French Roast (7 page)
Authors: Ava Miles
Tags: #romance, #contemporary, #small town, #New Adult, #foodie romance
Chapter 7
P
eggy didn’t understand how Meredith and Jill had corralled her into joining them on a girl’s shopping trip to Denver. Jill had announced she needed lingerie after the successful Valentine Day’s picnic with Brian. D-Day was dawning, Jill said—the
Deed
Day.
Great, like Peggy needed to know her friend had picked out a day to get it on with Brian.
Still, the two sisters made her laugh, and she’d been wanting to see Denver. So far the tour sucked. They’d spent three hours in Cherry Creek Mall.
She detested shopping, especially this lingerie binge. The bright colors, lacy teddies, and padded cups had her stuffing her hands deeper into her well-worn jeans. Padded cups? Heck, she wished they had something to squash her “girls” down.
Didn’t they understand
jiggling
was embarrassing? Busting into a crack lab and pursuing a fleeing suspect with your girly parts bouncing like basketballs suited a porn flick more than it did real life. Cops weren’t supposed to have cleavage. She couldn’t lean over a perp and squeeze out a confession with her décolletage sticking out.
Jeez. These people must think women sat around dreaming of situations where they could
push ‘em up, push ‘em up, way up
.
Exotic mannequins
with nipples
were propped up all around in various sex get-ups, some of them so obscene she wanted to shield her eyes. These weren’t the androgynous figures she’d grown up with at JC Penney. She eyed one lone guy fingering a black lace mesh body suit. What in the hell was the purpose of putting on something that made you as buck naked as a jaybird? Plus, wouldn’t it rip? Was that the point?
“You should try this on, Peg,” Jill suggested. “It compliments your dark hair.”
The purplish nightie’s price boggled her mind. How could it cost that much when there was hardly any fabric? Plus, she lived in a winter state. She’d freeze her ass off wearing something like that.
“I’ve got a kid. Remember? I can’t prance around the house in that.”
“It’s all about intention.” Jill held up a neon-green padded bra. “If you buy it, you’re telling the universe you’re ready for some action.”
“I’m a single mom. That’s not high on my priority list.”
“Tanner is going to love that, Mere,” Jill told her sister, who was holding up a black lace teddy.
Peggy shuddered. “Please, that’s my brother you’re talking about.”
“Like you don’t know we have sex.” Her sister-in-law dropped it in her pink shopping bag.
“I don’t need any details.” She shifted on her feet. Would it be impolite to suggest they meet up later?
“Oh, come on. There has to be something you like,” Meredith said.
“Look, I sleep in a T-shirt and sweatpants.”
The lone guy dug through the bra bin like he was digging for gold, making Peggy wonder if he was a cross dresser.
“Didn’t you wear lingerie when you were married?”
The guy picked up a black bra studded with silver spikes. Dear God, it was straight out of an old Madonna video. He dangled it, eyes as bright as a drug user’s. She looked over at the security guard and wondered what kind of crap he had to deal with in this joint. There couldn’t be enough money in the world to entice her to work here.
“No, not really. Frank wasn’t into that stuff.”
Jill snorted. “Every man likes lingerie, trust me.”
“Not Frank.” She stilled. He’d cheated on her, hadn’t he? Maybe he
had
been interested in all this crap. She walked over to the cosmetics aisle to give herself some room. The cloying fragrance made her eyes smart.
Who the hell cared if Frank liked this stuff, anyway? If he cheated on her because she didn’t wear some scoop-your-boobs-up bra, then he was even more of a weasel than she thought. She shrugged it off. Her hands sought out her badge in her purse. She knew who she was.
“Hey, Peg, do you think Brian will like this?” Jill held up a tropical print nightie.
If you’re going to a luau. “Jeez, I don’t know. Stop asking me. Do I look like I’d have a clue?”
Jill shook it like a burlesque performer. “Come on, you work with guys. Would they find this hot?”
“Why don’t I send a photo to the sheriff?”
“Haha. Seriously. I want my first time with Brian to be perfect.”
Her head started to pound from all the questions and the perfume. God, gunpowder from the firing range smelled better than this nonsense.
“So long as you’re putting out, men don’t care. All this crap is for a woman’s confidence.”
Meredith slung an arm around her shoulder. “As someone who wore La Perla after her divorce for that very purpose, I can confirm that you’re right. However, I will add that your brother loves this stuff almost as much as I do.”
Peggy gave her a light shove. “Jeez, could you give it a rest?” Maybe if she changed the topic, Meredith would lay off. “Jill, I’m glad you’ve finally decided you can trust Brian enough to let him into your pants. After all these years you could wear a potato sack, and he’d still drag you to bed.”
“Probably true, but I want to reward him. He’s shown incredible patience.”
“I’ll bet,” she drawled and realized how cynical she sounded. “You’re blushing again.”
“I need to go to the doctor. See if there’s a pill.”
“It’s called embarrassment. Now, please have mercy. I
really
need to leave this store. If I have to watch that guy touch one more thong and wipe his mouth, I’m going to tell him to take a hike. Plus, it stinks like a whorehouse in here.”
“You ever been in one?” Jill flicked another bra into her bag.
She rolled her eyes. “It was more of a crack house, not really the bordello type.”
“Oh, the good ol’ days. Satin and lace. Men with cigars.”
“You have a pretty romantic view of prostitution.”
Meredith stepped in. “Okay, let’s try these things on. Peggy, I won’t ask you to come with us.”
Her fingers rubbed her brow as they disappeared behind a cream and pink wall. The weirdo wandered her way, holding three black thongs and snap crotch teddies. God, imagine being the person who invented that. What a proud moment in science—or fashion—or whatever.
The sisters’ laughter carried out of the dressing room. Who knew some girly outing would become a comedy show? Still, it made her smile, hearing them. They were like an alien species sometimes, but they always drew her to them.
She texted Tanner to check on Keith, ending the message with,
Save me. I’m in shopping hell
.
His immediate response pinged.
Keith is fine. You decided to go. Save yourself. Is Meredith buying anything interesting?
Her mouth twisted.
I am so not describing your wife’s undies,
she texted back.
Sweet. Something to look forward to. Have fun. Snort
.
God, he’d been acting so weird lately. The Hale alien species had converted him.
Crowding into a corner seemed like the smartest strategy. A brown velvet nightgown drew her gaze. It reminded her of a bear’s hide. Her fingers itched to see if it was as soft as it looked. She checked over her shoulder to make sure Meredith and Jill weren’t around and darted a finger toward it. The rich, smooth texture rippled. Finally a color she could approve of. Weren’t most men color blind anyway? Bold colors were wasted on them.
Plus, this looked warm—well except for the missing sleeves. But the length was good. Then she realized she was thinking about taking it off, letting it fall in a puddle at her ankles. She needed to get a grip. Maybe it was that hideous smell, making her light-headed. The price tag boggled the mind. She could feed her and Keith for a month on that amount.
“See something you like?”
She spun around and shoved her hands in her pockets. Meredith raised an eyebrow. Jill gave a dopey grin.
“You two sounded like drunk sorority sisters.”
“This brown one would suit you,” Jill said. “It’s not slutty.”
“I appreciate the character reference.” Peggy’s gaze slid back to the gown. “It’s not the worst thing in here.”
“Hmm…” Meredith elbowed her sister.
“I’m going to check out.” Jill said, grabbing Peggy’s arm.
“I need to change a size.” Meredith sauntered off with a skip.
Peggy waited by the counter as the clerk wrapped Jill’s medley of carnal clothing like it was fine china. This store was so weird. Why waste money wrapping stuff that couldn’t break in bright pink paper?
Jill produced a flashy credit card when the clerk recited her total.
“You know you aren’t going to have those on long enough to justify the debt.”
“I don’t care. This is what you do when you date someone. Wear hot lingerie, have blistering sex. I’ve wanted to be with Brian for what seems like forever. Don’t ruin it for me.”
This is what people did? She never had. “Sorry.”
The sight of liquid gel pad breast lifters made her nose scrunch up. She could just imagine wearing one on a raid and popping it when some guy threw a punch. She’d die of embarrassment. The guys would never stop giving her crap.
“Okay.” Meredith appeared at her side, having checked out at one of the other cash registers. “I’m ready.”
“Me too.” Jill lifted her bags. “They should call this place Sex ‘R Us.”
Peggy led the way out of hell. She gave the lone guy her scary smile, making him drop the underwear. Brightened her day.
“Hey,” Meredith said, catching up. “I bought something for you.” She held out a bag.
Oh, please don’t let it be something with animal print. She didn’t want to look, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Peggy reached into the bag and her fingers brushed velvet. She stared at Meredith as she pulled the brown nightgown halfway out of the bag. Her mouth turned dry. “I…this is too much. Meredith, seriously, I’ll never wear it.” Still, her fingers curled around it.
Meredith slid her arm through Jill’s. “Never is a long time. Please, it’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t take it. Think of it as an early birthday present.”
“My birthday’s in December,” she protested, her fingers betraying her by playing with the texture once again. When she realized what she was doing, she dropped it back in the bag.
Jill nudged her hip. “Let’s do lunch. This is the best shopping spree ever! And I’m having sex this week. I am woman. Hear me roar. Okay, Mere, your turn.”
“I am reporter. Hear me scoop.”
Jill swung their still-linked arms. “Good one. Now you, Peggy.”
“I am cop. Hear me shoot.”
They both laughed like loons and slapped her on the back. The sudden tightness in her chest almost hurt. She stuffed the pink bag into her purse, reminding herself that girly things weren’t for her. She was a cop and a mother—first, last, and always.
She’d throw the bag in the back of her closet when she got home where Keith wouldn’t look. Peggy McBride had no use for it—never had, never would.
Even as she told herself that, another part of her cried out, making the feeling in her chest so unbearable that she pulled out an antacid for relief.
Chapter 8
W
as there anything more rip-your-clothes-off hot than envisioning making love for the first time to the man sitting across from you?
Well, there was the
actual sex,
but Jill would get to that.
Her thigh brushed Brian’s muscular leg as he continued to talk through those seductive, bow-shaped lips. She imagined them trailing down her neck and going lower, nipping at her heated skin as her hands curved around his corded back, then trailed over his washboard abs.
He sucked in a breath. “Stop looking at me like
that.
”
“Like what?” she flirted back, reaching for his hand and stroking the palm with her newly manicured vixen-red thumb.
“Like you don’t know. Seriously, you’re killing me. Right here in your damn coffee shop. You should call it Don’t Toy With Me instead of Don’t Soy With Me. Jesus.” He shifted in his seat, the hard line of his mouth pronounced.
This man was toast—and she was going to be the butter. She’d studied the Kama Sutra all week until she knew it as well as the Gettysburg Address. Whether or not her body could twist into the “Splitting-the-Cicada” position like a Cirque de Soleil performer was another matter.
“Sorry.” Brian tucked one of her corkscrew red curls behind her ear, his brilliant Bengal-tiger blue eyes soft and slumberous. Everything in her core settled into peace and certainty.
“I love you, you know,” she uttered in a low voice, following her heart. Saying it today, before they had sex, seemed important somehow.
His eyes narrowed a fraction, but he rallied by raising her hand to his lips. “That’s a pretty important thing to say in a coffee shop,” he tried to joke.
Her heart squeezed like it was a piece of meat on the grill clutched by his metal tongs. So, he wasn’t ready to say it back. Well, he would in time. Hadn’t he been showing her how much he cared over the past week?
“Let’s get back to our plans.” Brian held her hand while he resumed talking.
Her mind drifted to the emerald green negligee she’d selected for tonight. Aromatherapy candles would light their first steps into passion, give the room an exotic touch of musk.
“Are you even listening?” Brian angled his head closer to hers. The overhead lights illuminated his dark eyelashes.
“Of course,” she lied, her heart beating like she’d sucked down too many espressos. “Don’t I always?”
His snort had her skin cooling. Jill settled back, watching his fingers caress the rough plans they’d drawn up for the restaurant. They weren’t discussing anything controversial today, just the layout. After what had happened on the Valentine picnic, they were dancing around their differences. Brian had gone to see Morty’s place a few days ago while she was working, and he’d liked it. Thank God Morty wasn’t planning on putting the space on the market for over month. Plenty of time for her and Brian to work out their creative differences, right?
Her mind drifted back to that afternoon. His touch on her core, the sun warm on her face, the deep convulsions in her body. My God, she was going to experience it all again—tonight. It was going to be so much better with him. Her thighs contracted.
His hands clapped in her face. “Earth to Jill. What is
wrong
with you today? You’re more spacey than usual.”
Because
Sex, Sex, Sex
was flashing through her mind like gaudy lights at a sleazy Vegas strip club. “Words to make any girl’s heart pitter patter, Bri.”
“You don’t want me to talk normally to you anymore?”
“A little romance would be nice.” She toyed with the crystal on her necklace. She’d dug into her top dresser for the black box holding the heart-shaped one he’d given her for graduation, but she hadn’t been able to put it on. To her, it still symbolized the end of their friendship. She didn’t want to jinx their happiness by wearing it yet.
He rolled his eyes. “Listen, if we’re going to work together, I can’t be Casanova and Wolfgang Puck at the same time.”
Now she snorted. “No, you have much better hair.”
“Okay, smart ass, as I was saying, I need more space in the kitchen.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” She ran a finger down his blue V-neck sweater. God, flirting with him and knowing where it was going to lead made her feel bold and sexy.
He swatted her hand aside, putting a damper on her enjoyment. “Jillie, you can’t negotiate like that if we’re seriously going to form a business partnership.” He blew steam from his coffee before sipping it. “I mean it.”
“You’re
so
stern. Why can’t you have fun with this?”
“Because sex and business don’t mix well. Trust me I…”
Her butt scooted to the edge of her seat. “Do I hear the voice of experience talking?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, adding a sugar cube to his macchiato with incredible concentration. “You’re like a horny teenager. I need your mind on our ideas—and nothing else—when we’re working. We can have fun after. This will only work if we can keep business and pleasure separate.”
Perhaps they needed to have
fun
so she could stop being horny. “Fine.” She grabbed the hand-drawn design. “What do you want?”
“Six more feet for the cooler.”
Her heels dug in like an oak tree extending its roots. “I need space for the office. I am
not
working in a cracker jack box.”
“You can use your office here.”
“No, I want to be on site.” With you.
“Doesn’t make sense. You can shuttle back and forth.”
It usually delighted her the way his brows framed his brilliant eyes. Right now, the line in between them made her want to shred her signature lime green and black napkins into tiny pieces and throw them in the air like confetti.
“I’ll split the space with you, Bri. It’s the best I can do.”
“A measly three feet? That’s impossible.”
The disagreements were giving her an ulcer. Not much had changed since the picnic—even though they were both trying to compromise. The Brian Groupie in her wanted to give in—like she had about a monochromatic scheme, which she hated—but she just couldn’t do it.
“Give it up, McConnell. That’s the best you’re getting.”
“Fine, but when we don’t have enough food to feed everyone, Red, I’m going to remind you of this moment.”
Her fingers squeezed the bridge of her nose—hard. Brian was sipping his espresso, watching everyone but her. They had to find a shared vision. Deep inside she knew they’d fail if they couldn’t find some common ground.
Her nerves increased. Suddenly, having sex with him didn’t seem as daunting as opening a restaurant together. Her mind pinged back to Mac Maven’s mysterious offer. He’d called again to check in with her, pouring on the charm, but not too hard. She’d told him she was pursuing a business with her childhood friend, but had Meredith been right from the beginning? Was opening a place together putting too much strain on her relationship with Brian?
The bell chimed, announcing a customer. She was a newcomer—and a stunning one. Her honey-blond hair seemed to bounce lovingly around her exotic face. A cliff diver could have committed suicide off her cheekbones, and her movie-star almond eyes shone in gold and cherry-wood tones. Her full-length black mink wasn’t buttoned—a dangerous choice given all the Colorado environmentalists—exposing a red dress clinging to a frame that should only have been possible with accompanying air brush fairies. The matching four-inch red heels were totally impractical in winter and left snowmelt dots all across the walnut floor.
Jill’s sigh bordered on a wheeze. Oh, to be so beautiful—even in your forties like that woman. She
had
to be a California transplant. In a roomful of casually dressed patrons, she looked like she belonged on Rodeo Drive.
Jill stood to introduce herself.
Brian grabbed her hand. “Where are you going?”
“New customer.” She inclined her chin.
He jerked like he’d been electrocuted. His color went from normal to white to green in one second flat. She’d only seen this happen three times. When he’d broken his leg skiing. When he’d told her his parents were getting divorced. And when he’d stopped CPR on Jemma.
“Bri-yan,” the woman singsonged out in a sultry French accent. She sashayed toward them like a glittery Christmas ornament.
Brian dropped Jill’s hand like it was a hot potato and stood. Venus incarnate reached over and grabbed his face, kissing him ardently.
Jill felt her mouth fall open like a bad cartoon character’s. When the woman’s tongue swiped at Brian’s lips, she straightened to her full five foot ten inches. She tapped the woman on the shoulder as Brian’s hands
finally
pushed her back.
“Simca!” Brian stuttered, breathing hard.
“You know her?” Jill asked. It was a stupid question after that kiss, but it was the only thing she could think to say.
The woman’s perfect red lips curved into a knowing smile. “We were involved. In New York. Brian, I told you I was coming.”
He’d been in touch with this goddess? Her hand gripped the chair. “You were?” She looked at Brian for confirmation, but his eyes were fixed on the mystery woman.
“Yes. He did not tell you?”
“No, he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend.” And this omission felt like a betrayal.
He looked from Simca back to her, his pupils wide. “Well…that wasn’t…what I called her. Jill…I’m sorry.”
As an explanation, it sucked. Why did he think he could withhold vital information about an ex, particularly an ex who was coming for a visit? An apology improved nothing.
Simca linked her arm through his. “In my country, we don’t use childish descriptions. We were lovers.”
“Jill…” Brian broke off, rubbing his throat.
Seeing him with this gorgeous, blond woman—so much prettier than she was—made all the old insecurities rear their head, just like when he’d chosen perky blond Kelly Kimple over her.
After a few seconds of silence, the woman tsked. “Ah, Brian, you are overcome at seeing me again. Let me introduce myself to your friend. I’m Simone Moreau. My closest friends call me Simca.”
How could he not have told her about this woman? And she was
older!
Jill’s spinning mind conjured up images of the two of them together. So not what she needed.
“How did you meet?” she made herself ask. Part of her wanted to know. The other part…
Brian cleared his throat. “Simca was…ah…one of my restaurant bosses.”
“Really? I seem to remember you saying a restaurateur’s life was mostly for men.” She turned to Simca. “I take it you’re an owner, not a chef?”
“No, I am a chef, too.” She settled comfortably against Brian’s side like a French Barbie and her American Ken doll.
Becoming aware of all the stares focused on them, Jill broke out in a blush. In a small town like Dare, the news would travel as fast as a forest fire. Her questions would have to wait.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Jill muttered through tingling lips.
The woman’s gold bracelets clicked together. “Brian, let’s go somewhere and catch up. I’ve missed you so much.”
Jill ran into an empty table before sailing out of her shop. She listened for the door chimes to ring again as her boots slapped the sidewalk. Surely, Brian was coming after her.
When nothing rang except the ding to Smith’s Hardware, tears gathered in her eyes. Dammit. She would
not
cry over him again. She’d get mad instead. Let the pain sear through her like a hot poker, heating her freezing body. He’d
lied
about having someone special. Hell, he’d invited her here. And to top it all off, she was an
older
, beautiful French woman with a sultry accent.
She felt like a fool. The new life she’d spun for them might as well have been made of toothpicks.
