Chapter 8
Was there anything more rip-your-clothes-off hot than envisioning making love for the first time to the man sitting across from you?
Well, there was the actual sex, but Jill would get to that.
Her thigh brushed Brian’s muscular leg as he continued to talk through those seductive, bow-shaped lips. She imagined them trailing down her neck and going lower, nipping at her heated skin as her hands curved around his corded back, then trailed over his washboard abs.
He sucked in a breath. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” she flirted back, reaching for his hand and stroking the palm with her newly manicured vixen-red thumb.
“Like you don’t know. Seriously, you’re killing me. Right here in your damn coffee shop. You should call it Don’t Toy With Me instead of Don’t Soy With Me. Jesus.” He shifted in his seat, the hard line of his mouth pronounced.
This man was toast—and she was going to be the butter. She’d studied the Kama Sutra all week until she knew it as well as the Gettysburg Address. Whether or not her body could twist into the “Splitting-the-Cicada” position like a Cirque de Soleil performer was another matter.
“Sorry.” Brian tucked one of her corkscrew red curls behind her ear, his brilliant Bengal-tiger blue eyes soft and slumberous. Everything in her core settled into peace and certainty.
“I love you, you know,” she uttered in a low voice, following her heart. Saying it today, before they had sex, seemed important somehow.
His eyes narrowed a fraction, but he rallied by raising her hand to his lips. “That’s a pretty important thing to say in a coffee shop,” he tried to joke.
Her heart squeezed like it was a piece of meat on the grill clutched by his metal tongs. So, he wasn’t ready to say it back. Well, he would in time. Hadn’t he been showing her how much he cared over the past week?
“Let’s get back to our plans.” Brian held her hand while he resumed talking.
Her mind drifted to the emerald green negligee she’d selected for tonight. Aromatherapy candles would light their first steps into passion, give the room an exotic touch of musk.
“Are you even listening?” Brian angled his head closer to hers. The overhead lights illuminated his dark eyelashes.
“Of course,” she lied, her heart beating like she’d sucked down too many espressos. “Don’t I always?”
His snort had her skin cooling. Jill settled back, watching his fingers caress the rough plans they’d drawn up for the restaurant. They weren’t discussing anything controversial today, just the layout. After what had happened on the Valentine picnic, they were dancing around their differences. Brian had gone to see Morty’s place a few days ago while she was working, and he’d liked it. Thank God Morty wasn’t planning on putting the space on the market for over month. Plenty of time for her and Brian to work out their creative differences, right?
Her mind drifted back to that afternoon. His touch on her core, the sun warm on her face, the deep convulsions in her body. My God, she was going to experience it all again—tonight. It was going to be so much better with him. Her thighs contracted.
His hands clapped in her face. “Earth to Jill. What is wrong with you today? You’re more spacey than usual.”
Because Sex, Sex, Sex was flashing through her mind like gaudy lights at a sleazy Vegas strip club. “Words to make any girl’s heart pitter patter, Bri.”
“You don’t want me to talk normally to you anymore?”
“A little romance would be nice.” She toyed with the crystal on her necklace. She’d dug into her top dresser for the black box holding the heart-shaped one he’d given her for graduation, but she hadn’t been able to put it on. To her, it still symbolized the end of their friendship. She didn’t want to jinx their happiness by wearing it yet.
He rolled his eyes. “Listen, if we’re going to work together, I can’t be Casanova and Wolfgang Puck at the same time.”
Now she snorted. “No, you have much better hair.”
“Okay, smart ass, as I was saying, I need more space in the kitchen.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” She ran a finger down his blue V-neck sweater. God, flirting with him and knowing where it was going to lead made her feel bold and sexy.
He swatted her hand aside, putting a damper on her enjoyment. “Jillie, you can’t negotiate like that if we’re seriously going to form a business partnership.” He blew steam from his coffee before sipping it. “I mean it.”
“You’re so stern. Why can’t you have fun with this?”
“Because sex and business don’t mix well. Trust me I…”
Her butt scooted to the edge of her seat. “Do I hear the voice of experience talking?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, adding a sugar cube to his macchiato with incredible concentration. “You’re like a horny teenager. I need your mind on our ideas—and nothing else—when we’re working. We can have fun after. This will only work if we can keep business and pleasure separate.”
Perhaps they needed to have fun so she could stop being horny. “Fine.” She grabbed the hand-drawn design. “What do you want?”
“Six more feet for the cooler.”
Her heels dug in like an oak tree extending its roots. “I need space for the office. I am not working in a cracker jack box.”
“You can use your office here.”
“No, I want to be on site.” With you.
“Doesn’t make sense. You can shuttle back and forth.”
It usually delighted her the way his brows framed his brilliant eyes. Right now, the line in between them made her want to shred her signature lime green and black napkins into tiny pieces and throw them in the air like confetti.
“I’ll split the space with you, Bri. It’s the best I can do.”
“A measly three feet? That’s impossible.”
The disagreements were giving her an ulcer. Not much had changed since the picnic—even though they were both trying to compromise. The Brian Groupie in her wanted to give in—like she had about a monochromatic scheme, which she hated—but she just couldn’t do it.
“Give it up, McConnell. That’s the best you’re getting.”
“Fine, but when we don’t have enough food to feed everyone, Red, I’m going to remind you of this moment.”
Her fingers squeezed the bridge of her nose—hard. Brian was sipping his espresso, watching everyone but her. They had to find a shared vision. Deep inside she knew they’d fail if they couldn’t find some common ground.
Her nerves increased. Suddenly, having sex with him didn’t seem as daunting as opening a restaurant together. Her mind pinged back to Mac Maven’s mysterious offer. He’d called again to check in with her, pouring on the charm, but not too hard. She’d told him she was pursuing a business with her childhood friend, but had Meredith been right from the beginning? Was opening a place together putting too much strain on her relationship with Brian?
The bell chimed, announcing a customer. She was a newcomer—and a stunning one. Her honey-blond hair seemed to bounce lovingly around her exotic face. A cliff diver could have committed suicide off her cheekbones, and her movie-star almond eyes shone in gold and cherry-wood tones. Her full-length black mink wasn’t buttoned—a dangerous choice given all the Colorado environmentalists—exposing a red dress clinging to a frame that should only have been possible with accompanying air brush fairies. The matching four-inch red heels were totally impractical in winter and left snowmelt dots all across the walnut floor.
Jill’s sigh bordered on a wheeze. Oh, to be so beautiful—even in your forties like that woman. She had to be a California transplant. In a roomful of casually dressed patrons, she looked like she belonged on Rodeo Drive.
Jill stood to introduce herself.
Brian grabbed her hand. “Where are you going?”
“New customer.” She inclined her chin.
He jerked like he’d been electrocuted. His color went from normal to white to green in one second flat. She’d only seen this happen three times. When he’d broken his leg skiing. When he’d told her his parents were getting divorced. And when he’d stopped CPR on Jemma.
“Bri-yan,” the woman singsonged out in a sultry French accent. She sashayed toward them like a glittery Christmas ornament.
Brian dropped Jill’s hand like it was a hot potato and stood. Venus incarnate reached over and grabbed his face, kissing him ardently.
Jill felt her mouth fall open like a bad cartoon character’s. When the woman’s tongue swiped at Brian’s lips, she straightened to her full five foot ten inches. She tapped the woman on the shoulder as Brian’s hands finally pushed her back.
“Simca!” Brian stuttered, breathing hard.
“You know her?” Jill asked. It was a stupid question after that kiss, but it was the only thing she could think to say.
The woman’s perfect red lips curved into a knowing smile. “We were involved. In New York. Brian, I told you I was coming.”
He’d been in touch with this goddess? Her hand gripped the chair. “You were?” She looked at Brian for confirmation, but his eyes were fixed on the mystery woman.
“Yes. He did not tell you?”
“No, he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend.” And this omission felt like a betrayal.
He looked from Simca back to her, his pupils wide. “Well…that wasn’t…what I called her. Jill…I’m sorry.”
As an explanation, it sucked. Why did he think he could withhold vital information about an ex, particularly an ex who was coming for a visit? An apology improved nothing.
Simca linked her arm through his. “In my country, we don’t use childish descriptions. We were lovers.”
“Jill…” Brian broke off, rubbing his throat.
Seeing him with this gorgeous, blond woman—so much prettier than she was—made all the old insecurities rear their head, just like when he’d chosen perky blond Kelly Kimple over her.
After a few seconds of silence, the woman tsked. “Ah, Brian, you are overcome at seeing me again. Let me introduce myself to your friend. I’m Simone Moreau. My closest friends call me Simca.”
How could he not have told her about this woman? And she was older! Jill’s spinning mind conjured up images of the two of them together. So not what she needed.
“How did you meet?” she made herself ask. Part of her wanted to know. The other part…
Brian cleared his throat. “Simca was…ah…one of my restaurant bosses.”
“Really? I seem to remember you saying a restaurateur’s life was mostly for men.” She turned to Simca. “I take it you’re an owner, not a chef?”
“No, I am a chef, too.” She settled comfortably against Brian’s side like a French Barbie and her American Ken doll.
Becoming aware of all the stares focused on them, Jill broke out in a blush. In a small town like Dare, the news would travel as fast as a forest fire. Her questions would have to wait.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Jill muttered through tingling lips.
The woman’s gold bracelets clicked together. “Brian, let’s go somewhere and catch up. I’ve missed you so much.”
Jill ran into an empty table before sailing out of her shop. She listened for the door chimes to ring again as her boots slapped the sidewalk. Surely, Brian was coming after her.
When nothing rang except the ding to Smith’s Hardware, tears gathered in her eyes. Dammit. She would not cry over him again. She’d get mad instead. Let the pain sear through her like a hot poker, heating her freezing body. He’d lied about having someone special. Hell, he’d invited her here. And to top it all off, she was an older, beautiful French woman with a sultry accent.
She felt like a fool. The new life she’d spun for them might as well have been made of toothpicks.