Last night she had sauntered into Hauk’s pub wearing those four-inch-heeled boots she liked to wear, skin-caressing tights that molded her long, shapely legs, and a soft sweater that fell off one delicate shoulder. In his dream he hadn’t refused her request for a dance. No. He had eagerly taken her soft pliable body into his arms, buried his nose in her silky hair to inhale the feminine scent that was uniquely hers. During the slow, sensuous steps she had rubbed against him like a kitten. The next thing he knew the dance floor morphed into his ocean-cliffed house. They were in his bed, naked, and he was thrusting deep inside her. Beneath him she had been so responsive, so—
“Are you going to stand there and watch me work?”
He blinked, staring into suspicious blue eyes. “No. I’m— Hmm…the plans.” He reached for the vellums, quickly rolling them up.
Dammit.
Spinning on the toe of one of his boots, he hurried off before he made a complete and utter fool of himself. The last thing he needed was to lose control when it came to Tabby. He had nothing to offer her but a night of pleasure, and she deserved more. She deserved a man who could love her—commit to a lifelong future, and he wasn’t that guy. Right now he was focused on his business, making it the best he could. Plus, he travelled much of the time. What woman would stand for an absentee boyfriend? Besides, Devon would never forgive him. Hell. The man might even kill him. In the future, Reece would keep more space between him and Tabby.
Yet if he thought distance would make a difference, he was dead wrong. When she finished up, she removed her hoodie, revealing a spaghetti-strap T-shirt that barely reached her navel. The second he saw that span of bare tanned skin and the dimple where a bellybutton ring dangled, his blood stirred, his body turning rock hard.
To make matters worse, Devon sauntered up beside him. “Hey, man. I’m sorry.”
Reece inched his utility belt around so that a small handsaw hid his obvious arousal. Then he faced his friend head-on. “Sorry?”
“Tabby.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Her infatuation with you hasn’t died.” Before he could say more, Laurel Savage, Brody’s secretary, waltzed up to them, hips swaying.
The statuesque five-ten blonde with classic high cheekbones, smiled when her gaze met Reece’s. “Morning, Devon. Reece,” she said without breaking eye contact. “Are we still on for tonight?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He had completely forgotten their dinner date. “Seven?”
“Seven?” Tabby mimicked as she strolled up beside him. Her inquisitive gaze pinned on him.
“Hey, Tabby.”
“Tabatha,” she corrected, as she turned her attention to the older woman and gave her a casual once-over. “Laurel.”
If she detected Tabby’s disconcerting interest, she didn’t let on. “Seven will be great. I’ll meet you there after work.”
“What’s going on?” Tabby asked.
“Reece and I are having dinner tonight at that new steak place that just opened up,” Laurel offered innocently.
“How nice.” Was it Reece’s imagination or did Tabby just hiss, holding on to the last syllable a little longer than what was necessary?
“Well, I better get going. Bye, Devon. Tabby—Tabatha. Reece, I’ll see you tonight.” The softness in her voice as she said his name was a sensual caress that didn’t go unnoticed by him or Devon, who cocked a brow, and certainly not Tabby, whose eyes turned into shards of blue ice.
When Laurel was out of earshot, Tabby muttered, “So the flavor of the month is tall and blonde?”
“Tabby,” Devon said firmly.
Without another remark, she slid around Devon and him. Heavy footsteps carried her down the street and around a corner. In seconds she was gone from their sight.
“Dammit,” Devon groaned. “This has catastrophe written all over it.” He spun around and went back to building the porch.
Then it struck Reece like a sledgehammer to the head. Tabby was jealous. The knowledge stroked his masculine pride like nothing else had in some time. For the briefest of moments, he wondered what it would be like to be dining across the table from a curvy, dark-haired woman tonight. Then he chastised himself for his perverse thought. Maybe the long-legged blonde was just what he needed to erase his irrational desire for his best friend’s little sister.
Releasing a pent-up breath, he spun around and headed back to work.
The rest of the day went as he had planned. After looking at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time, he noted it was three o’clock. Harold had delivered the paint and supplies Tabby had chosen, but strangely she was nowhere in sight. As he pried open the can, he couldn’t help worrying about her. It wasn’t like her to brush off a commitment. He didn’t have to worry long when he heard her tinkling laughter.
He glanced up, his blood running cold.
The damn woman was surrounded by a herd of men. Their lusty gazes pinned on her breasts prominently displayed in a bikini top that showed more than it hid. And she had changed into a pair of booty shorts that had Reece’s heart pounding to a lusty tune.
“Sonofabitch,” Devon moaned. When a burly man swiped her off her feet, cradling her in his arms, Devon got to his feet. His clenched fists matched Reece’s.
“What the hell—”
“Reinforcements,” Tabby interrupted her brother as the man set her down. “Jack, Tom, Bill and Eric are from New York—football players—linemen,” she added with a delightful smirk. “They’re on vacation, but they agreed to help with the painting as long as I partied with them tonight.” She smiled, receiving grins from all four men built like Mack trucks.
Their damn necks looked as thick as Reece’s biceps. Their biceps were as large as his thighs.
Tabby’s tongue slid seductively between her lips. “This is my brother Devon and his friend, Reece.”
He took the impact of her words like the jab of a right hook. Fire surged up his neck, heating his face and ears. Apparently he stopped breathing, because when he finally inhaled, he gasped.
Devon’s friend? Is that all I am too you?
The thought nearly bowled him over. It wasn’t simply lust, but something deeper, which made it that much worse.
“So how do you like it?” She batted her long eyelashes innocently. Before he could reply, she added, “The paint. Are the colors what you expected?”
Paint? She was talking about paint?
Damn brat. Taking a deep, slow breath, he reached inside to find a calm place that didn’t exist.
“They’re fine,” he growled. When what he really wanted to do was jerk her away from her harem and into his arms. “The paint is fucking perfect.” With the wheat-color thatch roof, her choice of khaki, along with chocolate trim, would make the windows, door and porch pop. Similar to what Tabby’s and Devon’s eyes were doing right now as they stared at him in disbelief.
Shit. He had to remember that his best friend’s sister was an itch better left unscratched. He had no right to feel possessive—protective, yes, because of their history and his friendship with Devon. But friendship wasn’t the emotion rising so fast it scared the shit out of him. If he didn’t know better, he’d label this feeling as jealousy. It certainly didn’t help when the man Tabby referred to as Jack spoke.
“Let’s get this show on the road. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I’ll be able to hold this beautiful woman in my arms.”
While Reece bristled like a wire brush, Devon scowled. “I hope I don’t have to remind you that’s my sister you’re addressing.”
“Point well taken. I have nothing but respect for her,” Jack offered. But the hungry way his gaze stroked her said differently. “Now where do we start?”
Reece responded first. “Tabby, you can start with the trim while your friends can start painting the deck and porch.” The shutters lay in an area away from the actual cottage, leaving plenty of distance between her and the men. Which would allow him to focus on what he was charged with—getting this booth finished.
&n
bsp; They had just started painting when Harold strayed into their folds. He went straight to Tabby. After speaking with her briefly, she rushed off as if her ass were on fire.
Curiosity got the best of him as he set his brush across the bucket of paint and sauntered over to the elderly man leaning against his truck.
“Hey, Harold.”
“McGrath.”
“So, what do you think?” he asked casually, when what he really wanted to know was where the hell had Tabby gone off in such a hurry.
“That lassie has some talent. It’s looking great. You know she’d be an excellent addition to your company.”
The man’s observation brought Reece up short. Tabby working for him, day in and out, would drive him absolutely crazy. He would never be able to keep his hands off her. No. It was best to let sleeping dogs lie.
“Speaking of Tabby, where did she go?”
Harold pulled his bushy gray brows into a frown. “I’ll not be babysitting the lass. I just came here to tell ye that Principle Gowen opened the auditorium for you. Best head over there straight away.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Reece glanced at the speedy progress the men were making on the cottage. With him and Tabby gone, it would keep her friends busy a little longer.
Harold leaned toward him, his voice softening. “I heard that Errol, that pond-suckin’, baldin’ beachcomber, was considering horning in on our take.”
“Isn’t there enough to share?”
Harold straightened up, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “After he gets his barnacle-plucking ol’ hands on the stuff, he’ll leave slim pickins. That be what you want?”
“I’d feel better if Tabby made the selections.”
Harold shrugged. “’Tis up to you, but I’ll just be saying…” He shook his head. “Slim pickins. Poor lassie. She wanted the sultan’s tent to be the best.”
Harold was right. It would break Tabby’s heart if those curtains were spoken for. “Could you let Devon know where I’ve gone?”
“Sure thing, laddie. Best be hurrying.”
Wasting no time, he climbed into his truck. Since the key was already in the ignition, he turned it over. In no time he was down the road. His thoughts wandering toward a dark-haired, feisty woman and how he could keep her out of her muscle-bound friends’ arms tonight.
Chapter Three
When Reece maneuvered his truck around a curve in the road, the two-story, redbrick gymnasium came into view. Surprise registered when he saw Tabby’s black Jeep in front. As he pulled up beside the vehicle, relief filtered through him. At least now he knew where she was. He sat behind the wheel of his vehicle for a moment, wondering whether he should let her be or go in and help. The thought came and went when he reached for the door handle and got out. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he trod purposely to the door, finding it unlocked. As he entered the auditorium, he heard Tabby’s sweet voice.
“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” Standing center stage, she gazed longingly over the rows and rows of empty seats. Houselights beaming upon her, she made a quarter turn and the long, flowing, red velvet Renaissance gown she wore brushed the polished floor.
He smiled. Silently he closed the door to not disturb her.
“Deny thy father and refuse thy name.” She breathed deeply, her features belaying a tortured woman in love.
Acting appeared to come naturally to Tabby. Of course, she had always been good at theatrics—the brat. With those puppy-dog eyes she could wind her father, Devon and even him around her little finger at will.
“Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,” she spoke softly. “And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”
Padding down the aisle, he opened his arms. “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” he quoted, remembering the line from his high school years when they had been forced to read the play.
Tabby shrieked, her head swinging side to side in search of the one who had invaded her privacy. Regaining her composure, she leaned forward and squinted, peering into the darkness against the brilliance.
Licking her lips betrayed her nervousness. “Who’s there?” she growled.
“’Tis me, Romeo. Your fairest of princes.” He barely held back a stream of laughter.
He knew the moment she recognized him. She pinched her lips against a grin begging to be released.
“Fairest of princes? You’ve got to be kidding.”
He may not be Romeo, but she definitely was Juliet. With her long black hair and that gown a little too tight so it raised her breasts invitingly, she looked as if she had taken a step back in time.
“So what is this? A movie montage?” He slid into a front row aisle seat, kicking his feet up on the bar before it. “I want to see more.” And surprisingly he did. He had never seen this side of her. She was an amazing woman with many facets to her even he didn’t know about. For some damn reason he wanted to know all those things about her he missed out on while he was at college and on job sites.
A devilish glint sparked in her eyes. “You do, do you?”
“Yeah. Show me what you have.”
Gathering a wad of material in each hand, she raised the hem of her gown and disappeared behind the heavy velveteen curtains. In seconds she returned adorned in her own boots along with a golden full-circled skirt draped by a black overlay, but it was the bodice that made his jaw drop. The damn woman didn’t have a shirt or a tunic beneath it. The leather lacings spanned wide enough to send his gaze down her bare cleavage, setting his pulse racing.
When he didn’t say anything, her palms went to her shapely hips. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what I am.”
Sexy. Gorgeous. A couple more words bounced around in his head, but that’s not exactly what stirred his blood and made his cock twitch with excitement. An image of her came to his mind… Tabby sprawled naked and prone across a blanket atop a sandy beach, her graceful spine arching as his mouth traced a path along its curve.
“Really, Reece? I’ll give you hint. ‘Argggg… Ye matey.’”
Jerking his attention to her scrunched-up face, he noticed for the first time her eye patch. “Hmm. A pirate.”
She released an exaggerated breath. “Yeah.” And then she disappeared behind the curtains once more.
He slipped his feet from the railing to rest on the thinly carpeted floor. Easing out of his seat, he moved toward the stairs leading to the stage. When his boots struck the waxy floor, Tabby came whirling across the platform dressed in a soft pink Nutcracker ballet tutu costume. The sugarplum fairy skirt glittered beneath the lights. Her hair was a curtain of silk whipping through the air as she spun again and again, laughing. The girlish sound wrapped around his heart and tugged.
Taking another step, he sneezed. The musty scent of time and dust teased his nose.
When she came to a halt, her breathing was labored. Her breasts rising and falling were hard to ignore. “I always wanted to be a ballerina.” She stood with her left foot in front of her turned at an angle while stretching her right foot behind her. Her arms held gracefully before her.
God. She was beautiful, like a delicate fairy too whimsical to believe. His palms itched to reach out and touch her, prove she was real, but he resisted the urge.
“Why didn’t you pursue it?”
Her shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. “I’d have to leave Whispering Cove.” As if that was a valid answer to his question, she performed a perfect pirouette and tiptoed elegantly out of his sight.
He heard the rustle of clothing, and then a thud followed by an unfeminine “crap”. “Is that why you dropped out of college?”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured, before the delicate toes of one foot peeked from behind the waterfall of forest green drapes.
His heart skipped a beat as a shapely ankle appeared, followed by a calf and a slender thigh. Her hand was next, along with an almost transparent black scarf pinched between her thumb and index finger. She let it slowly fall before her head appeare
d, the lower half of her face shielded by a veil that lent an air of mystery and sensuality.
Instantly, his throat went dry. When she stepped out in the open, he pulled in a breath, his muscles clenching, his body tightening. A whirl of blood swished in his head.
Delectable breasts were barely concealed in a black, sheer, belly dance coin sash, baring her back and dipping low in the front. His hungry gaze followed a span of tanned bare skin to her glistening bellybutton ring to the matching hip scarf she wore. A variety of different colors and lengths of the diaphanous material dangled around her legs. As she undulated her body in sexy and enticing waves, coins jingled, spurring his arousal.
“Tabby, s-stop.” He didn’t recognize the thick throaty voice as his.
Instead of heeding his demand, she giggled, stepping before him and yanking a scarf from her waist to let it float to the floor before she drifted away.
He died a little inside. He had never wanted a woman like he did Tabby. She stirred something deep within him he hadn’t even known existed. Desire so potent it felt as if it touched his soul. The raging need inside him quieted some when she spun around and smiled, showing him the young girl he once knew. Several more times she returned to test his willpower, each time disposing of a scarf to expose more and more of her delectable limbs.
“Please,” he heard himself beg, weakly fighting against the years he had secretly wanted her but stayed away because of her brother and their families’ relationship.
He didn’t know what came over him, but the next time she came close, his hand jutted out and pulled her into his arms.
Their eyes locked in a sultry battle of attraction.
When he ran his fingers across her veil, electricity ignited and snapped, stinging him. The next thing he knew he was kissing her with an unleashed hunger that scared the shit out of him. Dammit. He was actually trembling with the need to take her. It didn’t help that Mine whispered through his thoughts, over and over.
A growl rumbled in his throat. Sliding his tongue along her lips, he nudged the crease and she opened for him, granting him entry. She tasted dark and sultry. When her tongue slid along his, the vision of her kissing him, her mouth all over his body, flashed in his head and he knew he needed more. He couldn’t get close enough. His hands circled her waist to draw her in tighter, holding her against him so hard he felt the rigid tips of her nipples pressed against his chest.
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