Don't Tempt Me (25 page)

"It is. Since I'll be around once a month, I asked him if he'd consider letting me help."

"And ..."

"He said maybe." Her whole face lit. "It's not a yes, but it's a lot more than I ever hoped for. Before our talk this morning, I half expected him to ban me from the area for fear I'd swipe some artifacts to sell on the black market."

"That must have been some talk." He flipped on the mixer to blend the ingredients.

"It was. What are you making?"

"Brownies."

"The gooey, rich kind you made the last time I was here? I love those things!"

"You really are a chocoholic." He chuckled.

"You bet. Want some help?" She checked her watch. "I have a few minutes I can spare, and you did promise to give me cooking lessons."

"Well ..." He made a stern face. "I suppose I could let you help, but then I'd have to kill ya, since you'd know my most closely guarded secret."

She snorted. "I'll take my chances, tough guy."

"I don't know ..."

"If you let me help, I'll tell you what Carl and I talked about this morning."

"Oh yeah?"

"You were right about there being a personal issue between him and my father."

"Is it juicy?"

She cocked a brow. "Do I get to help?"

"Can you operate a mixer?"

She eyed the machine doubtfully, then shoved up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "I've never met a motorized piece of equipment I couldn't conquer."

"You do understand we're baking brownies, not changing motor oil, right?"

"You mean that isn't old oil you drizzle over the top to make 'em so gooey?"

"Just get over here." He took her by the hips and slid her between him and the counter. Big mistake, he realized instantly as he looked down at her rounded bottom now inches away from his groin. "So, um" ---he cleared his throat ---"tell me the big secret. What caused the animosity?"

She looked at him over her shoulder with her hazel cat's eyes. "Carl Ryder was engaged to my mother until he introduced her to his best friend."

"Your father?"

"Yep."

Adrian let out a low whistle. "That would do it. Now keep an eye on the bowl while you add the cocoa."

"How much cocoa?"

"Until it looks right."

She turned her head again. "Do you think you could be a bit more specific? Like add X amount?"

"You mean get out the measuring cups so you have that much more stuff to wash when you're done? No, just go by what feels right."

"Oui, Monsieur le Chef,"
she teased back. "But we beginners prefer exact instructions."

"Ah, but mademoiselle, ze cooking it is only half science. The other half is pure art. You must go by what is here." He tapped at his chest. "Not up here in ze head."

"Ah." She nodded, turning serious again. "Sort of like sailing? Okay, I can handle that."

When she lifted the can of powdered cocoa and started to dump it in, he grabbed her wrists. "Careful. You have to take it slow."

She slumped, which brought her back against his chest. His whole body tightened at the contact. He looked down, and saw her wide-necked sweatshirt had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the strap to her sports bra.

Keep it friendly.

"You know," she said looking up at him, "maybe on this first batch, I should observe, so I know what I'm shooting for."

"Good idea," he agreed, needing some space between them. "Tell you what. I'll teach you the way my grandmother taught me." Clearing a spot on the counter next to the mixer, he wrapped his hands about her waist. "Up you go ---"

She shrieked as he lifted her up and set her on the counter. "What are you doing?"

"When I was little, my grandmother always made me sit on the counter while she worked."

"Probably because you were too short to see what she was doing otherwise."

"No, I think it was to keep me from tripping her as I raced around the kitchen trying to help. Now, watch as I add the ingredients. If you're a really good girl, I'll let you lick the mixer blades when I'm done."

"Oh, will you, Granny? Will you?"

"Only if you're a very good girl." He gave her a wolfish grin.

"My, Granny, what big teeth you have."

"That's not all I have that's big."

She gave him a look. "Just get on with the brownies."

He concentrated on adding the cocoa and flour, telling himself he could handle having her sitting right beside him, her smooth, tanned legs within easy touching range, her trim ankles crossed, and that ankle bracelet driving him crazy with thoughts of running his tongue along it. Turning off the mixer, he tasted the batter. "Mmm, good. Needs a tad more cocoa, though. What do you think?" He slipped his finger in the batter and held it out to her.

She closed her lips around his finger and the warm, wet heat of her tongue licked the treat away. He felt the contact all the way to his groin. Her eyes met his, and he knew she felt it, too, the sizzle of shared excitement.

"How's that?" he asked in a thick voice.

"You're right." She broke eye contact, pretending nothing had happened. "More chocolate."

He added more, deciding she had the right idea; pretend ignorance, as if his body weren't alive with the memory of her mouth closing over him that night in her bed. When he turned the mixer off, she dipped her finger in the batter, then sucked it between her pouty lips. "Mmm, perfect."

He stifled a groan as he removed the blades and handed them to her. "Now, for the best part of baking."

"All for me?" Her hand brushed his as she took the blades and tipped her head. Her pink tongue darted out, licking up chocolate.

"No, you have to share."

"If you insist." She held it out to him. His gaze locked on her eyes as he wrapped his hand around her wrist and licked a second blade clean. Her lips parted and her eyelids turned heavy. Oh yes, she definitely felt the sizzle. Her hand trembled when she took her turn, smearing chocolate next to her mouth.

"You missed some."

"Where?" she asked breathlessly.

"Here." Even as he told himself not to, he leaned forward and licked the corner of her mouth. Her breath caught as heat flared. Taking her head in his hands, he covered her mouth with his, molding and playing with her lush lips, sucking the lower one into his mouth. "God, you taste good."

"It's ... the chocolate," she managed between nibbles.

"Let's see." Without leaving her mouth, he reached sideways and dipped his finger in the batter, then drew it down her neck. His mouth followed the trail, lapping up the enticing blend of chocolate and skin. Her pulse beat wildly against his lips, making him want to devour all of her. "No, I think it's you. Not sure, though." He smeared batter on her collarbone. "Let me try again."

"Adrian ..." She pressed a hand against his chest. When he lifted his head, he saw a hunger that matched his own blazing in her eyes. "You're getting chocolate on my shirt."

"Well, we can't have that." He pulled the shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. Then he drew a chocolate X over her chest just above her sports bra.

"We shouldn't be doing this." She buried her fingers in his hair, pulling it free of the band. "What if someone comes in?"

"Rory and Chance are in town, and Alli's busy in the gift shop." He pressed her back until she rested on her elbows with him standing between her legs. "We're safe." Looking into her eyes, he smeared chocolate on her stomach. When he bent to lick it off, her head fell back and she moaned in pleasure as her thighs tightened on his hips. Dipping his tongue into her navel, he eyed the bra, longing to remove it so he could paint her nipples with chocolate and lick them clean, but he didn't feel quite that safe in the kitchen. "We definitely need to have your next cooking lesson at my house."

"Hmm?"

"When you come back. For next month's cruise." He nibbled his way back up to her neck and drew her earlobe into his mouth. She gave a throaty moan as he drew back slowly, releasing her earlobe from his lips. "Yeah, cooking lesson. My house. In private."

"The cruise?" She lifted her head, her eyes dazed as she frowned at him.

He raked his gaze down her body, spread out like a banquet before him. "Actually, forget next month. Let's go there now."

She blinked, and he could see her brain kicking in, overriding passion. "Whoa," she said with a breathy laugh. Straightening up, she glanced around. "What just happened here?"

He cocked a brow, even as he wanted to whimper. Why did she have to come to her senses now? And why were there no locks on the kitchen doors?

"I don't believe this." She shook her head to clear it. "What is wrong with us? Can't we behave in a room alone for five minutes?"

"I'm beginning to wonder why we keep trying."

She pushed him back to arm's length. "We agreed we'd be friends, remember?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling very friendly at the moment." He took her hand off his chest and licked the center of her palm. "I want you. Now."

Her eyes blazed with passion for an instant before she snatched her hand free. "But what about later? What happens when you stop wanting me ---"

"I'm not sure that'll ever happen."

" ---or I stop wanting you?"

Placing both hands on the counter, he met her nose to nose. "Are you at least willing to admit you want me now?"

"Well, duh!" She stared at him. "But what about ---"

"Stop." He placed a finger over her lips. "I've been thinking about this for the past two days, and it's suddenly occurred to me that maybe we're both worrying too much about the future. Maybe we should stop running worst-case scenarios and go with the flow. You know, see where this thing takes us."

He watched the struggle in her eyes as longing battled fear, and knew the instant that longing lost. "I'm sorry, I can't. I have too much at stake. It's not worth the risk."

Hurt struck in the center of his chest. "Let me guess. Your business, your ship, your future. Is that really all you care about? Well, pardon me for thinking this thing between us might be worth a little risk."

"Adrian ..."

"No, just forget it Jackie." He grabbed the mixer blades and took them to the sink.

"Oh, so now you're back to pouting because I won't sleep with you?" She jumped down from the counter and retrieved her sweatshirt from the floor, jerking at the sleeves in an effort to get it right side out. "There are more important things in life than sex."

"Yes, there certainly are. Unfortunately, you don't know half of them. You only know the tangible things, the things you can see with your eyes and touch with your hands. You know nothing about the things you have to feel with your heart."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?' He stepped back to her. "You're so scared of getting hurt you've trained yourself never to hope or dream or feel. Well, that's a sorry way to live your life. You can have your business, and your ship, and the respect of your crew, but what good does it do you when you have no one to share it with? No family or even friends you let past the surface? You're so sure people will judge you harshly, you never give anyone a chance."

"Yet aren't you judging me now?"

"Only for your lack of courage."

"Fine." She pulled her shirt over her head and jerked it into place. "It's easy to be brave with your heart when you've never had it broken. How dare you judge me, though, while you stand in your successful inn surrounded by family you know you can count on? You haven't walked in my shoes, Adrian St. Claire. So don't you preach to me about courage. Have you ever once gone after something, and not gotten it? Ever suffered bone-crushing disappointment?"

"Yes, I have. The day my parents died."

"All right, I'll give you that. But you were surrounded by people to help you get through it. Try having your life shattered over and over again. Then you can talk to me about courage of the heart. But I'll tell you this, I am not going to be one of your victims."

"What are you talking about?"

"Give me a break." She snorted. "How many times have you broken a heart and walked away unscathed?"

"Never." His head snapped back. "I'm always straight with women, and go out of my way to be sure they don't get hurt."

"And I'm sure they tell you they're perfectly happy to be your short-term lover. 'Of course, Adrian,' " she said in a falsely sweet voice. " 'I don't expect anything from you but mild affection and hot sex. I don't hope deep inside that you'll fall in love with me and I promise I won't cry when we part. I'll smile and tell you I'm perfectly fine and of course we can still be friends.' " Her voice dropped to normal. "Is that how it goes?"

He didn't answer, but his face hardened.

"I won't be your temporary plaything. I can't afford it."

His voice became hushed. "Who says it would be temporary?"

Her heart lurched at his words. For a single moment, the whole world went still. "Are you saying it wouldn't be?"