by Melody Grace
“It’s OK,” I whisper, hooking my finger over the collar of his shirt and pulling him to close the distance between us for good. Something about him so close makes everything click into place, just right. I lean in and drop a kiss in the spot where his jaw meets the curve of his neck. “Promises are made to be broken.”
I feel him tense. Will pulls away a little, looking down at me with a curious expression in his eyes. But before I can think, he takes another couple of steps, walking me back until I’m against the wall, the lights off, shadows cloaking us in a dim silence.
“Not with me,” Will says softly, lifting my hand to his lips. He brushes a soft kiss over the back of my knuckles, keeping his steady gaze fixed on mine. He turns my hand over, kissing my palm this time, a slow whisper of contact that sends shivers racing through my entire body. I can’t look away. He kisses my wrist, the hollow of my elbow, all the way up to my bare shoulder, leaning close, pressing me back against the wall with a look of such intensity in his eyes, it takes my breath away.
Heat floods through me. Will bends his head, continuing his slow, devastating trail of kisses along my collarbone, and up the sensitive curve of my neck.
Oh . . .
His fingertips caress my other arm, then tilt my chin to the side as he dips and kisses my throat, all the way up to the corner of my mouth. I turn, eager to capture his mouth with mine, but Will just moves to the other side of my neck, his mouth roving, hot and growing in hunger.
God, it feels so good.
My senses are alight, every soft touch swooping through my body in a wave of heat and pulsing desire. My thighs clench, just the whisper of his fingertips and teasing mouth enough to make me ache for him.
All of him.
I reach to pull him in closer, but Will takes my hands and slowly pins them up against the wall by my head, watching me with that unreadable hazel stare. My pulse kicks at the dominant gesture of his firm grip; my body arches towards him in anticipation, but Will just smiles.
“You don’t know me yet,” he says softly. “But I’m a man of my word. So as much as I want to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked, I’m going to keep my promises. At least for tonight.”
His dirty words send a shudder through me. Will sees, and his lips curl in a triumphant smile. He leans in closer, until his lips brush my ear. “I don’t know why you’ve got those walls built so high,” he murmurs in my ear, still pinning me in place. “But sooner or later, you’re going to realize I’m not like the other guys. I don’t play games, I don’t run scared because a woman wants to call the shots. I can give you everything you need. Everything,” he says, his eyes flashing with sensual promise.
“So you just take your time,” Will says, sliding his thumb over my damp, open lips. “And when you’re ready for a real man to show you what it feels like, you just let me know.”
He releases my wrists, and then he’s gone: sauntering away into the darkness, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in my doorway—and so turned on, I could melt into a pool of pure desire.
And he didn’t even kiss me goodnight.
Eight.
Will’s parting words sound awfully like a challenge—the kind I’m usually only too happy to take. Any other man, and I would be plotting ways to seduce him by now, to cut right to the end of the chase and get to the part that has us in bed, driving each other wild.
But he said it himself, Will’s not playing games.
I throw myself into work for the next week to distract myself, showing houses and drumming up new listings, but still, his steady stare finds a way to infiltrate all my quiet moments, making my heart beat faster at the memory of his wicked promise, and my body ache, reliving every soft, devastating touch. It’s tantalizing—and still so far out of reach. I’ve had just enough of him to know he can make good on his word, but not enough to even be close to satisfied. Damn it, this man knows exactly what he’s doing, and for some reason, he’s set on driving me crazy.
It’s working.
I vow to put him out of my mind, but instead, I find myself watching out for him all over town. At the rate I’ve been running into him, I half-expect to see him around every corner, but instead, it’s like he’s disappeared. No calls, no texts, no running into him at the market over a stand of fresh peach jam; I should be relieved, but instead, it’s like an itch I just can’t scratch. Too many nights I’ve fantasized about getting in my car and driving over to his place: just showing up on his doorstep in my skimpy lingerie—and nothing else. He said to come find him, and I know where he lives, but still, something’s holding me back.
When you’re ready for a real man . . .
His words turn over in the back of my brain, tempting me. There’s no doubt he’s all man, but the real question is, am I ready for him? I’ve told him straight-up that I’m not interested in a relationship, but something tells me he’s not a guy who’ll settle for anything less.
With him, it would be all or nothing. Sink or swim. I can already tell the fall would be incredible.
But what if I find myself drowning in the end?
“I know Kit’s pre-school gossip isn’t exactly red-hot news, you could at least pretend to be listening to me.”
I look up. Lottie is sitting on the park bench with me, snatching a lunch break while Kit plays nearby. “Sorry.” I give an apologetic smile. “Just thinking about . . . work stuff.”
“Sure.” She smirks.
“Things are really busy at the office,” I insist. “Thanks to Fran’s tips, I managed to land a couple of new clients this week, and I have a meeting with Marcie this afternoon.”
“So the hot, rich craftsman has nothing to do with it?”
My head whips around. “I never said that—”
“Relax,” she interrupts, grinning. “I got all the gossip from Sawyer. So, Will was a big-shot Wall Street guy, huh? I wonder what made him pack it in.”
“I don’t know, he never said. But he’s been around?” I ask, zoning in on the important details. “Sawyer didn’t tell me they were hanging out. Did Will . . . say anything about me?” I add, trying to sound casual.
“Why, do you want him to?” Lottie shoots back.
I pause. Do I? I’m still no closer to figuring out how I feel about him, or what I want. But still, his presence itches at me, tantalizing, and just out of reach.
“Anyway, you don’t have to worry,” Lottie continues, slurping on a juice-box. “I haven’t heard anything. The man doesn’t kiss and tell. But, you do,” she adds, fixing me with a quizzical stare. “And I’ve heard exactly nothing about this date of yours. What gives?”
I shrug, picking at my sandwich. “There was no kissing to tell.”
Lottie snorts in disbelief.
“I’m serious!” I protest. Her eyes widen,
“So you must really like him then!”
“No!” I yelp. “What? No. Why?”
She gives me a sidelong look. “C’mon, Dee. This is you we’re talking about. He’s hot, single, and willing. If you didn’t care, you would have broken off a piece of that man candy and taken a bite by now.” Lottie makes a suggestive face.
“Stop! I do have some self-control.” I laugh and playfully push her. “Maybe nothing happened because I don’t feel anything for him, and we’re just going to be friends.”
“Sure. Maybe.” Lottie smirks, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me—and the problem is, neither do I.
“Want to come fishing this afternoon?” I ask, changing the subject. “Sawyer and I are heading out on the creek.”
Lottie wrinkles her nose. “I still don’t get why you like it. You just sit around in a rowboat for hours, trying to murder poor smelly fish.”
I laugh. “Because the sitting around is relaxing. And you know Sawyer, he can’t stand to hurt anything. We wind up throwing most of it back.”
“Gee, sounds great, but I’ll pass.” Lottie grins. “But come over tomorrow? We could do pizza and a movie.”
Her smile
slips a little, and I remember, those were her regular Saturday night plans with Eva, when she was in town. However much I’m missing my BFF, Lottie is missing her sister just as much. “Sure,” I say, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Count me in.” I check my phone, then wolf down the rest of my lunch. “I better get back. Marcie promised me five minutes before she heads out for the weekend, and I want to tell her all about my new clients.”
“And how perfect you’d be to take over,” Lottie grins.
“That too.”
I say goodbye to her and Kit, then head back across town, striding fast as I try to get my mind focused back to the most important thing in my life right now: proving to Marcie I’ve got what it takes to take over the business when she finally retires. I know I’m young, but my sales list speaks for itself: nobody knows this town like I do, and nobody else can give Oak Harbor Realty the energy and direction it needs. I’ve been hustling hard ever since those part-time jobs in high-school, but now I finally feel like my dream is within reach: a business of my own, something I can build and really be proud of.
I step into the offices, ready to set my tasers to “charm.” Marcie is in her office, so I grab the bakery box I picked up earlier on my break and go tap on her door. “I was at Franny’s, and I couldn’t resist.” I hold up the box. “Key lime pie, it’ll take you right to the tropics.”
“Ooh.” Marcie brightens. “Sounds delish.”
Step one, sugar high. Check!
I set the open box on her desk with two forks—then sit back and let her dig in alone. “How’s the boat?” I ask, nodding to the magazines she’s got spread on her desk.
“Oh, it’s great,” Marcie replies, through a mouthful of pie. Her bright red hair is blown out into its usual bob, and she’s wearing her uniform of a flowing chiffon blouse and linen pants; chunky gold bracelets on each wrist. “We just got done redecorating, and Bob can’t wait to take her out on the open water . . .”
I smile and nod as she continues talking, telling me every little detail about the new slip they’re renting down in the Keys, and the tour of the islands she’s been planning all year. Even though it’s annoying sometimes to be the only one busting my ass around here, Marcie deserves the break; with two kids full-grown and a beach house calling, I can’t blame her for checking out. “When are you heading down next?” I ask, when she pauses for more pie.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Marcie suddenly looks serious. “Bob’s been talking, and, well, there’s a big Parrothead get-together in Key Largo at the end of the month. We’d love to take a couple of weeks and cruise on down there; get the old girl wet. I know it’s last-minute, we’d leave in a couple of days, and it’s our busiest season—”
“I can handle it!” I exclaim.
Marcie pauses. “Are you sure? I was thinking of just closing up shop, give you a chance to take some vacation, too. You haven’t had a day off since, well . . . I don’t think you’ve ever even called in sick. And all these weekend open houses—”
“I’m happy to help,” I insist, spying my opportunity. “You go cruise, and I’ll take care of everything here. You don’t need to worry, I’ve got it covered.”
Marcie wavers. “Well, we do have a lot of clients looking right now, and I’d hate to leave them in the lurch.”
My clients.
“I promise, I don’t mind running things. It won’t be the same without you,” I quickly add, in case I seem too glad to have her gone. “But I’ll do my best.”
“You’re a gem,” Marcie beams. “What would I do without you?”
Cruise on off into the sunset, I think, but give her a smile instead. “I’m just happy to help.”
Help—and prove the office can run so smoothly without her, she’ll never have to worry about leaving it in my hands again. And if Marcie has so much fun down there in Florida she decides to make it a permanent move? Well, I’ll be ready to take over for good, just like I’ve always wanted.
I happily wrap things up for the weekend, then head home, quickly changing into some cut-offs and sneakers before I go meet Sawyer down by the creek. I know Lottie doesn’t understand why I love fishing—none of my girlfriends ever do—but it’s been a hobby of mine ever since I was a kid. My dad taught me, and we would spend the whole afternoon out on the water, sitting there with our lines floating in the water, and a cooler of soda pop and homemade sandwiches at our side. Even when I got older, and spent my weekends out at parties or down at the beach with my girlfriends, I would still make the time every month for our fishing trips; those relaxed afternoons just talking and laughing, feeling the lines catch when we finally got a big one. That’s what made it even worse when he came clean about his affair. All those afternoons, he’d been lying to me, chatting about school and his work like nothing was wrong, when all the while, he’d been living this secret life, fooling us all.
Today, I push away those dark associations. It’s a gorgeous summer afternoon, the heat mellowed to an easy summer’s breeze, and I know the water will be cool and placid out on the creek. I’ve already got my rod and tackle box stashed in the trunk of my car and a bikini under my clothes, so I park, grab them, and head down the path to where my old family rowboat is moored to the community dock. Sawyer is already there, loading up the boat with a cooler and his line.
“I hope you bought snacks,” I call ahead. “And I’m not talking about carrot sticks this time.”
My words fade on the breeze. Sawyer straightens up—but it’s not Sawyer. Not even close.
“Don’t worry.” Will smiles at me, back to his sexy, stubbled self in jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. “I’ve been warned. Sawyer said you’d push me out of the boat if I so much as dared to bring a celery stalk.”
My heart beats faster. “Where is he?” I ask, trying to seem cool.
“He sends his apologies, something about a breech birth on a mare,” Will explains. “He didn’t want to leave you in the lurch, so he sent me instead. Surprise.” He gives me a crooked grin.
But I’m not surprised, not one bit. Seeing Will here, looking so damn good framed in the hazy afternoon sun, it feels strangely inevitable. The tension I’ve been carrying all week seems to melt away, and I suddenly feel lighter, free.
I’m happy to see him.
“Have you ever fished before?” I ask, moving to dump my things in the rowboat. Will blinks, like he was expecting me to put up a fight, then nods.
“I know my way around a line,” he says, holding out a hand to help me off the shore. I step into the boat and settle on one of the narrow wooden benches, tucking my feet beside the cooler. He climbs in with me, pausing as the rickety old boat rocks and creaks from his weight. Will looks uneasy. “Are you sure this thing is seaworthy?”
“Hey,” I protest. “Don’t insult Harold.”
“Harold?” he echoes, laughing. “Let me guess, he’s Berta’s cousin.”
I laugh, surprised he remembers my old car’s name. “I’ve had this boat since I was a kid,” I explain. “My dad got it for me for my seventh birthday. It’s pretty much indestructible.”
“Are you sure?” Will carefully takes a seat.
I stick my tongue out. “Just for that, you can row.”
Will jams on a baseball cap, grabs the oars, and pushes off from the shore, rowing us out into the creek with steady, sure strokes. His biceps flex with every pull, and I’m glad I’ve got my shades on to hide my lingering eyes.
“So how was your week?” I ask, reaching to trail one hand in the cool water. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“Miss me?” Will asks.
“Maybe,” I smile back.
“Then my devious plan is working.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t play games.”
“Games, no. Plans, yes,” Will corrects me. “Everyone needs a plan.”
“So what’s yours?”
“Well, right now it’s to spend the afternoon out on the water with a beautiful
woman. So I think I’m doing great.”
I can’t help smiling. “That’s it? Nothing beyond the next two hours?”
“I don’t know.” Will grins back. “If the fish are biting, we could shoot for three.”
“Come on,” I laugh, “you know what I mean.”
Will shrugs and looks away. “I try not to do too much planning these days. I used to have everything figured out, and the universe decided to prove me wrong. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted.”
“Like what?” I ask, curious.
“The usual bullshit,” Will looks reluctant. “A bigger apartment, a cooler car, the next promotion at work.”
“That doesn’t seem like you,” I note, and I’m rewarded with a smile.
“I didn’t think so either, but I still got sucked into it all. It’s like stepping on a treadmill,” he explains with a sigh, “you keep moving, but the finish line gets further and further away, so really, you’re just spinning your wheels in place.”
“Until you stepped off the machine,” I say, and he gives a wry laugh.
“Or got pushed. But either way, I’m glad to be done with it. There are more important things than chasing the next dollar. More important people, too.”
Will pulls the oars again, steering us downstream. I watch from behind my shades, thoughtful. It takes a lot for someone to just upend their life and start over, and I can’t help admiring him for taking that step. Sure, I might still be a little baffled by his choice to come down here after a chance meeting in the street, but it’s a sign of courage, too. The confidence to follow his instincts, not caring about what the rest of the world says he needs in order to be a success. The self-reliance to know he’ll make it work, whatever happens.
Damn, the more I find out about this guy, the sexier he gets.
“So what about you, honey?” Will gives me a teasing grin. “How was your day at the office?”
I laugh. “Good, it’s been busy. But my boss is going on vacation soon, so it’s my chance to hold down the fort on my own.” I explain about my plans to take over the office one day. I’m cautious, remembering how most guys tune out the minute I start talking about my career, or crack jokes about me being a “ball-buster,” but instead, Will is nothing but enthusiastic.
