The Seraphina Donavan Collection: Contemporary

The Seraphina Donavan

Collection:

Contemporary

COMING HOME

GOOD LUCK CHARM

NOBODY BUT YOU

COMING HOME

by

Seraphina Donavan

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination, or they are used fictitiously and are definitely fictionalized. Any trademarks or pictures herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks or pictures used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

©August 2014, Seraphina Donavan

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (electronic or print) without permission from the author. Except for excerpts embodied in reviews.

CHAPTER ONE

M
organ Donnelly walked into the small shop as his uncle's truck sped off behind him. Going to work with his uncle hadn't necessarily been his plan, but it was a hell of a lot better than being at loose ends. Having too much time to think just left him in a bad way. Surveying his surroundings, he frowned.

Searching his vocabulary for a word to describe the pastry shop, the only thing he could come up with was ‘girly’. The hot pink walls and white wrought iron tables were bad enough, but the delicate crystal chandelier was just too much. He tried to play it cool, as if being in such an overtly feminine environment didn't make him feel horribly out of place. It was enemy territory. Setting his toolbox down, he resisted the urge to rub his thigh.

His leg wasn’t hurting. Not too badly, at any rate. Though never pain free, he did have some good days to counteract the bad. It’d become habit, massaging those muscles throughout the course of the day, so they didn’t seize on him. The shrapnel was gone, but the scar tissue and nerve damage was something he’d be living with forever.

That was the easy part. It was the loss of his military career, of being forced into an early retirement that made him cringe. He felt old, used up and put out to pasture. At forty two, he’d spent more of his life in the military than out. During the past year, having surgery after surgery, with more physical therapy than any one person should have to endure, he’d tolerated the other kind of therapy too.

Of course, his medical leave would be ending soon, and it would be decision time. Go back and ride a desk, pushing papers around while other men, no more than kids, went headlong into danger. Or…he could embrace civilian life. Those were the choices he'd been given. It wasn't much of a choice.

Initially, he’d resented it. After a time, he’d come to see its purpose. Being out in the world, things worked differently than they did in the military, and he was adjusting to it, but it damned sure wasn’t easy.

Without fatigues and a gun, it was like walking naked into a room full of strangers. He’d spent the entirety of his twenties and most of his thirties on army bases or in war zones. The fluffy pastry shop seemed foreign to him, but that was only one of the reasons he’d avoided it. He had a few more.

A woman emerged from the back of the shop then, her red hair pinned up in some elaborate style that reminded him of old movies. He took one look at her and was instantly, painfully hard. With the physical toll of the surgeries and the painkillers, the exhaustion of therapy and, he was willing to admit it, a raging pity party, his libido had tanked. He’d accepted this as just a part of it, until he came back to Falls Creek and ran into Lexi Flynn.

One look at her and his libido had come back to raging life. It happened every time he saw her. He couldn’t even look at her without feeling all the blood rush south. War zones he could handle. Bullets, bombs, screaming superiors and an entire country wanting his head on a plate, that he could cope with and not even raise a sweat. One curvy redhead and he felt ready to run for the hills.

Try as he might, he couldn’t look away from her. She was what his aunt would’ve described as plump. He didn’t have a word to describe her other than beautiful. Smoking hot also came to mind. Lush. Sexy. Sweeter than any of the desserts she baked. That line of thought wasn’t helping him to keep his embarrassingly apparent boner in check.

Moving forward, he stood close enough to the counter to provide camouflage.
She’s just a woman.
Of course, he was a man who hadn’t had sex with another person outside of his imagination in a long ass time. The fact she had breasts and a pulse made it even harder to deal with.

That wasn’t really a fair assessment, he thought. She had amazing breasts—large, full, supported by industrial strength lingerie and perfectly displayed beneath a T-shirt that was snug in all the right places.
Look at her face, Donnelly, before you blow more than just the job.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you come in,” she said breathlessly.

She had one of those voices. A sexy,
I just rolled out of bed from doing very naughty things
type of voice. The southern drawl was just icing on the cake.

Watching her place the stacks of pastry boxes on the counter, her movement hypnotized him. Sway, shimmy, jiggle. God above, he was dying. “Sorry,” he managed, his own voice cracking like a teenager. Clearing his throat, he continued, “I'm here to do the estimate for the kitchen renovation.”

She smiled then, a slight curving of her lips. “It’s good that you're working with Jess! I worry about him.”

Morgan nodded. The truth of the matter was, his uncle was helping him more than the other way around. There weren't too many employers who would be as understanding about all the limitations he faced or the fact that those limitations came with a certain amount of unpredictability. Uncomfortable with the topic, he just nodded.

“You know, Morgan, you’ve been back home for months and I think this is the first time I’ve even gotten to speak to you! That’s an absolute shame!”

“Yes, ma’am.” The ma’am was instinct. Twenty plus years in the military had taught him to be polite out loud, even while being a total pervert on the inside. It made him nervous when he realized she knew who he was.

“I didn’t think about it when I called...I didn’t realize you’d be working with him,” she uttered all this with a slight, concerned furrow of her perfectly arched eyebrows. “It won’t be awkward for you, will it? I mean, yes, Ashley is my sister, but she’s hardly ever here at the shop.”

And there was the other reason he’d avoided Lexi Flynn. He hadn’t changed her diapers, but it’d been damned close. Ashley Flynn had been his girlfriend when he was a junior and she was a freshman. At the time, the woman who now stood before him had been a cherubic four year old.
Fucking pervert.

He’d dated Ashley for almost three years, but their relationship hadn’t even survived his six weeks in basic. He’d come home to find her making out with his best friend. It’d been a blow to his fragile nineteen year old ego, but after a while, he realized it was for the best. They were both just too damned young.

Over the years, he’d realized Ashley wasn’t cut out for the life of an Army wife. Moving her away from family and friends, or worse, moving her to a newer and shittier apartment every few years would have killed their relationship anyway.

Struggling for something to say, “No, that’s not a problem. Water under the bridge.”

“Well that’s good. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable here. I had such a crush on you back then—it broke my heart when you went away. I named my cabbage patch doll after you!”

“Well, now I feel old as hell.”

Another laugh from her. Jesus, it sounded like tinkling bells or something. Then she gave him a wink. He didn’t even know that women did that anymore.

“You’re only as old as you feel, Morgan, and lord knows you still look good.”

He was seriously out of the loop. Having spent more than a decade collectively in countries where women couldn’t even speak to him without a public flogging or worse, he couldn’t be sure, but he thought maybe she was actually flirting with him. “Umm, thanks.”
Smooth, Donnelly, smooth.

~*~*~

Lexi ducked her head, her old shyness creeping to the forefront. For the most part, she loved her body, even though there was more of it than was socially acceptable. It had taken her a long time to get there, to feel she could be beautiful without looking like a stick. There were times, though, when the insecurity crept back in.

She hadn’t really intended to flirt with Morgan Donnelly. Men who looked like him—lean, hard and chiseled—usually weren’t into girls whose dress sizes were in the double digits. “Come on back to the kitchen and I’ll show you the area that needs work.”

Lexi could feel him behind her. When she’d known him before, she’d only understood he was handsome because she’d heard her mother and her sister call him that. She’d worshipped him because he’d been kind to her. Now, she could see exactly what her mother and sister had been talking about. His dark hair had gone salt and pepper, but his green eyes were still vivid.

Dark, swarthy, sexy, probably uninterested and most definitely off limits. Dating a sister’s ex, even decades later, was just creepy.

Opening the kitchen door, she crossed the room to a small door. “It’s convenient being able to access the upstairs from here, but there’s an exterior entrance that I can use instead. I need to find some way to convert this into usable storage.”

Stepping back, she watched him size up the doorframe and the stairwell. He looked thoughtful and intense. And hot.
Get it together, Lex. Your ovaries do not get to drive the bus!
Pulling herself into some semblance of order and out of her estrogen induced fog , she realized he was speaking.

“I can tear out the stairwell and put in dry wall to build a pantry. You want custom shelving?”

Lexi looked around at the kitchen. The pressed tin ceilings and the ornate woodwork were a luxury, but they made her happy. “Can you make it pretty?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like the rest of the woodwork in here?” She felt stupid even asking the question, but she liked it and that was what she wanted.

“Do I have to paint it pink?”

She raised one of her perfectly arched eyebrows at his tone. “Well, what other color would you suggest?”

He sighed, then shrugged. “Fine. I’ll frame it out in trim to match the existing and I’ll paint it pink...But you’re buying the paint. I’m not walking into a hardware store and asking for that.” A slight smile played about his lips as he spoke.

Lexi stared at his mouth for far longer than she should have, thinking that on another man, one less aggressively masculine, his lips would have been too pretty. Pulling herself out of fantasies that were too pointless for words, she tried to match his light, teasing tone. “They won’t revoke your man card for it!”

He laughed. “They might...I’ll get some estimates for you by Monday.”

“That would be perfect!”

“I’ll need to get some measurements today, so I can calculate the cost of materials, minus the paint.”

“Minus the paint,” she agreed. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some, and whatever the hell it is that smells so good...I’ll take some of that.”

She looked around. “I’ve got some chocolate cupcakes that just came out.”

“No. This is vanilla,” he said.

Lexi felt a blush creep over her fair skin. Not for the first time in her life, she cursed being a red head. “That’s me actually.”

“You smell like vanilla?”

“I spilled some earlier. I’ll get you a chocolate cupcake.”

God, how she wished he actually wanted a piece of her!

~*~*~

Morgan took a moment to digest the phenomenon. A lush, curvy, redhead who possessed the most amazing breasts he’d ever laid eyes on and she smelled like vanilla? Which begged the question, how would she taste?
Whoa! Back that train up. She is off limits.
“I’ll take the coffee to go,” he said.

Her smile faded a little. “Sure. I’ll get it for you.”

Forcing himself to focus on a safer topic, he asked, “You sure you want to give up interior access to the upstairs?” He watched her move around in the kitchen, making a fresh pot of coffee which made him feel a little guilty since she was only making it for him.

“No. I mean, it’s convenient to be able to go from the shop to my apartment without going outside, but I just don’t know how to make it work otherwise.”

“You live upstairs?” From what he knew of bakeries, they started work early. The idea of her traipsing up and down exterior stairs, standing outside in the dark unlocking doors, didn’t sit well with him.

“Yes.” Her bright smile appeared again. “It’s a fantastic space. Tall ceilings, incredible woodwork, more of the pressed tin ceilings, and this old claw foot tub. I swear that thing is the primary reason I bought this building.”

He’d mentally checked out at claw foot tub. An image of her wearing nothing but bubbles and that smile was burning itself into his mind.
Too young, too sweet, too naive,
his conscience was shouting, but his dick was just not listening.

Forcing himself to look away from her, to stop picturing her naked, he took a deep breath and let it out. “Give me a day or two to think about this. I might be able to come up with something that would let you keep the door and still get some storage space out of this.”

“Oh, that would be awesome!” She handed him a cup of steaming coffee and a little white box tied with a pink bow.

Morgan took the cup, and their hands touched. Her skin felt as soft as it looked. That slight touch was like an electric shock. He felt it everywhere. “Thanks for the coffee,” he mumbled, “I’ll see you around.”

His exit from her little shop was the hastiest retreat of his life. Making a beeline for the truck, he climbed in and found his uncle drinking a cup of coffee and playing a game on his cell phone.

After he got in, Jess put his phone away and started the engine. The local hardware store had just finished with loading lumber and drywall into the bed of the truck for him. Apparently, his expression looked dark enough for even Jess to pick up on it. “You're in a mood. Was Ashley in there? Figured you'd be long over that by now.”