French Roast

by Ava Miles

  Mac nodded to Brian. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  Jill waited until Mac left before drilling a finger in Brian’s chest. “What was that about? You weren’t waiting to take me home so you could size up the guy who wouldn’t consider you as a chef?”

  “Nope.” He held up his hands. “I have something to discuss with you. This is too important to wait.” He stepped forward, bringing their heads closer together.

  Her body sizzled from the heat pouring off him. He took her hand and led her outside. She inhaled his musky scent—pine shampoo and spicy aftershave, a special hint of smoked meat knocking it out of the ballpark. “And what if I don’t want to go with you?” she asked to be contrary.

  He nudged a mound of ice with his hiking boots. “Then walk.” Whistling, he headed to his SUV. “But I think you’ll want to hear this.”

  He sure knew how to get her attention. She trudged after him, her interest piqued. “I might get pneumonia from walking, so I guess I’ll go with you.”

  Opening the door for her, he caged her against the frame. “We wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

  All their problems faded to the background, leaving only the fire between them, much like two campers caught out in a snowstorm only wanting to stay warm.

  “God, I want to kiss you. Right now,” he murmured, studying her mouth.

  She wanted that too. So much for her don’t have sex with him again with so much unresolved rule. Maybe a chastity belt would keep her in check.

  “Let’s go to your place,” he said, breaking the spell. “We’ll both need our wits about us for this conversation.” He shut her door and came around.

  When he started the car, she turned her head. “You’re intentionally intriguing me.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I am. Let’s go home.”

  His use of that word made a different kind of warmth pool in her belly. The kind of warmth people sang songs about during war. Home.

  She couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say.

  ***

  Jill pounced the minute they stepped inside her place. He should have expected it.

  “Okay, what gives? You decided something, didn’t you?”

  He took his time, pulling off his outerwear. When he spun her around to help her out of her own, she huffed, but didn’t protest. Thank God. He concentrated on making his mouth twist into a smile even though his heart was racing like he’d taken too much Sudafed.

  “Let’s go into the family room.”

  She sat on her insane orange couch decorated with even more brightly colored pillows. He realized there was no way he could sit still, so he remained standing.

  “Okay. So, here’s how I see it. You know how much I love the Broncos, right?” Watching ESPN while cooking had given him the brainstorm he’d been hoping for.

  She blinked like a spotted owl. “Yeah.”

  He paced the room, knocking his fist into his palm like he imagined a coach would do when talking to his team. “To make the team gel, everyone goes away before the season starts, and they live together for a few weeks. I think we need to do something like that.”

  Her fingers tugged on an ear. “I don’t think I heard you right. I work. You work. We—”

  “Have some major decisions coming up. Let’s start with you. You need to trust me again to see if you want to continue a relationship with me. If you can, then we’re together—a couple. If this works, you might also want to re-examine the idea of opening a place together if a) the hotel doesn’t pass or b) you end up not liking Mac or the work. We have three weeks until the city council vote.”

  She held up her hand, but he shook his head. “In a sec. Now, there’s me. I need to know whether or not we’re going to be together. Jill, I have to be honest here. I love you, but if you can’t trust me and don’t want to be with me, I can’t stay here. If that ends up being the case, I would take Simca up on her offer.”

  Jill clutched a green pillow, her knuckles white, but said nothing.

  His mouth felt as dry as day-old toast at the thought of leaving. God, he didn’t even want to consider it. His idea had to work. “But if we decide we can be together at the end of this timeline I’m suggesting, and the hotel doesn’t work, I want us to explore the idea of the restaurant again. If we’re together and you decide to take Mac’s offer, I’ll figure out something else here in Dare. I’m willing to do that to be with you.”

  Her elbow dropped onto her knee as her hand cupped her temple. “Can I—”

  “Not yet.” He had to get out the most important part. His hands fisted at his side. “I haven’t forgotten you telling me that I have to make the decision to stay for you and not a potential baby. Forgive me for being direct, but as much as I’ve been trying to tell myself it was only one time, I can’t stop thinking about what you said and what might happen if you’re pregnant.” A headache spread to the base of his skull. “And you need to believe I love you and would stay for you before we find out.”

  Her long red curls caressed her arm as she curled forward.

  “Do you see what I’m saying? We have to give this our full attention. Spend more time together. See if we can make things work. Make everything gel.”

  Her head lifted. Her green eyes were glassy. “Like the Broncos,” she said dryly. “Why does it always go back to football? Never mind. Okay, I see your point. How long?”

  Well, she hadn’t said no yet. His shoulder lifted. “We move in together now. I can come here since you’re more of a nester than I am. I’ll have to bring Mutt, of course. We’ll see how it goes. By the time of the city council vote, we’ll both know what we need.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and rocked on his heels, gazing at her with a hopeful heart. “So what do you think?”

  A high-pitch laugh bubbled out. “I’m…speechless.”

  He sat on the coffee table in front of her and held her hands, panic bubbling up inside. “I need you to believe I love you with all these things coming up. This was…the best I could come up with.” He didn’t care what she thought. Football held the answers to most of life’s questions.

  Red spots rose up on her neck. “The best?” she repeated.

  A frustrated sigh escaped him. “Well, I could hire some pilot to fly a banner with Brian Loves Jill on it, but I’m not sure that would get through your thick skull.” So much for holding his frustration at bay.

  She rolled her beautiful eyes at him. “You’re a regular romantic.”

  He squeezed her hands, yanking her gaze back to his. “I will be if you’ll let me move in with you. We’ll call a truce. No talk about the future or the restaurant stuff. Let’s just be together.”

  When she glanced away, he had to force his hands not to squeeze hers to death.

  The scarlet dots spread to her face. “And this living together would include everything? ”

  Her embarrassment reminded him—they’d only made love once, and it hadn’t ended well. Being in a sexual relationship was new to her. He needed to remember that. “I want to show you how good it can be between us, Jill.”

  She swallowed, making the red splotches bounce. “Well, when you finally go for it, there’s no holding you back. Should I call you John Elway?”

  A smile tickled the corner of his mouth. “You’re the same way. We’re both passionate people, Jill. That’s why we’re so good together.”

  She leaned forward. So did he. His forehead brushed hers as they both looked down.

  “We’ll probably argue about how to load the dishwasher.”

  Since he could feel her weakening, he pressed his advantage. “Consider it foreplay.”

  Jill pulled back and narrowed her eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that if you’re going to get me to agree to this crazy-ass plan. What will my family think? Heck, what will the town think? You might feel untouchable after living in NYC, but this is still Dare.”

  “I’m not untouchable. I know people will talk. As for your family, you have to decide how you feel abou
t that. I’m giving you my best idea here. Do you have a better one?”

  “No, I don’t, but Brian—”

  He put his finger to her lips. “No buts. Truce only. We deal with the present. We don’t talk about anything else.”

  “Okay, but we can’t keep the world out forever.” Her green eyes flamed like basil in sunlight.

  He leaned in to kiss the side of her mouth. “Jill, this is huge. Living together. Day in, day out.”

  “Doesn’t that scare you?”

  Nuzzling her cheek with his own, he pressed his lips to her ear. “Like nothing I’ve ever done. Not even rock climbing up that waterfall in Pine Canyon in winter.”

  “That was by far the stupidest thing you have ever done. If you’d died, you would have made the Darwin Awards.”

  His shoulder hitched up. “It’s not the stupidest thing I’ve done, but I try to learn.” The mistakes he’d made with her flashed through his mind.

  When she met his eyes, he knew she was thinking about it too. “Yes, it’s important to learn.”

  She didn’t move away when he kissed her. He sank into her mouth, so hot and inviting. His tongue traced hers, but he pulled back before it could become too intense. He wanted their second time to be special. Romance. Anticipation. Ambience. She deserved it.

  “So, can I move some things in tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Okay, but this had better work.” Her smile flashed and then faded, like her nerves had gotten the better of her.

  He kissed her forehead. “It will, Jill.” The words trust me didn’t cross his lips although he was thinking them. “Will you let me make dinner for you tomorrow night? Something special?”

  A thousand hopes fired in her green eyes. “I’d love that.”

  They walked to the door together. He put his coat on while she fiddled with her gold bracelets.

  “I’m going crazy. First it’s one thing. Then it’s another. I’m struggling to keep up.”

  Good. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one off balance, although he felt more centered now than he had in weeks. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Speaking of kettles,” he murmured in a husky tone. “Be ready to be stirred within an inch of your life tomorrow.”

  “I don’t usually think of kettles being stirred,” she whispered.

  “They are in my kitchen.”

  Her sharp intake of breath told him everything he needed to know. He walked down the sidewalk. Her comment about them fighting over the dishwasher came to mind, making him grin.

  They were going to burn the house down if they didn’t argue over how to set the fire first.

  Chapter 24

  Peggy crawled off the couch when she heard the knock. Please, God, let it be Tanner. Her cold had taken up residence in her lungs, which had meant another day at home. Keith was there with her; the poor kid’s leg was hurting too badly for him to go to school.

  What a pair they were. Last night, she’d held Keith while he cried, struggling not to cough all over him. Dickens couldn’t have scripted a sadder scene.

  Even pulling the door open took effort. When she saw Mac Maven on her front step, she thought she had finally gone crazy. Was her fever causing hallucinations?

  “You look as though you’ve had a tough night. I brought the patient something to cheer him up.” He jiggled the bag. “I also brought you lunch. Chicken noodle soup.”

  Surprise made her back up.

  He wiped his shoes before coming inside. “Where are you holed up?”

  “Living room.”

  He took her arm like some candy striper, minus the pink and peppiness. Her whole head was a mass of pain, congestion, and fuzziness. His presence made it wobble. Why was he here?

  Keith rolled over on the floor, taking his eyes off the endless parade of Disney movies she’d stuck in the DVD player to keep his mind off his leg.

  “Hi, Keith,” Maven said as he led her to the couch. “I brought you something. There’s this great rule. When you go to the hospital, people bring you presents. I didn’t think you’d like flowers.”

  The fire engine wrapping paper made Keith’s eyes widen. “Nah, they’re for girls.”

  Maven sat down beside her son on the floor. The contrast between his navy blazer and slacks and Keith’s Spiderman pajamas couldn’t have been more striking.

  “I like the color of the cast. Blue’s my favorite color. How does it feel?”

  “Hurts. I couldn’t sleep.”

  Maven ruffled his hair. “I bet, but it will get better. Before you know it, you’ll be riding your bike again. Why don’t you open your gift? I thought it would be a good accessory for when you get back on your bike.”

  He tore off the paper. His breath rushed out. “Man, this is so cool! Mom, look!”

  It was the most excited she’d seen him in a week. God, she must be an exhausted, germ-infested wreck because tears welled up. She used her last strength to get a grip.

  “I see.”

  “A Woody bike helmet. I love Toy Story! This is the best-est present ever.”

  Keith couldn’t open the box, so Maven drew out a Swiss army knife and cut the tape.

  “How did you know I like him?” Keith stroked the shiny helmet.

  Woody’s face grinned, his wide eyes reminding her of insane asylum residents. Man, animators produced some weird stuff.

  “Lucky guess,” Maven commented as he rose. “Besides, I thought you might like to pretend you have a law enforcement job like your mom.”

  Peggy couldn’t take her eyes away from Maven as he came closer and sat on the couch.

  “You look stunned,” he murmured so Keith couldn’t hear. “Did you think I’d bring him poker chips?”

  Since she’d been less than nice to him yesterday, she understood the sarcasm. “No, and I’m not assuming you bought him a bike helmet because you think I’m a bad mother. He has one,” she added, wanting to defend herself. “He doesn’t like to wear it. Constant battle.”

  Maven folded his arms. “With safety being one of your principal concerns, I expected no less. He’s a kid. Helmets aren’t cool. I tried to get him one that was.”

  “It was very nice of you,” she said, her heart wringing as she watched her little boy put the helmet on before turning back to the movie.

  “Of course, you may have trouble getting him to take it off so you can wash his hair.”

  Peggy didn’t move away when his warm thigh pressed against her. She simply noticed the firm muscle beneath the immaculate crease of his pants.

  “I don’t care as long as he’s happy.”

  Maven reached for her arm and helped her up. “Spoken like an overtired, concerned mother. Let’s get some soup in you.”

  Peggy sank into the kitchen chair, watching him open cabinets until he found what he needed. The domestic movements didn’t diminish his manliness. With its strong cheekbones and square jaw, his face could have been the model for one of those fancy busts in a museum. When he placed the soup bowl in front of her, she simply curled forward. The steam was magic, warming the cheekbones she wasn’t sure would ever stop throbbing.

  “That bad, huh?” Maven commented from behind her. There was a sandpaper-like sound, and then his palms settled on her back. The warmth spread out like a shock wave.

  “What are you, Mr. Miagi?” she asked, barely able to hold herself up.

  He chuckled. “I played poker in a three-day tourney in Hong Kong a few years ago. By the second day, my cold had me playing on fumes. One of the locals was impressed with my playing. When he offered to help ease my cold symptoms so I could finish the game, I let him. Desperation makes you open to new experiences. Seemed a bit odd when he put his hands on my chest, but it worked. I won the entire pot ten hours later. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me putting my hands on your chest, so this will have to do.” His hands were still on her back.

  “You thought right.” Although she could imagine it—barely.

  “Of course, I can’t guarantee
this will work, but there’s something about energy medicine and the body. Like reiki. It’s all the rage.”

  She blew on the soup to increase the steam. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I like to read. Plus, I was curious after that guy made me feel better. When I get curious, I find out stuff.”

  She became aware of Keith singing along with the movie he was watching. Was that Kill the Beast again? Whatever Maven was, he’d worked a miracle by taking her son’s mind off the pain, something she’d been too sick to accomplish.

  Her hands reached for the spoon blindly. When she took the first taste, she almost purred. Her throat might be the size of a straw, but the hot soup was as soothing as butter on a burn.

  “Better?”

  “Yes,” she answered, a noodle pirouetting off her spoon and back into the bowl.

  “Good.” His hands rubbed her back, once, twice, before falling away.

  The chair scraped as he sat down opposite her.

  “Why are you here?” she asked between spoonfuls.

  “I wanted to check on Keith. Plus, I’m more than a little interested by you. It’s been a while since I’ve met someone who intrigues and challenges me like you do.”

  Right, he was a curious sort of guy. She’d have to remember that.

  “Plus, when I get involved in something, I like to see it through.”

  “Me too,” she agreed, realizing she’d eaten all the soup.

  “You should put a pot on the stove. Steam your face.”

  How did he know these things? It made him seem like a normal person and not some jet-setting poker player. Then she remembered what he’d said about a sister and a nephew.

  “I will. My brother’s coming over to be with Keith again.”

  He took the bowl to the sink. “It’s hard for you to ask for help.”

  Jeez, how did he know these things? The hot tea he put in front of her warmed her hands. But it did nothing to thaw her feelings about his plans for Dare. “I won’t change my mind about the hotel.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you did so suddenly, but I am hoping you change your mind about it—and me.”

  The interest in his gaze couldn’t be missed when she looked back. “You must be crazy. I look like shit.”