Wildest Dreams

by Melody Grace

  “Not at all,” Mackenzie exclaimed, setting them out. “To tell the truth, my work’s taken a turn these past months. Ever since Jake moved in, it’s all gamboling fluffy animals. I even did a whole series of heart-shaped salad bowls for Valentine’s. Hearts!” She shook her head in mock-disgust. “And they weren’t even broken and dripping blood, or anything. I’m losing my edge.”

  Paige laughed. “You still have it,” she reassured her. “At least, those sea monsters would say so.”

  “True.” Mackenzie brightened. “Anyway, what about you? It’s so exciting about your store. I’m a big fan of your designs. So is Jake,” she added with a wink. “In fact, this one purple set . . .” She stopped. “No, wait, that’s way too much information.”

  Paige laughed. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, feeling pleased. “I’m doing private fittings now, custom designs, come by any time.”

  “Ooh, I’ll have to take you up on that. It’s Jake’s birthday soon,” Mackenzie said. “And this would definitely beat the dinner plates with tiny football players on it that’s literally the only other gift I can think of right now.”

  Paige giggled. “I’m guessing maybe.”

  Mackenzie poured their tea. “OK, hit me: what do you need to know?”

  She took a deep breath. “How about everything?”

  * * *

  They sat on the back patio surrounded by a heap of broken pottery—“long story”—and went through everything to do with Small Business 101. Mackenzie was reassuring, and even dug out some old lists of her own from when she was setting up the store, and soon, Paige felt like the million-plus things on her list weren’t so insurmountable, after all.

  “Talk to Debra about your business permit,” Mackenzie added, “she has a way of getting everything fast-tracked. I don’t ask, but I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s having an affair with a guy in the permit office. Or plying him with homemade elderflower wine, at the very least.”

  “Debra, got it.” Paige grinned, taking notes.

  “Aside from that, I think you’re all covered,” Mackenzie said. “Most of your work will be private commissions, right? So you won’t be dealing with a crazy store, like I am, and need to hire anyone.”

  “Oh no,” Paige shook her head. “It’s just me. I already have some regular clients, so I’m just planning to ramp that up and get the word out. I’m hoping they’ll all want to buy more, the way they’re always asking to.”

  “Then you should be great.” Mackenzie smiled. “And you won’t have any competition. There aren’t really any fancy clothing designers around here—and there’s definitely no lingerie. Unless you count the big knickers at the maternity store in Plymouth!”

  “Definitely not,” Paige laughed, as Mackenzie’s shop assistant appeared in the back doorway.

  “Hey, Mac, sorry to interrupt, but someone was asking about the spider collection.”

  Mackenzie lit up. “Really? Those guys have been gathering dust all year. Weirdly enough, nobody wants creepy crawlies all over their dinnerware,” she added to Paige.

  Paige rose. “I’ll get out of your hair then,” she said. “But thanks so much for all the help. And also, eww.”

  Mackenzie laughed. “Anytime! Let me see, I think I have some cockroach bowls back here too . . .” She disappeared into her storeroom, and Paige left her to it, strolling back out into the sunshine of the town square.

  It was busy out, with tourists in their beach gear passing through on their way to the shore, and locals catching up in the shade of the leafy oak trees. She was a local too now, Paige realized with a jolt. Her whole life was back in that tiny building now, barely unpacked and waiting for her next step. She’d expected to have pangs of regret by now, to miss her old haunts back in Boston, or be wracked with second thoughts about her impulsive mood, but instead, she still felt that same delicious sparkle of excitement.

  She’d barely gotten started with her new life yet, and already, she was doing things she’d never dreamed of.

  Like stripping down to her underwear and hurtling into a midnight swimming pool.

  Paige smiled and checked her phone again, but there were no new messages from Declan. She forced herself to tuck the handset back in her purse without texting again. After all, he was busy with the restaurant, and she was busy, too. She browsed the stores in Sweetbriar, dropped by the Town Hall to pick up her business license application, and then meandered down the shore road to the beach house.

  This time, she didn’t go walking straight in.

  “Hello?” she called loudly instead, giving a hefty knock on the door. “It’s Paige. Just giving you warning, I’m going to let myself in now. I’m unlocking the door,” she continued, giving anyone naked inside plenty of time to grab some clothes. “I’m walking into the hall . . .”

  “What’s all that yelling?” Eliza wandered in from the back, yawning. She was dressed in a bikini and gauzy wrap, looking sleepy with her hair askew.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” Paige asked.

  Eliza yawned again. “It’s OK. I was just taking a nap. Why the racket?”

  “I didn’t want to take you and Cal by surprise again,” Paige explained, and Eliza laughed.

  “It’s all clear back here. He’s in the city for some meetings,” she said. “I was going to call and see if you wanted to hang. It’s just me, the porch swing, and a stack of magazines.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” Paige said, torn. She’d only planned on stopping by for a quick visit, and her to-do list was still way too long to take a break.

  “I’ve got ice cream,” Eliza added temptingly, and Paige figured what the hell. Her list could wait.

  She headed back and joined Eliza on the porch swing with a tub of salted caramel gelato between them. “Fancy,” Paige teased, taking a spoonful. “Whatever happened to store-brand chocolate chip?”

  “Cal happened,” Eliza said with a smile. “For the record, I’m still not comfortable with him being so . . .”

  “Filthy rich?” Paige offered.

  “Well off,” Eliza corrected her with a grin. “But I will say, his snack game definitely beats my cheap taste.”

  “Well, that won’t be a problem for much longer, will it?” Paige waggled her eyebrows. “What’s his will be yours . . . when it comes to junk food, of course.”

  Eliza snorted. “You think the Prescott pre-nup isn’t five billion pages long? But it doesn’t matter. You know I’d still love him if he were broke. In fact, sometimes, I’d prefer it.”

  “Is it hard, being with someone so different?” Paige asked, swirling gelato around her spoon. Sometimes she felt like Eliza was the older sister. After all, she was the one who’d had more adventures and heartbreak than Paige and her safe, steady choices.

  Eliza shook her head. “If anything, it’s hard because we’re the same. We’re both stubborn know-it-alls who love to win a fight,” she said with a smile.

  “So it’s easier if you’re different from your partner?”

  Eliza looked curious. “Is this about Declan?” she asked. “Which, by the way, please notice I managed not to ask about your big date for forty-eight whole hours. I feel like I deserve an award.”

  Paige laughed. “You can have a gold star,” she told her.

  Eliza beamed. “Well?” she asked. “How was it? Did he sweep you off your feet?”

  Paige paused, wondering how much of the night she wanted to share. “It was . . . good,” she said finally.

  “Ouch.” Eliza winced. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

  “Wait, what do you mean?”

  “A hot bath is good. New episodes of Grey’s Anatomy are good,” Eliza explained. “You want a smoking hot fling to be epic, and mind-blowing, and ‘oh my God’ amazing. Never mind,” she added, patting Paige on the shoulder. “I could never really see you guys together, for anything other than a wild affair, but if the chemistry’s not there . . .” She shrugged.

  The chemistry definitely wa
sn’t an issue with Declan, but for some reason, Paige found herself staying quiet. She wasn’t ready to talk about the way he made her feel—so reckless and uninhibited. It was one thing taking the leap with him in the privacy of the cool night, alone in the dark with nobody else to know exactly how wild she let herself be, but out here: in the bright sunshine, swinging with her sister? It felt like she was someone else entirely—and she liked to keep it that way.

  So, she steered the conversation on, to local gossip and newspaper news. They basked out there together all afternoon, and then retired for pizza and a movie, curled up on the couch like old times. It was almost midnight before Paige finally pulled herself upright. “I better go, before I fall asleep right here.”

  “Why don’t you stay?” Eliza suggested. “Your room’s right upstairs.”

  Paige shook her head, yawning. “I need to get an early start at the studio, all my materials are still in boxes.”

  “And let me guess, you don’t want to go to sleep without your six-part skincare ritual,” Eliza teased.

  Paige threw a pillow at her. “You laugh now, but I’ll be the one with a dewy complexion!”

  “Eh, I’ll be fine. Mom looks great for her age, so it’s in the genes.”

  “Ha!” Paige giggled. “You think that’s genetics? Mom uses more products than anyone!”

  She said goodnight and headed out, feeling more familiar on the dark roads now. She was getting to know the landscape here, the curling roads that led to the smaller beach towns and attractions. She noted them as she drove back up through town and up to the highway. That was the way to the bookstore. That lane gently curved to Summer’s bakery. And here . . .

  This was the turn to Declan’s restaurant.

  Paige turned the wheel on impulse. It was late, she told herself, and he was probably home by now, but some instinct steered her on, and when she pulled up outside the low carriage house and saw the lights still on and his truck alone out front, she smiled.

  The night wasn’t over yet.

  11

  “Hello?”

  Declan looked up from the bar with a jolt. One minute, he’d been trying to focus on planning the week’s menu, fantasizing about Paige and her incredible lingerie, and the next, she was standing right there in front of him in the empty restaurant. Pretty blue sundress, her hair in a neat braid, looking a million miles from the seductive siren who’d left him panting by the pool.

  Until she gave him a smile, and he saw the flirty sparkle in her eyes.

  There she was again.

  “I was just heading home,” she said, looking curiously around. “And I saw the light on.”

  “Welcome to my kingdom,” he joked, trying to collect himself. He knew people loved every corner of the charming old building, with its wooden beams and old oak floors, but he found himself wanting her approval, too. He followed her gaze, taking in the upturned chairs and clutter after service. “It’s usually done up right,” he explained. “Linens, flowers . . .”

  “No, I like it. I get to see behind the scenes,” she said, turning back to him.

  Good.

  “So what are you up to?” Paige asked, walking over.

  He dragged his eyes away from the swing of her hips. “The menus for the week,” he answered, showing her the scribbled notes, full of cross-outs and annotations.

  “How do you come up with the dishes?” She leaned closer, and he caught the scent of her perfume, a drift of subtle sweetness.

  His mind went blank.

  “Declan?” she asked, turning, so her blue eyes were staring straight at him.

  He cleared his throat. Nope, still no coherent thought in his brain. “How do you come up with you designs?” he asked instead.

  Paige looked surprised, then pleased. “I just . . . imagine them. Sometimes I’ll see a shape, or texture, and it’ll inspire me,” she said, hopping up onto a bar stool beside him. “There’s a fountain in the park I love, the figures have this curve to them, in the stonework, and I started wondering how that curve would work with folds of silk, tucked together . . .” Her face took on a dreamy expression. “I managed to get them concertinaed along the edge of the bra, so it echoed the shape underneath. And then sometimes, it’s a mood. Flirty, or seductive . . .”

  “Is that when the red lace comes out?” Declan joked, needing to break the mood. The way Paige looked when she got that faraway gaze in her eyes . . .

  Kissable didn’t even begin to cover it.

  “Is that what turns you on?” Paige arched an eyebrow, and Declan nearly choked.

  “No. Well, I guess . . . I like all kinds of things. It depends on the woman wearing it,” he winked, but she just gave a mysterious smile.

  “Seduction isn’t just about putting it all out there,” she said. “Garters and crotchless panties and nipple tassels.”

  Declan began to feel lightheaded. Paige, who blushed when he held her gaze too long, was talking about nipple tassels like they were a pair of old socks.

  “Seduction is . . . the imagination,” she continued, fixing him with a flirty look. “The hint of lace, a suggestion of flesh . . . It’s about arousing the mind, not just the body.”

  Declan felt like both were pretty much on red alert right now.

  “So, your turn,” she said. “Where do you get your inspiration?”

  Declan drew a ragged breath. “All over,” he said, willing himself to keep from ravishing her right there on the polished bar. “Sometimes I’ll wake up thinking about an ingredient or craving a certain flavor. Like this morning, I wanted something really salty, full of umami, so I was making miso broth.”

  “Umami?” she echoed, looking confused.

  “It’s the fifth flavor,” Declan explained. “There’s salt, sweet, sour, bitter, and umami. It’s like . . . the roundness, the savory note you get from mushroom, or soy. I learned about it when I was working over in Hong Kong. They use it a lot in Asian cuisine.”

  “So, what will you make this week?” Paige looked again at his menu notes, scribbled and chaotic.

  “Well . . .” Declan started, feeling strangely self-conscious now that there was a spotlight glaring on his process. “First, I thought of fresh mint. And then that got me thinking about lamb, and gamier meats. And then I build the menu around that. What are the vegetables that will round out the flavor profile?” he continued. “Which wines pair well, the dessert contrast. And if you hate lamb, then what can I do that’s a total opposite, so you can come back the next night and have a totally different experience.”

  “It’s like a recipe itself,” Paige remarked, smiling. “Making sure everything balances and goes together.”

  “Exactly,” Declan grinned. “And then sometimes I rip the whole plan up and just cook whatever the hell I want. My staff hate me when that happens.”

  She laughed. “Something tells me, you’re no picnic even at the best of times.”

  “Me?” Declan pretended to be wounded. “I’m a dream.”

  “I’ll bet you are.” Paige gave him a slow, assessing look that sent Declan’s blood pressure soaring.

  What was she playing at tonight? He had no complaints, not one, but still, he wondered where this daring flirt was coming from.

  And could she please stay a while?

  Paige suddenly slipped down from the stool. “Now I’m hungry,” she said. “How about you fix me something to eat?” And then she was gone, sashaying to the kitchen with a swing of her hips, leaving Declan reeling in her wake.

  Damn. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she went and surprised him all over again.

  And he loved surprises.

  * * *

  What was she doing?

  Paige burst through the kitchen doors and gulped a deep breath. There was an industrial-sized sink in the corner, and she was half tempted to dunk her head under the cold faucet to cool off.

  Seduction is the imagination?

  She didn’t know where this wanton flirt had suddenly com
e from, but she was leading Paige way over the line. It had started out with an innocent question about her design process, but she’d thought Declan was going to pass out right there on the floor when she started talking about her lingerie.

  She paused. She had to admit a tiny part of her had enjoyed his reaction, the way his eyes darkened and his breath grew shallow.

  OK, a big part.

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  Declan entered the kitchen behind her, and Paige whirled around. “What?” she asked, breathless herself now.

  “To eat.” Declan strolled closer, looking far too tempting in his faded jeans and that black T-shirt, the soft cotton hugging his torso. “You’re in the right place. I can make you anything your heart desires.”

  “Anything?” Paige bit her lip, racing through the possibilities. After all this talk of seduction, she should play it safe, and ask for something like a grilled cheese. There was nothing sensual about a good old grilled cheese sandwich.

  Except, now that she thought about it, even Declan could make it sexy. The buttery bread, the oozing cheese . . .

  What the hell. She may as well go for broke.

  She’d come here for a reason, after all. Turning down the dark road in search of something. Another epic kiss.

  Or more . . .

  “Chocolate,” she said, deciding. There was no turning back now—and she didn’t want to, either. Just one look at that smoldering expression in his eyes, and Paige knew she wouldn’t be bolting early, or cutting short whatever happened next. No, she was stepping off the ledge now, to hell with the consequences.

  She wanted it all.

  “I have a craving for something sinful and decadent,” she added.

  “Then you came to the right place,” Declan chuckled. “I can do sinful all day long.”

  She’d bet he could.

  Declan grabbed a couple of pans and then began fetching ingredients. Eggs, sugar, flour. He brought out a tall jar of shriveled-looking vanilla beans, and a couple of bars of dark, thick chocolate. “The key is the cocoa,” he said, starting up a double-boiler and cracking the bars. The scent wafted over to her, impossibly rich. “You need to get it just barely melted.”