Dragonfly Kisses (7 page)

Lucy growled. “He was a twerp. Turned out he wanted to date me because he and Lane had some stupid rivalry in high school and he wanted to bag Lane Daniel’s ex.”

Emily wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

That was the trouble with having been married to a high profile guy. Everyone knew who you were. Forever.

“Yeah.” Lucy shrugged and turned the heat on under the skillet while Cassie opened the package of bacon. “I don’t think I’ll be dating for a while.” She shot a glare at Cassie, but it was a playful one. “Not now that you stole the Highlander.”

“I’m sorry, Luce.” And she was. But not really. Because given the same set of circumstances, she’d do it again. In a heartbeat.

“Think positively,” Emily offered with a wicked grin. “Maybe it won’t work out.”

Cassie balled up a napkin and tossed it at her. “Shut your mouth.”

“Or maybe he has a brother.”

Lucy perked up. “Ooh. Do ya think?”

“I’ll ask him tonight.”

Her friend paused in adding bacon to the pan. “Are you really going through with it?”

“Yes.”

“Going to his house? Alone? I mean, we don’t really know the guy.”

Cassie shot her a look. “Oh, now you’re all suspicious?”

“What if he has his way with you?”

The snort erupted before it occurred to her to hold it back.

Lucy whirled on her. “What? What?”

Cassie pretended to be fascinated with the arrangement of paper towels on the plate. “He could have had his way with me this afternoon. But he didn’t.”

Both Lucy and Emily squealed, “
What
?”

“Just sayin’.”

“Oh, girlfriend.” Lucy shook her head and forked the bacon. “You know you have to give deets after spilling a little tidbit like that.”

“I’m not giving details.”

“You have to. We have a code.”

What was this code Lucy kept ranting about? “Did I miss a memo about the code? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s the girlfriends’ code. You don’t poach, don’t screw your friend’s man and you always kiss and tell.” She ticked them off on her fingers.

“Hmm. Well. I’m not going to kiss and tell. But I will say, he is a great kisser. And he definitely could have had…anything he wanted at one point, but he stopped because he thought we should get to know each other better first.”

“How romantic,” Emily cooed.

Lucy frowned at her. “Oh, shut up.” But her words held no heat. She sighed. “Yeah. He might be perfect. But I’m worried about you. Over there. At night. With a strange man.”

“He’s not too strange,” Cassie murmured.

Emily got out three plates. “What does he do for a living?”

Cassie shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“He could be a strangler.” This, Lucy offered in a melodramatic warble.

“Oh.” Emily pursed her lips to hold back a smile. “Does that pay well?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll be careful.” Cassie ignored Lucy’s dubious grunt. “I will. I promise. If anything peculiar happens, or I get a weird vibe, I’ll leave.”

“Take your cell. Call me if you need to. I’ll keep my phone right by the bed.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Lucy stopped rearranging the sizzling bacon and shot her a somber look. “I care about you, Cass.”

“I know.”

“I do. And I know I’m not a fan of the cello, or classical music. But I was really proud you got featured in the concert.”

“Thank you.”

“And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Cassie folded Lucy into a hug. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

She didn’t promise not to get hurt because that was something she couldn’t control. Her feelings for Dylan—after one day, a handful of kisses and a sultry exchange—were off the charts. She had no idea what tonight or tomorrow might hold. But she had to explore this.

She had to take the risk.

Or she’d regret it for the rest of her life.

Chapter Seven

Dylan met her at the door with a steamy kiss. “You came.”

“I said I would.”

He studied her with a sudden somberness. “Do you always do what you say you will?”

“I try to.”

“I like that. So do I.” He glanced at the casserole in her hand. “Whatcha got?”

“Lucy and Emily made me bring it. It’s Bella’s zucchini meatloaf. They didn’t want to eat it.” In fact, they were going out for burgers at Darby’s bar. Ah yes, rebellion was in the air.

He wrinkled his nose. “Zucchini meatloaf? Really?”

“It has tofu.”

“We can bury it in the woods.”

“Excellent idea,” she said with a chuckle.

“Come in.” He stepped back, balancing on one foot.

She frowned. “Where are your crutches?”

“I didn’t want to bother with them.”

“Hmph,” she grumbled. “You need to take care of your ankle.”

“Yes, dear.”

Her heart flip-flopped at the words, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his middle and helped him back to the sofa. But he didn’t sit.

“You’re right on time,” he said. “The grill is all heated up. And I’ve tenderized the hell out of the steaks.”

“Oh? Working out your frustrations, were you?”

“Just getting warmed up.”

She set the casserole on the counter and shot him a grin. “Promises, promises.”

“I always keep mine. Just like you.”

She was sure he did, but she couldn’t wait to find out. A shaft of heat walked through her. She contemplated distracting him with another kiss—he was so damned irresistible—but her belly growled. They both laughed.

“I’d better get to work, ma’am.”

“I should cook the steaks.”

He shot her a horrified look. “Seriously? Grilling steak is man’s work.”

“Chauvinist.”

The strangest expression crossed his face. It looked like remorse. “Do you…really want to grill them?”

“Not really. I told you, I’m a terrible cook. I’ll burn one side and leave the other raw. But I’m worried about you standing there.”

“I’ll use the crutches. You can help me by carrying the plate out.”

“Sounds good.”

So they cooked the steaks together, sipping sodas, standing on his deck looking out at the shushing ocean and enjoying the ever-changing palette of colors as dusk fell.

“So,” he said after a bit. “Is Lucy okay with this?”

“This?”

“Us?”

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. She came around. But she really thinks you’re a hottie. You don’t happen to have a brother, do you?”

He flicked her a look. “What? Bored with me already?”

“Ha. Ha. Not a chance, buster. Lucy wanted to know.”

He flipped the steaks with the tongs. “I happen to have four brothers. And one sister.”

“Ooh, my friends will be delighted.”

He laughed. “Aaron and Steven are married. Will’s too young. But your friend might like Jake.”

“Hmm. Jake. A sexy name. Is he a Highlander too?”

He blinked. “A…what?”

“That’s what they call you. Because you’re so…” She waved a hand at his body.

He waggled a brow. “Oh, you like the muscles, do you?”

She flushed. “I do.”

“I like to work out.”

“Does Jake?”

“Say, you’re awfully interested in my little brother.”

She batted her lashes. “Only for Lucy. This is purely research. You know. For Lucy. So she doesn’t kill me in my sleep.”

“Jake doesn’t need to work out. He’s a cowboy. Hefting bales of hay and wrangling steers.”

“Lucy will pop a gasket.”

“Excellent.” He flipped the steaks again. “Anything else Lucy wants to know?”

“Umm hum. Just little details. Like what you do for a living.” He stiffened at that. “And whether or not you’re a strangler.” At his incredulous glance, she added, “She worries.”

“She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah. She is. I’ve known her for years. Since college.”

“Hmm.” He slathered sauce on the steaks. “And did you play the cello in college?”

“I played the cello in
kindergarten
.”

His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“I was a child prodigy. And my parents were…ambitious.”

“I guess.”

“My brother and sister and I were enrolled in a litany of classes from dawn ’til dusk. For Merrilee, it was ballet and cooking. Mark had to suffer through all kinds of art and math.”

“In kindergarten?”

“Did I mention ambitious?”

“What do they do now?”

She wrapped her arms around her waist and turned toward the sea. “Merrilee is a chef. Mark…well, he died.”

He cupped her shoulders and eased her around, into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Cassie.”

She shrugged. Dipped her chin. “He was…sick. Died pretty young.” Dylan thumbed away a tear. “I b-barely knew h-him.”

“There’s nothing worse,” he said into her hair. “Nothing. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No. I’m glad you did.” She stepped back and covered his hand with hers. “It’s nice to remember him. He was a funny little guy.”

“How young was he when he when…when it happened?”

“Seven.”

His face went ashen. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Mom and Dad were devastated.”

“I can imagine.” He pressed his lips together. A muscle worked in his cheek. He turned back to the grill and stabbed a steak with a fork.

“Our parents focused on us then, Merrilee and me.” She forced a laugh. “I suppose one day we’ll need therapy.”

“At least they had you,” he rasped.

She nodded. “I suppose. But a parent never recovers from losing a child.”

“No. They don’t. Well,” he gusted. “The steaks are done. I baked some potatoes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?”

His smile was a little mischievous, though a little tight. “They are vegetables, after all. I know you were hoping for a veggie-free meal. And they’re hardly low carb.”

She picked up the plate of steaks and headed back to the house. “Oh,” she threw over her shoulder. “I’ll take a bullet on this one. You know, just ‘cause you went to all the trouble to make them and all.”

“Wow. Such a trouper.”

“I do what I can,” she said.

His laugh enveloped her like a warm cloud.

Dylan sat back and groaned. “Damn, that was good.”

Cassie licked her fork. He tracked the passage of her tongue. “It was. You are an amazing grill meister.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She stood and collected the plates. “Since you cooked, I’ll clean up.”

He frowned. He didn’t want her cleaning up. He wanted her…elsewhere. “You don’t have to.”

“I do. It’s the rules.” Her minxish glance sent a sizzle up his spine. “And then, after…”

“Yes?”

“What do you say to a little…dessert?”

He cringed. “I didn’t make any.”

“Oh…” Her expression was scorching. “I thought this time, I’d do all the work.”

When her meaning sank into his addled brain, blistering lust snarled through him. Holy hell. Did she mean what he thought she meant? Oh yeah. Oh yeah. She did.

He swallowed the drool suddenly pooling in his mouth. “Leave it,” he growled as she started filling the dishwasher. But she didn’t. She didn’t stop until everything was loaded and tidied and she had thoroughly wiped down the countertops. And all the while, she kept sending him speaking looks. It took no time at all, but far too long.

He sat at the table and watched her, because each time he started to stand, to come and help her, to move things along, she stopped what she was doing and glared at him and said, “Sit down.”

By the time she was finished, he was a bundle of nerves and anticipation.

When she finally came back to the table, wiping her hands on a towel, and dropped a kiss on his lips, he nearly shot out of his seat. “Let’s sit on the sofa.”

She grinned at him, and a bud of joy blossomed in his chest. She made him feel so playful, so young and carefree. Undamaged. He hadn’t felt like this in…years.

He suspected, truly suspected, she could save his soul.

With her by his side, he made his way to the sofa and dropped down, but she didn’t sit. She stood there, looking at him with a glow in her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Or tried to. “Thinking about what?” He thought he knew. He hoped he knew.

And yes. Merciful Mother, she knelt before him and set her palms on his thighs. It was all he could do not to clench every muscle at her touch. He drew in a breath and forced himself to relax. “Cassie.”

“Hush.” She reached for the snap of his jeans and—heaven help him—licked her lips. He groaned as she dragged his zipper down, brushing her knuckles along his aching cock. Then nearly whimpered when she leaned forward and blew a breath on him through the cotton of his briefs.

His head went a little fuzzy. His pulse thrummed—everywhere.

He held still while she peeled his underwear down, exposing his rigid staff.

She glanced up with her head tilted just so, and smiled at him. Warmth infused his chest, and an errant thought flickered through his mind.

Perhaps he was falling in love with her. He probably was. He was pretty sure he was. Then she took him in her hand and removed all doubt. Because she stroked him and murmured how beautiful he was and then, ah, and then, she kissed him.

Just the tip, but it was a full kiss. Her soft lips wrapped around the head of his cock and she suckled him, dabbed with her tongue. Her moan resonated through him like a rumble of thunder.

He clenched his fingers in her hair and threw back his head as she took him deeper. “Ah, Jesus.” He wanted to close his eyes and simply enjoy the feel of her mouth around him, but he couldn’t look away, couldn’t bear to miss a moment.

But when she began a tormenting up-and-down motion, fucking him with her lips, he couldn’t help it. His lashes drifted closed, and he sank into the sensation.

Who knew? Who knew, watching her perform onstage, looking all proper and prim—with her lips pursed and her brow knitted as she focused on the music—she would have this talent too?

And she was talented. Brilliant. Intuitive. A natural. She knew exactly what he wanted, precisely how much pressure to exert, just when to draw on him hard and when to release. She played him the way she played her cello, in a frenzy of passion, a frenetic allegro, followed by a slow, tormenting adagio. Then a leisurely andante. A point. Counterpoint. A deceptive cadence.