Mixing Temptation

by Sara Jane Stone

  “I love it.”

  Chapter 2

  “MAY I LICK the whipped cream off your face?”

  Josh lowered his fork to the pie dish and waited for the Big Buck’s dishwasher to catch up with the conversation. Pie—­not flowers—­had offered him the perfect way to transition from the guy who found her in the woods to her friend. And he couldn’t resist the temptation to switch from small talk to damn near close to begging for a kiss.

  And a date, he thought. I’m going to ask her out today.

  Caroline raised one perfect, dark eyebrow. One hand clasped a spoon and the other rested on the stainless steel work surface that on busy nights held stacks of dirty pint glasses waiting for her attention. Right now, it was just the two of them and the pie. The bar wouldn’t open to Forever’s local logging population and the university students who outnumbered the men and woman born and bred in this section of the Willamette Valley for another hour.

  “No,” she said. Her tongue darted out from between her pink lips that always looked as if she was wearing a kiss-­me-­now lipstick. Or course, he knew the woman whose ideas of accessorizing involved a concealed weapon tucked into the waistband of her pants did not bother with makeup. She licked the whipped cream teasing the edge of her mouth. “I’ve got it under control.”

  He nodded, refilled his fork and lifted another bite of key lime pie to his mouth. He always asked—­for a touch, a taste, a kiss—­but he never pushed. Caroline would shift the parameters of their dessert-­based friendship in her own time. Or she wouldn’t and he’d be forced to come to terms with the fact that the future he daydreamed about—­settling down with Caroline, buying his own home, maybe a dog—­would replace sleeping with Megan Fox on the top of his Never Going to Happen list.

  “You’re going to Noah’s wedding on Saturday night?” he asked, sliding back into friendly chitchat. He’d waited a year to kiss Caroline the first time. And he’d sit tight for another if it meant more sugarcoated kisses. To hell with his siblings’ opinions.

  “Just because I can take the dishwasher apart and fix it every time it tries to quit on us”—­she nodded to the restaurant-­grade appliance behind her—­“doesn’t mean Noah wouldn’t fire me for missing his wedding. Plus, he’s closing the bar for the night. Everyone else is going.”

  “Everyone else is in the wedding,” Josh pointed out. Big Buck’s owner and manager was marrying Forever’s former bad girl, who’d burst into his life over a year ago, demanded a job, and quickly worked her way up to assistant manager. And the only other bartender on the payroll right now was the groom’s best friend and the bride’s big brother.

  “True. But I owe Noah. I can’t miss his wedding.”

  Fair enough, he thought.

  “A ­couple of months ago, you asked me out on a date,” Josh pointed out.

  “I was feeling brave at the time.”

  “Are you canceling?” he challenged. If she said yes, he’d kiss her again. Maybe not today, but one day soon. And he’d reminder her why she’d summoned the courage to ask in the first place. He’d caught her looking, her eyes roaming over his biceps with a flicker of something more than friendship in their green depths. And if given the chance, he would let her run her fingers over his T-­shirt, mapping the muscles beneath . . .

  “No, I’m not canceling,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m still working out the details.”

  “Be my date to the wedding.”

  Her eyes widened, staring back at him as if he’d dropped to one knee and suggested they follow her boss down the aisle.

  “No,” she said firmly. “Josh, I . . . Just no.”

  CAROLINE REFUSED TO look away. She’d spent months learning to read Josh’s facial expressions, forcing herself to look past the red-­gold stubble that screamed ‘I’m too sexy for this bar.’

  Or his shirt.

  Or her . . .

  Right now, the corners of his mouth threatened to fall into a frown. Disappointment. But he never let his smile falter for long. He always took a moment. Looked away and then returned his gaze to her as if she hadn’t turned him down twice in ten minutes.

  But he knows I’m a long way from whipped cream kisses in the bar’s back room.

  And dates.

  Yes, she’d asked him out once. But then reality had come crashing down on her. Her life consisted of washing pint glasses and staying out of sight. She couldn’t hope for more—­not even a single night out at one of the restaurants near the university—­with a federal warrant hanging over her head.

  Of course, the police weren’t actively looking for her. As far as she knew. But if the local cops, or even a state trooper passing through town, found out who she was . . . If they learned why she kept to the shadows, she would be under arrest and turned over to the military. She would have to pay the price for her unauthorized absence. For refusing to deploy alongside the men who’d turned a blind eye when their commanding officer ordered her into his bed. The men who’d laughed with Dustin when he’d said he would force open her mouth and make her take him between her lips . . .

  And then there was the elephant in the bar’s back room that would also tag along on their date. She hadn’t had sex—­oral or otherwise—­because she wanted to since before she joined the Marines. Josh had never treated her like a victim, but there was a first time for everything.

  “I’m sorry,” she added. “But I can’t go to the wedding as your date. There will be too many ­people. And everyone knows you. If they see me with you . . . they’ll ask questions. And I can’t give them answers. I need to stay in the background, hiding behind a plant or something. And then leave as soon as they cut the cake.”

  “A wedding probably isn’t the best place for a first date.” He pointed his fork at her. “Maybe once I get my own place, you can help me christen the kitchen.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “That assumes a lot for a first date.”

  He laughed. And the familiar sound threatened to lead her into his version of the future. One where they would kiss in the kitchen and then—­

  “I was talking about baking a pie together,” he said. “I’d invite you over to the farmhouse, but I didn’t think you’d take kindly to receiving the third degree from my siblings and their significant others.”

  “Probably not a good idea,” she murmured. She’d spent the past year trying to avoid his two older brothers and his sister. It wasn’t hard seeing as his family lived in Independence Falls, a solid hour’s drive from Big Buck’s Bar. Chad Summers, the middle brother, had tried to befriend her, stopping by the bar’s back room with his girlfriend, a drop-­dead gorgeous woman who’d served in the army. But Caroline had shut down their attempts.

  Josh Summers remained the one and only person she’d let in since she’d showed up on Noah’s doorstep. There was something about the way he accepted the word ‘no’ that broke down her defenses. He never tossed the word aside, questioning whether it was a knee-­jerk response. He never pushed—­not once—­under the pretense that he knew what was best for her. Not since that first night when he’d found her in the woods. Even Noah, who’d had her back when they were deployed together, pushed. Her fellow soldier turned boss tried over and over to talk her into visiting the local gun club with him. She said no and he asked again and again.

  But Josh always listened.

  “Have you started looking for a new apartment?” she asked, steering the conversation away from dates that might lead to compromising situations.

  “I’m looking, but not for an apartment. I’m still sitting on my split from when we sold the family trucking company. I want to use the cash to buy a piece of land. Someplace with a nice view of the mountains, maybe space to put those viticulture classes I’ve been taking to use and grow some grapes. Not a lot. I’ve learned enough to know that is one tough business. I’d rather keep my day job with Moore Timber and put my
blood, sweat, and tears into building my own home.”

  “You can do that?” The question slipped out before she could mask the surprise in her voice.

  “I’ll need help, but I know what I want. Four bedrooms. Maybe five. Plenty of space to spread out. Timber frame. A second story that is open to a great room below. And one helluva kitchen with all the modern appliances. I’ll hire an architect, and a builder. But I can swing a hammer with the best of them.”

  Four bedrooms. Plenty of space. . .

  Oh hell, she should push him away. A better friend would demand that Josh Summers share his pies with a woman willing to daydream about a place in his picture-­perfect future. She shouldn’t let him waste his life waiting for her to make up her mind about a first date.

  “You should do it,” she said firmly. “You should buy the land. What are you waiting for?”

  He cocked his head. One red curl fell across his forehead. His hair looked as if he’d rolled out of bed, run his fingers through the loose, wavy locks and prepared to face another day looking like an Irish god who’d somehow landed in rural Oregon. Though that might have something to do with the muscles he’d fine-­tuned over the years of felling trees.

  But right now she kept her gaze focused on his face, waiting for his answer.

  “What if I decide on five bedrooms and the woman I want to share my dream home with thinks it’s too much. I might have to settle for three in order to talk her into an outdoor kitchen that I’m thinking about building in addition to the monstrous one in the house.”

  “As long as you’re not planning to turn half the house into some sort of man cave with beer pong tables lining the hallways, I think you’ll find someone who will love your dream house,” she said. “Of course to meet that special someone you will have to start dating.”

  And that was as close as she was going to get to kicking him in the butt and demanding that he turn his focus away from her. They could remain friends. But another kiss would just lead to a dead end.

  His smile faded. “You think I should ask someone else to be my date to the wedding?”

  She forced a brief nod and let her gaze settle on the half-­eaten pie.

  “No,” he said slowly, lingering over the simple word. “I don’t think so. But I might put in an offer on that land.”

  “You should do both,” she pointed out despite the relief that threatened to turn to joy. “I can’t move into your four-­ to five-­bedroom dream home. Not when I’m still so . . .”

  Scared.

  Nearly fifteen months had slipped by since she’d run away from the military. She’d pressed pause on her life that day. There had been moments here and there were she’d felt ready to hit play again and move on. Each one revolved around the man standing across the stainless steel counter looking down at his pie.

  “A ­couple of weeks ago you stopped wearing those baggy cargo pants.” Josh dug his fork into the dish and glanced up at her. “I like the skinny jeans better.”

  Me too. And I like the way you look at my legs when you think I’m distracted. . .

  “I stood out in the cargo pants and boots,” she said with a shrug. “Lily said I’d blend in more if I dressed like the university students. And Josie had some clothes she didn’t think would ever fit again even if she lost all the baby weight. She gave these to me.”

  “You stand out in those jeans too. I’m glad I only have to share the view with the dishwasher.” He nodded to the machine. “And not all those young kids from the college.”

  “You’re twenty-­eight, Josh. Not that much older than those ‘young kids.’ Many of them are graduate students.”

  “More than half would love to have you serve their drinks,” he said.

  “I like it back here where no one will—­”

  “Notice you. Yeah, I get that. But my point is, you’ve changed since you first showed up here looking for Noah.” He set down his fork and took a step back. “Who knows what will happen next?”

  “Nothing.”

  I hope. I pray.

  Because the only life-­changing events she could imagine would land her in trouble. She’d carved out a safe place to hide. She had a cash job and a place to live thanks to her boss. If she lost this—­

  “Something always happens next.” He turned and headed for the door.

  She’d touched the hard planes of his chest when she’d kissed him, but the view of his backside left her wanting more. More pies. More conversation. More Josh.

  One . . . Two . . . Three. . .

  He turned and glanced over his shoulder. And then he flashed a knowing smile. Oh, she’d seen plenty of hard-­bodied men. She’d served alongside soldiers with drool-­worthy muscles. There was nothing special about Josh Summers.

  Except for his smile.

  She was falling for that grin and the man who wielded it like an enticing treat. Tempted to trust in him. Believe in him.

  “I’ll see you at the wedding,” he called and then he walked his delicious smile out the door of the bar’s back room.

  She abandoned her fork and dipped her fingers in the pie dish. Sugar. She needed a burst of sweetness to take her mind off Josh Summers.

  Next time he asks you to lick the whipped cream from your lips, say yes!

  Because Josh Summers was right. Something always happened next. And if she wanted to reclaim her life—­or at least a small piece of it—­if she wished for another chance to land in Josh’s arms with his lips pressed to hers, then she needed to find out what happened when she said yes.

  Chapter 3

  “I BET YOU’RE wondering the same thing I am.”

  “I doubt that, Miss Lily.” Josh lowered his plastic pint glass from his lips, savoring the taste of the state’s leading microbrew, which Josie Fairmore—­now Mrs. Josephine Tager—­had declared the signature drink for her backyard wedding. “But if you’re mentally undressing other women at parties you should probably tell Dominic. Trust me, that is something your boyfriend would want to know.”

  Lily Greene stepped in front of him. Long blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, teasing the neckline of her strapless pink dress, but Josh didn’t give a damn about the curves beneath the bubble-­gum colored fabric. She was blocking his view of the only woman he wanted to see naked.

  Caroline.

  “I’ve never seen Caroline in a dress,” Lily mused. “Where does she keep her gun under that outfit?”

  “If I talk her out of it later, I’ll let you know.” He tried to step around Lily. He’d kept his distance from Caroline during the ceremony, but now that the reception was in full swing under the rented tent beside Noah’s old barn, he wanted to talk to the woman who’d walked in here looking like she’d borrowed a page from his fantasies.

  Tight dress, high heels, no panties. . .

  OK, he couldn’t say for sure she’d skipped the underwear from this vantage point. But he could see her pale green sundress. The top hugged her torso. He’d felt her full breasts when Caroline pressed up against him during the one and only time they’d kissed. And yeah, he’d been surprised by how much she’d been hiding behind those baggy shirts she wore to Big Buck’s.

  She’d filled out since the first night he found her in the woods looking like she hadn’t eaten much while freaking walking from Northern California. But she was still petite, even in those high-­heeled wedges strapped to her feet.

  The bride of the hour had once described Caroline’s look as ‘wood nymph meets G.I. Jane’ when someone suggested they looked alike. And Josh had to agree. Josie and Caroline were roughly the same height, similar dark hair and pale skin, but the similarities stopped there. There was something about the way Caroline carried herself—­a little wild and rough around the edges—­that set her apart.

  He cocked his head and studied Caroline’s slim ankles and muscular calves. How had he known
this woman for over a year and never seen her legs? And while he was asking questions, he couldn’t escape the one his brothers hurled at him over and over: how long did he plan to wait for her? As his big brother had kindly pointed out last week, Josh hadn’t slept with a woman since before he first met Caroline.

  But he’d learned patience since his accident. Losing his short-­term memory, spending months in rehab, working his ass off to reclaim his sense of self, he’d grown accustomed to waiting for what he wanted.

  Still, he’d like to find out if Caroline had attended the wedding without her panties.

  Lily reached out and took his free hand. “I think she needs a friend tonight. She’s still afraid of Ryan. And probably most of the other unfamiliar faces. There are a lot of cops here.”

  “I know.” He pulled free from Lily’s hold and stepped around her. Then he walked around the wooden dance floor Noah had installed for the reception. He waved to friends and familiar faces that called his name, but he kept his gaze focused on Caroline. The closer he got the more the dress looked like a disguise—­an attempt to soften her don’t-­mess-­with-­me façade

  She’d planted her high-­heeled wedges hip’s distance apart. And her hands were clasped behind her back. Parade rest. He recognized the stance. It was as if her military training had seeped into her bones, becoming a permanent part of her. Caroline was a Marine.

  A Marine driven into fucking hiding.

  Not a lot pissed Josh off. He let go of most of the shit life hurled at him. He’d come too close to losing his chance to live to hold on tight to anger. But he wanted five minutes alone with the man who’d stolen away her future with the military. He wouldn’t bring a weapon, just his fists and his rage.

  But Caroline didn’t need him to seek out vengeance on her behalf. She didn’t need a hero. Hell, she was a hero. Lily had nailed it—­the fierce, frightened Marine needed a friend. Especially tonight.

  He kept walking, setting his empty drink on the makeshift bar as he passed by. He grinned at Dominic Fairmore. “Might want to hand over your self-­appointed role as master of the keg to someone else. Your girlfriend is mentally undressing other women.”