Love and Leftovers (4 page)

He kissed her, the delicious flavors mingling between their mouths. His fingers moved to her shirt, slowly unbuttoning the soft cotton top. He unfastened the clasp in front, exposing her breasts to the cool night air.

Sucking in a breath, she leaned back, bracing her hands behind her. Tate fed her another brie bite, then ducked his head and nibbled on a hard nipple. The exquisite sensation jolting through her was intensified by the warm, salty taste on her tongue..

He took his shirt off and tossed it aside. Fine, dark hair covered his chest, and she smoothed her hand across it. He pulled her onto his lap and their lips met again, his hands tangling in her hair. He cupped her cheek in his hand and stared at her. "You're so beautiful."

A soft sigh slipped from her lips. "You make me feel beautiful."

He reached over and dunked a chunk of lobster into a bowl of melted butter. "Have some lobster."

She giggled, and he held it to her lips, drops of butter falling on her skin. She opened her mouth and he settled the lobster on her tongue.

"Close your eyes," he said.

She did, relishing the sweet and buttery warmth. "Oh, my ... yeah ... mmmm."

He kissed her collarbone where a drop of butter had landed and gently licked it off her skin.

"Oh, my." Her eyes fluttered open.

"Keep them closed and listen to the waves," he told her. His breath was warm against her cheek.

"Smell the air." She took a deep breath of salty air, and the retreating waves gently sloshed the shore.

He grazed a finger down her cheek. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, and his gaze smoldered in the moonlight.

"It was worth the wait," she said, her voice husky.

"We're just getting started."

She shivered as his tongue ran up her arm, licking the drops of butter. She gave herself over to her senses as Tate fed her more lobster.

She dipped a piece of the meat into butter and fed him. While he chewed, she slipped off her bra and shirt and tugged off her skirt. He moaned and slid out of his jeans.

He bent and kissed her, pressing her down against the wool blanket. "Let me start a fire."

Raising an eyebrow she said, "You already have."

He gave a sexy laugh and grabbed some matches from the picnic basket. Soon the fire was blazing afresh. He lay next to her and tugged at her panties.

"What about the compote?" she asked.

"Everyone knows compote tastes better in the buff."

Their underwear discarded, Lucy lay back on the blanket while Tate ran his fingers down her belly until he found the spot she'd been longing for him to touch all week. She whimpered.

Then he pulled his hand away. "Almost forgot about the compote."

"You're naughty."

"I think I've been rather nice," he said with a smirk. He dunked a piece of sponge cake into the compote and brought it to her lips.

The dessert was divine, but she hesitated. "I haven't been with anyone since the divorce," she confessed.

"It's been a while for me, too." He set aside the compote, then braced his arms on either side of her. "But I think we're doing just fine."

The fire crackled and popped. She swallowed hard. Whatever happened between them, she'd always remember this night. "I never imagined I could be so patient for something I wanted so much."

"Then let's not wait any longer."

* * *

Soft light woke Tate the next morning. Lucy was still dozing in his bed, the sheets tangled between her legs. She'd only fallen asleep a few hours earlier, so she'd likely be out for a while. He'd been too keyed up to sleep, still amazed by their night together, then distracted by what this developing relationship meant for his work.

He surveyed the fridge so he could whip up something for breakfast. He took out the ingredients for quiche, blueberry muffins, and cranberry scones. Lucy would have her choice. He loved cooking for her.

What would it be like waking up with her every morning? Should he even be imagining such a thing? Why the hell not? He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this happy. He whistled as he cooked, something he hadn't done since his first chef job twelve years earlier.

An hour later, Lucy wandered out of the bedroom, wrapped in a sheet.

"You're up sooner than I expected."

She yawned, her hair tousled hair like a puffy cloud around her face. "It smells too good to sleep." She walked over to him and they kissed as the sounds of the beach drifted in through the window. The sheet fell to the ground.

He slowly looked her over. "You should put on that black bikini."

She put a fist on her hip. "Hey, you don't like me naked?"

"I love you naked, but I've been imagining what it would be like to take that bikini off since I first saw you."

She laced her hands around his waist. "I'll put it on later. I'm yours for a week."

"A week, that's right." He paused for a moment. Was that truly all she had for him - a week? Did he want more? Did she? "Get back in bed."

"Again?" She shrugged. "All right."

He smirked. "I'm going to serve you breakfast."

Lucy lay on Tate's bed, tingling with satisfaction. It was as if she could still feel all the places he'd touched and every spot he'd kissed. She couldn't be more content.

Tate cleared his throat. "Should we get to breakfast then? Cold quiche isn't as good as warm quiche, but it will do."

She sat up, letting the sheet fall to the side. Okay, maybe I could be more content. "I forgot about the food. I'm starving."

"Take a taste." He brought a forkful to her mouth and she took a bite.

"Mmm." A tangy, cheesy taste met her tongue. "Almost better than the sex."

"Hey!" He poked her in the ribs and she wriggled away.

"I'll admit, feeding you while you're naked is a close second."

She licked her lips and he groaned. He gave her more quiche and nibbles of blueberry muffins. Now she was content.

"How can you ever know a woman isn't just using you for your food?" she asked, working on a scone.

"Is that what you're doing?" He narrowed one eye.

"You've got me thinking about it." She fell back on the bed. "If there's such a thing as a food orgasm, I just had one."

He laughed. "Now there's a possible title for my cookbook: Food Orgasm."

She curled onto her side and smiled up at him. "Whatever the name, it'll turn out fabulous."

He didn't smile back as he stacked the empty plates on the nightstand. "They're good recipes, but I don't have a theme. I need a reason for writing the cookbook, not just a collection of good food. Nothing connects these dishes."

"Just keep cooking. It'll come to you." She got out of bed and gathered her clothes. "Want to go for a swim? I'll put on the bikini."

A teasing smile curled his lips. "It won't be on for long."

"I'll meet you down at the beach."

* * *

Tate couldn't believe how quickly the week rolled by - each indulgent day better than the one before. Lucy was spending her nights at his place. He'd wake early for a jog, then make them breakfast. They shared coffee on the pair of Adirondack chairs nestled in the dune grass overlooking the sea. Then Lucy would go down to the beach or make her driftwood creations out on his deck while he worked in the kitchen. They'd smile at each other through the window, and he'd bring her samples as he completed each dish. Later, they shared his gourmet dinners, sometimes down at the beach. And then came the nights. The glorious, passionate nights. He could spend weeks like this, maybe longer.

But Alexa was coming back. They couldn't continue like this with her here, and eventually he'd return to New York, and they'd go to Providence.

On their last morning together, Tate set a bucket of shells on Lucy's deck. "These are for you and Alexa and your projects."

She popped up from the chaise lounge and hugged him. "That was sweet. She'll be excited to see you."

"I'm going to make her beach rolls for dinner."

Lucy took him by the hand. "We've got a few hours before she'll be back. Let's go inside."

* * *

Afterward, he lay next to her, spooning with her and stroking her stomach with his thumb.

She frowned. "You know, that little belly pooch was not there before you came up, Mr. Carson."

He bent over and kissed it. "I love it. I couldn't be with a woman who didn't eat my food. That was part of the problem with my last girlfriend. She couldn't just relax and be real. I was sick of partying and posing. If she had a teeny tiny belly pooch, she'd run laps around Central Park until it was gone."

She rolled over to face him. "Bad news, I'm not running. For anything. Ever."

"I don't want you to. I love ... everything about you. Just the way it is."

He heard her swallow. Damn it. He shouldn't have said that. It was way too soon to have the feelings he was having. They'd been together, what, two weeks? And with another month ahead of them. There was an end date to this relationship, and he couldn't let this thing between them distract him. He was having fun with Lucy and Alexa, but his real priority here was the damn cookbook that still just wasn't coming together.

She ran her fingers through his hair. "I love being with you, too." She sat up. "But Alexa is going to be back soon, so I need to get dressed, and you've got some work to do. We'll see you for dinner?"

"Yes." Tate replied, knowing he should tell her no. But he'd been all work and no play with his last girlfriend, and look where they had gotten him. Maybe Alexa and Lucy could be the distraction he needed. Sometimes inspiration struck when he wasn't chasing it with a knife and cutting board.

Tate went home and showered, then set out the ingredients for a feta bacon salad dressing he'd been meaning to try. Around noon, he heard the crunch of tires on gravel and saw Mike pull up with Alexa.

Lucy dashed down the back steps and Alexa charged into her arms. Lucy picked her up and spun her around as Mike walked over and set down Alexa's little flowered suitcase. Anyone else catching a glimpse of this happy scene might think the three of them were still a family. And the way Mike was staring at Lucy, standing closer than a divorced guy had the right to, he was undoubtedly wishing they were together again.

Alexa tugged on her mom's shirt and said something. Lucy ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes as Mike touched her arm. Lucy sighed and held up two fingers and Alexa jumped in place and pumped her fist in the air. The smile on Mike's face left Tate pretty certain he was not going to be happy with whatever just went down.

Alexa led Mike inside their house while Lucy walked over to Tate's with her head down. Tate stepped out onto the patio. "Everything okay?"

She crossed her arms and gave him a tight smile. "Can you make extra beach rolls tonight? Mike is staying for a few days in the apartment over the garage. I was hoping he could join us for dinner."

Tate forced a great big smile. "No problem," he lied.

Tate set down the giant platter of lobster rolls for the world's most awkward dinner.

"Yum, beach rolls!" Alexa rubbed her hands together. "Daddy, did you know Tate is a famous cooker?"

Tate laughed, surprised at how pleased Alexa's pride made him.

Mike waited for an explanation. Why did the Lucy's ex have to be so good looking? He'd been hoping for a rude, ugly brute.

"Tate's a TV chef," Lucy said.

Mike's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. So that's your place door?"

"It's my agent's. I'm up here working on a cookbook."

Mike smirked. "I bet you're getting a lot of work done."

Lucy shot him a dirty look.

Tate bit back the sarcastic comment he was going to make about the fun he'd been having instead of working.

Alexa chattered on during dinner about all the clamshells she planned on decorating. "I sell them on the weekends, Daddy. Lemonade, too, and Mommy's driftwood."

"I haven't bought one of your creations yet," Tate said.

"I need to find some more shells, first. I'm all out," Alexa told him.

Tate slapped his head. "We should boil some clams and you'll have all the shells you want."

"Really? What are clams anyway?" Alexa took a huge bite of her beach roll.

Lucy cringed. "Remember the lobster?" she whispered to Tate.

He nodded. "Uh, they're the things that make shells."

Alexa nodded, happy with the answer.

"You want to look for shells?" Mike asked. "We can do that after dinner."

"Yes! Mommy, will you come? Tate, you too?"

Tate stood up. "Actually, I have to work on a few recipes tonight."

"Then you can come, Mommy," Alexa said.

Lucy crossed her arms. "I should help clean up."

"We can all clean up," Mike said. "That way, you can join us, Lucy."

"Maybe you'll find some driftwood," Alexa suggested.

Lucy twisted her lips. "I do need some more."

"What are you doing with driftwood?" Mike asked.

Lucy walked over and picked up one of her creations from the railing of the deck. "We've been busy this summer making beach crafts." She explained to Mike.

Mike took it, examining the smooth piece of wood with bits of old rope and shells glued to it. She'd added a few sparkly baubles here and there, and Tate thought her projects had a unique and upscale look.

Mike set down the piece. "That's really neat. You always were so creative. I'll help you find some."

After cleaning up, they walked off the deck toward the beach, and Lucy looked back at Tate. They shared a smile, and she walked away. Tate thought she, Mike, and Alexa looked like the perfect, beautiful family. He wished poor Alexa still had that. Even now, he could remember the TV episode of The Cosby Show he was watching when his parents had come into the family room, turned off the television, and told him they were getting a divorce.

He'd been an only child, just like Alexa, but a little older - seven instead of five. Based on his own experience, Tate believed divorce was harder for a one-child family. He hadn't had any siblings to confide in or share his pain with. And while he had never let his parents know how much he was hurting inside - he'd never shared that with anyone - the divorce had taken a hunk of his heart that could never be replaced. His anguish would've killed his parents if they'd known, so his struggle with their divorce had been a private agony he'd locked away, deep down.

Would the divorce do the same to Alexa?

He went inside and stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open, the cold air pooling around him. There was no way he could concentrate on cooking tonight. He wanted to be with Lucy, but she was off with her ex.

And maybe that's where she should be.

* * *

Tate hoped she would stop by before turning in for the night, but it was ten o'clock and she hadn't come. He stared out the window at the driveway where he'd first seen her showering just two weeks ago. So much had changed since then. Was it really possible to fall for someone so quickly? He'd thought this would be a fling at best. Maybe a one- or two-time thing.

But Lucy was like the ingredient that had been missing in his life. Alexa, too.

"Mike, I don't want us fighting in front of her." Lucy's voice drifted in from outside.

Tate peered out the window and saw them leaving the deck, walking onto the grassy area between the houses. Tate stepped aside so his silhouette wouldn't be visible in the window, but he could still hear them.

"We're not fighting, and she's asleep," Mike said.

"At this rate, we're going to wake her up," Lucy replied in a harsh whisper.

"I don't understand why you'd be mad that I want us back together. I want us to be a family again. The divorce was a mistake. Neglecting you was a mistake. Give me another chance." The guy was pleading.

"You're only doing this because you know about Tate. You just don't want me to find happiness."

"Lucy, no. I think - actually, I know that our best shot for happiness is as a family. I don't want someone else raising my daughter, and I'm sure you don't want a stepmother for Alexa."

Lucy made a strangled sound. "Please don't do this." She turned away from him.

"Lucy, come back."

"I'm going for a walk. I need to think."

Tate doubted he'd ever be able to forget her pained cry as she ran toward the beach, alone.

* * *

Lucy walked along the shore, watching the white foam glowing under the moon. The ocean was frighteningly dark at night. Her summer in Maine was supposed to clear her head, not make things more confusing. Her time with Tate had been amazing, and she didn't want it to end; she'd felt more passion with him than she ever had with Mike.

But had their whirlwind romance been real? She'd been alone with Tate for a week. They both had responsibilities that they'd set aside for a glorious stretch of time together. Would the chemistry between them be the same when the summer was over?

There was only one way to find out. She couldn't go back to Mike, not if she was going to be miserable and he was going to be absent. Alexa might think she wanted them back together now, but in the long run, staying divorced was the right thing to do.

She ran along the cold, wet sand, back to her house. The legs of her jeans were soaked to the knee, and the breeze made her shiver. Tate's back patio light was on. She had to talk to him now before she lost her nerve.

Softly, she knocked on his back door. "Tate?"

The kitchen light flicked on and he opened the door. "Are you all right? It's late."

"Did I wake you?"

"No, come in - you're freezing. I was just sitting here, thinking."

She sat on his couch, and he pulled a blanket around her. He sat next to her, leaving space between them.

"We have to talk. It must be confusing for you that Mike's here. I know what he's trying to do - he wants us to get back together." She looked up at him. "But I don't want that. I want to be with you."

Tate rubbed the back of his neck. Then he gazed out the window at the ocean.

She swallowed nervously. "Tate?"

"Lucy, I've had a lot of fun with you. But there's no future for the two of us. This can't ever be more than a summer fling." He kept staring at the ocean. "I'm sorry. Sure, we could've had a few more weeks together, but I don't want to string you along when you have the chance to patch things up with your ex."

She tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. How had she been so wrong about their time together?

"You're really great, but I live in New York ... and you live in Providence." He shrugged.

She nodded, and folded her arms across her chest. "And I have a daughter, and we're someone else's leftovers."

He moved closer and took her in his arms. His voice softened.

"No, you're not. It just wouldn't work in the long run. I'd love more time with you this summer, but not if it's going to jeopardize things with Mike."

Her hands folded into fists. "I don't want to be with Mike."

"I don't want to be the reason you make that decision."

Lucy felt tears streaming down her face. He was right. This had all been a one-week fantasy. Endless days on the beach with all the time in the world to eat, drink, and make love? They would never have a time together like that again. But just because she had to return to reality didn't mean she had to go back to Mike. Waking up from this wonderful dream just meant things were over with Tate. If she was lucky, maybe she could find something like that again.

She looked up at him through her tears. "Can we have one more night together?"

Tate cupped her cheek in his hand and gently kissed her. Were his lips trembling?

"I would love one more night with you," he said.

* * *

A few hours later, they lay in bed saying nothing. Lucy shouldn't have tormented herself with one last time together. Their lovemaking made leaving Tate all the more painful.

Tate swung his legs from under the covers so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm going back home in the morning. I'm not getting any work done on the cookbook, and I'll be out of the way for you to enjoy the rest of the summer here. Maybe Mike can stay."

Lucy's throat was tight. "Can we stay in touch?"

Tate dropped his head in his hands. "That's not a good idea."

She slid out of bed, searching for her clothes in the dark. "I thought ... I don't know, I thought we were friends at least. But no, you were just using me for a good time. Having sex with you seemed like more than that. I guess I just don't understand men. Not Mike, and not you."

Tate sniffed in the dark and his voice came out in a whisper. "Do you know how hard this is for me? I don't want to leave you."

"Then why are you pushing me away?"

"I wasn't honest with you." His voice was strained. "My parents' divorce wrecked me. When I look at Alexa, I see my own hurt staring back at me. I can't be with you knowing there's a chance you can make your family whole again. If we were together, I'd always wonder if you could've worked things out with Mike." He stood up. "I need to get packed and get out of here before I change my mind. I want you, but I can't have you. I just can't." He got his suitcase out of the closet and started throwing clothes inside.

"Tate ... " But she didn't know what to say. His painful history meant a future for them was out of the question. No matter what she said or did, Tate would never feel right being with her. She swallowed a few times, trying to push back her emotions. His concern for Alexa only made her want him more. But she got it. She wasn't going to beg.

After putting on her clothes, she went to him and squeezed his hand. "Good luck, Tate. And thank you."

Standing in a shaft of moonlight, he gave her the saddest smile she'd ever seen. Then she stepped out into the cool night air and walked back to her house, too sad and stunned to even cry.

She tiptoed through the house and peeked in Alexa's room. She wasn't in her bed. Lucy's heart caught in her throat as she dashed into her bedroom down the hall, looking for her. She checked the living room and the guest rooms. She wasn't there. "Alexa?" Her name came out in a strangled breath. Where could she be? Then she dashed up the stairs to the apartment.

Alexa was sleeping next to Mike, his strong, tanned arm slung over her. Lucy blinked back tears. She must've had a bad dream and come looking for Lucy, and when Mommy wasn't there, she went to Daddy instead.

Lucy stood over the bed, watching them sleep. Alexa's lips puckered and moved as she dreamed. A crayon drawing sat on the nightstand next to the bed. Lucy picked it up. Alexa had drawn a picture of the three of them holding hands underneath a starry sky. At the bottom, she'd written, "My Wish."

Lucy sucked in a breath. Tate's words haunted her. Would Lucy carry scars from the divorce when she was grown?

Her chest tightened at the sight of the two of them cuddled up. She tiptoed out of the room and went down to the living room. She plopped down on the couch and dropped her head back. Didn't she at least have to give it another try? Maybe Mike was sincere about trying harder this time. They could move back in together before making any decisions about getting married again. She loved Alexa more than anything. She wanted to make her wish come true. There was no guarantee it would work, but she had to try. Her heart might long for Tate, but it ached for Alexa.

Lucy went out to the deck and stared at the stars until the blue-black of night gave way to the pastels of dawn. She slipped back inside and got out ingredients for breakfast. She fried up a package of bacon and made a stack of pancakes.

Alexa charged down the stairs, followed by a groggy Mike.

"I missed you last night," Alexa said, wrapping her arms around Lucy's waist.

"Me, too. Can you set the table outside on the deck, and we'll eat breakfast together?"

Alexa nodded, looking happy to help.

"What's going on, Lucy?" Mike asked after Alexa dashed outside. "Breakfast at six in the morning?"

Lucy's heart banged against her chest. "I want to try again," she said softly .

His eyes bulged. "You mean it?"

She nodded. "You can't disappear, not ever again. You have to be there for us one hundred percent."

He reached for her hand. "Oh my god. You're giving me another chance?"

"I'm giving our family another chance. Alexa deserves it."

He pulled her into a hug. "What about your friend next door?"

Lucy felt a wave of sadness, but she forced a smile. "He helped me realize I needed to give you and me a second chance."

Mike exhaled. "Thank goodness. I promise, I'm going to do it right this time."

"Do you want to stay here a few more days, before we decide what to do next? We need to take things slow for Alexa's sake."

He squeezed her hand. "Sounds good. We have a lot of plans to make."

She squeezed back, her heart feeling ... content. She could settle for content. She'd have to. Maybe someday she might even feel more than that.

Lucy pulled away as Alexa charged inside. "Let's eat!"."