They spent the afternoon in bed, getting up only to retrieve the fresh-baked clafoutis which they ate right there on the sheets, naked in the afternoon sun. Grayson had never tasted anything like it—or her. Sweet and rich and utterly tempting.

What was it about this woman? He was barely done kissing her before he needed another fix, still lying panting in her arms when his body hardened, craving more.

She was dangerously addictive, and he couldn’t get enough.

It was dusk before he finally relinquished his hold on her soft curves and rolled away from her. He got out of bed, stretching. Damn, but he felt good.

“What time is it?” he asked, hunting for his watch. He found it discarded on the floor and checked the time. Almost six. He was running late, but he guessed time flew when you were having the best sex of your life. “I guess you should be getting back to your place then,” he said, and Summer sat up and looked at him, blinking in surprise.

“Wait, are you kicking me out of bed right now?”

Grayson averted his eyes. Her hair was tumbling in dark curls over her naked shoulders, and her lips were still rosy from his kisses. Desire tightened in him again, and it took all his self-control not to roll her back into the sheets and show her just how much he wanted her, how he was already consumed with lust again, still sweaty from the last round, but needing her just as much as the first day they met.

He got up and pulled on his jeans, hunting for a fresh shirt in his closet. When he finally turned around again, Summer was still sprawled there, looking far too tempting.

“I’m sorry, but it’s poker night,” he explained. “The guys do it every month at the bookstore. They’re probably already waiting for me.”

“So let them wait.” Summer beckoned him playfully. “I have plans for you.”

Grayson stifled a groan. Was this woman sent to test him?

“Can’t,” he said. He found Summer’s dress on the floor, her lacy panties nearby. He placed them carefully on the bed. “It’s a standing date. You understand.”

She looked at him like he’d spoken in a foreign language, but Grayson didn’t buckle. He couldn’t. He’d already blown off work, played hooky, and spent the afternoon in bed, all because he couldn’t keep his hands off her—or resist that heart-stopping smile. He had to draw the line somewhere, and god help him, he was drawing right there.

Summer blinked again. “Okaay,” she said, and slowly began to dress. “You clearly have your priorities mixed up, but that’s alright,” she added with a mischievous smile. “You’ll learn.”

She tugged her dress on and bounced to her feet, leaning up to kiss Grayson. “You could have kept me naked and moaning for the rest of the night,” she murmured in his ear, “but instead, you get to drink warm beer and lose at cards. Think about that.”

She nipped his earlobe lightly, sending a bolt of lust through his body, and then she was gone, dancing out of his reach and heading for the door, hips swaying. “Have fun!” she called behind her, before disappearing down the hallway.

Grayson heard the front door slam.

What had just happened?

He made the wrong call, that’s what.

No, he corrected himself, straightening up the room again. He’d done the right thing. Plans were made for keeping, no matter what tempting distractions were beckoning him to bed. But it was fine. Under control. He could enjoy the woman’s company without it sending his whole life into disarray. That’s what dating was, after all: a dinner here, a late-night drink there. Sure, he felt like he lost his mind every time she looked at him with that dazzling smile, and when she touched him—

Grayson gripped the pillow harder.

God, when she touched him . . .

The memories rushed, hot in his mind. The feel of her bare skin under his mouth. The clench of her body around him. And the way she looked when he took her over the edge, like constellations were igniting in her eyes . . .

His pulse was already racing at the memories, and Grayson didn’t like that one bit. All things in moderation, he’d told himself for years. And here he was, wanting all of her, everything, right this minute. He hadn’t felt this way since—

Rhiannon.

He stopped. It had been years, but the thought of her still sent a prickle of shame creeping down his spine. He’d told Summer the bare bones version of things, but the truth was, it had taken him years to dig himself out of the mess he’d made. The debt, the loans, the wasted opportunities—if he could take it all back, he would in a heartbeat. Grab his younger self by the collar and shake some sense into him. No woman was worth the trouble, no matter how pretty she was, or how sweet she could be . . .

As long as she was getting her way, at least.

They’d met his second year in university. She was a waitress at the bar nearby, the one all his mates drooled over on a Friday night. He’d felt like the big man on campus the night he’d finally charmed her into giving him her number, but it turned out, she was the one who was wrapping him around his little finger, one kiss at a time. She had a taste for expensive things, and Grayson wanted to be the man to give it all to her: fancy dinners and luxury gifts, even trips away, too. His student loan didn’t get them far, but what was he doing wasting his time in college when he could be out earning a real wage instead? It seemed so easy to drop out, rent a flat for the two of them to live together, and if his wages didn’t cover things, well, that was what credit cards were for.

Looking back, he couldn’t believe how reckless he’d been—throwing his future away just to sweep her off her feet. But he’d been so crazy for her he didn’t know up from down. Blinded with lust, he hadn’t seen the mess he’d been making . . . until the house of cards came tumbling down and Rhiannon hit the road, leaving him to realize just what a fool he’d been.

And now here he was, panting for a woman all over again.

Grayson forced himself to take another breath. This was different. Summer couldn’t be more different to Rhiannon, he knew that. She was honest and independent and determined to make her own mark on the world. But still, he couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of his mind, reminding him just how dangerous it was to get swept away with desire.

He had to be careful. When Summer touched him, the world could burn to ash around them, and he wouldn’t even notice the blaze. Which is why he needed to get a grip on this fever, and soon.

Starting with a very cold shower.

He hated to be late, but the guys would understand. He was in no state to drive.

* * *

Summer walked home with her bags of produce swinging from her shoulders and a feeling of rejection that she just couldn’t shake. Maybe it was her ego being dented, just a little, but she figured that once a man had her naked in his bed with the promise of a night to come, he might want to figure a way to keep her there—not send her packing out the door like a visitor who’d outstayed her welcome.

OK, she was exaggerating. Grayson had been perfectly polite—and maybe that was what riled her so. Only moments before, he’d been thrusting deep inside her, wild and abandoned, then suddenly, he flipped a switch, and the careful, controlled Grayson was back. Call her crazy, but she preferred the one sending her to heaven and back with every stroke of his hard, lean body.

Still, Summer couldn’t stay annoyed long, not when her limbs ached with a sweet exhaustion from their afternoon rolling in his sheets. The sun was sinking over the orchard when she arrived back at the bakery. She had just opened the back door and heaved her fruits and vegetables onto the counter when her phone rang.

“Hey Poppy,” she said, happily answering. A strawberry rolled free and she couldn’t resist taking a bite, the sweet flavor immediately taking her back to Grayson’s bedroom and that clafoutis he’d fed her, naked in the sheets.

“. . . maybe come over in a half hour?”

Summer snapped out of her memories. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

Poppy laughed. “Let me guess, you’re deep in a recipe? You zone out the way I do when I’m writing a chapter.”

“Something like that.” Summer smiled and put everything away. “You said something about a girls’ night?”

“At the new house. Our house,” Poppy added, “Although it feels weird to have an ‘ours.’ Cooper’s got a poker thing with his buddies, so we’ve got the run of the place.”

“Oh yes, Grayson’s there too.”

“And how do you know how your landlord is spending his Saturday nights?” Poppy asked, and Summer couldn’t keep the smile from her voice.

“Well . . .”

Poppy squealed. “I knew it! I knew that staid routine of his was just an act. Now you have to come and spill all the details.”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” Summer said primly, and Poppy snorted.

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t see any ladies around. Come meet us at the new house. I’m picking up a platter of seafood from the harbor and Mackenzie’s bringing the wine.”

Summer’s stomach growled. “Sounds like a date.”

She quickly showered and threw on some jeans and her favorite comfy sweatshirt. She had a couple of packages of cookie dough chilling in the fridge she’d planned to bake tomorrow, but what the hell: it was practically illegal to show up to girls’ night without some sweet treats. She drove the short distance down through town, looking forward to some much-needed girl talk. She had to admit, having her best friend so close was a wonderful part of her new life in Sweetbriar. Back in the city, they’d lived ten blocks apart, but barely snatched the odd coffee or movie night in between Summer’s crazy restaurant schedule and Poppy’s deadlines. They’d seen more of each other in the weeks since she’d arrived in town than they had all year, and Summer had a feeling she’d be needing her friend’s romance writer expertise when it came to deciphering Grayson’s mixed messages.

“What did you bring?” Poppy greeted her at the door with an excited look. She sniffed the air. “Cake? Chocolate? Tell me you brought chocolate, I’m PMS-ing like crazy over here.”

Summer laughed. “Great to see you too,” she teased, hugging Poppy and following her inside. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you only love me for my cookies. If I quit to become an accountant, you’d drop me in a shot.”

“Never,” Poppy vowed, then shot her a hopeful look. “Does that mean you brought cookies?”

“Double-chocolate chunk, just the way my baby likes.” Summer gave her a wink.

“You’re so good to me.” Poppy beamed. “Come on back. Mackenzie’s already opened the wine and we’re christening the new deck.”

Summer followed her through the house. Cooper had renovated the place himself, and they’d just started moving pieces in. “I can’t believe you get to live here,” she said, looking around. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

“I know. The house . . . the man . . . I feel like I woke up in one of my happy endings,” Poppy smiled. “I just have to hope there’s no last-minute plot twist and it turns into a Game of Thrones book.”

“Executions and orgies with old dudes in the woods?”

“And you know how I hate the cold,” Poppy agreed.

“But think of all the hot Stark brothers.” Mackenzie joined them, coming in from the deck. She had a glass of wine in one hand and a lobster roll in the other. “Sorry, couldn’t resist starting. Put buttered carbs in a fifty-foot radius, and I won’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

“I knew I liked you.” Summer laughed. “Let me just throw these cookies in the oven, and I’ll get catching up.” With the dough already mixed, it only took her a moment to get them on a baking sheet and rejoin the party on the back deck—which of course was drop-dead gorgeous, with sweeping views of the bay.

“Here.” Mackenzie put a glass in her hand and poured. “For the chef.”

“Cheers.”

They toasted, and Summer relaxed in a chair while Poppy fixed them some plates of lobster rolls and salad. “So what have you been up to?” Poppy asked. “I bet you’ve been baking around the clock.”

“Almost,” Summer agreed, sipping her wine. “But I did take some time off this afternoon . . . to give Grayson a little lesson.”

And then Grayson had given her one in exchange—a thorough demonstration of just what a real man could do in the bedroom. Summer tried to keep her smile off her face, but clearly, she wasn’t fooling anyone, because Poppy gave a little squeal.

“I knew it! You’re all glowy. Either that, or you’re using a new moisturizer.”

“No face cream.” Summer allowed her grin to spread. “Just some . . . rest and relaxation.”

“Sure. Rest.” Poppy grinned. “All that sexual tension between you, and you did nothing but nap.”

Summer laughed. “You know me, I love to nap.”

Mackenzie looked back and forth between them and laughed. “First Cooper, now Grayson. At this rate, there won’t be a single man in Sweetbriar by the end of summer.”

“We’ll find you someone,” Poppy said, supportive, but Mackenzie just snorted.

“That wasn’t a hint, believe me. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do with a guy around,” she added, topping up her glass. “I’ve got my own thing going on, and I like it. A man would just get in the way.”

“They have some uses,” Poppy protested, and Summer grinned.

“Sure they do.”

“I meant lifting heavy things,” Poppy said primly, the picture of innocence. “Changing tires, fixing the sink.”

“I can do all that on my own.” Mackenzie shrugged. “Anyway, this isn’t about me,” she added, turning back to Summer. “Does this mean the man of steel actually has a squishy beating heart under those stern looks?”

“He’s not that bad!” Summer laughed.

“What?” Poppy interrupted. “You were the one complaining about his strong, silent routine.”

“OK, so I was wrong about him,” Summer admitted. “He’s . . .”

She trailed off, searching for the right word. But the truth was, even though she’d seen a different side to Grayson now—a warmer, more passionate side—she still wasn’t quite sure about the pieces that made up his puzzle of a personality. He was stern and silent, and a stickler for the rules—as his swift switch that evening had proven.

“He’s complicated,” she settled on at last. “I haven’t got him figured out just yet. He’s definitely a man of many layers. Even now, I still don’t know where we stand,” she admitted, feeling that rejection again—a sting of insecurity she tried her best to ignore. “But that’s OK,” she insisted loudly. “I mean, it’s early days. Not everything has to be labeled or official.”

“But you like him,” Mackenzie said. It was a statement, not a question.

Summer nodded. “I like him,” she repeated softly. It wasn’t just the chemistry between them now, there was something more. Spending time with him, peeling back those layers he kept so carefully guarded, and most of all, she liked how she felt with him.

Adventurous. Free.

Herself.

“So, there’s no need to rush things,” Summer said again, trying to convince herself. “I’m in no hurry. I just took out a lease—it’s not like I’m going anywhere soon.”

Except back to Grayson’s bed.

She snapped her thoughts away. “The cookies!” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. She half got up, but Poppy shooed her back into her seat.

“I’ll get them, you stay here.”

“Wait, we need more wine,” Mackenzie added, and followed her into the house.

For a moment, Summer was left alone on the deck. She couldn’t resist pulling her phone out, her fingers pausing on the screen. It was a wicked thought, but she wanted to remind him of the hours they spent tangled up in each other’s arms. And maybe drive him to distraction, too.

I can still feel you, she typed out, then hit send before she could chicken out.

A second later, the bubble of ellipses appeared on her screen. He was typing a reply. Then it disappeared. And reappeared. And disappeared again.

Whatever he was writing, he was thinking twice about sending it in the end.

Summer tried not to feel disappointed. She should have guessed the taciturn Brit wasn’t one for naughty texts.

“Busted,” Poppy’s voice came beside her, and Summer yelped.

“You scared me!”

“Sorry.” Poppy grinned, setting down the plate of fresh-baked cookies. “Let me guess, you’re getting in some hot and heavy text action.”

“Not exactly.” Summer tucked her phone away. Enough obsessing. Who needed Grayson when she had her friends, a bottle of wine, and double-chocolate chunk delight to keep her happy?

And at least he had something to think about now.