Sex and Key Lime Pie (4 page)

By the third glass of wine, the last of her tension completely dissolved, and they were best friends again, laughing about their foolish childhood antics. Elisabeth, the instigator, Cheyanne, the daredevil, and Isabelle, the often overruled voice of reason, had gotten into their fair share of scrapes. Remembering the better times, the happy times, had allowed her to relax fully for the first time since her arrival.

“Oh, shit,” Isabelle muttered. “He said he wasn’t coming.”

Cheyanne followed her friend’s troubled gaze to the parking lot. Her heart lodged somewhere in her throat, threatening to choke her. With their last meeting still fresh in her mind, Luc was the last person she wanted to see. Tall, dark and dangerously handsome—the stuff that dreams were made of. And falling under his spell again would be a nightmare. “Oh, shit, is right.”

****

The party was in full swing when Luc strode across the beach. On his way out the door for a business meeting, he decided to cancel and heed his sister’s advice. He avoided far too many family functions, and missed out on the fun. The fact that Cheyanne accepted an invitation played no part in his decision.

He dropped onto the wooden bench across from Miguel.

“How’s it going?”

“Okay. Poor Tony is dying over there by the grill, but everyone else seems to be having a great time.” Miguel shot a pointed glance toward the jetty. “Some more than others.”

Luc’s gaze rested on the three women holding a private party on the bulkhead. He groaned. His fool sister had no business hanging out on those wet rocks in her condition. Neither did those other two half-wits while drinking alcohol. Christ, they didn’t have any more sense now than they did ten years ago.

“I thought you had a meeting in Providence,” Miguel said.

Luc shrugged “It was canceled.”

“By who?”

“I’m always told I skip out on family functions. Now, I show up and I get crap from you?” Not to mention his sister practically thumbing her nose up at him. Other than an angry acknowledgment of his presence, she ignored him. This was her brilliant idea in the first place!

“Right. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the revised guest list.” Miguel, more brother than cousin to Luc, knew too damn much about him.

“Your wife seems to be having a good time,” Luc said to change the unspoken subject.

Miguel shrugged. “If you mean she’s buzzed, you’re right. But I don’t care. She’s happy. She was so damn nervous about seeing her friend again, she jumped down my throat all morning.”

“Why?”

“Hell, if you ever figure out the female mind, I wish you’d explain it to me.”

“I don’t want to figure it out. If someone walked out of my life for nine years, I wouldn’t want ’em back.”

Miguel let out a chuckle. “Yeah, so what are you doing here?”

“Watching out for my sister.” Luc wasn’t about to let Cheyanne breeze into town on a whim, and then wreak havoc when she decided to blow out again.

“She has a husband for that. Maybe you ought to worry about your own hide.”

He grunted his annoyance. “Piss off.”

“You, too.” Miguel plunged a fork into his desert.

“Is that key lime pie?” Luc asked. Thankfully, his stomach still took precedence over all other concerns in his life.

“The best I’ve ever had,” Miguel answered with a wicked glint. “Better than my mother’s. Better than your mother’s.”

“You see. This is why I look out for my sister. She takes care of us.” Luc headed for the buffet table. His niece, indulging in dessert, gave him a chocolate-fingered hug before running off to join her friends. He cut himself a double slice of pie and scooped it onto a plate.

Tony, sweating behind the grill, waved him over. “Can you toss me a beer? It’s hot as hell back here. At least at the restaurant, we have air conditioning.”

Luc plunged his hand into the barrel of ice and pulled out two cold bottles. He handed one to Tony.

“A new restaurant supplier?”

“What?” Tony asked.

“For baked goods.” Luc held up his plate.

“Don’t I wish? Do you know how much of that I could sell to the tourists at six dollars a slice? No one around here makes key lime pies like that and the mass-produced stuff sucks. And Isabelle said the chocolate cake is better than sex, although I’m not sure I appreciate that.”

“She’s eight months pregnant and it’s summer. I doubt sex is high on her list of indulgences. So, where did this come from?”

“Cheyanne made it. That’s what she does for a living now.” Tony flipped a row of burgers. “Maybe I should see if she’s interested in supplying us.”

Most times, Luc appreciated his brother-in-law’s business-minded ambition. This wasn’t one of those moments. Cheyanne had no reason to stick around after the house closing and Luc prayed no one would give her one.

His gaze returned to the jetty. Cheyanne sat cross legged on the rocks. A navy blue T-shirt clung to her full breasts as she arched her back and turned her face up to the sun. The ends of her blonde ponytail brushed the granite stones the same way it used to brush over his body when they made love. He shifted to relieve the sudden tension. With a groan, he turned his attention to the dessert before him.

“She knows your weaknesses,” Tony taunted.

“I have no weaknesses where she’s concerned.” It would take a hell of a lot more than pie, even his favorite, before she would get to him again. So, why had she gone to the trouble? She was up to something. He just didn’t know what.

Before she could do any damage, he intended to find out.

Chapter
Three

Cheyanne walked along the deserted beach. The sun dipped below the horizon leaving a glowing sky above. Since most people had families now, the party broke up earlier than she’d expected. Had she known, she wouldn’t have had that last glass of wine. Or the one before it. She couldn’t drive home. Luckily, it was only a short walk.

Isabelle and Elisabeth had been reluctant to leave her by herself, but she convinced them she only planned to watch the sunset, then she would be off as well. Luc had left an hour earlier. To her chagrin, she’d noticed. The entire afternoon, he completely ignored her while charming every other female between the ages of twelve and eighty. Worse, her traitorous heart felt jealous. They had spent three hours at the same party and couldn’t say three words to each other. Yet, they managed to keep tabs on each other. She felt him watching her when she wasn’t watching him.

She glanced at the vacant parking lot. She couldn’t avoid it any longer. Time to drag her tipsy butt to the house before total darkness descended. Going home to that big, empty ghost house had all the appeal of a root canal. She missed her son desperately. Her life never felt lonely with Sam around. She went to her car to get her sandals. As she reached across the stick shift console, she heard the thump of approaching footsteps.

Her heart stopped then began to race. She reached for the handle to slam the door, but grabbed hold of a solid arm instead. Her shriek ripped through the roar of the surf.

“Calm down.” Luc’s deep voice, clipped with ire, penetrated her panic induced fog. She gazed up at him. Tremors rippled down her spine.

She slumped in the bucket seat and struggled for a normal breath. “I thought you left already.”

“And now I’m back.” He held out his hand. “Give me the keys.”

“Excuse me?”

“The keys. You’re in no condition to drive.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

His dark eyes glowered angrily. “Right. That’s why you’re in the driver’s seat.”

Her fear drained away. If they gave out a Nobel Prize for arrogance, Luc would be on the plane to Stockholm. Nine years had taught him nothing. He still judged first and asked questions later, if at all. Why had he come back? What did he care if she ran her car right off Route 1 and into a ditch?

Could he have some tiny shred of feeling still left...don’t go there, Cheyanne. You deluded yourself once and you’re still paying.

“Now get out and give me the keys.”

“Sure thing, Luc.” After grabbing her sandals from the floor, she slipped out of the seat. She tossed him her gold key ring. “Have a blast.”

She was halfway across the parking lot before he figured out that she didn’t plan to get in the passenger seat. Luc had the benefit of wheels but she had the advantage of being able to cut through back alleys. Not that she could outrun him in the end, but she didn’t have to jump at his every command either.

****

Luc ground the car into gear and pealed out of the parking lot, his nerves stretched as tight as a slingshot. In forty-eight hours, the woman managed to destroy the peace he had spent nearly a decade searching for. He finally crossed paths with her on Shore Drive, the main thoroughfare through town. His last ounce of patience dangled from a very thin string. “Get in the car.”

She planted her hands on slim hips and glared down at him. Damn, he hated her little ground-hugging car. Give him a big monster truck where people had to look up to him.

“How do I know how much you had to drink?” she charged.

“One beer, three hours ago.”

“How do I know you aren’t going to hose me down when you get me home?”

He laughed. So, she remembered that little lesson she’d been taught. “You don’t.”

“What are you trying to prove, Luc?”

Damned if he knew. Keeping an eye on Cheyanne had become as instinctive as looking out for his sister. He couldn’t just break old habits because she had broken his heart.

He shoved open the passenger side door. “I’m trying to keep you from becoming a motor vehicle statistic. Now put your sweet little ass in the car before I do it myself.”

She slipped into the seat and slammed the door. “I wasn’t going to drive.”

“And if you left your expensive sports car down here tonight, you might not find it tomorrow. You should be grateful I came back for you.”

He shifted the car into gear. The awesome pick up of the Corvette had him quickly cruising down the road toward the old Waitley mansion. Cheyanne passed the five-minute ride in stony silence. Her head resting against the window, she stared into the darkness and snubbed him.

When they arrived at the house, she jumped from the car and sprinted across the circular driveway to the front steps. He joined her at the etched glass door. She slid her hands into the pockets of her shorts and rested against the doorframe.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked when she didn’t move.

“The keys. You have them.”

“Oh. Right.” He inserted the key, but found the door already unlocked. She still didn’t have the sense to look out for herself. He followed her into the foyer. Her sandals clacked over the tile floor as she continued down the central corridor without a word to him.

He glanced around the mausoleum he’d bought. Half of the furniture was gone, making the place seem larger and more tomblike than normal. He followed a loud clamoring noise to the kitchen. The airy, open room contrasted with the rest of the place. No wonder Cheyanne had wanted to attend culinary school. The kitchen was probably the only place she felt comfortable while growing up here.

She continued to ignore him while she cleaned the room that looked like a cyclone had hit it. She worked like a demon, giving her full attention to the task and her back to him.

After five minutes, he’d had enough. “That’s it? No, thank you. No comment at all?”

She turned toward him, a large wooden spoon clenched in her fingers. “I’m sorry. Thank you for treating me like the invisible woman today in front of your friends and family. Thank you for thinking I am an irresponsible twit who would drive a car in a less than sober condition. And thank you very much for stranding yourself here with no way to get home. Have I covered everything?”

“Just about.”

The more he ticked her off, the more beautiful she seemed. Her eyes darkened, her sensual lips formed a sexy pout and her nipples puckered into hard peaks that strained against her fitted T-shirt. She looked as turned on as he felt.

He came around the butcher-block island and stood in front of her. “Do I need to remind you that last night you told me not to bother trying to be friendly because we were never friends?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He inched closer.

She backed up, bumping into the counter behind her and effectively pinning herself into a corner. She trembled like a frightened rabbit, but he knew she wasn’t afraid of him. Which meant she was afraid of herself. Could she possibly still be attracted to him despite their history?

“Does it also go without saying that since my family hosted this party today, we are legally responsible for what happens to our guests if alcohol is served?”

After a long pause she said, “Yes.”

“And call me a sexist, but it’s a hell of a lot safer for me to walk home alone in the dark than you. Right?”

“Yes,” she grumbled.

“You see. You actually agreed with me and it didn’t hurt at all.” He rested his hand on the side of her face. Her breath caught in her throat, muffling a gasp of surprise. “Now say, thank you Luc.”