Authors: Lily Santana
“I thought we’d decided weeks ago.”
She drew in a breath and smiled at David. “I guess I’d forgotten. How does ten sound?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Jack winked at Emma before giving her a hug. “This was nice.”
She smiled. “Jack, I owe you money from the other night when I left without paying my tab.”
Jack’s eyebrow knitted in confusion. “You left cash.”
She frowned. “No, I didn’t.”
“There was cash on the bar with a nice, fat tip to boot.”
Emma’s gaze flew to Mitch, who was chatting with Dorinda.
Lorraine nudged Jack aside and hugged Emma. “You’ve been lying to me, missy, and I want the juicy details ASAP,” she whispered before winking at Mitch and leaving the room.
Dorinda and Jack carried the empty bottles and glasses to the kitchen. David followed closely behind them. That left her and Mitch alone in the family room.
Emma inhaled the comforting scent of burning wood and savored the heat of the fire licking her face. Her lids felt weighed down and the room tilted a little. Maybe Lorraine wasn’t the only who’d had one too much cabernet.
Emboldened, she held out her hand to Mitch, trying hard to keep her gaze steady and focused. “Thanks for grilling the steaks.”
His warm hand engulfed hers. Funny how dainty her hands were compared to his. How would it feel to have his roughened fingers massaging the knots in her back? The visual imagery sent shivers up her spine.
“You didn’t think I could do it, could you?”
She was thankful she was standing so close to the fire; otherwise, she was sure her face matched her hair color. A smile tugged the corner of her lips. “I had my doubts.”
She tried to pull her hand free from his grasp, but he kept his hold, even as David reentered the room.
Emma manufactured a congenial smile without trying to be obvious that Mitch was still holding her hand. When he finally did let go, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Mitch turned to David. “You walking out?”
“Not quite yet,” David said, surprising her. “I wanted to have a few minutes to chat with Emma.”
Emma shrugged. “Oh? Okay.”
Mitch simply lifted a brow.
David stood behind her as she waved off everyone, including Mitch, who walked across the street to his trailer. She followed him with her gaze and waited until she saw the light turn on before she turned to David. “What’s up?” It was difficult to take the edge off her voice because she thought David had behaved like a jerk tonight.
“I can help you clean up,” he offered in response to her questioning gaze.
She frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. Besides, we didn’t get a chance to talk earlier.”
Dread filled her stomach. She wasn’t in any condition to discuss anything at the moment. Plus, he’d put her in a bad mood. “I am kind of tired. Maybe we should put it off until tomorrow. I can stop by your office and we can catch up.”
He waited a beat before nodding. “I’d like that. But I still want to chat with you about something important.”
Please don’t let it be that he’d decided to reject Mitch’s plan and he wanted her to be the first to know.
She blinked back her exasperation. “Follow me to the kitchen then.”
Wanting to keep her hands busy, Emma began rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher. She glanced at David, who leaned against the fridge, watching her with a strange look in his eyes.
She arched her brow. “What’s on your mind?”
He cleared his throat. “I was serious. You look really stunning tonight, Em. You seem...different.”
She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on a dish towel. “Really? How?”
He shook his head. “I can’t put my finger on what it is. You seem like you’re glowing.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know about that. Except, of course, the sun was out today and I was running around.”
“I was surprised to see Mitch McKenna here tonight.”
Emma kept her face neutral. “Oh.”
He crinkled his brows. “I think it might be better to keep our social circle tight, you know?”
“He’s my neighbor now, David.”
Redness crept up his pale neck. “Maybe for the next couple of months. If that even happens.”
A prickly sensation raced up her spine. David’s smug expression didn’t help alleviate her anxiety. “Why wouldn’t it happen? He told me he’s agreed to our design concessions. The Planning Council will take their recommendation from you. If you say it’ll work, they’ll go along.”
What if Mitch’s project got delayed again and his investor pulled out with the financing? That would mean Mitch wouldn’t come through with his end of the bargain. She tried not to think about the devastating consequences of such a scenario.
David shoved his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t made a decision one way or the other. McKenna’s like a can of worms. He pretty much admitted tonight that he’s a felon.”
Emma cringed, regret eating away at her gut for inciting enough animosity against Mitch with her neighbors that someone would actually go as far as to advertise those stupid mug shots around town.
“And apparently his brother—what’s his name—had his own run-ins with the law. I’m not sure we want any part of that crew building in one of our most pristine lots.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You’re not seriously thinking of rejecting his plans outright, are you? Mitch was just a kid when he got arrested, for God’s sake.”
“I have to say I’m rather surprised that you’ve become his champion. Just a week ago, you were hell-bent on trying to cut him high and dry. What’s changed?”
“I told you. He agreed to important changes. He doesn’t intend for Bella Del Mar to turn into another Cannon Beach. He understands we want it to remain low-key. His new plans reflect that.”
“Are you sure that’s all there is to it?”
“What else do you think it is?”
David walked over and stood less than a foot from her. “I’m worried about you.”
She took a step back. “Why?”
“I want you to know that I’m here for you when you need a friend.”
“I know that. You’ve been a wonderful friend to Sammy and me. I am very grateful.”
“It’s the least I could do. Stefan and I were friends. Well, you know that. I’ve always thought Stefan was lucky to have you in his life.” David reached his fingers and touched her hair. “I just didn’t know when you’d be ready again.”
No
,
no
,
no
. Mitch’s words about David’s romantic interest in her hurled back, causing knots in her stomach. Emma wished she could flush down the sinking feeling that she’d made a mess of everything. “David, I d-don’t know why we’re having this conversation,” she said.
He leaned in. “I’ve been dying to kiss you all night. Is it alright if I kiss you?”
She reeled back. “Kiss me? Why? I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
He frowned. “You must know how I feel about you. I’ve been waiting an entire year to move our relationship to the next level. And I can see now that you’re ready for that.”
She shook her head. “Wait...wait a minute. I think you’ve confused my friendship.”
“I don’t think I have. I think it’ll take time for you to see me in a different light, but I really believe you and I have a lot in common.”
“Yes, we do. You were married to my cousin. We have that in common.”
He managed to look chagrined. “Lisa and I were not compatible. If you weren’t already married, I’d have asked you out. That’s ancient history. You and I have built a strong foundation these last couple of years.”
Mortification brewed in her gut. How did she let this get this far without noticing David had feelings for her? Mitch had been right all along. She’d made fun of his crude observation. She’d even insulted him for not understanding what it meant to be neighborly. Now, she’d have to admit that she’d misjudged him. She might even have to apologize.
Emma leaned her back against the kitchen sink, putting some space between her and David. His tall frame and heavy build crowded her personal space, and she was having a hard time finding the words to explain just how she felt about his declaration.
“I don’t know how to take this all in.” Her words felt gritty, like she was chewing on sand.
He nodded. “It’s a lot to take in. I understand. But I just didn’t want you to neglect considering those who are closest to you before expanding your horizon.”
She breathed into her tented palms. David’s cologne, a sweet bergamot, overpowered her senses. “It’s late. Maybe we should give it a rest.”
Again, he nodded, but this time he took his glasses off. Thinking he would rub the ridge between his eyes, as he tended to do when stressed, Emma was unprepared when he caged her in with his arms against the sink and kissed her on the lips.
Shocked into immobility, she didn’t pull back. His lips were gentle and his breath hinted at cabernet. She squeezed her eyes shut, a part of her wanting to see if the same wave of emotion would overwhelm her as she’d felt with Mitch, but nothing ignited. Her body didn’t tingle or burn, but rather she felt like she was in a lukewarm bath. When David tried to slip his tongue inside her mouth, she shoved him back.
Her throat tightened and her head pounded—the effect of the three glasses of wine she’d drunk or the agonizing quandary she’d plunged into. All she knew was that she needed fresh air and really, desperately wanted David to leave.
She blinked back against the passion she saw in his eyes. “David, I’m not certain this is a good time. It’s late and I’m tired.”
He smiled, quite satisfied with himself, it seemed to her. His face flushed, his eyes dilated. “Of course. I’m not going to apologize for kissing you. I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
She nodded. “It’s late.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to say the obvious. Mitch McKenna isn’t the right man for you. He has his own agenda. From the looks of the past few days, he’s got it in his mind to get on your good side. But don’t be fooled. He has a lot to lose if his plans aren’t bought off. He’s looking at you to rally the town for him, and I’m just afraid you’re reading into his actions something other than what it might be. You don’t need that in your life.”
Anger burst in her. She was sick and tired of people telling her what or who was good for her. “I’ll be the judge of what I need in my life.”
He held up his hands. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. A man like Mitch...Stefan wouldn’t approve.”
Sharp, stabbing pain stole her breath. “You know the way out.”
His face turned red. “I’m sorry. I can see I’ve upset you.”
She nodded but kept silent as rage hammered in her chest.
“I’ll see myself out. Good night. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” He replaced his glasses and bent down to rub Bogie’s ears. The dog whined and turned away from his fingers.
David straightened and smirked. “Dog still hasn’t warmed up to me.”
Emma didn’t breathe again until she heard the click of the front door. She stared at Bogie splayed on the pine floor. “You got the heebie-jeebies too, didn’t you?”
Darn
. She shook her head, her tired gaze taking in the empty bottles of wine and beer and finally resting on the answering machine. One thing she learned tonight was that not all things were created equal. Certainly, her feelings for Mitch weren’t manufactured or based out of loneliness for a man’s touch. If she’d had any doubt, her insipid reaction to David proved that tonight. What she felt for Mitch she couldn’t really remember ever feeling for anyone. Not even Stefan. The volcanic-like tremors her body experienced when he touched her sent a fresh surge of desire through her blood.
Even the way he looked at her caused her heart to skip a beat. She wasn’t just falling for Mitch, she’d face-planted on solid brick. “I know, Bogie. We’re in trouble, aren’t we?
Chapter Twelve
Emma had just put away the last of the dishes when she heard a knock on the front door.
David.
Why can’t you just leave it be?
She trudged down the dark hallway, Bogie closely following at her heels. Sighing, she yanked open the door. “David—” Her words ground to a halt as she met a pair of intense blue eyes.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Mitch said.
“What do you want?” Her breath hitched in her throat.
His gaze settled on her lips. “What did Bruin want to discuss with you?”
“None of your business,” she snapped. She was sick of men trying to garner things out of her tonight. If she wanted to share something, she’d do it on her own.
His jaw clenched. “He didn’t stay long.”
“So? What’s your point?”
He rubbed his stubbled chin. “He couldn’t have had a chance to get out of the dugout.”
Heat crept up her neck at his insinuation. “You actually think I would do something inappropriate with David for your sake? You really are a jerk.”
He waited a beat. “How far
did
you let him go for my sake?”
She rolled her eyes. “Go to hell!” She attempted to slam the door, but he wedged his boot in the way.
“I’ve been in hell for the last half hour,” he growled. In one smooth move, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him.
Emma drew in a short breath. Like prey, the fight-or-flight instinct took over and she backed up the stairs one step at a time.
The sexual tension had been building up all day between them and now the look in his eyes left no doubt as to his intention. Her blood boiled. She focused on the bobbing of his Adam’s apple rather than meet his eyes.
“Don’t try to fight it. I did, and look where I am.”
A shiver scampered up her spine. Her mouth turned arid. She didn’t want to fight it. Not really. She wanted this. She needed this. A kaleidoscope of reasons to run played in her head. David’s words about Mitch’s intentions tortured her heart. But her body had a mind of its own and when she finally willed her gaze to meet his, she knew he’d see her heart reflected in their depths. She was tired of pretending. She was tired of living her life in a shell of guilt and pain. She wanted to feel again, and Mitch made her feel. She seemed different because she
was
different. With him, she was sexy and beautiful. And powerful. She may regret it tomorrow morning but tonight, she’d made her choice.
He moved slowly, his eyes devouring her inch by inch. Excitement mixed with apprehension in her heart. When he took the few steps up so they were eye to eye, the last ounce of sense spilled into her brain and she mouthed the words that belied what her heart and body wanted him to do. “You should go.”
Their gaze remained locked. The vein pulsing on his neck told her he was fighting his own demons.
She drew in a long breath. The musky scent of his aftershave intoxicated her.
His finger caressed her jaw before traipsing down her neck to trace the ridges on her collarbone. The heat of him seeped through her sweater. Her pulse quickened.
She gripped the handrail from the torrent of warmth that settled between her legs. “You really should go,” she breathed, even though her eyes felt heavy, her tongue felt thick and her nipples ached to be squeezed.
“I should go,” he agreed. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.
She closed her eyes and moistened her bottom lip. “This is wrong.”
“Very wrong,” he whispered in a strangled voice before he swooped down. Bruising and possessive, his mouth claimed her, his tongue diving deep and branding her in a kiss that shattered her world.
His hands were warm and rough as he held her face in place and devoured her, not caring if she kissed him back or not. The carnality of it excited her. She sucked in short bursts of air and reveled in the way his raspy skin scraped against her cheeks. This must be what it felt like to be an addict, because she couldn’t get enough of his taste.
He ripped his mouth off and impaled her with a look that would be illegal in most states. “Was I ever wrong about the way you kiss.” His voice was low and sexy.
When he rested his forehead on hers for a few seconds, his breathing labored, she was worried he’d stop. She flattened her hand against his chest and swallowed hard when his heartbeat pulsed strong but erratic against her palm. At least it wasn’t just her who felt out of breath. Reaching up, she nipped lightly on his jaw, her eyes daring him.
He groaned before angling his head and taking her bottom lip between his teeth. Their eyes remained glued but their hands were free to roam, and she indulged her fantasy by wrapping her arms around his hard shoulders and back, feeling the tense muscles contract from her touch. He smiled crookedly. How could she have missed the sexiness of it before? His hands cupped her face and his thumb rubbed her bottom lip in slow, swirling motions before his fingers traced the square neckline of her sweater below her collarbone. Her nipples hardened. She held her breath, every nerve ending in her body wanting to feel his touch. Blood rushed from her head so quickly she leaned into him to steady herself.
Did I just moan out loud?
His hands continued to trace the shape of her breasts against the fabric of her sweater, and she thought she’d die soon unless he touched her skin. When he flattened his hands against her breasts and rubbed his palms against her nipples, she trembled so hard, he stilled.
As if sensing her indecision, Mitch pulled back slightly to peer into her heated face. “If you want me to stop, you’d better tell me now.”
There was no mistaking the explicit desire etched on his face. She placed her hands between them to find a way to slow down the pace. Her chest rose and fell. She struggled to gain control. The intensity of her feelings for him shocked her. Her gaze dipped back to his lips.
“Oh, hell.” He kissed her again, plunging his tongue deep, forcing her lips apart, running his tongue over her teeth, her cheeks, licking, nipping, biting and back again.
Going on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair. She matched his intensity, touch by touch, look by look, in a daring duel of will. It was as if they were setting boundaries, claiming possession of something yet to be decided, but not trusting each other enough to admit it. Emma kissed his cheeks, his lids, then back to his open mouth, expunging the loneliness that had plagued her for the past two years and pouring her soul into the kiss.
He stilled for a few seconds, his eyes burning a hole through her, before they both collided in a rush, slamming hard against the staircase’s wooden panel, breathless in a flurry of tugging, grasping and kissing. He devoured her mouth. She tugged at his hair. She wanted to feel him everywhere.
Groaning, he lifted her butt against his unmistakable hardness, grinding the soft cleft between her legs. Waves of pleasure streaked through her, warming, exhilarating and exploding inside.
She pulled back and desperately searched his face for a sign that he was mocking her or teasing her but all she saw was raw need and unadulterated wanting. His eyes darkened, the deep blue almost black in its concentration. His eyes hadn’t strayed too far from her chest where his hands were busy molding, kneading and teasing against her sweater. She reveled inside when she realized he must be a breast man.
“Are you imagining what I look like under this sweater?”
“It’s been killing me.” He mashed against her lips before he swooped her up in his arms and climbed the stairs toward her bedroom.
She tensed, which made him stop. “Family room, please,” she whispered.
He studied her face for a half beat before he turned and headed down toward the family room.
Embers of the single log kept them from darkness, but Emma barely noticed. She couldn’t stop looking at Mitch and feeling the way he made her belly quiver with excitement and her body ache with desire.
She wanted skin. She reached out to him, but he grabbed her hand and kissed the inner palm before placing it against his rigid cock. “This is all you.”
Rather than shock her, his boldness unleashed a primal need in her she didn’t know she had. She reached for him again, but he stilled her hands.
“Take your sweater off,” he said huskily.
“You take it off,” she challenged.
On his knees between her legs, Mitch trailed light kisses on her neck while his hands lifted her sweater over her head. His eyes darkened to a charcoal black. She nicked at his earlobe and he rumbled low in his throat. With the confidence of someone who had probably done this many times, his fingers reached behind her to unhook her lacy demi bra. Her breasts spilled out and filled his hands. She had the satisfaction of seeing his jaw drop.
“Jesus,” he moaned.
A surge of pleasure consumed her.
He cupped each breast, weighing the heaviness in his palms. He blew hotly on her nipple. It puckered in response. She melted inside.
He replaced his breath with the edge of his tongue, and she almost bucked from the sofa, had he not held her in place. “Lean back,” he urged.
She unclenched her stomach muscles and leaned back, giving him full access to mold and knead her breasts, using just enough pressure. He squeezed both breasts together and lavished her nipples with his tongue, sucking, biting softly until she was writhing in pleasure.
“Mitch, please,” she begged, reaching for him. Their eyes held before he stood up, pulling his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, and undid the buttons. Dark hair trailed down his stomach to below his lower belly, making her weak with need.
Her eyes shut but snapped open when the phone rang, the shrill sound piercing her fog.
Embarrassed suddenly at her wanton position naked from the waist up and half lying on the sofa, she tried to reassemble her bra in place, but Mitch reached down to stop her movement. “Don’t.”
He was unbuckling his belt when the answering machine picked up, and Stefan’s voice rang loud and clear.
Beep.
“This is the LeFleur residence. We are not home at the moment—please leave us a message.”
Beep.
Emma’s mouth rounded to an O and Mitch’s hand stilled, his zipper already halfway down.
“Are you kidding me?” He spun away from her, digging his hands through his hair and squeezing the back of his neck.
She flew up from the couch, snapping her bra in place and holding her sweater against her chest. She ran to the kitchen, cutting off her daughter’s intended message about coming back in time for Pirate Fest.
“I’m so sorry,” Emma stammered when she returned to the family room.
“You have your husband’s voice answering your machine?” Mitch’s brows knotted and his lips curled up. Not so sexy now.
She died inside when she saw his expression move from disbelief to realization and, eventually, pity. Her heart hammered and pure shame replaced the heated passion she’d felt just moments ago.
Dear God
,
how could I have forgotten that it was Stefan’s voice on the answering machine?
Because she wasn’t thinking about Stefan while she and Mitch were ripping each other’s clothes off. Devastation buckled her knees, and she held on to the back of the couch for support.
Mitch jammed his shirt into his jeans and then placed his hands on his hips. “Isn’t that a bit morbid?”
Her spine stiffened. “It’s for safety. Having a man’s voice on the machine tells a would-be intruder there’s a man in the house,” she partly lied. She didn’t want to admit that she missed hearing Stefan’s voice and that erasing him from the machine was tantamount to erasing him from their lives. Emma scrambled to pull the sweater over her head. Finally decent, she lifted her chin and faced Mitch. “Look, I don’t know what happened here tonight but—”
“What happened was a mistake,” he finished for her. “My bad. I apologize.” His face held no remorse but rather it was as if he was embarrassed for her. She didn’t expect pain to whip across her heart, sending sharp needles shooting in every direction.
She tried to smile but knew she didn’t succeed. “A mistake. I’m glad we agree. Tonight was a...big, huge, enormous mistake. I drank too much and so did you. We got carried away.”
He shook his head and blew out a long breath. “At least now you know what second base is in case you want to try it on Bruin. But I’d suggest you turn off the machine first, sweetheart. Hearing your dead husband’s voice is a surefire way to turn him off.” His brows furrowed and he gave her a sad smile before walking out.
She waited for him to shut the front door before she slumped down on the sofa. Like a levy unable to hold back a stubborn swell, Emma’s resolve to remain in control broke and she was overwhelmed with paralyzing fear. Guilt for the way her body had reacted to Mitch bore down on her. How was she supposed to pretend her body didn’t respond to him? She knew she was being a coward, but she
was
terrified of moving on and even more terrified, as she’d had in the last few days, of feeling like a woman again.
She cradled her head in her hands and let the anguish and the tears descend, not bothering to stop the flow. Between hiccups, she wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand.
Bogie, sensing trouble, scurried over to her side. Emma buried her face in the dog’s hair and cried until there was nothing left inside. Feeling revived, she wiped dog hair from her lips and pounded the back of her head against the sofa.
What the hell was she thinking, letting herself go—and with Mitch McKenna? How would she ever find the nerve to face him again? Moaning now from disgust at herself rather than from any latent pleasure from Mitch’s hands, Emma closed her eyes and evened her breathing.
Fine.
Fine.
Fine.
He couldn’t pretend tonight hadn’t affected him. She’d felt his heat, had heard his heartbeat and had seen in his eyes the desire she knew must have been reflected back in her own.
She wasn’t the only one who’d wanted a physical connection tonight. Mitch did as well. He might want to ignore his feelings, but she wouldn’t let herself do that.