10
Declan was off his game.
From the minute he’d arrived at Sage to prep for dinner service, everything was coming up wrong. The show-stopper gorgonzola soufflé batter wouldn’t rise. The flatbreads were more like wafers, and as for his soup? It turned out he’d tossed in cinnamon instead of cumin, and the whole batch was ruined. He was cooking like some novice who’d never stepped foot in a kitchen, and it was all because of one woman.
Paige Bennett.
The good girl who kissed like a femme fatale. The sweetheart who somehow got his heart pounding like he couldn’t even remember. And as for what she did to the rest of his body . . .
All the bracing cold showers in the world couldn’t cool the lust that still surged through him, remembering the feel of her hot mouth pressed against him in that pool, and the sight of her emerging from the water, water running over those curves in their wet, sinful peach silk.
A gentleman would have looked away, but damn, Declan was only human.
“Everything OK, chef?” One of his sous-chefs, Kyle, eyed him nervously.
“Fine!” Declan barked, clattering his pans heavily on the stove. “Toss this, and start over. And this time, check the damn seasoning.”
“Yes, chef!” Kyle gulped, and hurried off to the walk-in refrigerator.
“Was that really necessary?” Jenny swung by with a coolly arched eyebrow.
Declan glared at her. She simply smiled back. “I’m just saying, Kyle is marginally less useless than the rest of your assistants. What happens if he quits on you?”
Declan exhaled. Damnit. She was right. He’d always sworn not to turn into one of those dictatorial nightmares, running the kitchen like a prison. “Kyle!” he yelled. The kid poked his head out, looking anxious. “Great knife-work on the veggies,” he said grudgingly. “You can take the meat station tonight, if you want.”
Kyle lit up. “Th . . . thanks, chef.”
“Don’t let me down.”
Declan turned back to Jenny. “Better?”
“Getting there.” She eyed him carefully. “You’re not usually this cranky with your hangovers.”
“I’m not hungover. I’m just . . . not sleeping, that’s all.”
“Go take a break, clear your head. Before the James Beard people call and demand their award back,” Jenny said.
“I have to prep for dinner service.”
Jenny smirked. “Trust me, the way you’re cooking right now, we’re better off without you.” She sailed off before Declan could reply.
He stifled a yawn. Maybe Jenny was right. It had been two days now since that night in the pool with Paige, and for some reason, he’d barely slept a wink. He told himself it was the long hours he’d been pulling in the restaurant messing with his body clock, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He’d had a taste of her now, a tantalizing glimpse of the passion lurking beneath that sweet-as-sugar surface, and his body was screaming for more.
But that didn’t mean he had to give in to the distraction. If anything, he needed to cool his heels until he had some damn control again—which was why he’d held off from calling Paige and setting up another date. He didn’t go panting after women, that wasn’t his style, and he would be damned if this one was going to get under his skin. He needed to focus on what mattered, the restaurant and burnishing his stellar reputation. Which was why he couldn’t let a single one of these dishes leave the kitchen until he had his shit together again.
It was time for that break.
Declan changed tacks and left the night’s menu behind in favor of some staples: lasagna, eggplant parmesan, and an unctuous boeuf bourguignon. Classic dishes he could make with his eyes closed—and his mind a dozen miles away, back in that pool. He would never put something so simple on his own menu, but it was comfort food at its finest, so he packed it into casserole dishes and takeout cartons and loaded up his truck. He drove over to Poppy and Cooper’s place by the beach and tapped on the door, not sure if he was waking the baby.
Aunt June answered, wearing one of her trademark print kaftans that matched her loud personality. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she beamed at him.
“And you look younger every day.” He flashed a smile and leaned in to kiss her cheek. He usually steered clear of the gossips in Sweetbriar, but he had a soft spot for June and her outrageous tales. “I just came by to drop off some food,” he said, holding out the bags.
“Aren’t you sweet? Come on in,” June beckoned. “Cooper’s at the store, and Poppy’s taking a nap, poor dear, so it’s just me and the munchkin.”
“It’s nice of you to help,” he said, following her through to the kitchen.
“Just between us, I have an ulterior motive,” June confided. “I live right next door, and if I can get the baby into a decent sleep schedule, she won’t be waking me, too.”
“Smart move,” Declan laughed, and he began unloading into the refrigerator, which was already stacked with casserole dishes.
“Sounds great,” he said with relief. “I haven’t been sleeping, and I’ve still got the dinner service tonight.”
“Poor baby,” she winked. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I had the most incredible chocolate mousse at your place the other week. It was orgasmic.”
Declan chuckled. June had a bawdy sense of humor, and he was never sure if she was joking or not. “Well, that’s quite a compliment.”
June leaned against the counter and gave him a slow assessing look. “Who are you dating these days, anyway?”
He gave a vague shrug. “You know me . . . I can’t keep track.”
“Is that so?” June’s smile turned knowing. “Because Franny’s niece took her boys to play laser tag the other night, and she could have sworn she saw you there with that nice Bennett girl.”
“Oh yeah?” Declan studied the inside of the refrigerator.
“Yes.” June sounded amused, and when he finally turned back to her, there was a sparkle in her eyes. “Paige, isn’t it? I don’t know her too well, but she seems lovely. Not your usual type at all.”
“I didn’t realize I had a type,” Declan teased, and June laughed.
“No, I suppose not.”
It was just a light comment, but there was something about her tone that made him pause. Everyone seemed to find the idea of him and Paige crazy, and although Declan knew this was just a casual thing for the both of them, it still felt like a veiled insult. Sure, he liked to have fun, but he wasn’t a total cad. “Is this where you warn me off from breaking her heart?” he asked, keeping his tone light. “Because you don’t have to worry, Cal’s already read me the riot act.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” June said. “Lord knows, you’re both adults, and even good girls deserve to have some fun.” Her smile turned nostalgic. “You know, I dated a chef once. Antonio. He was Italian, and the things that man could do with a risotto . . . An artist.”
Declan laughed. Aunt June had a reputation too, as an accomplished man-eater. He suspected his own list of affairs had nothing on hers. “Sounds like fun.”
“Oh yes,” June agreed. “Of course, this was back when I was young and carefree. He started making noise about marriage and babies, so I sent him on his way. I still miss his risotto though,” she added wistfully.
“Well, swing by the restaurant sometime, and I’ll make you some,” Declan offered.
“Careful,” June grinned. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to give Paige a run for her money.”
Declan chuckled, but then a thought occurred to him. If Aunt June already knew the gossip, it would be about five minutes before everyone on the Cape had heard about the date. “June, sweetheart,” he started, flashing her his biggest smile, but June wasn’t fooled for a minute.
“Uh oh,” she laughed. “That look only means one thing . . . You want something, and it doesn’t involve rice.”
Busted.
Declan gave her a sheepish grin. “Could you maybe keep this under wraps? I don’t mind what people say about me, but Paige is pretty private.”
“So there is something going on.” June looked delighted, and Declan didn’t have the heart to correct her. “Say no more, my lips are sealed.”
“Promise?” he checked. “I know what you and the ladies are like when you get stuck into the hooch.”
June cackled. “Cross my heart. Sneaking around is fun, isn’t it?” she added. “If people knew half the things I got up to . . .”
“I can’t even imagine,” Declan said honestly, but he was relieved to have shut down the gossip, at least for a little while. It was like water off his back, hell, he even enjoyed his outsized reputation, but he already knew Paige would hate walking into a room and finding everyone chatting about her personal life. “I owe you one.”
“So do I get any details?” June asked eagerly. “Just between the two of us, of course.”
Declan smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Still, June looked delighted. “Have you cooked for her yet? There’s nothing so attractive as a man who knows his way around the kitchen.”
“Not yet . . .” Declan replied, just as the sound of crying came from the next room.
“Saved by the baby,” June winked.
“I can see myself out.” Declan gulped the last of his coffee and straightened up. “Thanks again. Remember to come by for that meal.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it.”
He headed back outside, pulling out his phone and flipping it over and over in his hand. Paige. This “cooling off” plan wasn’t helping anyone. The hours were ticking past painfully slow, and he felt anything but cool. Besides, now that he had a guarantee of secrecy, they should probably find something for everyone to not gossip about.
When do I get to see the latest designs? he messaged, and a few moments later, the reply came.
That’s pretty forward . . .
I want to see your studio. What did you think I meant?
Paige laughed as she read the message. That’s what all the boys say, she typed back quickly, almost bumping into an old-fashioned lamppost as she strolled down the street in Sweetbriar Cove.
“Are you OK?” a passerby asked as Paige looked up and sidestepped just in time.
“Yes! Thanks! Fine!” Paige blurted, her voice coming out high-pitched. She flushed and kept walking, trying to pull herself together. So, one word from Declan could send her thoughts spinning—to a very X-rated destination, but that didn’t mean she was going to melt into a flustered puddle every time he contacted her. She had a million other things she needed to get done for Aphrodite’s grand opening, and spending her day replaying their last kiss wasn’t on her list.
She crossed the street to the little gallery there and stepped through the door to the sound of a cheery ding from the bell. Eliza had told her about Mackenzie’s store, but Paige was curious to see it for herself. The white, breezy space was busy with tourists browsing the gorgeous ceramics, set out in brightly-colored arrangements on the low tables and display shelves. Mackenzie was busy with some customers, who were oohing and aahing over a set of dishes glazed in deep, cobalt blue, with tiny mermaids and sea monsters painted around the rim.
“They’re just so darn cute,” one of the women said, with a thick Southern accent.
“But . . . is that octopus eating the sailor alive?” The other squinted closer.
“Oh no,” Mackenzie replied breezily. “They’re just . . . hugging.” She caught Paige’s eye and gave her a wink. “But if you like, I have a set with kittens playing with yarn. That might be more your speed.” She steered them over to another display.
Paige grinned, looking closer at the offending sea monster. Definitely eating him alive. In fact, as she examined the other designs in the store more closely, she could see Mackenzie’s quirky sense of humor shining through. And was that . . . ?
“The fall of Troy.” Mackenzie appeared beside her as Paige was admiring a set of salad bowls. “Complete with bloody battle scene.”
“Is it a big seller?” Paige asked.
“You’d be surprised.” Mackenzie grinned. “The overlap between ‘pottery aficionados’ and ‘demented humor’ turns out to be pretty big. Luckily for me,” she said, as the clerk rang up the register with another sale.
“It looks like business is going great,” Paige remarked, as the door dinged another welcome.
“It’s always crazy this time of year,” Mackenzie agreed. She scooped her red, curly hair back into its topknot with the hair tie from her wrist. “Not that I’m complaining,” she added with a grin. “Mama needs a new kiln.”
Paige nodded, taking mental notes. She’d thought about taking a few weeks to get her studio organized and make a real plan for the store, but maybe she would be smarter to open ASAP, and take advantage of the peak season. “Do you have any tips for me?” she ventured. “I’m preparing to open my design studio, and I’m starting from square one as far as the business side of things is concerned. I’d love to pick your brain.”
Mackenzie brightened. “Your lingerie store, of course! Eliza’s told me all about it. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“That would be amazing,” Paige beamed, relieved. She always felt awkward asking for favors. “Just let me know when works for you.”
“How about now?” Mackenzie suggested.
Paige paused. “Are you sure? You seem busy, and I don’t want to put you out.”
“Please.” Mackenzie shrugged. “Julia’s got things under control,” she said, nodding to the teenage clerk minding the register. “And I need a break from the ravenous hoards.”
She led Paige into the back, where there was a large artist’s studio, with an open door leading out to the back patio, filling the room with a cool summer breeze. Mackenzie set the electric kettle on to boil and surveyed a shelf of hand-glazed mugs. “What kind of mood are you in today: roses and sunshine, or volcanic eruptions?”
Paige bit her lip. “It probably sounds pretty lame to say roses and sunshine.”
“Not at all,” Mackenzie exclaimed, setting them out. “To tell the truth, my work’s taken a turn these past months. Ever since Jake moved in, it’s all gamboling fluffy animals. I even did a whole series of heart-shaped salad bowls for Valentine’s. Hearts!” She shook her head in mock-disgust. “And they weren’t even broken and dripping blood, or anything. I’m losing my edge.”
Paige laughed. “You still have it,” she reassured her. “At least, those sea monsters would say so.”
“True.” Mackenzie brightened. “Anyway, what about you? It’s so exciting about your store. I’m a big fan of your designs. So is Jake,” she added with a wink. “In fact, this one purple set . . .” She stopped. “No, wait, that’s way too much information.”
Paige laughed. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, feeling pleased. “I’m doing private fittings now, custom designs, come by any time.”
“Ooh, I’ll have to take you up on that. It’s Jake’s birthday soon,” Mackenzie said. “And this would definitely beat the dinner plates with tiny football players on it that’s literally the only other gift I can think of right now.”
Paige giggled. “I’m guessing maybe.”
Mackenzie poured their tea. “OK, hit me: what do you need to know?”
She took a deep breath. “How about everything?”
They sat on the back patio surrounded by a heap of broken pottery—“long story”—and went through everything to do with Small Business 101. Mackenzie was reassuring, and even dug out some old lists of her own from when she was setting up the store, and soon, Paige felt like the million-plus things on her list weren’t so insurmountable, after all.
“Talk to Debra about your business permit,” Mackenzie added, “she has a way of getting everything fast-tracked. I don’t ask, but I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s having an affair with a guy in the permit office. Or plying him with homemade elderflower wine, at the very least.”
“Debra, got it.” Paige grinned, taking notes.
“Aside from that, I think you’re all covered,” Mackenzie said. “Most of your work will be private commissions, right? So you won’t be dealing with a crazy store, like I am, and need to hire anyone.”
“Oh no,” Paige shook her head. “It’s just me. I already have some regular clients, so I’m just planning to ramp that up and get the word out. I’m hoping they’ll all want to buy more, the way they’re always asking to.”
“Then you should be great.” Mackenzie smiled. “And you won’t have any competition. There aren’t really any fancy clothing designers around here—and there’s definitely no lingerie. Unless you count the big knickers at the maternity store in Plymouth!”
“Definitely not,” Paige laughed, as Mackenzie’s shop assistant appeared in the back doorway.
“Hey, Mac, sorry to interrupt, but someone was asking about the spider collection.”
Mackenzie lit up. “Really? Those guys have been gathering dust all year. Weirdly enough, nobody wants creepy crawlies all over their dinnerware,” she added to Paige.
Paige rose. “I’ll get out of your hair then,” she said. “But thanks so much for all the help. And also, eww.”
Mackenzie laughed. “Anytime! Let me see, I think I have some cockroach bowls back here too . . .” She disappeared into her storeroom, and Paige left her to it, strolling back out into the sunshine of the town square.
It was busy out, with tourists in their beach gear passing through on their way to the shore, and locals catching up in the shade of the leafy oak trees. She was a local too now, Paige realized with a jolt. Her whole life was back in that tiny building now, barely unpacked and waiting for her next step. She’d expected to have pangs of regret by now, to miss her old haunts back in Boston, or be wracked with second thoughts about her impulsive mood, but instead, she still felt that same delicious sparkle of excitement.
She’d barely gotten started with her new life yet, and already, she was doing things she’d never dreamed of.
Like stripping down to her underwear and hurtling into a midnight swimming pool.
Paige smiled and checked her phone again, but there were no new messages from Declan. She forced herself to tuck the handset back in her purse without texting again. After all, he was busy with the restaurant, and she was busy, too. She browsed the stores in Sweetbriar, dropped by the Town Hall to pick up her business license application, and then meandered down the shore road to the beach house.
This time, she didn’t go walking straight in.
“Hello?” she called loudly instead, giving a hefty knock on the door. “It’s Paige. Just giving you warning, I’m going to let myself in now. I’m unlocking the door,” she continued, giving anyone naked inside plenty of time to grab some clothes. “I’m walking into the hall . . .”
“What’s all that yelling?” Eliza wandered in from the back, yawning. She was dressed in a bikini and gauzy wrap, looking sleepy with her hair askew.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Paige asked.
Eliza yawned again. “It’s OK. I was just taking a nap. Why the racket?”
“I didn’t want to take you and Cal by surprise again,” Paige explained, and Eliza laughed.
“It’s all clear back here. He’s in the city for some meetings,” she said. “I was going to call and see if you wanted to hang. It’s just me, the porch swing, and a stack of magazines.”
“Sounds like heaven,” Paige said, torn. She’d only planned on stopping by for a quick visit, and her to-do list was still way too long to take a break.
“I’ve got ice cream,” Eliza added temptingly, and Paige figured what the hell. Her list could wait.
She headed back and joined Eliza on the porch swing with a tub of salted caramel gelato between them. “Fancy,” Paige teased, taking a spoonful. “Whatever happened to store-brand chocolate chip?”
“Cal happened,” Eliza said with a smile. “For the record, I’m still not comfortable with him being so . . .”
“Filthy rich?” Paige offered.
“Well off,” Eliza corrected her with a grin. “But I will say, his snack game definitely beats my cheap taste.”
“Well, that won’t be a problem for much longer, will it?” Paige waggled her eyebrows. “What’s his will be yours . . . when it comes to junk food, of course.”
Eliza snorted. “You think the Prescott pre-nup isn’t five billion pages long? But it doesn’t matter. You know I’d still love him if he were broke. In fact, sometimes, I’d prefer it.”
“Is it hard, being with someone so different?” Paige asked, swirling gelato around her spoon. Sometimes she felt like Eliza was the older sister. After all, she was the one who’d had more adventures and heartbreak than Paige and her safe, steady choices.
Eliza shook her head. “If anything, it’s hard because we’re the same. We’re both stubborn know-it-alls who love to win a fight,” she said with a smile.
“So it’s easier if you’re different from your partner?”
Eliza looked curious. “Is this about Declan?” she asked. “Which, by the way, please notice I managed not to ask about your big date for forty-eight whole hours. I feel like I deserve an award.”
Paige laughed. “You can have a gold star,” she told her.
Eliza beamed. “Well?” she asked. “How was it? Did he sweep you off your feet?”
Paige paused, wondering how much of the night she wanted to share. “It was . . . good,” she said finally.
“Ouch.” Eliza winced. “Well, it was worth a shot.”
“A hot bath is good. New episodes of Grey’s Anatomy are good,” Eliza explained. “You want a smoking hot fling to be epic, and mind-blowing, and ‘oh my God’ amazing. Never mind,” she added, patting Paige on the shoulder. “I could never really see you guys together, for anything other than a wild affair, but if the chemistry’s not there . . .” She shrugged.
The chemistry definitely wasn’t an issue with Declan, but for some reason, Paige found herself staying quiet. She wasn’t ready to talk about the way he made her feel—so reckless and uninhibited. It was one thing taking the leap with him in the privacy of the cool night, alone in the dark with nobody else to know exactly how wild she let herself be, but out here: in the bright sunshine, swinging with her sister? It felt like she was someone else entirely—and she liked to keep it that way.
So, she steered the conversation on, to local gossip and newspaper news. They basked out there together all afternoon, and then retired for pizza and a movie, curled up on the couch like old times. It was almost midnight before Paige finally pulled herself upright. “I better go, before I fall asleep right here.”
“Why don’t you stay?” Eliza suggested. “Your room’s right upstairs.”
Paige shook her head, yawning. “I need to get an early start at the studio, all my materials are still in boxes.”
“And let me guess, you don’t want to go to sleep without your six-part skincare ritual,” Eliza teased.
Paige threw a pillow at her. “You laugh now, but I’ll be the one with a dewy complexion!”
“Eh, I’ll be fine. Mom looks great for her age, so it’s in the genes.”
“Ha!” Paige giggled. “You think that’s genetics? Mom uses more products than anyone!”
She said goodnight and headed out, feeling more familiar on the dark roads now. She was getting to know the landscape here, the curling roads that led to the smaller beach towns and attractions. She noted them as she drove back up through town and up to the highway. That was the way to the bookstore. That lane gently curved to Summer’s bakery. And here . . .
This was the turn to Declan’s restaurant.
Paige turned the wheel on impulse. It was late, she told herself, and he was probably home by now, but some instinct steered her on, and when she pulled up outside the low carriage house and saw the lights still on and his truck alone out front, she smiled.
The night wasn’t over yet.