Just One Taste (24 page)

B
en had
a second cup of coffee. He liked having the inn to himself. He’d been an only child, and every now and again it was a relief to welcome loneliness again.

It had been amusing to watch the females last night paw and drool over Dillon. To the best of his knowledge, the man hadn’t even shifted and had gone to bed alone, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying on behalf of the women. Ben and Lyra had continued their journey and he felt ever more in tune with her needs. She was his responsibility. She had to obey him, but he wanted her to like it.

Released from the torture of watching tiny white balls go everyplace but where intended, Ben had decided to bike down to the lighthouse and climb the tower. He’d read you could see a couple of dozen smaller islands scattered in the blue water, mostly uninhabited except for birds. Someday he’d like to come back here and cruise from island to island on a little sailboat, with Lyra as his only crew. They’d hop off and christen each outcrop of rock.

The ride to the ferry landing was a little longer than his legs liked. He must be getting out of shape. He was only twenty-six, but playing ball made you old before your time. Maybe he and Lyra needed to run wild in the woods with the others tonight. Challenge them to a race. It was a foregone conclusion that cheetah Steve would win if he participated. He and Anna had pretty much gone to ground, making Ben wonder if wedding bells were ringing in their future too.

He stood at the base of the circular gray metal stairs waiting for a couple of tourists to come down. Two young women, their voices loud against the bare whitewashed bricks.

From up above, he heard the talking stop.

“Ben? Benjamin Cooper? Is that you?”

Ben looked up and thought his heart stopped. Heather O’Reilly, her hair blonde and bobbed exactly as it had been ten years ago, was standing on the landing.

“Hey, Heather! Haven’t seen you since high school graduation. How’ve you been?” He was surprised his voice sounded as natural as it did. Here she was, the one woman who had the potential to ruin his whole life.

They had broken up not long after his unfortunate furry fiasco. She’d never really bought the idea that the pot had been laced with some mysterious bad shit, which was the best he could come up with at the time, being half out of his mind himself.

“I’m celebrating my divorce, actually. Christy and I are renting a little antique house on Crow Cove. Christy, meet Ben. I told you about him.”

Christy’s eyes widened. Not good.

“You’re the baseball player!” Christy said, with all the gush of any Baseball Annie he’d ever encountered. Still not good, but better.

“Was. I’m just a teacher now. Cranford Academy.”

“Close to your parents then. They must love that.”

“I don’t actually get to see them much. I’m pretty busy, coaching baseball and I help out some of the other guys with their sports, too.”

The girls had now descended. Heather was just as adorable as she ever was, a delighted smile on her face.

“Where are you staying? You should come for dinner tonight.”

“I’m at the Perch. And I’m getting married.”

Heather didn’t look quite so delighted anymore, but she went on gamely, “Bring your fiancée! I’ll put an extra hamburger on the grill.”

“Sorry. She’s pretty busy. She and her brother own the Perch, and she doesn’t get to take much time off.”

“Where is she now?” Christy asked, looking like she was very ready to take advantage of Lyra’s absence.

“In Camden with some of the guests.”

“How come you didn’t go?”

“Girls day out. Shopping.”

“Bummer. Well, maybe I’ll come to the Perch and visit
you
. It’s some kind of private timeshare resort, right?”

“Something like that. Call first. There are always lots of activities planned,” Ben babbled. He couldn’t very well tell her not to come. He’d have to warn Lyra.

Heather reached up, cupped his cheek and brushed her lips across his. “It’s so nice to see you, Ben. I’ve never really gotten over you, you know. The view up there is truly spectacular. I’ll call you later.”

Shit shit shit. He wiped his mouth vigorously and climbed up the stairs, each footstep clanging a step closer to doom.

T
here had been
a message on the answering machine when she got home, loaded down with Belgian chocolates, four new romance novels, a floral sunhat, two pairs of really cute sandals, and three cardboard boxes of Chinese food that Flynn would reheat for supper. She had to listen to it three times.

Then she found Ben, typing something into his laptop. If she hadn’t been so furious, she would have asked him what he was doing.

He tried to explain what happened this morning immediately, but there seemed to be just one thing that she focused on. Lyra looked at him, her golden eyes sparking. “You kissed her.”

“
She
kissed
me
. There’s a difference.”

“Why didn’t you tell her the Perch is private?”

“I did. She knew already. What could I say to her? You can’t come because there are thirteen large and vicious wild animals roaming around?”

Lyra frowned. “I forgot about Dillon. He’ll take care of her.”

“Wait a sec. She’s not a shifter. He can’t—”

“Of course he can. As a man, Ben. He can distract her and get her out of here. She said she’d stop by about nine. How she’s so looking forward to meeting me.”

“Is her friend coming?”

“Why? Did you kiss her too?”

“Jeez—”

“No. Whatshername has a date, so little Miss Heather has time for a visit. Was she your first?”

“You’re jealous!” Ben said, looking pleased at the prospect.

“I’m not.”

He put his arms around her. You are. And I love you for it.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said you love me.”

“Did you doubt it?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “It’s still nice to hear.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He kissed her and they forgot about Heather for a while. She finally pushed him away. “I’ve got to talk to Dillon. You warn the others.”

“Me?” Ben protested.

“You got us all into this pickle. Just tell them they’ll have to postpone tonight’s fun and games until Dillon ditches Heather. The girls will be
very
disappointed. They were counting on Dillon’s pep talk to make all the difference.”

Ben groaned. He prepared himself for some caterwauling, walked across the hall and knocked on the first door.

W
hen Heather rolled
up in the driveway in her Subaru, she saw glass hurricane lanterns flickering all along the porch railing. Voices and laughter came from around the back of the house. She climbed the porch steps, admiring the pots of flowers and wicker chairs that were artfully placed at regular intervals. She kept walking until she turned the corner, saw the moon on the bay, and found a cluster of people drinking and chatting.

Ben rose as soon as he spotted her. “Heather! So glad you could make it! Everybody, this is Heather O’Reilly.”

“Heather Harper now,” she corrected. She hated her ex-husband but liked the alliteration.

“Heather Harper. Actually, we’re pretty informal here anyway, so let’s just skip last names. Adrienne. Her sister Alys. Our host and culinary genius Flynn. Tom. Steve. Anna. Cassie. Brian. Rachel. David. My lovely fiancé Lyra. And the famous Dr. Dillon McCarthy.”

Dillon stood up and kissed Heather’s hand.

“What are you famous for, Dr. McCarthy?” she giggled.

“Call me Dillon, please. I don’t know that I dare tell you.”

“He’s a sex guru,” said Lyra.

“A therapist, actually.” Dillon continued to hold Heather’s hand.

“Really?” Heather licked her lips.

“It’s a filthy job, but someone has to do it. I understand you know our Ben from high school.”

Heather looked up at him. Way up. He was taller than Ben, lean and very fit. His short black hair was expensively cut, his eyes were like mirrors, shining in the dark. His hand was still on hers, one finger tracing a circle on her palm. “Uh huh.”

“He told us the most amusing story while we waited for you tonight. I hope he won’t mind me repeating it.”

“Go ahead, Dillon old chap.” Silly Ben, putting on an accent. Badly.

“You’re English,” Heather said breathlessly.

“Irish actually, but I was educated at Oxford.”

“They have a great sex therapy department.” Ben said.

Honestly, that couldn’t be true. Oxford was some kind of big snooty deal, wasn’t it?

“We’re all responsible adults here, but we’ve all had mishaps in our youth, I venture. Am I right, lads?” There was a quick grunt of assent from the “lads.”

“Ben told us about the
Cannabis sativa
incident. Poor thing. You must have taken a very bad trip indeed.”

Heather just nodded. She felt weightless, like she was floating in the most delicious cloud soup.

“Your experience is a little outside my specialty, but I do wonder if you’d allow me to probe your past a bit. See how that ugly incident affected your perception of men. You must think us all to be beasts! Perhaps we could talk privately at your house? I’ll follow you in my Cadillac Escalade. Carry on without us, you lot. Mrs. Harper and I are going to advance the cause of science.”

“Nice meeting you,” Lyra said to the empty spot where Heather had stood.

“He
is
good, isn’t he?” said Ben, impressed in spite of himself.

“
Y
ou owe me
.” Dillon threw himself down in a wicker chair, wearing the same outfit he sported last night. Everyone had already eaten breakfast and left for their pursuit of happiness. Only Lyra and Ben had remained, sitting side by side and holding hands on the loveseat.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“A gallon of it, to wash my sins away. I do so dislike lying to a woman.”

“Thank you, Dillon,” said Lyra. She poured him a cup of black coffee and set it down beside him.

She knew how he took his coffee, Ben observed, but he couldn’t be jealous anymore. Without Dillon, Lyra would not be the woman he loved today. “You took one for the team. We’ll always be grateful.”

“She’s a scratcher. Would you believe it? She left marks on
me
.” He pushed up his sleeve and Lyra and Ben had to turn their heads. “Of course, I was forced to reciprocate.”

Lyra looked horrified. “You didn’t—”

“Don’t be a widgeon. Of course not. Lucky that she’s leaving on an afternoon boat. I’m quite worn out.”

“If it makes you feel any better, whatever you said to the guys yesterday did the trick. Everyone had a huge smile on their face this morning.”

“I aim to please. So, lovebirds, I trust I’ll be invited to the wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“We’ll send you an invitation,” Ben promised.

“Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to sleep. Wake me tomorrow.”

After he left, Ben grinned at Lyra. “Who knew? A Facilitator was no match for Heather O’Reilly. I guess I missed out, huh?” He didn’t even try to block the blow to his solar plexus.

God, but he loved her.

And who knew two? If Heather hadn’t been the catalyst for the discovery of his true self, he might not be sitting with his irritable life mate on this island, the most beautiful spot on earth. Ironic how one’s journey could not be planned with a mariner’s compass or a navigation chart. The waves would just wash you ashore at will.

He kissed her. He couldn’t get enough kisses, not even if he had been immortal. Ben pulled Lyra on to his lap, one hand snaking under her tank top to commune with one of the most perfect breasts in the world. He knew right where the other one was, too. She relaxed and sighed into his mouth. He tongue skimmed over her teeth and she nipped him. She was an animal.

B
en was packing
. God knows he didn’t want to go, but he’d signed up to work at a baseball clinic camp for the rest of the summer. Just like Lyra and Ben, he’d face a rotating roster every two weeks.

They would e-mail. He’d try to come up a couple of weekends. Flynn would plan the wedding and Lyra would send out resumes. Ben had already offered to try to find her employment at his school—there was always something a faculty wife could do—but she had simply shuddered.

Everyone else had left on the 9:30 boat. Steve and Anna had split amicably. Cassie and Brian were getting married. The ski queens had already booked for next summer. Rachel’s heart was a little bit broken. Tom and David were wondering if it was possible that they might not be altogether entirely heterosexual.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in, babe. I’m decent.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Flynn. “Listen. I just got a phone call. Before I say anything to Lyra, I want to check this out with you. No pressure. If you don’t like it, just say so.”

“This doesn’t sound good.” Ben sat down on one of the green plaid chairs.

“It can be good. Really good for Lyra, but I’m not sure about you.”

“Go on.”

“We had this guy stay here last year, a banker from the Cayman Islands. He’s probably really a money launderer, but he’s given us great referral business. He found his life mate here, too, which is a bonus.”

Ben couldn’t see where this history lesson was going, but he nodded like he was paying attention.

“This banker—his name is Phillip Caldwell—has a group of investors who’ve just bought this big old plantation house. They want to turn it into an exclusive resort.”

“Like the Perch?”

“Bigger. Better. No shifters, though. A normal place for rich people who don’t know what the hell to spend their money on next.” He took a breath. “He wants to hire me as the executive chef. He’s offered me a ton of money. A house on the property. Transportation up to Maine when I want to get out of the heat.”

“You’d leave the Perch?”

“Look, most of what you see around you is all Lyra. It was her idea to turn this place into a hotel. We could never have afforded to keep it without her business acumen. She does most of the money side too. I take care of the kitchen end of it, but she’s all about the taxes and the credit card companies. The Perch has been in our family for over a hundred years. We’ve still got it thanks to her.

“I love to cook. And I love her. She doesn’t want to move to Connecticut, Ben. You guys could stay here. Make a solid life for yourselves. I’m sure you could find something to do. I’ve seen you on your laptop. Maybe some kind of in-home business? Summer’s the slow season in the Caymans. I could come up, work my magic in the kitchen. Meet a few cute cats. Disappear in the fall. What do you say?”

A slow smile spread across Ben’s face. “I’d say you’re a great brother. I’d say you’re a genius.”

And to Flynn’s surprise, Ben sprung up and kissed him right on the mouth.

D
ecember

“
W
hat do you think
?”

Lyra looked over his shoulder while Ben looked at the panels. Her rough drawings were remarkably good, but the hero and heroine looked suspiciously like two people he was very well acquainted with. She had lettered his words in the balloons.

“They’re fantastic. But a little too close to home. What if this graphic romance novel actually gets published? People will think
we’re
the shape-shifters.”

Lyra kissed the top of his head. Since he wasn’t teaching anymore, his hair was almost as long as hers was. She said she loved a guy with long hair. Her cartoon hero was a regular Samson before Delilah. Soon Ben would look exactly like him.

“Silly boy. They’ll just think we’re two vain newlyweds with overactive imaginations. This is going to work, I just can feel it. Can’t you? I see a movie franchise!”

Ben pulled her into his lap and rubbed her nose. “It must be your animal instincts.”