by Nikki Duncan
“You…” Vic gasped for a breath. “I didn’t even know you’d submitted a drawing.”
“Seems Carmen has more secrets than we thought.” Dani winked.
“It’s no big deal. I just outlined an idea for Byron.” Carmen shrugged. She’d wanted to lose, because then she could keep her secret to herself. God. She hoped they didn’t run her drawing in the paper, but every instinct told her they would. Byron would see no reason to keep the design a secret.
Unless… “Vic, would you excuse me? I need to talk to Byron.”
“Avoidance doesn’t suit you, Carmen.”
“I’ll be back when I’m finished.” It was a lie and they both knew it, but Vic let it go.
Carmen ran across the beach to where Byron sat with Errol and Harold.
She’d left the foster care system with two valuable lessons: adjust quickly and quietly to new surroundings and choose friends wisely.
Those lessons had been easy to practice in Whispering Cove. It had only been a matter of weeks before she and Aimee had become part of a tight circle of friends. Through those friends, they’d developed an understanding of how things worked in town.
The pace was slow and easy, unlike any other place they’d travelled through. The people held each other close and protected their own; anyone lucky enough to be included had friends who would last lifetimes. The town had a government body, but the three grandfathers—Errol, Harold and Byron—had their fingers on the town’s pulse and were rarely denied.
That power was how Carmen would get her way.
“Byron.” Her breath came in rushed pants after trudging up the sandy hill, but she had a plea to make.
“What’s the rush, Carmen?”
“Has the story already been written for tomorrow’s paper? About the gazebo design?”
“Yes. They’ll go to print as soon as the recap on today is written up.”
Yes. There was still time. “You didn’t ask them to include the drawing, did you?”
“Of course.”
“It was a mighty fine drawing, lass,” Harold interjected.
“Thank you.” She nodded absently at Harold. It was a huge compliment, but that didn’t mean she wanted to share her hobby with anyone else. “I think you should run the announcement without the drawing.”
“Why would we want to do that?”
She dropped to her knees before Byron and took his hands in hers. “You know how much you love your surprises.”
“We do.”
“What if you kept the design a secret? Make it a big reveal at the end of the parade.”
All three men narrowed their eyes and began nodding. She’d interested their inner schemers. Anything they came up with would be entirely their idea, and she was fine with that as long as she got to keep her life her own.
“Nothing says we have to announce the winning drawing in the paper.” Byron nodded faster, excited.
“We could just say Alden Landscaping won the bid,” Harold stated.
“We’d have to close the gazebo to everyone in town until it’s finished.” Errol picked up the thread, and the idea was officially theirs.
“Sky’s wedding reception is gonna be in the square.” Harold shook his head, clearly ready to veto the idea on behalf of the newcomer he’d set up at Christmas. “Her daddy won’t like it if we have the place torn up.”
“They decided to have it on the church lawn since we had planned on re-landscaping the town square.” Errol waved a hand dismissively.
“We’ll do an update each week on how many of what plants, flowers, etcetera are being used.” Byron squeezed Carmen’s hands and grinned. “Carmen will be riding in a convertible at the end of the parade. When she arrives she’ll do the honors of pulling the curtain back to reveal the design.”
Damn. She’d have preferred the drawing to be in the paper. Keeping her smile pasted on her lips, she extracted her hands from Byron’s and stood. “I’ll just leave you all to your plans.”
She was still backing away when she smacked into a hard, wet, naked chest. Sparks shot through her and she knew without turning to look whom she’d run into.
Ryan.
“Woman, I don’t think they’re the only schemers in town.” His voice was a rumble of humor as she moved away from him.
“Don’t call me Woman.”
“You are one.”
“That doesn’t make it respectful.” She was stopped from saying anything more when Byron called out.
“Gunny. We need to talk.”
“I’ll see you at 0600. Don’t be late. Woman.” Ryan spoke like he had authority over her.
Carmen backed away, stopping herself from laughing in his face. She was no longer a charity case dependent on the goodwill of strangers. She no longer had to dream that she would be accepted and loved. The freedom of those realities came with the knowledge that no one, Ryan Alden included, had the power to give her commands.
Chapter Three
Ryan shoved bush branches into the mulcher, each one with a little more force. The hour of 0600 had come and gone. So had 0700 and 0800. Now 0900 was nearing and still he saw no sign of Carmen Smith.
He and his crew had erected a temporary wall around the gazebo to keep people out of the work zone. Then they’d started pulling out the bushes that had rooted deeply in just a couple of years.
He needed to discuss the design with Carmen so he could get supplies ordered, but since she’d gotten her way with Byron and the announcement of her victory had been pulled from the town paper she probably thought she’d get her way with Ryan too. The first time he saw her she’d learn differently. He didn’t appreciate being stood up.
Like he’d conjured her, Carmen slipped through the last open section of the wall that would close the gazebo off for the month. With a smile and fingertip wave to his crew, she strolled across the grass. She wore straight-legged jeans rolled at the ankle and a blue-and-white-checkered top that was tied at her waist to show off a hint of skin below her belly button. The buttons were undone to the top swell of her breasts so each step enhanced them with a slight bounce. A wide, red hair band secured her hair back, keeping the bangs off her forehead.
Ryan’s body hardened, trembled, with a combination of rage and arousal.
When she lifted a paper coffee cup to her red-glossed lips, arousal knocked rage back a step. When she walked past him and sat on a bench in the gazebo, rage kicked arousal’s ass.
“Carmen,” he said, pitching his voice over the mulcher.
She nodded pleasantly.
“You can’t do landscaping work dressed like that.”
“It’s not a dress like I normally wear.” She glanced down at her clothes, studied her tennis shoes and blinked up at him. “Besides, you’re the landscaper, Gunny. I’m the designer.”
Being called Gunny had never pissed him off before. He’d worked damn hard to earn the rank before leaving the Corps. Yet, the way she said it, as if she thought for half a second she was better than him, managed to detonate his anger.
Ryan flipped the switch to turn off the mulcher. Doing an about-face on the ball of his right foot, he moved in her direction. Each step was a heel-toe strike that vibrated through his shins and up his thighs. As he neared, she lifted her head and took another drink.
Inciting him further, she smiled at his crew as they secured the last of the temporary wall. They needed to keep their eyes on their work if they wanted to keep their jobs. “You’ve gotten a lot of work done already.”
“We could have more done if you’d reported on time.”
She pointed to herself. “Artist.” She pointed at him. “Landscaper.”
She smiled with that pretty mouth of hers and all he wanted to do was wipe the cheer away. He just wasn’t sure if he’d do the wiping with his hand or his lips.
He was still trying to decide when she set her coffee on the bench. Then she stood and stepped up on the bench. The extra foot and a half put her closer to his height, and she gestured for him to come ne
arer.
“Guys,” he called to his crew without looking at them. “Would you excuse us, please?”
The men headed through the gate they’d erected and pushed it closed, giving him and Carmen complete privacy. Not one to back down from a challenge, Ryan took the three steps necessary to stand in front of her.
“Let’s get something straight, Gunny.” She curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt, leaned in close and spoke in that irritatingly haughty tone of hers. “You’re no longer in the Corps. I am not an enlisted grunt below your rank. The orders and militant expectations end. Now. Do we understand one another?”
Damn, but he wanted to throttle her and kiss her. Every spark that had been detonated at her touch yesterday fired in her eyes as they locked with his. His skin heated more than it had from the morning’s labor. His decision was made for him.
The woman had taunted him from a distance, awakened him with a touch and then haunted his dreams. He’d awoken hard and on edge, looking forward to seeing her. Then when she finally bothered to appear it was in a shroud of arrogance.
“Do you want to know what I understand, Woman?”
“I told you not to call me that.”
Ryan took another step. His toes bumped the bench. “You’re pissed that I didn’t ask nice enough.”
She leaned marginally closer, pinning her hand between them. “You didn’t ask at all.”
“I’m not a soft man. I don’t have the patience for female games like the other men in this town.”
“I am not playing games.”
“You’re just trying to prove you won’t be bossed around by me. That doesn’t make us equals.”
She leaned into his face, unblinking, and shook her head. “I am no man’s subordinate. If you want my help, you’ll take it on equal footing.”
He grinned. “Says the woman standing on a bench so she can have a chance of looking me in the eye.”
“But I have your attention, don’t I?”
“Oh yeah. I wonder if you captured it the way you’d hoped.” Proving the point, he placed a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her close. Her smile was gone, but he was still going to taste her sassy mouth.
Placing his lips on hers, Ryan kissed her. He didn’t devour her, though his libido urged him to. He didn’t kiss her tentatively, though she resembled an antique doll. Firm, but not demanding, he moved his lips, brushed the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip.
She opened for him, but he didn’t take the plunge. The hint of spice intrigued him. He slid his tongue over her lip again, easing the slightest bit into her mouth. Spicy and sweet. Not coffee. Chai with a sprinkle of cayenne.
Carmen moaned, tightened her hold on his collar. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Holding her, he lifted her from the bench and turned to sit. He settled her on his lap and while every impulse told him to go for the bases, he settled for sliding his hand from her waist to her hip. His fingers sought purchase in her curves.
“Ryan,” she whispered against his lips.
“Hmm?” He moved to her neck, memorizing the softness of her flesh.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Life’s too short for shouldn’ts.”
She released the hold she had on his collar and moved her hands to his neck. Her fingers slipped into his hair. Longer than it had been in sixteen years, she found enough to grip. The light tug ramped his desire up a notch.
He nipped at her neck, pulling for only a second at her skin. She arched against him. Her breasts, shown to perfection by the low buttons on the top and the red bra peaking along the edge, swelled.
She settled her mouth at his ear and swiped her tongue across his lobe. His heart slammed against his ribs. His blood thrummed.
He could happily take her to the wood floor of the gazebo and drive deep. Instead, he trailed his mouth along her neck. Pulling her shirt and bra strap back as far as her shirt would allow, he kissed her collar bone. His free hand slid along her stomach, reached for the knot of her shirt.
A single tug was all he needed to have the knot falling free. With that gone, the shirt slipped farther up and down her shoulder. He’d never needed a woman like he found himself needing Carmen, and that made her a danger he couldn’t indulge.
Struggling to breathe evenly, he eased back.
She followed his retreat for half a second before shaking her head and moving off his lap. She turned away while she righted her clothes. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. Though he already wanted to do it again.
“Don’t think you won just because I let you kiss me.”
“You kissed me back, Woman.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“And you call me bossy.”
She lifted a shoulder in a jerky shrug. He still felt the satin of that shoulder on his tongue. She didn’t want him to think she was submissive. Her eagerness to argue would make the next few weeks of working together a misery, yet a part of him liked that she wanted to fight.
Not ready for the next round quite yet, he went to her. Resting a gentle hand on her shoulder he turned her. “Why don’t you call it quits for today?”
“I haven’t done anything.”
She’d done more than enough, though. “I can finish ripping out the bushes.” The exertion of some energy might help his arousal subside, though he doubted it would last long. “If you’re free later we could get together to discuss the plans.”
“What’s wrong with what I drew?”
“Too many of the plants aren’t native to Maine and some of the rock ideas won’t work. Too many little ones needed that would never stay put.”
“The plants aren’t native?”
“I don’t work with non-natives.”
She huffed. “I get it. You’re a purist snob.”
“No. I just don’t like the way they take over the area, driving out everything that belongs here.”
“Is that so?” She shook her head and stomped toward the gazebo steps. She spun at the edge and glared at him. “Just so you know, sometimes the non-natives are what add color to a place. You natives need to learn to adapt.”
She stormed away before he could form a rebuttal. Somehow he doubted they’d been talking about the same thing. He hadn’t meant her when he’d made the comment about non-natives, but the truth of the double meaning was real enough. She was a non-native and her existence in town was changing things.
Three days had passed since he’d kissed her. Aside from a meeting about what they’d need for the project, Carmen had spent those three days avoiding Ryan. Keeping busy with her friends had helped, but he’d commanded her thoughts frequently.
He’d phoned, and she’d vowed to give Byron an earful for giving her number out. He’d called to her on the street, and she’d turned the other way pretending not to notice or hear him. He’d shown up at her apartment, and she’d pretended not to be home.
The man’s determination was slightly admirable and a lot annoying. Every time she saw him or heard his voice in her voicemail she was transported back to the gazebo. Her body trembled again with the memory of his touch. A place inside her, a place she’d always kept hidden, wished he hadn’t stopped. Or that she’d had the courage to ask for more.
It was a few minutes before closing, with the last appointments gone, when the salon door opened.
“Secret wishes fade like a wind’s whisper. We’re as trustworthy as a favorite sister.” Vic often programmed short, suggestive messages in her custom door chime. The recent greeting was longer than normal, and less sexy, but as usual, it had been stirring up conversation and kept the salon hopping with gossip.
“Welcome to The Whispering Salon,” Carmen said as she swept a small pile of hair into the dustpan. “I’ll be right with you.”
Welcoming the distraction that pulled her from her thoughts, she straightened and turned. Her wrist went lax, allowing the hair to tumble fr
om the pan.
Ryan stood inside the door in jeans, socks and a polo shirt embroidered with Alden Landscaping. He lifted a hand in a small wave.
She wondered about his shoes, but only shook her head. Why couldn’t the man leave her alone? He’d complained about non-natives changing everything, yet he was the one in pursuit. If he wanted nothing to change he should stay away.
“I need a trim.”
Broom and empty dustpan in hand, she moved quickly and ducked into Vic’s office before he could argue. The relief on Vic’s face when she looked up from the laptop suggested she was working on her checkbook, her least favorite part of business ownership, and welcomed the distraction. “What’s up, Carmen?”
“You have a client.”
Vic looked through the two-way mirror that served as a window from her office. Her lips curled and she shook her head. “Sorry, he’s all yours.”
“I can’t cut his hair. I can’t deal with him at all right now.”
She checked her watch and shrugged. “You’re going to have to. I have to get home. The social worker is coming over to the house.”
Carmen could refuse to help him, tell him to come back another day when one of the other girls was working. That wasn’t her, though. “Fine. He wants a haircut. I’ll give him a haircut.”
Vic pressed her lips together, closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment. When she looked back at Carmen, she was near laughter. “Please don’t scalp him.”
“He was a Marine. He can handle anything I do.”
Vic gave up on resistance and laughed as Carmen headed back into the salon. With a jerk of her head, she gestured for him to follow her to the shampoo sink. She didn’t wait for him to sit before she turned the water on to adjust the temperature. Ryan grabbed a towel from the shelf and wrapped it around his neck before sitting in the chair and lowering his head into the sink.
“I’m leaving, Carmen.” Vic waved as she headed to the front door with her keys in hand. She flipped the door sign to Closed. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Saying nothing more, she closed and locked the door behind her.
Carmen hadn’t anticipated finding herself locked up with the man she’d been avoiding. The man she hoped would kiss her again.
