by Nina Lindsey
“I’m all about full potential,” Luke mumbled.
He shifted and pushed up to his elbows. Polly took her hands off him.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
He gave a short laugh. “Hell no, Peach. You’re doing everything right.”
He grabbed the back collar of his T-shirt and hitched it over his head, then tossed the shirt to the floor before lying back down.
Oh my.
Polly swallowed hard as she stared at the landscape of his naked back, his straight spine bisecting the smooth muscles on either side. The strong curves of his shoulders sloped down to the insanely impressive bulges of his biceps and corded forearms. His skin was smooth, golden-brown, and so mouth-wateringly tempting that she ached to trail her lips over the ridge of his spine.
Her heart was racing. She reminded herself what she’d set out to prove to him, as well as the fact that he was obviously still expecting her to return to the massage.
Full force, she’d told herself at the Troll’s House.
She pulled in a heavy breath, gathered her courage, and straddled Luke’s lower back. The movement caused her skirt to ride higher on her thighs—not that he could see that, but the position allowed her to press weight evenly on both sides of his back. It also allowed her to feel the sheer strength of him right between her legs, but she tried to push that out of her mind and focus on her task.
Touching his bare skin was heaven, the friction against her palms warming her all the way down to her toes. When he groaned again, she pressed harder, kneading his lower back—where his drawstring pants were starting to ride dangerously low—and along his sides. Her breathing grew faster, but she held on to her composure and focused all her energy on helping Luke relax.
His muscles loosened slowly, molding like pliable dough beneath her hands. His own breathing slowed, his body sinking against the mattress. She slackened the pace of her massage, switching from short kneads to long, easy strokes designed to increase the flow of blood. She ended with a light rubbing of his lower back.
He was breathing deeply and evenly, his head turned to the side and his eyes closed.
Polly eased away from straddling his thighs to sit beside him on the bed again. She leaned in closer to his ear.
“Luke,” she whispered. “Are you asleep?”
“No,” he mumbled.
“You can turn around now.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have a boner the size of a redwood tree.”
A giggle escaped Polly at the same time that arousal poured through her veins. Her pulse quickened. She let her gaze stroke over his body again. His muscles were still loose and relaxed, but there was a new kind of tension coiling through him.
He pushed to his elbows and turned his head. A hot, electric current sizzled between them.
There were a lot of things Polly didn’t know, or at least that she was still learning. But if she focused and paid attention to her instincts, she knew what she wanted. As long as she didn’t get swept up in silly thoughts of romance, then Luke Stone was exactly what she both wanted and needed.
She leaned closer and gazed into his lust-dark eyes.
“Turn around,” she whispered.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Peach.”
“Yes, I do.” She pushed gently on his shoulder. “Turn around.”
With a slight grimace, he turned and flopped back against the pillows, his breath expelling on a long rush. Shivers raced through Polly as she drank in the sight of his bare chest, all beautiful, sculpted muscles and six-pack abdomen leading right down to…
Holy mother of…
“You should walk away right now,” Luke muttered hoarsely, his voice infused with both urgency and warning.
She dragged her eyes away from his pants and back up to his face.
“Why?” she asked.
He blinked. “What?”
“Why should I walk away?”
He gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. “I’m not the right guy for you, Peach. Yeah, we could have a great time together, but you’re the kind of girl who deserves something long-lasting, and I can’t give that to you.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I always put my work first.”
“So do I.”
He frowned. “I’m too old for you.”
“I’m not too young for you.”
“I’m tedious and boring.”
“Yeah.” Polly poked him gently in the chest and gave him a wry look. “That’s exactly what I thought when I was grinding up against you at the Troll’s House.”
“I can’t make you any promises.”
“I’m not asking for promises.”
“I come with a crapload of baggage.”
She shrugged. “Don’t we all?”
Luke studied her for a minute, as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
“Do you ever let anyone have the last word?” he asked.
“When it’s warranted.” She leaned closer to him, resting her hand on the pillow beside his head. “But right now, I think it would be a good idea if you just stopped talking.”
She lowered her head and kissed him. A thousand fireworks exploded inside her at the touch of his warm lips against hers. She put her other hand on his chest. His heartbeat pulsed beneath her palm as she increased the pressure of the kiss.
Luke muttered a noise low in his throat. He grasped the back of her neck and pulled her closer, his tongue flicking out to slide across her lower lip. Heat bloomed in Polly, intensifying her simmering arousal. She sank into the kiss and opened her mouth, awash in sensation.
Though he kissed her thoroughly, his body was still locked with restraint. He lifted his head, his hand on her nape. His gaze burned into hers. Something about that look twisted through her, as if he were still questioning the wisdom of getting involved with her.
Then she remembered his expression of relief when she’d come back into the house after having been unable to start her van. How he’d ordered all the chefs and her entire culinary class out of the test kitchen so he could be alone with her. How fiercely possessive he’d been about her not hooking up with another man.
From the instant she’d seen Luke Stone, she hadn’t wanted any another man. She only wanted him.
A strange feeling fluttered inside her, pleasure mixed with the unease of realizing that not only did she want him, she also liked him. A lot. He was straightforward, hard-working, dedicated, and caring. Yes, he had control issues, but frankly so did she or she wouldn’t still be holding so tightly to Wild Child.
But surely her growing fondness for Luke was a good thing. It was like indulging in a bag of her favorite candy while knowing she’d run out eventually. The limited quantity made her enjoyment all the sweeter and more satisfying.
She ran her finger gently under the shadow beneath his left eye. Liking him also meant knowing when the timing was both right and wrong.
“Get some more sleep.” She stroked his stubbled cheek. “I’ll make coffee and raid your cabinets for breakfast.”
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer for another warm, sweeping kiss. Polly let herself sink into him for a moment before easing away.
“Forget the candy, Mr. Stone,” she whispered. “You’re the one who gives me a sugar rush.”
After pressing her lips against his one more time, she left the room and tried not to think about the fact that a rush was usually followed by a crash.
Chapter 9
She was gone again. Luke knew it the instant he opened his eyes.
He pushed up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Twin emotions rolled through him—a strange combination of deep satisfaction and disappointment. Satisfaction because the night he’d spent with Polly had been unlike any he’d ever spent with a woman—which he’d known it would be with her—and disappointment over the discovery that she was gone.
A note sat on the bedside table, written in her curly handwriting:
Called a cab, but will be in touch later about the van. Thanks for a lovely night and an amazing sleep.
P.S. I took some of those fruit gummies from the jar in the kitchen. Are they new? They’re delicious!
A shaft of sunlight fell over the note. Luke lifted a hand to block it, then realized with dawning shock what he was doing. He looked at the clock, blinking as if the numbers 9:34 were somehow a visual lie.
What the…?
He shoved his legs into his pants, hitching them around his hips as he went downstairs to find his cell phone—which he’d left in his office. He never left his cell phone in his office at night. He always kept it on the nightstand.
Sure enough, the phone was filled with texts and voice mails. He called Kate, who sounded breathless with concern.
“Mr. Stone, everyone has been so worried,” she said. “Are you all right? Were you in an accident? I’ve been checking the traffic reports, but—”
“Kate,” Luke interrupted. “I’m fine. I overslept.”
She was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, sir? You overslept?”
“It was a shock to me too,” he admitted wryly. “But you can send out a news flash that I’m fine and will be into the office soon.”
“Yes, sir. Would you like me to order you some breakfast or…er, brunch?”
“No, thanks. I’ll see you within the hour.”
He ended the call, answered a bunch of others, and checked in on the flooding situation in Venezuela. The relief organizations had gotten in and were distributing fresh water, food, and medical supplies. His brother Adam reported that the waters were receding and they had crews out to assess the damage.
There was no text from Polly, no matter how many times Luke scrolled through the messages in the hopes that he’d missed one.
Seemed he was still an idiot, even in the light of day.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to take out the eggs, seeing the pizza box sitting on the middle shelf. With a shrug, he took out a piece of cold pepperoni and ate it while walking around and opening the curtains.
The glass house afforded majestic views of the California shoreline—cypress trees dotting the rocky cliffs, white-capped ocean waters, soaring seagulls, and breaking waves. The scenery had sold Luke on the house, and he was further irritated that Polly had spent the night but hadn’t even seen the view.
He polished off the pizza and removed the lid from a jar of Puffles, multi-colored gummy candies sprinkled with silver sugar crystals. He took a few out and popped them into his mouth, unaccountably pleased that Polly had liked them since they were a new product in the Sugar Rush line of bite-sized treats.
His gaze landed on the macramé bag she had left on the counter. Deflecting a pang of guilt that he shouldn’t do this, Luke opened the bag and spilled the contents onto the counter. Then he rifled through them as if he were an archeologist digging for clues.
There were the usual girl things—hairbrush, lipstick, tampons, mirror—and a little plastic first-aid kit. Paperback books, a romance novel, a “live your best life” self-help book, and one about using an accounting software program. A half-knit scarf, chewing gum, incense, hard candies (not Sugar Rush, he noted with displeasure), sunglasses, hand sanitizer, and a notebook filled with scrawled lists. At the bottom of the bag, there was a silver elephant charm with a loop for a necklace.
As Luke studied the little charm, his cell phone buzzed again with a call from Kate.
“Mr. Wyatt from Godson and Wyatt called and asked if he could see you this afternoon instead of tomorrow,” she said. “You have a one o’clock opening, but will you be here by then?”
“Of course I’ll be there by one.” He glanced down at his half-naked body. “I’m practically on my way right now.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll schedule the appointment then.”
Luke put his phone down and headed upstairs to shower, still holding the elephant charm in his fist.
After a day at work during which Luke had to keep pushing Polly out of his head and reminding himself to “focus, dammit,” he inputted the Wild Child address into his GPS and headed toward Rainsville.
When he exited the interstate, he realized he was nowhere near downtown Rainsville—where he’d assumed the bakery was located. Instead he was on the outskirts of town, an area filled with old, clapboard buildings, overgrown lots, and junkyards.
He navigated a dead-end street, turned, and circled the block three times before finding himself in front of an abandoned warehouse. With a frown, he checked the address again and peered across the street at an old stucco building that had several boarded up windows, a bail bondsman’s office, a closed auto parts store, and…Wild Child.
An old awning sat above the door with the name Wild Child written in faded blue. The windows were decorated with flowers and peace signs that might have been bright and cheerful ages ago, but now just looked faded and sad. A Closed sign hung crookedly on the door.
Polly had said she was trying to upgrade her bakery. She’d need a wrecking ball to upgrade this hole in the wall.
Luke shoved his car into gear and headed back to the interstate.
Don’t get involved.
Since college, he’d been rigidly focused on Sugar Rush, and never more so than over the past year. Though there had been a time when he’d thought he’d fit marriage and kids into his well-organized life, he’d soon realized there was no room for that. He’d always been wary of people—aware they usually wanted something from him—but the lawsuit had made him downright suspicious of almost everyone.
He couldn’t let his guard down with a cute bakery girl, even if he could still feel her lips pressed against his. He’d meant it when he said he couldn’t give her anything long-lasting, and it didn’t matter that she hadn’t seemed to mind.
From his experience, women always eventually minded his lack of desire and ability to commit. So despite his determination to prevent Polly from dating anyone else, he couldn’t start anything serious with her. He wouldn’t.
Having come to that conclusion, he pulled through the gates of his mansion. Polly’s old van still sat in the driveway. The painted peace signs and flowing Wild Child Bakery logo looked incongruous against the backdrop of minimalist Scandinavian architecture. By contrast, Polly had fit in his house.
Luke suppressed that realization. He would get the van fixed and returned to her tomorrow. Then he’d walk away and get back to his real life.
Chapter 10
Polly finished icing a tray of éclairs and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Of all the Wild Child products, her mother’s éclairs were still the bakery’s top seller—not that that was saying much these days.
But at least they were the one pastry Polly still held to Jessie’s standards with fresh vanilla cream, pâte à choux pastry made with real butter, and dark chocolate ganache. Every time she made the éclairs, she knew she was being true to her mother’s legacy.
She started setting them into fluted cups when the wind chimes over the door jingled. Polly glanced at the mirror behind the counter, her heart crashing against her ribs as the glass reflected a tall, dark-haired man.
“Hello, Polly.”
Luke Stone’s deep, resonant voice flowed right into her blood, eliciting a rush of happy warmth that intensified when she turned to face him. He looked striking and incredibly masculine in a tailored suit and tie, his dark hair brushed back from his strong features, but Polly’s mind filled with a memory of him wearing only his drawstring pants, his chest bare.
But at the moment, he was all powerful CEO. As he approached the counter, Polly’s whole body tingled with an awareness that was both sweet and spicy, like chocolate truffles spiked with cayenne pepper.
“What can I get for you, Mr. Stone?” she asked primly, hoping he would respond by leaning across the counter, planting a nice, hot kiss against her lips, and growling,
“This.”
“Your van is outside,” he said instead, handing her the keys and the macramé supply bag she’d left at his house. “New starter, fan belt, and fluid check. The bill is on me.”
He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to protest.
“I’m paying,” he said. “Don’t argue.”
Despite his imperious, no-nonsense tone of voice, gratitude welled up inside Polly with unexpected force. She needed the van and she didn’t have the money for repairs. So the fact that Luke was insisting on taking care of it…
It was the first time in a long time that a man had taken care of something for her. Or just taken care of her.
“Thank you.” She stowed her bag and keys underneath the counter. “That’s generous of you, and I’m very grateful.”
Luke gave a short nod and folded his arms across his chest. He looked cross. Polly hoped his attitude didn’t have anything to do with their unconventional date two nights ago.
“I have to go now,” he said, like it was somehow her fault.
“Okay. Would you like a pastry to take with you?”
He glanced at the displays. “Which is your favorite?”
“Oh, the éclairs, definitely.” She took a fresh one off the tray and put it on the plate for him. “I’ve had to…um, revamp some of the recipes, but this one has always stayed the same. I still use Valrhona’s cocoa powder, Madagascar vanilla, and the best quality organic milk and farm-fresh eggs. I also make some with liqueurs or chocolate cream.”
“Looks delicious.” He reached into his pocket for his wallet.
“It’s on the house,” Polly said.
Luke gave her a frown of mild disapproval and put a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “Only give food away if it’s a sample or a donation.”
He picked up the glossy éclair to take a bite, his eyebrows lifting slightly. A sudden anxiety tightened her belly. Did he like it? Then she told herself not to care. She knew the éclairs were incredible.
