by Donna Fasano
“It doesn’t sound all that crazy to me,” Sara said. “Stress can do strange things to people, Landon. And you were under a lot of it. I mean, your mother passed away, you had major surgery, and your sister was pushing you to sell the family business when you didn’t want to. That’s called major stress.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
The magnitude of his relief made his response come a little too quickly. He couldn’t believe how well she was reacting to his odd experiences. Nobody back in Kansas had wanted to listen, let alone try to help him understand it.
“In the end, I decided it might be my sub-conscious urging me to just get it over with. To sign the damn papers and head for the coast. I swear, I felt like a volcano ready to erupt.” One corner of his mouth tilted in a wry twist. “So I released the pressure. I worried that I had surrendered to Cindy and Henry. I still worry about that. But the relief was—” He tipped up his chin and let his head roll back and forth. “It felt so damned good to let it all go.”
Sara eased herself up from the couch and slid over onto his lap.
“I’m sorry for all the bad stuff you’ve gone through, Landon.”
She trailed her warm, silky fingertips up and down the back of his neck. Her touch dipped beneath his collar and he closed his eyes.
“But I am so glad you found your way to Ocean City.”
The scent of her was enough to drive him mad. “So you don’t think hearing birds and the sound of waves is weird?”
Her lips slid into an erotic smile. “Maybe a little, but then I think everyone ought to dream about the ocean. The rhythm of it puts you in a deep, restful sleep.”
She kissed him lightly on the mouth, and Landon wanted more.
“And you don’t think,” he whispered huskily, “my feeling so at home here is strange?”
“I think everyone would feel at home here. This is the best place in the world to live.” Then she chuckled. “But I’m a little relieved that not everyone dreams about the beach. Because then we’d be overrun with masses of people all year long.”
She kissed him again, this time longer, and deeper. Pleasure surged through him, thickening his blood.
She kneaded his shoulders and then delved her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp with tiny circles.
He inhaled the scent of her, an arousing mixture of flowers and musk. He rested one hand on her waist, the other on her thigh, barely resisting the powerful urge to glide his fingers over the curve of her bottom.
Her wine-sweet breath brushed his temple as she trailed tiny kisses along his cheekbone, then ran her tongue along the outer curve of his ear. He hugged her tightly, sliding his splayed palms up the length of her back. God, she felt so good in his arms, all warm and soft. She looked so damned sexy. Her kiss tasted delicious. She smelled like heaven. Every sense was completely enveloped by her.
She arched her spine and sighed, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest; he could feel the hardened buds of her nipples through the fabric of their clothes. The sensation ratcheted the feverish need pulsing inside him.
Landon wanted to feel her bare skin, wanted to see her naked body, wanted to explore every silken curve, every secret furrow. He wanted her beneath him, wanted to slide into her, deep and slow.
The base of her ribcage was firm under his fingertips, but oh-so different from the firm fullness of her breast beneath the pad of his thumb. He salivated as he contemplated suckling the hard, honeyed nub. He inched a little higher and dragged his palm across her pebbled nipple. Sara shifted her hips, grinding herself against his lap as she softly moaned his name.
No one had ever spoken to him like that. Not a single woman had ever made his name sound so damned erotic.
“Now—” she was a hair’s breath away, her moist lips brushing against his as she spoke “—please? I need that dessert.”
He didn’t have to be asked twice. He slid her toward his knees, then nudged himself forward and stood, lifting her in his arms. Her delighted squeal of surprise had him grinning.
“Your room or mine?” he said.
“Yours.” Then she leaned in and began nuzzling his neck with kisses.
All his fears and doubts about his peculiar experiences melted away into oblivion, and all he could think about was making sweet love to Sara.
Chapter Ten
A pinkish golden glow had just begun to light the horizon of the pre-dawn sky as Sara turned the key of her mom’s front door and slipped into the house. She was a full grown woman who had been on her own for years, so she had no idea why she felt like a teen who had stayed out past curfew. Her mother wasn’t the judgmental type. Still, she found herself turning the knob when she closed the door behind her to keep her entry as silent as possible.
Spending the night with Landon hadn’t been her intent. But after dessert—that single word would forever hold a very different connotation—she and Landon had eaten dinner together. The sauce he’d made for the spaghetti had been delicious, but not half as luscious as their second round of dessert.
As she had lain in the warm cocoon of his arms, their legs entangled, the full length of their naked bodies touching, she hadn’t felt so content, so safe, so satiated in… a very long time. She couldn’t even remember if she’d fought off being lulled to sleep by the soft and steady rhythm of his beating heart.
Sara still had her back against the front door, lazily dreaming about how Landon made her body come alive, when she heard the distinct triple-meter beat of her mom slowly walking down the hallway with the support of her cane.
When Geneva entered the shadowy living room, Sara reached over and flipped on the light switch.
“Good morning,” her mom said.
“I didn’t startle you, did I?”
“No. I knew you’d be coming in. Heard you come down the steps outside.”
Sara felt her face grow warm. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t wake me, honey. I opened my eyes really early and realized I wasn’t in pain.” Geneva grinned as she made her way across the floor toward the kitchen. “I thought I’d better get up and enjoy every moment of this.”
“I’m happy to see you’re walking.” Sara scooted around the coffee table. “Let me start some coffee. What would you like for breakfast?”
“Too early yet for me to eat,” Geneva said. “But coffee sounds wonderful.”
It wasn’t long before the rich scent of Columbian dark roast wafted in the air and Sara and her mom were sitting at the table with their hands cupped around mugs of coffee laced with sweet French vanilla creamer, her mother’s favorite.
“Did you have a good time last night?”
Sara simply could not contain the forceful grin her mom’s question incited.
Geneva chuckled. “Please let me rephrase that. You said Landon was cooking. What did he make for dinner?”
“Spaghetti,” Sara answered. “And it was delicious.”
“I’m always impressed by a man who can cook.” Her mom smoothed her hand across the glass table top. “Did you take something from the shop for dessert?”
Sara nearly spewed the coffee she’d just sipped. She swallowed quickly and reached for a napkin.
“No.” Her lips quirked uncontrollably and she couldn’t help adding, “He provided dessert too.” She lifted the ceramic mug in an attempt to keep her mom from seeing the utter glee that seemed to explode inside her chest and on her face at the same time. But her smile continued to stretch until her lips were forced apart. Pure unadulterated happiness had her shoulders shaking with laughter she couldn’t suppress. Her hands quaked and she feared she was going to slosh coffee onto the table. Sara set her mug down, pleased that she was able to do it before she’d made a mess.
Geneva lifted her hand, palm facing outward. “I’m not going to ask. And I don’t want to know.” But she chuckled right along with Sara.
After a few moments of silence, her mom said, “I love seeing you so
happy.”
“I am pretty happy.” She placed the paper napkin she’d been holding onto her thigh and absently smoothed her palm over her, ironing out the wrinkles. “I’m a little scared too.”
Her mom had always been a great sounding board; she’d always shown a great deal of patience when Sara needed to talk something through, and that was the case now.
“I mean,” Sara continued, “I like Landon. And…well…”
She thought about his confession last night. He’d said those very words.
I like you, Sara. A lot.
“We enjoy being together. But…” She heaved a sigh. Sudden frustration had her snatching up the napkin and tossing it onto the table. “I feel this need to keep reminding myself to just enjoy today. Just like you always say. I want to take things one day at a time.”
“You’re saying you think there’s no future for you and Landon?” Geneva asked.
For the span of several seconds, Sara didn’t answer. Then she said, “First of all, I haven’t known Landon long enough to even be thinking about this. I realize that. I really do. But for some reason…” The rest of the thought hung heavy in the air.
“Mom, when I married Greg, I thought that was it. I was sure we’d be together forever. And then—” She cut off her sentence with a quick swipe of her hand through the air. She didn’t want to visit those dark memories today. “And then there’s you.”
Geneva started. “What about me?”
“Your love life, I mean. You and Dad were doing just fine. Then you get hurt and, bam, Dad’s gone. Just like that.”
The look on her mom’s face had Sara reaching out and taking her hand. “I’m sorry,” she rushed to say. “I didn’t mean to bring that up. It’s just that it seems relevant to what I’m going through here.”
“I’m okay. It’s okay. Really.” She traced the outline of the mug handle. “You’re only speaking the truth.”
“The point is…” But Sara stopped and chewed her lip for a moment, trying to assemble her thoughts. “It’s just that we don’t know what the future will bring. Joy. Tragedy. And anything in between. Hell, everything in between.”
“I can’t dispute that,” her mom agreed.
“Landon’s home is half-way across the country. He did say he wasn’t getting along with his family right now, but siblings squabble all the time, right? And they make up again. Sooner or later, he’s going to want to go home.” She looked into her mother’s eyes. “And that makes me very afraid. I can’t get too close to him. I don’t want to get too… involved. I’m not up for a long distance relationship. And I’m certainly not moving to the mid-west and leaving you. I can’t… I don’t want to…” Fear made her throat go dry.
“Fall in love?” Geneva softly finished her sentence, and then she smiled. “Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit?”
Sara pressed her palm to her chest and shook her head. “I know. I know! It’s way too early to talk about this. I mean, I’ve barely known the man for a week.”
But even as she said the words, she wondered if that was really true.
“We would need a whole lot more time together before we talked about that.” Who was she trying to convince? Her mom? Or herself?
Then her tone went all light and wispy. “Still, we really enjoy each other’s company. We have so much fun together. He compliments me. Often. And that makes me feel so darn good. I think about him when we’re apart.” She whispered, “I like him, Mom.” She clamped her lips closed, refusing to commit to anything more than that.
She tilted her head and sighed, her forehead bunching. “It’s awful to be afraid of hope. This makes me happy. He makes me happy. But… what if something bad happens?”
Geneva touched her lightly on the wrist. “What if something good happens?”
Sara couldn’t help but think about how badly she’d missed her father when he’d walked out on them, and about the bottomless well of grief she suffered when Greg died. There were times when she still ached from both losses.
“But, Mom,” Sara said, “is the good worth the bad?”
“Oh, honey, you know it is.”
“Would you have married dad,” she challenged, “if you knew he was going to walk out on you after you fell?”
“Absolutely,” Geneva answered without hesitation. “We had a lot of good years together, Sara. I know you have good memories about your dad from when you were a little girl. So do I. He might have left me, but he gave me you. So stop talking like this.”
Sara huffed out a sigh and shook her head. “I just don’t want to… I don’t think it’s wise to…”
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t finish the thought.
“I just want to enjoy the here and now.” Then she tipped up her chin with determination. “I can’t let things get too complicated. I don’t want to hurt any more. I just want to have a good time while the good time lasts. That’s not a bad thing to want, right?”
She knew full well what she was doing. All of this decisive thinking and planning was purely in the name of protecting herself. From heartache. From anguish. There had been enough of that in her past to last her a lifetime.
But even as she made the bold statement, a tiny voice in her head told her it just might be too late.
“Honey,” her mother’s gentle voice drew her attention, “I know I go around telling everyone to enjoy all the good moments. And you should. But what you’re talking about is something a little bit different. You’re trying to rule your heart. And that can’t always be done.”
Sara reached for her mug, but when her fingers curled around the ceramic, she didn’t take a drink.
“Oh, you can do all manner of preaching to yourself,” Geneva said. “You can make all sorts of promises. But your heart isn’t like a puppy. It can’t be trained. You can’t teach it to sit, roll over, stay. If your heart wants to wee on the carpet, honey, that’s just what it’s going to do.”
She knew her mom’s metaphor was meant to entice a smile, and it did.
“You’re attracted to Landon, Sara. That’s a fact. He makes you happy. Another fact.” Her mother smiled. “All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t try to wall up your heart. In the end, that’s just going to cause you more harm than good.”
Although Sara matched her mother’s smile with one of her own, she crossed her arms under her breasts and remained silent.
“I just think it would be better if you didn’t fight so hard.” Geneva picked up her coffee mug. “Enjoy every good moment, yes. Grab hold of them and shake every ounce of good out of them that you can. By all means. God knows that’s the only way I’ve survived. But don’t shut yourself off from hope. And keep your heart open to every possibility.”
Chapter Eleven
The end of October brought chilly temperatures with it that really settled in. Sara’s clients had begun ordering more autumnal-style desserts—deep-dish apple and pumpkin pies flavored with cinnamon and nutmeg, her special pound cake laced with cardamom, hummingbird cake spotted with raisins and blanketed in a thick layer of cream cheese frosting, molasses cookies, dense, moist nut breads made with toasted almonds, pecans, or walnuts, and specialty cheesecakes.
“Mmmmm.” Landon smiled as he swallowed the bite of cheesecake she’d asked him to sample. “Wow, Sara. This is delicious. I really like how you’ve sandwiched the pumpkin between the two vanilla layers. It looks as good as it tastes. And what’s this crust made of? Graham crackers?”
“Ginger snap cookies. I crushed them into crumbs in the food processor. Add some ground walnuts, a tiny bit of brown sugar, some butter, and voilà, you have a great crust.” She beamed at his compliment. He always made her feel so good about her cooking talents.
“You can say that again.” He took another bite.
Watching him savor the cheesecake, Sara smiled. They’d had such fun together this month, searched out a different adventure each day. Yesterday was a prime example. He’d called her and asked her to meet him on the beach,
and when she arrived, he was assembling a fancy kite he’d purchased at The Kite Loft. The blustery breeze made for perfect kite-flying conditions. After some trial and error, they both learned how to make the kite dip and sway, dive and soar. It had been such a simple activity, but she’d laughed so much her cheek muscles had become fatigued.
Landon blinked his long-lashed eyes open and leaned toward her. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he told her. “Let’s experiment.”
Mischief danced in his chocolate brown eyes. She recognized that look, and a now-familiar heat curled through her like spiraling smoke as she anticipated what might happen next.
“I have a hypothesis,” he said, his tone low and sexy. “I think the best way to mingle the flavors is to have a tasting buddy.”
He swiped his finger through the bottom vanilla layer, capturing some of the sweet goodness, and then he slowly smeared it across her bottom lip. Then he did the same to the pumpkin layer, smoothing the dark orange filling across his lips. “Now,” he murmured, waggling his eyebrows, “we taste.”
She didn’t know if she should laugh or lick the cheesecake from his mouth.
When they first made contact, his lips slid off hers, and she could feel the sweet goodness smear onto her cheek. But then he tried again, and his kiss was warm, and creamy, and spicy. Sara moved closer, sliding her arms around his neck. He tasted of pumpkin with a hint of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, but she could also recognize the creaminess of the cheese, and the sweet vanilla too. Oh, and the ginger from the cookie crumb crust.
“Mmmmm.” The sound vibrated from her throat.
When he broke off the kiss, she said, “Gosh, that is so good.”
One of his brows arched. “The kiss? Or the cheesecake?”
She twisted around and took the fork from his hand. She raked the tines through the cake on his plate and cleaned them off against his closed mouth.
