That Thing Called Love (11 page)

“What?” She looked at him as if he’d gone insane. “No, of course I haven’t.”

“You’re kidding me. How could you not? You’ve got lips just. Like. Cherries. Hand to God. I’ve never experienced anything like them.”

She blinked at him. Then... “Ohmigawd, that’s a line, isn’t it?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him. “Oh! You are
smooth.
I bet you say that to all the—”

“Jesus, you’re a hard sell. You honestly think anyone in their right mind would go around spouting that trash on
purpose?
Hell, I’m embarrassed to hear it coming from my mouth. But you can take this to the bank,” he said irritably. “I said it because it’s true and I can’t believe no one else has ever told you so. You taste just like fucking cherries!”

“Silver-tongued devil, thy name is Jake.” She crooked an amused smile at him. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell
you
that. I bet women tell you all the time, hey?”

“I’ll give you silver-tongued.” Disgruntled, he let his gaze wander back to her mouth. But that was clearly a mistake, for all it resulted in was his once again licking his lips and tasting a trace of those cherries.

Her smile faded. “Dammit,” she whispered. “This is just
asking
for a big dose of regret.” Raising her hands, which had somehow remained on his chest, she grabbed two fistfuls of the hoodie covering it and yanked him to her as she half rose off the log to kiss him.

Yes!
He opened his lips beneath hers and sucked in a breath when her tongue slicked over his lower lip. His vision developing a distinctly red tinge, he wrapped his fingers around the backs of her legs, pulled her forward, then lifted her effortlessly to straddle the spread of his thighs. Resisting the urge to jerk her atop his burgeoning hard-on, he instead raised his hands to carefully frame her face, his fingers sliding behind her ears while he framed them with his thumbs.

His fingertips bumped the precarious knot of slippery hair behind her left ear, and it lost its fight with gravity, unraveling down her neck. Its cool, smooth weight as it waterfalled over her shoulders and partway down her back buried his fingers to the second knuckle, and streamers of it draped over the backs of his hands and wrists.

That was all it took—that and her renewed flavor as it spread across his tongue—to turn him inside out. From his mouth, his fingers, his thighs, sensation ricocheted to his brain—only to be immediately sent out again as fractured, kaleidoscopic impressions.

A beckoning woman scent that owed nothing to perfumes or soaps. Smooth skin.
Warm
skin. No, not warm,
hot.
That faint taste of Rainier cherries.

More than delicious. Damn near addictive.

He smoothed his hands down her neck beneath the loose hair, outlined her shoulders with his fingertips. She was such a little thing—a fact he couldn’t seem to retain with any kind of permanency, considering how it managed to surprise him anew every time he saw her.

But as his hands explored the smooth flesh on her shoulders, then stroked the length of her back, he decided to cut himself some slack. He saw not only with his eyes but what she projected. And evidently
she
viewed herself as an Amazon.

Jenny did something talented with her tongue, and all thoughts fled as the blood in Jake’s head aimed for more southern climes. Wrapping his hands around her hips, he picked her up once more and this time set her exactly where he wanted her.

Then sucked in a breath at the
feel
of the soft notch between her legs unerringly pressed against his cock.

She ripped her mouth free.
“Gawwd,”
she exhaled, her eyes heavy lidded and darker than midnight as they gazed into his. For a few hot seconds she oscillated her hips, riding him like a wet-dream cowgirl on a slo-mo mechanical bull, setting up a friction between their sexes that all but crossed his eyes.

Then out of the blue she stilled, and the sensual haze in her eyes began to evaporate while something that looked perilously like panic flashed in their depths. A second later, she scrambled from his lap and shoved to her feet.

“My God.” She hitched her leg over the log to stand militarily erect in the little patch of sand. Her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breathing, she gazed at him in consternation. “What the hell have you started?”

“Hey, don’t put this all on me,” he snapped, his cock throbbing in unrelieved misery. “I might have started it, but nobody forced you to keep it going.” Not that he’d had any complaints while she’d done so.

Her shoulders snapped back and her arms crossed over her breasts. “So much for Mr. Smooth.”

He felt heat suffuse his face. Usually he could be counted on to be smoother than silk; he didn’t know why with her he had all the finesse of a pimply faced boy stealing his first kiss then pulling the girl’s hair to let her know she hadn’t affected
him.

“Still,” she continued coolly, “you’re right. I was a full participant.” She glanced at the sky. “It’s starting to get dark. Shall we head back?”

Yeah. They should. He wasn’t even sure how the hell they’d come to be in this position.

When Kari died he’d been too shell-shocked to even look at another female. University was harder than high school by miles and, in order to keep his grades up, he’d had to bust his butt. By the time his interest in women—or at least in the prospect of sex—resurfaced, he’d had time to consider what he was looking for in a relationship.

And what he’d decided was nothing long-term. After all, he wasn’t the best bet in that arena, was he? At first, his need to keep his eye on the prize interfered; he couldn’t afford to let anything get in the way of his studies. Then he’d nabbed the opportunity at
National Explorer
during his internship. And that meant he was out of country too often and sometimes for too long to build a relationship even if he’d been interested.

Whatever the reason at any given time, his decision had rendered him some seriously good, if temporary, times with a number of the world’s most beautiful women. Women who, like him, desired nothing more than what he had to offer.

Jenny wasn’t like them. As Max had said, she wasn’t the casual kind. And although seriously cute, she was nowhere close to drop-dead beautiful.

So why the hell did she pull at him like a tide at full moon?

Hell.
He rolled his shoulders.
Because it’s been a while since you got laid, bro.
That had to be the reason.

Whatever it was, as he handed her into the boat, coiled the anchor rope and shoved the Bayliner’s bow off the beach, hopping aboard as it floated free of the shore, he determined one thing for sure.

This strange attraction he felt for her had too damn much potential for disaster—so from here on out, he was going to treat her like a downed live wire.

And give her a wide, big-ass berth.

CHAPTER TEN

A
USTIN
’
S
FRIEND
N
OLAN
was almost late for practice the following Tuesday and he had Bailey with him when he finally did arrive. They jumped off their bikes, letting them drop to the grass next to those of other team members, then loped over to the dugout.

Austin found himself watching Bailey just as he’d watched her the other night at the Damoths’, but shrugged off his interest. Hell, even though she was almost as tall as he was, she was really cute with her blue eyes and pink lips. Plus she had those pretty white teeth, the top middle ones not only longer than the rest but with a tiny gap between them. There was just something so girly about that.

Hell, what guy wouldn’t look at her?

“Hey, coach,” Nolan called out as the two of them reached the diamond. “This is my cousin Bailey. Can she practice with us today?”

“You kiddin’ me, Damoth?” Sam Jenkins jerked upright from where he’d been tying the cleats he’d propped against the dugout bench. “She’s a freakin’ girl!”

“Dude, chill,” Austin heard himself say. “It’s practice. And you’ve heard Nolan talk about her enough to know he thinks she’s good.” Okay, so she probably wasn’t as good as a guy. But, like he’d said, it was just a practice game, not the real deal.

Coach Harstead ignored everything but the original question. “Sure.” He gave Bailey a nod. “Let’s see what you can do in left field.”

She shot him a grin, whipped a smooshed baseball cap out of her hip pocket and pulled it on, threading her long, dark ponytail through the donut hole in the back. She caught the mitt Nolan tossed her from his gym bag, then trotted to the outfield.

Austin was assigned to the field team as well and took his position between second and third base. A few minutes later practice started in earnest.

About ten minutes into it, Oliver Kidd hit a ball that flew over Austin’s head and Austin whipped around to see how Bailey handled herself. The ball was a long fly and she backpedaled like a pro to get under it. The thing was sailing high, though—a home run in the making if he’d ever seen one—and he could tell that by the time it reached the end of its arc and started to drop it’d probably be in the trees.

Then Bailey took a few running steps toward the woods and, watching the ball over her shoulder, leaped into the air.

It was as if she levitated straight up, her feet together and toes pointed, one arm stretched overhead with the mitt extended toward the sky, her long-limbed body in its white T-shirt and washed-out jeans a pale parenthesis against the evergreens.

The team went so silent you could hear the ball smack into her mitt.

Then they all went apeshit, with Nolan screaming loudest of all, “I toldja so, I
toldja!
” As she landed lightly on her feet, the team surged toward her.

Austin was one of the first to reach her. “That. Was. Epic! How did you
do
that?”

Pink tinged her cheeks, but she shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Eight years of ballet.”

“If that’s the result, I should sign my guys up for classes,” Coach said as he joined them on the field. He clapped his hands. “All right, let’s get back to it, boys. Bailey, grab a bat. Let’s see what you can do on the infield.”

Turned out she was a solid hitter, as well. She could stand more speed running bases, but even then, she stole second base with a sweet slide. All told, she pretty much owned the game, and was actually better than a couple of their weaker players and maybe even a couple of their more solid ones. Austin had never seen anything like it.

“Man,” he enthused as he and Nolan and Bailey pedaled their bikes back to town after practice. “You were great!”

She gave him a quiet smile. “Thanks. So were you.”

“Yeah, but I’m a guy. Who knew a girl could be that good?”

The warm blue eyes she’d turned on him grew cool. “’
Scuse
me? Do you have any idea how sexist and insulting that is? It’s attitudes like that that passed Title Nine into law.”

“Huh?”

“I’m great...for a girl?” She coasted alongside him on her bike. “You don’t see how I might—no, how I
do
—take that as a very backhanded compliment? I’m good, period.”

He felt his face grow red and opened his mouth to cut her down to size. But then he thought about the way she’d played in practice, surrounded by all the guys. And he had to swallow his pride and admit...

“You’re right. I’m sorry. You played damn near as good as everyone on the team. And better than Mikey and Dan.”

“And me, some days,” Nolan said cheerfully, “although I rocked today.”

Bailey grinned at her cousin.

After Nolan and Bailey turned off for the road to the Damoths’ house, Austin pedaled full-out toward The Brothers. Jenny was still at work when he let himself into the cottage a short while later. He was happy to see that his dad’s Mercedes SUV was gone from the lot, too.

Although...

Retrieving the baseball photo Jake had taken of him from his backpack, he stared at it for several long seconds before putting it back on the dresser, where he’d been keeping it ever since last Thursday when Jake had given it to him. Even when it was out of his hands, he had a hard time looking away.

And he had to admit he hadn’t been quite as pissed at his father since receiving it. Neither had he felt as annoyed when he couldn’t avoid spending time with the guy. Jake was more persistent than he’d expected.

He ran his fingertip over the action shot. That had to be the dopest picture
ever,
and he’d even taken it to practice today to show everyone. But Bailey’s arrival and inclusion in practice had shuffled it to the back of his mind, and he’d forgotten he had it with him until he was almost home.

Not that it was a big deal or anything. Still. He might take it to this Thursday’s practice or, if not then, maybe to the game on Saturday.

But, hey, that was a lifetime from now. Right this minute he had better things to do. He pulled open the fridge door and started hauling out food. Lots better things.

Like making himself a sandwich or two so he didn’t drop dead of hunger before dinner.

* * *

“
I’
M
TAKING
OFF
, J
ENNY
.”

She looked up from her rocker on the cottage’s darkened front porch. She sat sipping a cup of tea and watching Friday-night guests unload their car behind the Starfish, a rental situated two small cabins away and staggered a touch nearer the shoreline than her own. Raising her eyebrow at Austin, who had poked his head out the door, she said in surprise, “Don’t you want a ride?”

“Nah, I’ll take my bike.”

“It’s going to be a busy night at the Anchor. Be sure to wear your jacket with the reflective tape.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

“Okay, sorry, I know you will—and that your bike is equipped with that blinking light under the seat. What I
meant
to say was ‘have fun.’ And tell Nolan he can spend the night here next time.”

“That’s all right,” he assured her quickly. “The Damoths’ve got way more room than we do.”

Funny, that had never stopped him from inviting his best friend here before. And was that
cologne
wafting her way? Telling herself not to be silly—something must be in bloom—she focused on what really had her eyebrows drawing together: the thing she feared he was
not
saying. “Do you miss your house, Austin?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Do you...want to move back there?” She had known the day would come that he would, but she’d been happy to delay it for as long as possible. She loved living in her own place, a home she was earning with hard work. The big Craftsman was a lovely place, but it was Emmett and Kathy’s. She couldn’t help but feel it wouldn’t seem right living there without them.

“Not really.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “I mean, I miss the media room and there was a lot more space. But...” What looked like a shudder shivered his torso. “I don’t want to live there. Not without grandpa.”

“You know you can tell me if you ever change your mind, right?” She was immediately slammed with guilt as she remembered he likely wouldn’t even be here come summer.

“Sure.” He pushed upright. “I gotta go. Nolan and Bailey got a new video game we’re gonna try out.”

And before she could tell him once again to have a good time, he disappeared back into the house. Seconds later, she heard him close the kitchen door behind him, the faint sound of him wrestling his bike out of the mudroom, then that door banging closed, as well.

So. Nolan and
Bailey,
huh? That explained a few things.

Since she didn’t have to drive tonight, she went into the house to trade her tea for a glass of wine. When she came back out, she set the goblet on the little porch table and wrapped herself in the blanket she’d grabbed from the back of the couch, then sat in the rocker again, comforted by the creak of its ancient wicker seat beneath her weight. She’d left the porch light off and watched as the path lights, which had flickered to life throughout the grounds earlier, glowed a bit brighter as the sky steadily darkened.

It was another clear evening and stars clustered the heavens.

The couple at the Starfish slammed the trunk of their car and went into the one-bedroom cabin. Two tween girls wearing oversize guest robes and flip-flops giggled down the path on their way—she’d hazard a guess from the towels hugged to their chests—to the indoor pool.

Jenny liked nights like this, when she could sit in the dark surveying everything that went on around her without being on display herself.

Not to mention the built-in bonus of removing herself from the temptation of that damn kitchen window overlooking the Sand Dollar.

Just beyond the Starfish, the resort’s hot tub nestled beneath a rustic roof in an oasis of plantings at the back of the inn, to the left of the pool-house door. Her peripheral vision caught the motion-sensor light above it when it came on. She sighed, hoping it wasn’t the gigglers, since children under thirteen were not allowed in the hot tub unattended and she so didn’t want to be the one to bust up their good time.

The discount deals she’d made with the Groupon and LivingSocial deal-of-the-day websites were paying off even better than she’d dared hope. What they’d lost by cutting their usual room rates in half was more than compensated by the inn’s appreciably higher occupancy numbers for the rest of April and the early part of May than generally was the case this time of year. She was tickled not only by what the bar and restaurant were taking in and the side benefit of being able to keep more staff on, but by the number of full-price reservations they’d garnered as well from participants who’d wanted to give The Brothers a try, but not during the restricted dates.

The downside, of course, was that having more guests put her on perpetual duty. So raising her glass to her lips and hoping she wouldn’t have to chase the girls out of the tub, she started to stand, thinking it was best to get it over with.

But the gigglers disappeared through the door to the pool before she was even fully on her feet and, blinking, she turned her attention to the spa.

Only to choke on her wine at the sight of Jake, naked from the waist up, in the hot tub. Holy Krakow, what was
he
doing there? Well, okay, that part was self-evident. It was just—

She’d had zero luck, since last Thursday, forgetting the kisses they’d shared over on Oak Head. God knew she’d done everything she could not to remember, but the recollection persisted in popping up no matter how often she shoved it down. Like a manic carnival barker, it bid for her attention with promises of a front-row seat and all the popcorn she could eat.

Practically living in each other’s pockets didn’t help. She’d swear every time she’d looked out her kitchen window this week, Jake had been right there in her line of vision.

And her damn stubborn eyes hadn’t improved matters. They’d refused to look away every time they’d caught him in the cross hairs. Hadn’t done so before tonight, and definitely weren’t cooperating now.

In her defense, though, was there a woman
alive
who’d have the willpower to look away from the spectacle of water glistening on those hard brown shoulders? The man was built. And she didn’t need the evidence currently in front of her eyes to know he had long, lean muscles that rippled beneath his skin when he stretched his arms along the back of the hot tub the way he was doing now. Didn’t need to see his corrugated abs nor the visual reminder of that sculpted chest. She’d been up close and personal with both.

Hell, she’d been plastered against them about as close as a woman could get.

Her head went back, pressing into the high back of the rocking chair. Whoa. What was she thinking?

Well, lemme think,
her sardonic inner woman whispered in her head.
That the man is h-a-w-t hot, and you wouldn’t mind being body to body again with all that hotness sometime in the future?

“No,” she whispered. It didn’t matter how sexually appealing he was. He could dance naked for all she cared—she wasn’t going there again. He’d be back in New York soon, she would be here and, even though Austin didn’t yet know it, the teen stood squarely between them with a foot in each camp.

But dammit, in spite of her sarcasm when she’d called Jake a silver-tongued devil, she secretly believed him to be exactly that—and not merely with words. Because if his tongue was silver when he spoke, it was downright platinum when he kissed.

Annnd—I’m not going to recall that. Not gonna-not gonna-not gonna.

Suddenly his lips shaped a swear word and he surged to his feet. Water cascaded the length of his torso, from his wide shoulders to the fan of hair on his chest and down his midsection. Most of it at that point trickled a river along the narrowing line of body hair that bisected his diaphragm and six-pack to disappear into the navy-and-white hibiscus-printed board shorts riding his hip bones.