“I’m not.” She wasn’t, was she?
Willow crouched down in front of her, placing her hands comfortingly over hers. “You are. What’s going on?”
Lexi opened her mouth, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say so she closed it again. Staring into her friend’s steady gaze centered her a bit. She found her equilibrium again. What scared her was that she hadn’t realized it was gone in the first place. Being around Brett was bad for her health. Or at least her sanity.
“I’m having dinner with him tonight. He called me a hypocrite and challenged me to prove that my aphrodisiac chocolates actually worked.”
A telltale grin played across Willow’s mouth and she shot a knowing glance back at Macey, who was standing just behind her.
“What?” Lexi asked, puzzled by their silent exchange.
Willow shrugged. “I have to give him points for figuring out which buttons to push. He obviously realized you wouldn’t say yes otherwise.”
Lexi thought back over their conversation last night. Hadn’t he said as much? He’d issued his challenge and then asked her if she’d have said yes to dinner. He’d already known the answer.
“He manipulated me,” she breathed, incredulous. Anger bubbled slowly inside her, starting as a simmer and quickly gaining ground. “He manipulated me.”
“That he did,” Macey said in that matter-of-fact way she had of cutting straight through crap. “But did you give him another choice?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lexi, you’ve had a Do Not Disturb sign around your neck for months. Ever since Brandon.”
She pushed up from the chair, not wanting to talk about this. But Willow’s steady gaze and Macey’s raised eyebrow wouldn’t let her run from the truth.
“Fine. I’ve been reluctant to put myself out there again after what happened. And I’m still reluctant. I don’t care what Brett wants, I’m not letting him in.”
Macey snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
She wasn’t. Although it probably wasn’t doing her any good pretending that she didn’t want to.
Denying herself was something Lexi was good at. It was a skill she’d been perfecting for years. Brett wasn’t chocolate, but she could do the same thing with him. Recognizing and acknowledging her desire to have him was the first step. Reminding herself of all the reasons that sleeping with him was a bad idea should keep her from caving in to temptation.
She’d get through tonight, any way she had to, and then simply refuse to see him after that. No matter how much he baited or cajoled.
And under no circumstances were they having sex.
6
BRETT KNOCKED ON her door. It had taken him a little while to figure out which of the cabins on the lake was hers, but it had been worth the investigation. He hadn’t asked her because he didn’t trust her not to come up with some reason to call off the whole thing.
And he didn’t want that.
His body had been buzzing with anticipation all day. Looking up from those plans at the bridal salon to see her standing there, watching him, had only increased that need.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when she opened the door to him. He was used to women who spent hours locked inside the bathroom before going anywhere. Women who considered their high heels and skintight dresses weapons in the war of the sexes.
Lexi’s feet were bare and her toenails painted the softest shade of pink. Her face had the natural flush of heat instead of artificial crap. Her hair was pulled up into a loose tail, but a few strands had escaped, curling softly against her face.
He wanted to let the rest of it free, to feel the cascade of it over the backs of his hands as he buried them at her nape and held her close.
Tight jeans molded to her body, but a flowing tunic covered up the good bits that he wanted to see—the curve of her rear and the flex of her thighs. She had runner’s legs, her calf muscles tight and perfect.
“Hi,” he said, his voice deep and husky with repressed need. Forget dinner, he wanted her. But he had just enough brain cells left to realize hauling her against him the moment the door opened probably wasn’t a good idea.
Instead, he held himself in check and offered up the bottle of wine he’d sweet-talked the pub into letting him buy. Thanks to Bowen’s report he knew it was her favorite.
“I thought this might go well with dinner.”
Instead of smiling at him when she read the label, the corners of her eyes tightened with tension. She didn’t take the bottle. Her eyes, filled with wary reluctance, traveled slowly from it to his gaze.
Blowing out an exasperated sigh, he reached for her hand, pressed the bottle against her palm and curled her fingers around the neck. “For heaven’s sake, Lexi, it’s only wine.”
“Yes, but it’s my favorite.”
“I know.”
The wariness sharpened. “How?”
It hadn’t escaped his notice that the front door still stood wide open behind him. Was she contemplating shoving him back outside? Too bad. He wasn’t going anywhere. Shutting the door, Brett leaned his back against it.
“I have my ways. Are you always this paranoid with your dates?”
“This isn’t a date.”
He wasn’t going to quibble with her over semantics. Not when there were bigger fish to fry. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
His mouth twisted. “That still isn’t much of an answer.”
“It’s all you’re getting.”
Someone had hurt her. It was written all over her body. Her shoulders arched close to her ears with tension. Her temptingly wide mouth compressed into an unhappy line. Her eyes kept darting away from him before being pulled back.
She was nervous. Of him. Brett didn’t like that. He didn’t want her to be nervous. He wanted to touch her, but what he needed was for her to relax so they could become friends.
Brett needed her on his side. More than he needed to get laid, although his cock wasn’t exactly in agreement with that plan.
Before he’d gotten in the car tonight he’d promised himself he would keep his hands to himself. However, that didn’t prevent him from fantasizing about laying hands on whoever had hurt her.
He’d spent his life protecting his mother and little brother from the danger that constantly lurked right outside their front door. It was instinctive. Lexi was so soft and sweet, she pulled at the protective urges that had been lying dormant since Hunter had started college and he’d finally convinced his mom to move into a better neighborhood.
Brett had never felt the need to defend any of the women he dated. They were all perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Sophisticated, polished, beautiful, competent, none of them had ever needed him for anything aside from momentary distraction.
And that’s the way he liked it.
Lexi was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, as well. The difference was that she had a vulnerability that she tried so hard to hide. But he knew it was there.
That instinct alone should have had him walking away. Instead he found himself asking, “Are you going to invite me in or are you planning on serving dinner in the foyer?”
* * *
LEXI SLAMMED A drawer closed in her kitchen. It was the best room in her house, where she’d spent the most money. The first thing she’d done when she moved in was tear down as many walls as possible so that she could open up the space. Aside from her store, this kitchen was where she spent the most time, and she liked the open, airy feel of it. She’d offered to cook rather than accepting Brett’s invitation to go out because she felt safer on her own turf.
But suddenly, with Brett sitting at the island, a glass of the wine he’d brought untouched in front of him, her roomy kitchen felt too sma
ll. She needed more space, but there was none to be had.
So she concentrated on dinner, instead. Cooking had always been her refuge, a way of controlling the food that went into her own mouth.
“Why did you go to culinary school?”
Her eyes cut across to Brett. His fingers slipped up and down the stem of the goblet, but he didn’t take a sip. His fingers were strong, capable. She wanted them touching her body the way he was caressing that glass.
To lessen the temptation, she turned away from him and began searing the ahi steaks she’d bought. She already had rosemary-roasted fingerling potatoes and asparagus with hollandaise sauce, but the tuna would only take a few minutes and she hadn’t wanted it to dry out.
Shrugging, she finally answered his question because it was safer than letting the charged silence stretch between them. “I’ve always had a thing for food. In the South we use it for everything. Someone died? Have a casserole. Broke an arm? Here’s a cobbler. Celebration? We’ll have a barbecue. Good, bad, indifferent, there’s always food.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
She threw a glance over her shoulder trying to figure out if he was making fun of her. It didn’t look like it, but with Brett it was hard to tell what he was thinking. His cool eyes and focused gaze were unnerving. She wasn’t used to being the center of anyone’s attention.
“When I was younger all that food got me in trouble. I had no self-control and was overweight.”
“You were an adorable child.”
Lexi frowned. “No, I wasn’t. And how would you know?”
Something indecipherable flashed across Brett’s face, but he buried it in his wineglass before she could figure out what it meant.
“Culinary school taught me how to have the things I loved, but make them in a way that was better for my body. I found balance.” Her preoccupied frown morphed into a smile. “And I’m good at it.”
“That you are.” Brett tipped his glass toward her in a salute. Taking another sip, he said, “And you’re a good judge of wine.”
“Comes with the territory. I worked in one of those fancy restaurants in New York for a while. Had to know what paired well with the meal.”
“Why’d you come home?”
Lexi plated the food. She glanced over at the dining table and the unlit candles set out across the burgundy table runner. She didn’t want candles. That seemed too intimate and datelike.
Sitting at the island was better. Less formal. Surely it proved that she wasn’t trying here and didn’t care if she impressed him.
She set a plate down in front of him, dropping silverware onto the cloth napkin she’d brought with her. But somewhere along the way she’d miscalculated. There were only two chairs, so she had no choice but to sit next to him.
The warmth from the stove wrapped around her. And the entire meal took on a feeling of careless intimacy. Like they’d been eating dinner together in the kitchen forever.
Maybe some formal distance would have been a good idea.
But it was too late now, so Lexi poured herself a glass of wine. Brett took a forkful of the fish and closed his eyes in bliss. “So much better than the diner food I’ve been eating.”
Lexi laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I’d recommend keeping that to yourself unless you want to find your food doctored with Tabasco.”
“Why don’t you have a restaurant?”
She shrugged. “Chocolate is my passion. Besides, I didn’t like the mass-production pressure of an industrial kitchen. I felt...stifled. I like being able to take my time and experiment. Sugar and Spice lets me do that.”
Mumbling around another forkful, Brett said, “If you change your mind I know a resort that’s going to need a phenomenal executive chef.”
Lexi looked down at her plate, her lips twisting. “Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you? Especially after what happened at the council meeting.”
“You heard about that?”
She eyed him. “Everyone heard about that. Welcome to small-town life where news travels as fast as the sweet tea can be poured.”
Brett shook his head. “How do you stand it?”
“What?”
“The constant pressure and scrutiny.”
“I don’t. Or I didn’t. Why do you think I buried myself in candy when I was younger? As the mayor’s daughter I was constantly on display. Luckily Gage’s antics took some of the pressure off, but not all of it.”
“I’m not sure I could ever get used to it.”
Lexi shifted in her chair. “It sounds like your upbringing had its share of drawbacks. Every place has pros and cons. Sure, the ratio of busybodies is fairly high in Sweetheart, but we take care of our own, too. Those same people would do anything for me and my family.”
An unexpected lump formed in Lexi’s throat. She tried to force it down by taking a sip of wine, but that didn’t help. “I’ll never forget what this town did for us when Gage was captured in Afghanistan. I’d venture to guess your neighborhood didn’t have that kind of support.”
Brett’s cool gaze shot straight through her. It made her shiver, not because it was distant, but because she was afraid he could see too much. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? Hadn’t Brandon taught her that lesson well enough?
Apparently not.
Jumping up, Lexi took her mostly untouched dinner and scraped it into the garbage. Needing to put space between them, she didn’t return to her chair, but reached across the counter to snag her wineglass.
Leaning back against the edge of the stove, she felt more comfortable. Maybe it was the stretch of granite between them or the familiarity of the stove at her back. Either way, Lexi felt safer—not from him but from herself.
Although she had to admit, standing across from him meant that she got to watch as he enjoyed the meal she’d prepared. Lexi liked it when people took pleasure from the things she cooked and created. It was one of the great things about Sugar & Spice. Her favorite customers were the little kids. The ones who shoveled chocolate into their open mouths with abandon until their cheeks were stuffed and there was no more room.
It was happiness. And so was watching Brett eat.
Lexi tried not to preen when he cleaned his plate. “There’s more if you’d like.”
“No, thanks.” His somnolent gaze cut across to hers.
His next words shattered the illusion of calm that she’d drawn around herself like armor.
“I wouldn’t want to ruin dessert.”
She wanted to think that she’d forgotten just what dessert was supposed to entail, but she hadn’t. The relentless thump of blood through her veins wouldn’t let her.
Swallowing, Lexi grasped the container of truffles she’d brought home with her. She was reaching for a platter to spread them across when a sound startled her. A Brother Cane song she recognized from her teenage years filled the kitchen.
Impatience cut across Brett’s eyes, but he stood up from her counter and walked to the edge of the room anyway. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”
Lexi intended to ignore him—it was rude to eavesdrop—but his exclamation was too loud.
“What the hell happened, Hunter? Is she okay?”
Brett raked a hand through his hair, standing the dark strands on end. She’d never seen him do that before. His hair was always perfectly in place. Was it bad of her to admit she liked it better messy? It made him more...human.
“Okay, what hospital is she in? I’ll check flights and get back to you in a few minutes so you can pick me up from the airport.”
Whatever was going on couldn’t be good if he was ready to hop a plane.
“Sonofabitch, of course I’m coming. No, I do not want you to put her on the—” His voice cut off into a low growl, but quickly changed to a soft rumble.
“Mom? Thank God you’re okay.”
Brett’s shoulders drooped. He turned and slumped against Lexi’s olive-green kitchen wall. The heel of his palm dug into closed eyes and Lexi realized his skin had gone ghostly pale beneath the normally swarthy complexion.
“I’ll catch the first flight to Philly.” He paused. “No, I—” and apparently was cut off. And continued to be cut off over and over again. She had no idea what he was protesting, but the woman on the other end of the line wasn’t listening. Finally, his head dropped back against the wall in defeat.
“If you’re sure. I don’t like not being there, Mom. Even if they send you home tonight, you’re still going to need a hand for a few days. Yes, Hunter is perfectly capable, but he has school.” He grimaced. “Yes, I know I told you this project is important, but not more important than you. If you need me I’ll come right home.”
Brett shook his head. His eyes popped open, frustration clouding the bright blue depths. She should be embarrassed at being caught unabashedly prying, but she wasn’t. There were too many other emotions jumbled up inside her to make room for something as unimportant as that.
Several moments later Brett ended the call, but the whole time he kept her locked squarely in his sights. She could see the barely contained turmoil. The frustration. The fear.
“Everything okay?”
“My mom was in a car accident.”
She wanted to cross to him. To offer him comfort. He’d tried to hide the bleeding edge of concern behind his words, but hadn’t quite succeeded. However, she had enough mental capacity to realize staying on her side of the kitchen was wise. But it was tough.
“It sounded like she’s going to be okay though.”
He nodded, but his mouth tightened. “Some asshole ran a red light and T-boned her. Luckily the passenger side took more of the force. She’s banged up, but nothing’s broken.”
“Thank God.”
Brett rolled his lips inward before pushing them back out again in an exaggerated motion that drew her gaze downward. “She won’t let me come. Said they were going to release her in a few hours anyway, and it would just be a waste of time.”
She's No Angel Page 7
