He raised his head just enough to look at her. “If you’re offering, I’m accepting.” Then he kissed her and she forgot about the marks until he finally rolled off the bed and walked to the bathroom.
Julia didn’t bother to move. Not even to drag the covers over her rapidly cooling body. But she did note the marks on his ass. And when he crawled back into bed and lay on his stomach beside her, she stopped him from pulling up the covers. “Not yet.”
“Julia.” It was half groan, half barely contained anticipation. “I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“And thank God for that.” She sat up, her hair falling across her shoulder to tickle her chest. “No sixteen-year-old has moves like that.”
He twisted his head to glance at her, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You like my moves, then?”
She patted his cheek. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
She stifled a laugh and crawled on top of him, paying particular attention to the red marks she’d left in her excitement. Soothing them with light brushes of her fingers and then a lighter brush of her lips.
The skin on his buttocks was smooth and pale and soft. He groaned under her ministrations. She kept doing what she was doing since he so clearly liked it. First, a stroke then a kiss and repeat.
Steadily, she began to make her way up his back. Stopping to investigate any freckles, shadows and anything else that caught her attention. It was some time before she got to his upper back, where she pressed her hands into his shoulders and bent over to kiss the nape of his neck.
Her only indication that he had something planned was his quiet exhalation before he flipped over, keeping her on top of him, steadying her hips with his hands while he adjusted their positions.
Julia glanced down at the bulge now fully on display. “I thought you weren’t sixteen anymore?”
“I said I wasn’t sixteen. I didn’t say I was dead.”
She laughed, but the sound drifted away on a contented sigh when he rubbed his thumbs across her stomach and slid his hands up. His fingers knew just how to move, just where to touch. He palmed her breasts, the heat from his hands causing them to tighten. She swallowed, fitted her hands over his and let her neck fall back.
They rocked into each other, slowly, gently. More like people who were used to each other’s rhythms and needs than new lovers. He watched her, his eyes scanning up and down her body, along her face, noting everything. But she felt powerful instead of shy. Confident in the knowledge that she was the one who caused the heat in his gaze, the curve on his lips, the hardness even now nudging the warmth between her thighs.
And when she’d teased long enough, when it grew obvious they needed to move to the next step, she reached into the nightstand drawer, snagged one of the foil packets and opened it with her teeth. She saw the bob of Donovan’s throat, felt his hands curl into her hips and smiled as she moved down his legs so she could put the condom on.
Then she rose above him, all female power and attitude, and slid her body around his. This time she set the pace. Slow and easy. Different from their first time but just as good, just as fulfilling. And when Donovan’s hands cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his forefinger and thumb, she felt the ripple of release flow through her. Her body pulsed around his until he came, too. A quiet, soft release that was no less powerful for its delicacy.
“Julia.” His voice was soft, too, more breath than words. And she knew exactly what he meant without him saying anything else. She bent over him and kissed him, openmouthed and openhearted. Leaving everything she had, everything she was, between them. Because there was no point in hiding for herself or from herself anymore.
* * *
DONOVAN WOKE HER up twice more in the night, under the shade of dark where he loved her silently, softly. Their bodies wrapped around each other so there was no indication of beginning or end, just skin on skin. And once more in the pearly-gray dawn, with the hum of day beginning around them as they stared into each other’s eyes. She reached up to hold his cheek in her hand, stroking the bristle of his beard growth, and felt her heart squeeze when he turned his face to kiss her palm. So small, so minimalist, and yet she felt as though it spoke to their connection.
When she finally woke up and stayed awake, the morning was no longer the soft light of dawn. But even the sight of the gloomy overcast day couldn’t dampen her spirits. Not when she saw the circles under her eyes in the mirror. And not when she realized that although she’d been far-thinking and organized enough to bring along a change of clothes and toiletries, she hadn’t seen it through to the final and necessary step of taking the bag upstairs with her.
She slipped on last night’s shirt, which was just long enough to provide full-body coverage, and padded downstairs to find Donovan tapping away on his laptop at the breakfast counter in the kitchen. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the space last night, but she drank it in now.
The thick granite slab the color of honey, the white cabinets and large windows that looked out onto a patio. It was a place to create and test. She suspected the huge stainless-steel fridge would be stocked and wished she’d brought her knives with her.
“You’re up.” Donovan rose and greeted her with a kiss. “Coffee?”
“Please.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and adjusted her shirt, which had ridden up thanks to his enthusiastic hug. He patted her hip and then moved around the kitchen island to the coffee machine on the other side. It had plenty of shiny knobs and emitted a soft hiss when Donovan turned one of them.
Julia shivered, partly from the memory of the way his hands had touched her last night. And partly because she was dressed in only a T-shirt. She found her overnight bag inside the coat closet and returned to the kitchen with it.
Donovan turned from the coffeepot, his eyes flicking to the bag in her hand. “Leaving already? Do you need a to-go cup?” His eyes flicked farther down to her bare legs. “And maybe some pants?”
“Very funny. Just the coffee.”
He grinned at his little joke. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Straight up.” The way she’d gotten used to drinking it in Europe. Her French and Italian friends had insisted that everything she added to the coffee was muting the flavor, hiding it, and had eventually broken her of her habit of adding shots of vanilla, sweetener or dairy.
Donovan pulled down a mug, filled it up and handed it to her. She inhaled deeply and then sipped, letting the hot liquid coat her tongue before swallowing. The flavor was rich and bold, the coffee of the same fine quality as everything else connected to the Fords.
And she was standing around in a T-shirt with no panties. She shifted, one hand clutching the bag, the other her coffee. Donovan looked as if he’d already showered, so there was no need for her to linger with her ass hanging out.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He came around the island, plucked the cup out of her hand, set it on the counter and hauled her up against him. His jeans were rough against her skin, but his hands were gentle. “Really glad.”
Julia felt the heat from his body sink into her, and knew that she would never regret this. Not one minute of it. She smiled up at him. “Is it all right if I shower before I go?”
“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” He barely paused before adding, “Is it all right if I join you?” She blinked, and when she didn’t answer right away, Donovan said, “Now you’re supposed to say that you’d be offended if I didn’t.”
She shouldn’t. She should clarify that while their time together had been wonderful, it was for only one night. Just a way to get him out of her system so she could focus on her career. Instead, she took his hand and tugged. “Come on.”
It was still the same night. Sort of. Right?
By the time they made it up the stairs, Julia had stopped thinking. Her shirt got left behind, as did Donovan’s, and his jeans made it to only the landing.
The bathroom had a luxury shower with multiple heads and spray that could be
adjusted so there wasn’t a single part of the body unattended. It certainly improved the showering experience. No one had to stand on the cold side and get only the bounce of spray off the other’s body. Not that Julia would have noticed cold water when Donovan’s hands and lips were everywhere.
She gripped his shoulders when he sank to his knees, and leaned against the wall for support while he showed her just how talented his tongue was. Her eyes closed while the water beat down on her and Donovan’s tongue swirled around and around. Her head dropped against the tile, but he kept up his relentless teasing until her skin grew taut and her body strained toward him and she released, crying his name as she came.
He stayed on his knees and pressed a soft kiss between her thighs, which caused an avalanche of shivers. And then placed his tongue flat against her, staying perfectly still while her body hummed in pleasure.
“Donovan?” She lifted her head. Her neck felt wobbly, and it took some effort to hold her head up when all she wanted to do was lie back and let the sensations take over. He watched her with dark eyes that saw her at her most vulnerable, and then licked, long and slow. She shivered again.
“I feel like I didn’t really show you what I was capable of last night.”
Julia blinked at him. “Six times wasn’t enough?”
“Counting them, were you?” He stood, a smug look on his face, and braced his arms on the wall around her. He blocked most of the spray, but heat rolled off his body. “I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t generous.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and slid them over and down his back. “No worry about that.” And then they took turns washing each other until they were wrinkled and relaxed and very, very clean.
Julia was toweling her hair dry when Donovan returned with her cup of coffee. She put the towel down and took the cup, draining half of it in one swallow.
Donovan grinned. He had only a towel wrapped around his waist. It dipped when he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “That was amazing.”
She loved the feel of his lips brushing across the back of her neck. He could have been discussing the most mundane and banal details, but with his lips on her, it felt like sex. As if she hadn’t gotten more than her fair share in the past twelve hours.
“Can I see you tonight?” He rocked back and forth, holding her against him.
Julia felt her body stiffen. “About that.”
She felt the squeeze of tension roll through him. “Do not even think of telling me this was just a one-night stand.”
“How about a one-morning stand?” But Donovan didn’t smile and Julia couldn’t blame him. She didn’t feel like smiling, either.
“No.” His gaze met hers in the mirror. “I wouldn’t be okay with that, either.”
Julia shivered, slipping deeper into his embrace. “I just—”
“Just what?”
She didn’t know. “I feel like the restaurant and you... They’re tangled together.”
She felt the softening of his muscles as some of his tension eased. “Are you using me for my connections? Because I would be fine with that.” He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “For now.”
“No, I just—” She stopped again. She just what? “I feel like we’re crossing a line here.”
“I think we crossed that line last night.”
He was right. And yet... “I think it would be better if we kept things professional for now.”
Donovan didn’t say anything for a moment. She could feel every breath he took, brushing against her jawline, pressing against her back. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes.” But even to her own ears, the assertion sounded weak. “At least until—”
He cut her off by spinning her in his arms, his lips hot on hers. “I don’t want to lose this.” He kissed her again. “Or you.”
She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t heady, being shown with actions and words that he wanted her. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel the same about him. But she wanted the restaurant, too.
“Let’s find a way that we can both have what we want.” He ran his tongue along the edge of her earlobe. “For example, I really want to open that champagne we didn’t drink last night and sip it from your body.”
Her knees wobbled. Good thing her hands were clutching his shoulders for support.
“And then I want to feed you a nice meal that you didn’t have to cook.”
Julia’s heart knocked against her chest. People rarely cooked for her. A drawback of the job. Most people were too intimidated to offer up their own creations to a trained chef. But the fact was, most chefs loved having someone else do the cooking for a change.
“Which I think is entirely professional.” He murmured the words against the back of her neck this time.
“Do you?” The question came out on a puff of air, which was all she could manage with his mouth teasing across her skin.
“Yes, and I don’t hear you disagreeing. But feel free.”
She might if she could ever catch her breath.
“Or we could just see how things go.” He dipped a finger into the front of her towel and tugged at the knot.
They could. And the idea had appeal. A lot of appeal. She made up her mind. Donovan was a great guy and she liked him. Yes, he was her boss for now, but he’d made it clear that he had no long-term plans for La Petite Bouchée. She wasn’t so wrapped up in her career to think guys like him came around every day. “All right. But we’re just seeing how things go and we can’t flaunt it. Especially at the restaurant.” Kitchen staff were notoriously incestuous, sleeping with each other, breaking up, sleeping with someone else and then getting back together. Lather, rinse, repeat. “I don’t have time for anything serious.”
“That, or you’re embarrassed to be seen with me,” he teased.
As if. But he didn’t need the ego stroke. She spun in his arms to face him, reached up to cup his face. He hadn’t shaved yet and the stubble scraped her palms. “Completely embarrassed.”
He snorted. “Well, I am pretty embarrassing. And I’ve been known to streak on occasion.” He whipped off his towel, then hers.
Julia laughed as he picked her up and started for the bed. “Consider me warned.”
As he lowered her to the bed, and blanketed her with his body, he said, “I hope you’re not too embarrassed because I would like to take you out on a real date.”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around his warm body. “Later.”
“I didn’t mean this second.” His fingers trailed the inside of her thigh.
“I know.” She squirmed, encouraging him to reach for the good bits. “I meant later, when I’m not trying to work out financing to buy La Petite Bouchée and—” She sucked in a long breath as his fingers slid home. “Why are we talking about this now?”
“I have no idea.”
CHAPTER TEN
DONOVAN FELT GUILTY for not telling Julia that his plans for the restaurant had changed. Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. At least not the part about his plans.
He still had no intention of being involved in the day-to-day running as soon as he could unload those duties. But the restaurant wasn’t likely to be sold anytime soon, either.
It just hadn’t been the right time with his fingers between her legs and his mouth on her breast. Much the way that now, standing in the greenroom of the TV studio with Julia about to go on air, also wasn’t the right time.
And neither had any of the preceding days and nights while he and Julia spent their days at the restaurant overseeing the renovations and their nights in his bed overseeing each other’s bodies.
He told himself that he didn’t want to distract her. And he didn’t want to start that conversation until he had a new contract with an additional bonus structure for her to sign. Legally, he wasn’t obligated to do anything, but it felt like the right thing to do in order to keep her as La Petite Bouchée’s executive chef.
The restaurant wo
uld be reopening in one week and Donovan was more than ready. The interior looked amazing, Julia’s food was better than ever and Mal’s marketing plan was in full swing. Donovan watched it in action now, on set at a local TV station’s breakfast show where Julia would be doing a brief demo for the audience.
Mal stood with him in the greenroom, the pair of them watching one of the overhead TVs as the hosts talked about the segment coming up, which was Julia’s demo. Mal had been looking more and more run-down of late, her usual snappy attitude dulled. Donovan had hoped her visit with Travis in Aruba during the Whistler food festival would resolve whatever problems they were having, but it had clearly caused more strain than relief.
It was obvious something had happened. He’d broached the subject once, asked if she wanted to talk and let her know he was there to listen, but she’d brushed his concerns aside, told him she didn’t want to talk about it and changed the subject. So he’d let it go, but his little sister’s evident unhappiness bothered him.
Still, there was nothing he could do about it this second and he had a job to do. He turned his attention back to Julia and felt some of the weight on his shoulders lighten, the way it always did when he saw her. She was a woman who’d been through a lot and she’d survived it all. He had to trust that Mal would, too.
Julia was wearing a brand-new chef’s jacket, one with the updated logo over the breast. Just a simple swirl of logos and her name in block print over top. She smiled at the camera as it panned to her and the station cut to commercial.
He turned and found Mal watching him, her gaze taking in everything. She’d been like that even as a baby. Five years older and wiser, Donovan could recall the day his mom and dad had brought his new baby sister home. He’d been excited, but that had soon turned to disillusionment when the new baby couldn’t play soldiers or swim or do much of anything except cry and hog all of the attention.
But she’d always had those big, watchful eyes. Staring at him from her crib, her high chair, her playpen in the corner of the family room. And, even once she learned to talk, keeping his secrets quiet.
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