More Than a Mission

by Caridad Piñeiro

  A more serious discussion obviously ensued. Definitely one that wasn’t about the assortment of breads and rolls the woman had for sale. At the end of the conversation, the two exchanged an emotion-packed hug before returning to the stand where the woman placed a number of different rolls in a brown paper bag.

  Elizabeth paid her, grabbed the bag and handed it to him. “So I’m the bag man, is that it?”

  She grinned at him playfully and nudged his shoulder with a closed fist. “You’ve got to earn your lunch somehow.”

  He bit back a rather risque comment on how he could earn that lunch.

  With a nod, he followed her back to the car, tucked away their purchase and they were off to another stop and then another and another. It took hours to run from one roadside stand to another, sampling the assorted items available for sale. At one small farm that barely looked inhabited, a rough-hewn ramshackle table held a meager sampling of thumb-sized pear-shaped tomatoes. Beside what was left of the tomatoes, a basket contained some money, obviously payment for prior purchases.

  Elizabeth perused the tomatoes, selected a few dozen, and deposited some bills into the basket.

  “How do you know that’s not too much money?” he asked, and then quickly added, “And how does the farmer know people will pay?”

  “Dan, the farmer, he’s a bit shy. But he knows people will pay for what they take. It’s the honor system.”

  “The honor system,” he repeated, but unfortunately couldn’t keep the tone of disbelief from his voice.

  Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “Mr. Rawlings, you’ve clearly seen your share of places where things are…different. In Silvershire, we are simpler. Some things, like honor, still exist.”

  With that, she walked back to the car, her bag of tomatoes in hand.

  He watched her go, intrigued. Perplexed. From their earlier conversation to this one, from the way everyone they met interacted with her, Elizabeth was clearly well-liked and respected, trusted and, last but not least, honorable.

  Aidan forced himself to remember that even amongst thieves honor existed.

  Back in the car, Elizabeth advised they would make one more stop before heading to a special place for a quick bite. That last location was a vineyard within sight of the water. “Hector makes a wicked collection of pinots. It has to do with the way the coastal fog covers the grapes in the morning and the way the blackthorn and other wild berry bushes surround the vineyard,” Elizabeth explained as she drove.

  “Is this the ever-requested Lionshead wine?” he asked and Elizabeth nodded as she steered down a short winding road lined by brambly bushes—probably the berries Elizabeth had mentioned.

  At the end of the road was a stone building, similar in size and construction to Elizabeth’s restaurant—a one-story building made of stone and covered by vines in spots. After they parked the car in the crushed-seashell-covered lot, they walked to the open door of the building.

  Inside there were two long counters with some smaller tables and chairs before them—a tasting room from the looks of it, he thought, recalling one Mitch had dragged them to many years earlier during a layover in California’s Napa Valley.

  “Hector? Are you open?” Elizabeth called out and walked toward the counters.

  A man immediately popped out of the back room. Once he realized it was Elizabeth, a broad smile came to his face. “Mi amiga,” he said, arms opened wide as he strode toward her.

  “Como estas, Hector?” She embraced the handsome man. He was maybe in his mid thirties and attractive if you liked the dark swarthy types, he thought and bit back the little pang of jealousy.

  Hector shot a glance at him. An unfriendly one confirming to Aidan that maybe the feeling was mutual. “And this is?” Hector asked after releasing Elizabeth and walking to one of the long counters, where he picked up a bottle and opened it, removing first the foil seal at the top and after, the cork.

  Elizabeth held her hand out to Aidan. He slipped his hand into hers and sat next to her at the counter as she said, “This is Aidan. My new bartender.”

  “Oh,” Hector said, but made no effort to take the introduction beyond that. Instead, he placed a glass before each of them and said, “Try my new vintage.”

  Pouring a bit of wine into each glass, he waited for Elizabeth to offer her comments.

  Aidan just picked up the wineglass and took a large sip, earning a murderous glare from Hector. Elizabeth on the other hand, held the glass up to the light, then tilted it on its side. “Good color and tone.”

  Placing the glass on the counter, she grabbed the stem and rotated it to swirl the wine. Once the wine had settled down, she picked up the glass and sniffed the wine. “Wonderful robust bouquet.”

  With more of a slurp than a sip, she finally sampled it. “Exceptional, Hector. You can really taste the berries. Mostly…blackberry?” she questioned.

  Hector enthusiastically confirmed her guess. “So, you like?”

  Nodding, she said, “I like, a lot. Can I get a case delivered to the restaurant and one bottle for now?”

  Glancing in Aidan’s direction as he realized he would likely be the imbiber of the single bottle of wine, Hector glared at him again, but Aidan merely smiled at the man.

  With a grumble beneath his breath about wine heathens, Hector stalked into the back room and a few seconds later, emerged with the single bottle, which he lovingly entrusted to Elizabeth. “Enjoy it, amiga,” he said, but all the time he scowled at Aidan.

  Elizabeth leaned over the counter and gave Hector a friendly kiss, seemingly unaware of what was going on between him and Aidan. As they exited the tasting room, she met his gaze and smiled. “Ready for that late lunch?”

  Aidan shot a quick peek at his watch and realized it was nearly four. “A very late lunch. Possibly early dinner.”

  She stopped and checked her own watch. “I’m sorry. Time just seemed to fly. Would you rather return to town?”

  He stood before her. She looked so troubled that he needed to ease her discomfort. Cupping her cheek, he ran his finger along the smooth skin there, which had a touch of color—the kiss of the sun from their drive. “I’ve had a great time so far. It’s been…enlightening.”

  An odd choice of words, Elizabeth thought as she examined him. He seemed sincere enough about having enjoyed the day so far, and so she said, “All right, then. We’re off to lunch.”

  Back behind the wheel of the car, she continued onward to the coast road and turned in the direction of Leonia. As she drove, she alternated glances between the coastline to her right, the road before her and Aidan in the passenger seat. He was looking toward her and then past her to the rugged shoreline.

  It took another fifteen minutes or so to reach the spot. Her spot. One free of ghosts.

  She had discovered it one day many years back during one of her hedge-veg runs. Pulling the car over to a switchback along the coast side of the road, she parked the Gaston and faced Aidan. “Ready?”

  He confirmed, “Ready.”

  She leaned into the back of the car and grabbed just a few of the packages stored there and handed them to Aidan. “I just need to get something from the back,” she said.

  They both stepped out of the car, but he waited by the front fender while she went to the back. Opening the trunk, she removed the blanket and picnic basket her mother had always kept there for an impromptu stop. She slipped the blanket under one arm and grabbed the basket with that hand. Walking toward Aidan, she offered him her other hand and he took hold of it.

  Hand in hand they walked down the grass-covered slope until they were at its rocky edge. Once there, they paused for a moment to appreciate the view. To the left were the imposing palisades and rugged shoreline of Silvershire’s North Coast. To the right, Leonia Bay with the sister towns of Leonia and Tiberia nestled at its foot. In the bay, sailboats and fishermen’s boats travelled to and fro, or put out to sea.

  “Beautiful,” he said, but as their gazes met, it was clear he w
asn’t referring to the view.

  The intensity of his interest created a funny little feeling inside her. Bolstered by that feeling, she smiled at him, took a step closer and cradled his cheek. Beneath her palm there was the rasp of his evening beard and the warmth of his skin. She ran her finger along that beard and then to the edge of his lips, fascinated by them. By him.

  She dragged her gaze from his lips and up to his eyes. Against the backdrop of sky and sea, they seemed even more blue than before. “Are you hungry?” she asked, but the question suddenly had little to do with food.

  Aidan placed his hand on her waist, on the bare piece of skin exposed by the crop top. His hand was hot. His palm rough against the soft skin of her midsection. “Famished,” he replied and closed the last little bit of distance between them.

  She had to look up at him with his greater height. She watched as he bent his head until his lips were almost on hers. “Is this crazy?” he asked and again, she was puzzled by his choice of words.

  Brushing her lips against his in the barest of kisses, she said, “Is it because I’m your boss?”

  He pulled away then and his face mirrored his bewilderment and withdrawal. “Let’s eat,” he said and held the basket so she could lay out the blanket.

  She hesitated for a moment, equally confused and…hurt. She wasn’t normally one to just throw herself at a man and now that she almost had…

  Denied, her repressed side almost gloated. It stung a bit, but she wasn’t going to let that ruin what had been a wonderful day.

  Spreading out the blanket on the prickly grass by the rocky bluff, she then took the picnic basket from him and placed it to one side. Then she accepted the remaining items from him, including the bottle of wine, and worked on creating a spur-of-the-moment meal.

  The goat cheese went on one plate and she surrounded it with the pear tomatoes, drizzling them with the fresh-pressed virgin olive oil she had bought. She took a bit of sea salt and, with her fingers, sprinkled it all over the cheese and tomatoes.

  She placed that plate in the space between her and Aidan, who had taken a spot on the opposite side of the blanket.

  On another plate, she placed the rolls and slices of a dry-aged ham similar to a prosciutto purchased at one of their stops. That plate joined the other, and then she handed Aidan the bottle of wine, a corkscrew and some glasses.

  “Are you always this prepared?” he asked and took the items from her.

  “We always picnicked,” she explained. “Sometimes it was after a shopping expedition or a hike. Sometimes a day at the beach.”

  “It sounds like your family had fun,” he said and she nodded, but battled the mix of sadness and happiness the memory brought.

  “Yes, we did. I miss them a lot.”

  Her voice had a tight feel to it. As he looked at her again, he could see the glint of unshed tears. He picked up his hand and moved it toward her, wanting to comfort her once again, but then quickly let it drop back down. This was crazy, he thought, much as he had told himself earlier. Crazy because there were too many secrets between them. Too many doubts.

  So instead, he concentrated on opening the wine and pouring glasses for each of them while she put out the final plate—a dish piled high with an assortment of summer berries.

  He handed her a glass filled with Hector’s wine, and offered up a silent toast. He waited for her to take a roll, break off a piece and then scoop up a bit of the oil-drizzled cheese. She popped the snack into her mouth and smiled. “Delicious.” After, she reached for one of the tomatoes and did the same.

  Aidan joined her, ate some of the bread and cheese. The flavors were…amazing. The tang of the cheese and fruitiness of the oil. The creaminess of it all against the crustiness and yeasty taste of the bread. He reached for a tomato and like the bread and cheese, the flavor was intense. Earthy and sweet. “Really, really good.”

  “Try this,” she said and offered a bit of the ham that she had wrapped around a chunk of the bread. He let her feed him the morsel. Again, the tastes and textures were alive in his mouth.

  “Hmm,” he replied and washed down the bite with a sip of the wine. It was, as she’d noted in the tasting room, quite good. And he could taste the hint of berries.

  Or maybe it was his imagination, since from beyond the rim of the glass he was busy watching Elizabeth toss back a bit of the wine and eat a strawberry. As he brought the glass down, their gazes collided and he realized that no matter what he thought she might be, he found her incredibly interesting. Complex. Desirable.

  And the feeling, it occurred to him as her gaze travelled over his face and settled on his lips, was apparently decidedly mutual.

  Take it slow, he told himself. He needed to explore all the nuances of the woman sitting across from him, just as he could with the wine in the glass. Maybe he could uncover other things about her, as well, during this little…interlude.

  He reached for a strawberry—a big, red ripe one. Picking it up, he brought it to her lips.

  She covered his hand with hers, as if to steady it. A sweet touch. Gentle.

  She took a bite of the berry and the juice from it escaped onto her lips, reddening them. She licked the juice away with her tongue.

  He nearly groaned as he imagined that tongue licking other things. As it was, he had to shift his position on the blanket to ease the pressure of his erection against his jeans.

  Men were sometimes too easy, Elizabeth thought. But as she took note of other things, her mouth suddenly went dry and she realized, maybe men and women weren’t all that different, as parts of her suddenly became…ready.

  Physical response notwithstanding, she knew nothing about Aidan other than he would leave, and he in turn knew little about her. Not who or what she was. Not what she wanted from life.

  But then again, maybe this didn’t have anything to do with any of that. Maybe this was one of those carpe diem times. Time to seize and be seized in return without any thought as to where that would lead. When the voice of common sense rose up to tell her it would lead to nothing good, she batted it way, tired of being sensible.

  Grabbing another bit of bread and cheese, she once again offered it up to him. A little smidge of cheese remained on his lips and he must have sensed it for he was reaching up to wipe it away when she said, “Let me.”

  He stopped, his gaze on her face as she shifted on the blanket to move closer and then, flicked her tongue over his lips to remove that one errant piece of cheese.

  He moaned then. Or at least she thought he did, but he made no move to take it any further.

  So maybe he wasn’t as easy as she had thought. It wasn’t going to stop her from doing the seizing. She was a modern woman after all.

  Aidan took a deep breath to control himself since he wanted nothing more than to kiss her and lay her down on that blanket and take off every last piece of…

  He gritted his jaw and told himself to maintain perspective. He was investigating her. She was likely a renowned assassin who would gut him quite easily with that little knife she was using to remove the skin from a pear she had pulled out of another bag.

  With the pear peeled, she made slices which she placed on the plate beside the strawberries. Once she was done, she sipped her wine, grabbed a little more of the bread, cheese and ham. Another tomato.

  He watched her enjoy the food with such gusto. He wanted to join her in that sensation and so he did the same, eating more of their purchases. He reached for a slice of pear but was waylaid as she offered her slice to him; he, in turn, offered her his slice.

  The pear was sweet and so ripe that the juices dripped onto his fingers and downward. His gaze was locked with hers as they brought the slices of fruit to each other’s mouths. Their eyes never wavered from each other as they both bit down and ate the pear slices.

  But when nothing was left and he would have reached for another piece, she did the unexpected.

  She grabbed hold of his hand and brought it close to her mouth. Slowly,
she licked the pear juice from each of his fingers and then finally, slipped his index finger into her mouth to lick it some more.

  It was his undoing; he nearly burst the seams on his jeans.

  He grasped her head in his hands, but some last little crumb of chivalry reared its head as he asked, “Are you sure about this?”

  “No,” she said, and he had to smile at her honesty.

  Thieves, he reminded himself as he closed the distance between them and said, “Me, neither,” just a moment before he finally kissed her as he had wanted to all day long.

  Chapter 12

  The other night hadn’t been an aberration, she thought. He really was an amazing kisser. His mouth was hard and soft. Gentle and rough. Warm.

  Unbelievably delicious, she thought, as she licked his lips and tasted the pear and berries and cheese, and, beneath it all, the elusive but heady taste of Aidan.

  She whimpered. Or, at least, she thought she did, which made him back away for a second until he realized it was a good kind of sound and he smiled.

  She could feel that smile against her lips which in turn, made her chuckle.

  He seized the opportunity then and dipped his tongue into her mouth, increased the pressure of his hand on the back of her head. She met his tongue with hers, tasting him. Exploring the different sensations of his mouth, tongue and lips. Of his warm breath coming roughly against her mouth as he expelled a ragged groan.

  “Lizzy Bee,” he said, but she pulled away from him then, afraid of the intimacy in his tone.

  “Don’t call me that.” She added hastily, “Please.”

  The warmth in his eyes grew cold. “I guess only your friends call you that,” he said and withdrew from her.

  Talk about ruining the moment, she thought and plucked at the fabric of her pants. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  He cut her off with the curt motion of his hand. “It’s okay, Elizabeth. Really. I remember the rules—don’t touch.”

  She struggled for the right words. “It’s not that. It’s just…You’re right that only my friends call me that. And my family. And you’re—”