crying came from the next room.
“Saved by the baby,” June winked.
“I can see myself out.” Declan gulped the last of his coffee and straightened up. “Thanks again. Remember to come by for that meal.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it.”
He headed back outside, pulling out his phone and flipping it over and over in his hand. Paige. This “cooling off” plan wasn’t helping anyone. The hours were ticking past painfully slow, and he felt anything but cool. Besides, now that he had a guarantee of secrecy, they should probably find something for everyone to not gossip about.
When do I get to see the latest designs? he messaged, and a few moments later, the reply came.
That’s pretty forward . . .
I want to see your studio. What did you think I meant?
* * *
Paige laughed as she read the message. That’s what all the boys say, she typed back quickly, almost bumping into an old-fashioned lamppost as she strolled down the street in Sweetbriar Cove.
“Are you OK?” a passerby asked as Paige looked up and sidestepped just in time.
“Yes! Thanks! Fine!” Paige blurted, her voice coming out high-pitched. She flushed and kept walking, trying to pull herself together. So, one word from Declan could send her thoughts spinning—to a very X-rated destination, but that didn’t mean she was going to melt into a flustered puddle every time he contacted her. She had a million other things she needed to get done for Aphrodite’s grand opening, and spending her day replaying their last kiss wasn’t on her list.
She crossed the street to the little gallery there and stepped through the door to the sound of a cheery ding from the bell. Eliza had told her about Mackenzie’s store, but Paige was curious to see it for herself. The white, breezy space was busy with tourists browsing the gorgeous ceramics, set out in brightly-colored arrangements on the low tables and display shelves. Mackenzie was busy with some customers, who were oohing and aahing over a set of dishes glazed in deep, cobalt blue, with tiny mermaids and sea monsters painted around the rim.
“They’re just so darn cute,” one of the women said, with a thick Southern accent.
“But . . . is that octopus eating the sailor alive?” The other squinted closer.
“Oh no,” Mackenzie replied breezily. “They’re just . . . hugging.” She caught Paige’s eye and gave her a wink. “But if you like, I have a set with kittens playing with yarn. That might be more your speed.” She steered them over to another display.
Paige grinned, looking closer at the offending sea monster. Definitely eating him alive. In fact, as she examined the other designs in the store more closely, she could see Mackenzie’s quirky sense of humor shining through. And was that . . . ?
“The fall of Troy.” Mackenzie appeared beside her as Paige was admiring a set of salad bowls. “Complete with bloody battle scene.”
<
br /> “Is it a big seller?” Paige asked.
“You’d be surprised.” Mackenzie grinned. “The overlap between ‘pottery aficionados’ and ‘demented humor’ turns out to be pretty big. Luckily for me,” she said, as the clerk rang up the register with another sale.
“It looks like business is going great,” Paige remarked, as the door dinged another welcome.
“It’s always crazy this time of year,” Mackenzie agreed. She scooped her red, curly hair back into its topknot with the hair tie from her wrist. “Not that I’m complaining,” she added with a grin. “Mama needs a new kiln.”
Paige nodded, taking mental notes. She’d thought about taking a few weeks to get her studio organized and make a real plan for the store, but maybe she would be smarter to open ASAP, and take advantage of the peak season. “Do you have any tips for me?” she ventured. “I’m preparing to open my design studio, and I’m starting from square one as far as the business side of things is concerned. I’d love to pick your brain.”
Mackenzie brightened. “Your lingerie store, of course! Eliza’s told me all about it. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“That would be amazing,” Paige beamed, relieved. She always felt awkward asking for favors. “Just let me know when works for you.”
“How about now?” Mackenzie suggested.
Paige paused. “Are you sure? You seem busy, and I don’t want to put you out.”
“Please.” Mackenzie shrugged. “Julia’s got things under control,” she said, nodding to the teenage clerk minding the register. “And I need a break from the ravenous hoards.”
She led Paige into the back, where there was a large artist’s studio, with an open door leading out to the back patio, filling the room with a cool summer breeze. Mackenzie set the electric kettle on to boil and surveyed a shelf of hand-glazed mugs. “What kind of mood are you in today: roses and sunshine, or volcanic eruptions?”
