by Nora Roberts
“You’ve already sold me that.”
“But imagine anyway. You need a hummingbird feeder.”
“Why?”
“Hummingbirds,” she said simply. “Some of what I plant out here will attract them, and songbirds, butterflies. But they’d appreciate a good-looking feeder. This is so nice. I could play with your grounds for pretty much ever.”
“I bet you could.”
“But that’s it for tonight. I’m going to load your dishwasher as a thank-you for food and drink.”
“I could say you don’t have to do that, but why would I?”
She rose, stacked plates, cleared the table. He followed her in, watched her deal with the dishes.
“You know,” he began, “we haven’t talked about that outside-the-ballpark kiss.”
“Should we?”
“Here’s what I’m thinking. You’re a client of mine; I’m a client of yours. I think that washes the client deal out.”
“I can agree with that.”
“We’ve established we’re healthy individuals. I’m a good-looking guy with a cool name, you’re a hot woman who really knows how to wear cargo shorts.”
“This is all true.”
“Maybe we should go out for a drink, or dinner, or the movies. Or.”
She turned around, leaned back against the counter. “You’ve already bought me a beer and a half, pizza, and Swiss Rolls. That covers drinks and dinner.”
“I appreciate you acknowledging that. Movies then.”
“I could be interested in a movie. I could be interested in ‘or.’”
He stepped closer, watched her eyes. Yes, interest, with a good dose of amusement. “I have Netflix and all the premium channels. I can find a movie in two minutes.”
“Do you have popcorn?”
“Newman’s. Microwave.”
“This is tempting.” Especially when he laid his hands on her hips, as he’d done during that outside-the-ballpark kiss. “I’d enjoy a movie, and have a strong suspicion I’d enjoy ‘or.’ But—”
He paused on his way in to seal the deal with a kiss. “I’m not going to like this part.”
“I’m grungy,” she reminded him. “I’d like to embark on ‘or’ when I’m clean, and perhaps more appropriately dressed.”
“You can use the shower. And I like your shorts. I especially like them when you’re still wearing your boots.”
“Thanks, and that’s very generous of you. How about this? If you’re not doing anything tomorrow night, I could shower at my own place after work, come over about nine for a movie. Then if we’re both in the same frame of mind, we try ‘or.’”
He believed in negotiations. “Eight-thirty. We’ll have cocktails first.”
“Oooh, cocktails. Fancy. I definitely need to clean up for that.”
“Okay. What kind of movie?”
“Since the movie is basically foreplay, nothing weepy. I can go for a solid rom-com or action adventure.”
“You’re a really interesting woman.”
He went in for the kiss, and she met him, rising up on her toes, linking her arms around him. He felt himself slide into it, into her, just slide like he would into the lake on a hot summer day.
The need washed over him, drew him deeper until his hands ran up her body, down her back, testing her shape, etching it into memory.
He felt her give just a little more, just a little more.
When he drew away, a breath away, her hand rested on his cheek, and her heart thudded in time with his.
“Maybe I like my women grungy.”
“Oh boy.” Her breath, wonderfully unsteady, fluttered against his lips. “It was such a sensible plan, too. If I’m going to change plans, convince me.”
His mouth took hers again, let the heat flash, let the hunger out. This time when his hands took her hips, she boosted herself up, wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Convinced.” On a throaty sound she nipped at the side of his neck. “You smell so much better than I do. Maybe I should take that shower.”
“After.”
“After,” she murmured as he carried her through the house. “I’m supposed to be doing paperwork.”
“Me, too.” He paused at the bottom of the steps, gave her an extra dose of convincing, then carried her up.
“I love your house. I’d probably have had sex with you just to see what you’ve done with the rest of your house.”
“Now she tells me.”
She laughed, nuzzled his neck again, then her head popped up as he carted her through the open double doors of the master.
“Oh my God, look at this space!”
“I’ll give you a tour later.”
“Oh, don’t put me on the bed. My clothes—”
“You won’t have them on long. And I have more sheets.”
He tumbled her on the bed, tumbled down right after her. And gripping her hands, dived into the kiss like a man starving.
Maybe he was. She’d stirred his appetite almost from the first glance, intrigued him from the first conversation. Then she’d flattened him at the ballpark.
Now he could feast.
Her hands, hard, strong; her mouth, smooth, soft. The sharply defined angles of her face, with the skin under her jaw, down her throat as delicate as silk. Tough, taut muscles, yielding breasts.
He found her a series of fascinating contrasts.
He tugged off her shirt, and she wasted no time returning the favor. More flesh, more muscle. She ran those firm hands over his chest, breathed out.
“Mmm, yes.”
He wanted to look at her, just look, but he couldn’t stop his hands. When they worked off the simple white sports bra, he thought, Mmm, yes, as he captured her breast with his mouth.
As she arched, he fought with the buckle of her belt, with the button of her shorts, riding on the urgency for more.
Breathless, struggling for some sense of control, a little finesse, he eased back. “I should slow down.”
“No,” she said, very definitely, and wiggled to help him strip her down. “No, you shouldn’t.”
“Thank God.”
“Let me…” She worked her hands between them, quick, capable hands, loosened his belt. “Let me.”
As she dragged at his pants, they rolled so he could kick free of them, rolled again, greedy to take.
Slow could wait. She wanted fast and fierce and free. Here, with him, she wanted the loss of control, for both of them, wanted to steep in the mindless desperation of mating. To be touched, to be wanted, to feel the need pulsing in him just as it did in her.
When he plunged into her, at last, at last, the pleasure struck sharp as an arrow.
Her hips pumped; her fingers dug into his as she reveled in the power and speed. Release ripped through her, leaving her trembling, gasping.
Grateful.
And still he drove her, building it all again.
She held on, held on, matching him beat for frantic beat. When she fell again, when the hands that gripped him slid weakly away, he fell with her.
After a moment where they both lay wheezing for air, he flopped over on his back so they lay, hip to hip, staring up, dazed as two survivors of a shipwreck.
“It’s confirmed,” he managed. “I like my women grungy.”
Her laugh, still a little wheezy, ended with a sigh. “It looks like I like my men built. Not scary built.” She reached over, patted his abs. “That can be intimidating. I’m going to get a better look at you once I stop seeing double.”
“I guess we’ll call that one the lightning round.”
“We both won.”
“Yeah, we did. It’s been a while for me, so lightning round.”
This was nice, too, she thought, that they could lie here, sated from sex, and have an actual conversation.
“What’s ‘a while’?”
“I guess about nine months, maybe ten.” Staring up at the high, coffered ceiling, he decided his brain was too buzzed to accur
ately calculate.
“I had a sort of relationship. Not serious, but steady. When I decided to come back, she supported that, she got it. And we both decided to break off the sex.”
“Nine or ten months?” Darby made a pffft sound. “That’s nothing. I’ve got more than double that.”
“Why?”
“Psychotic ex, time spent questioning my own choices, time to focus on self and business, losing my mother, deciding to uproot and replant. All of it.”
“That could do it.”
“Anyway, I think that worked out, too. We hit the-time-is-now button in sync.”
He shifted, looked down at her. “Any thoughts about hitting it again?”
“Well, it worked the first time. But I absolutely want that shower. It’s a really big shower, as I recall. Plenty of room for two healthy individuals.”
“And plenty of hot water.”
“Excellent. But I’m not putting those dirty clothes back on after a shower. I’ve got spare clothes in the truck, because you never know.”
Russet, he thought, at the moment he’d call her hair russet. “If you’re going to have sex?”
“If you’re going to get covered with mud, or rip something.” She rolled out of bed. “I’ll run out and get them. Be right back.”
“Wait. You’re going outside like that?”
She shoved a hand through her hair. “Like what?”
“Naked. And by the way, you’re ripped.”
“The truck’s right out front, and there’s nobody around but you, who’s already seen me naked. Two minutes.”
As she dashed out, Zane pushed himself up. He didn’t consider himself overly modest, but she was going outside naked.
The woman he’d left behind in Raleigh wouldn’t have walked out of the bathroom naked.
She also wouldn’t have stepped out of the house without doing her makeup, styling her hair. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Darby wear makeup.
If anyone had asked, he’d have said she wasn’t really his type. And yet, he was looking forward to getting her in the shower.
Rising, he walked to his terrace doors, opened them, stepped out to watch naked Darby pull a gym bag out of her truck. She looked up, laughed, spread her arms.
“I’d have gotten arrested for doing this in Baltimore.”
He’d have sworn something shifted in his chest. “You look like a sylph, wearing nothing but moonlight.”
“A sith?”
“No.” Now he laughed. “Not one of the Dark Jedi. A sylph—mythological fairy type.”
“I like that better. Is it okay if I stop off in the kitchen? I can bring up some water.”
“I’ve got a minifridge in the dressing room up here.”
“Of course you do. Coming up.”
* * *
The alarm clock in her head woke Darby just before dawn. She lay still, thought about the fact that she woke in Zane’s bed.
She hadn’t meant to stay, and she didn’t think he’d meant her to stay. Sex between healthy, willing individuals equaled one thing. Sleeping together added another layer of intimacy.
But shower sex had led to a craving for more Swiss Rolls, then the snack cakes had somehow led to yet more sex. And that round—call it the slow dance round—had enervated both of them.
So when he’d mumbled, “You should just stay,” she’d managed an “Okay,” before she’d dropped straight into sleep.
Now the problem. She had to get up, get dressed probably a full hour or more before he did. It had been a long time since she’d slept with someone, and she hoped she hadn’t lost her ninja skills.
While her eyes adjusted to the dark, she put the room, the furniture placement in her head. Terrace doors to the right, master bath, walk-in closet, and dressing room to the left. That put the chest of drawers at about four o’clock, the love seat and coffee table at about eight.
And the bench at the foot of the bed—where she’d dumped her gym bag. She couldn’t remember where yesterday’s clothes had ended up, but she’d find them.
She eased out of bed, inched her way toward the bench, feeling with her foot for any stray clothes. She found yesterday’s bra, T-shirt, rounded to her gym bag.
“Why are you sneaking around in the dark?”
She didn’t jump, exactly, but her breath hitched at the mumbling coming out of the dark. “Damn it. Ninja failure. I’m sorry I woke you. The point of sneaking was not to wake you.”
“I’m a light sleeper.”
“Obviously. Go back to sleeping light. I’m going to get dressed in the bathroom. But since you’re at least awake, you don’t happen to have an extra toothbrush, do you?”
“Second shelf, linen closet. What Emily calls a hospitality basket. It’s got spare everything. It’s still dark.”
“Actually, day’s just breaking. Shh. Sleep.”
She closed herself in the bathroom, opted for another quick spin in the shower. Following routine, she slathered herself with sunscreen from her gym bag. Once dressed, she found the toothbrush just where he’d said.
Now she needed to find yesterday’s pants, which included her belt, her phone, her multi-tool, and loose change.
She’d intended to sneak out, but she opened the door to light, and to Zane standing in his boxers at the open terrace doors.
“It is a break between night and day,” he said. “I never really thought about it before.”
“I love how the birds wake at first light, get so excited.” She crossed over, kissed him on the back of the shoulder. “But I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“There was a woman in my shower, so I started thinking about the wet, naked woman. Who could sleep?”
“Since you can’t, do you trust me to make coffee?”
He turned, studied her. “You’ll make coffee?”
“I’ll make coffee, especially if you have any kind of cereal. Not that a Little Debbie isn’t perfectly acceptable breakfast food, but I try to save that for weekends.”
“I have Cheerios.”
“Excellent. Any fruit?”
“I think I have bananas.”
“Then I’ll even fix breakfast.” She gave him another light kiss, started out, scooping up the rest of her clothes on the way.
By the time he came downstairs, she’d opened his great room doors to the morning. She’d set his outdoor table again, unearthing place mats he never used, actual napkins, even a small vase now filled with what he assumed were colorful weeds. She’d put out bowls, a sugar bowl and creamer, a pitcher of juice, glasses.
If you took away the box of Cheerios, the table looked like the setup for a casual yet sophisticated breakfast alfresco. He noted her boots now stood by the open back door, and she walked in barefoot.
“Hey. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be so I held off on the coffee. I also needed a couple minutes to figure out your fancy machine.”
She walked to the fancy machine as she spoke, placed one of his oversize mugs. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring it out.”
Still blurry, he did as he was told while the machine whirred and finally that life-giving scent hit the air.
She brought out mugs—one no more than two-thirds full. When she set the other in front of him, he lifted it, inhaled the first dose straight into his brain.
“You drink it black. I’m always amazed at people who drink black coffee. I don’t actually like coffee.”
As he watched, she flooded her mug with milk, showered it with one, two, dear God, three spoonfuls of sugar.
“That is no longer coffee.”
“Exactly. But it still has that punch I go for in the morning.”
Shaking his head, Zane dumped cereal in her bowl, then in his own. She doctored hers with milk, rapidly sliced half a banana over it. Held out the rest.
“You want?”
“I guess.”
Before he could take it from her, she sliced banana over his cereal.
“No sugar?” he asked as she spooned up a b
ite.
“I like Cheerios. And I see you’ve combined the Honey Nut with the Very Berry.”
“Yes, I have.”
“I find that brilliant, and see myself emulating your style in my own home.”
They ate in easy silence until he gestured toward the vase with his spoon. “Aren’t those weeds?”
“Wildflowers,” she corrected. “Native wildflowers. Yours, as your pretty clump of woods is alive with them. Trillium, Johnny-jump-ups, cranesbill. I can see I need to get you a book so you can identify your own treasure trove.”
He drank more coffee. “You look good in the morning. And you smell like the beach.”
“Thanks. That’s sunscreen, and it won’t last. The beachy scent, I mean. I slap it on every few hours, but the beach loses to sweat, dirt, and whatever. Which I need to get started on.”
“The crew’s not here.”
“They will be.” She rose, started stacking dishes.
“I’ll take care of that. You cooked.”
“I did set the table, and what I don’t know about cooking I make up for in presentation. I’ll take these in because I’m going to steal a Coke for later.”
He carried the rest in behind her, got a Coke out of the fridge, handed it to her. “Are we still on for movies and popcorn?”
Her smile hit her eyes first. “Sure. Eight-thirty, right?”
“Eight-thirty.” He cupped her hips, drew her in, drew her up. Kissed her in a way he intended to have linger in her system until he saw her again.
“Well.” Her fingers trailed through his hair. “If I came over at eight, you could give me that full house tour.”
“Come at eight.” And kissed her again.
* * *
As the days rolled on, the wall neared completion. Darby juggled jobs, pleased the work she’d done attracted interest. She spent more nights than she thought either of them intended in Zane’s bed.
She didn’t look toward the future there. For now, the future was her work, her place in Lakeview, the life she built for herself.
Still, the day she looked at the completed terraced wall, the lower level full of good, rich dirt prime for planting, she thought of Zane.
Whatever happened, he’d have this, and he’d remember.
“It’s freaking beautiful.” Gabe stood beside her, beaming in a way she understood. “I’ve never had a part in building anything like this. And it’s freaking beautiful.”
