Chapter Eight
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you told Chloe so much about me. Thank you. That was really beyond nice of you,” Emery said excitedly as Dean drove out of the parking lot.
He glanced at her, meeting her curious gaze. “No problem, doll. It was nothing.”
“No, it wasn’t nothing. It was really thoughtful. I was going to put off working anywhere but at the inn and your resort until I was settled in. Desiree has classes scheduled three mornings a week, and Serena said she was booking the other two mornings for me at the resort. We left open the afternoons until we see how the mornings pan out. I think I can squeeze in an additional client or two one or two afternoons a week. Chloe is going to see if she can get authorization for me to start working with one of the residents. And there were other residents who I could tell would benefit from working with me. Just talking about working with people who really need my help got my blood pumping.”
Her voice escalated, and he stole a glance at her, thrilled that she wasn’t upset with him for pushing her in that direction.
She reached across the seat and touched his arm. “I really mean it, Dean. Thank you for everything.”
Her hand slid from his arm, and it took all of his willpower not to grab her hand and hold on tight. Emery was generally a happy person, but right now she was radiant.
“We’re not done yet.” He nodded toward the stack of flyers on the seat between them. “Let’s go distribute those and see what else you can line up.”
“No way. You said you had to work, and you’ve done enough for me today.” She flashed an effervescent smile. “What’s next on your agenda?”
“You,” he said, biting back an even more sexually charged response.
Her cheeks flushed, and a soft laugh slipped from her lips. “I meant next on your workday agenda.”
“Darn,” he said teasingly, and headed for Cape Stone, to choose the hardscape materials for the new patio at the resort.
Emery sang along to the radio on the way. Every once in a while she’d look at Dean while she sang sexy lyrics, and he found himself confused by her seductive and playful smiles. He wanted to believe each one was meant just for him, but knowing Emery, the emotions of the song were simply playing out in her expressions.
He was sure that one day they’d be meant solely for him.
One day couldn’t come soon enough.
Half an hour later they walked into the Cape Stone showroom, a hardscaper’s heaven. As Emery took in the displays of stone fountains, pillars, fireplaces, and other design samples, Blaine Wicked approached. Blaine’s whole family worked in the building industry on the Cape. He and his brother Justin owned Cape Stone, while his father and two other brothers specialized in renovations. Blaine was a dead ringer for actor James Marsden, from his dark, always-tousled hair to his shockingly blue eyes and playful nature. His gaze raked appreciatively down the length of Emery’s body.
Dean moved his hand possessively to Emery’s lower back before his competition reached them. Blaine’s gaze shifted to Dean, and a quick raise of his chin told Dean his she’s-taken message was received loud and clear.
“How’s it going, Dean?” Blaine asked, passing a friendly smile to Emery and keeping his eyes respectfully on hers.
“Blaine,” Dean said. “This is Emery Andrews. I want to get her opinion on a few things. Mind if we use one of the worktables?”
“Hi.” Emery smiled, and he swore the room lit up like the sun had come out.
He wanted to bottle up that smile and keep it all to himself, but he wasn’t that much of a possessive jerk. Or at least he had never been before. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Nice to meet you,” Blaine said. “Is this guy getting all your dirty work done?”
Dean glared at Blaine.
“Not yet,” Emery said. Then her eyes narrowed, and she said, “But he definitely has strong hands and the right tools for the job,” with enough sass to wipe the grin off Blaine’s face. She wrapped her hot little hand around Dean’s biceps and said, “Chiseled from head to toe, and every hard inch in between.”
Blaine chuckled and slid a defeated look to Dean. “Use whatever you need, buddy, and grab me if I can help.”
As Blaine walked away, Emery leaned in, like she was preparing to share a secret.
Dean slid his hand around her waist, pulling her closer. “Darn, girl. What do you say we forget work and go get stuck between a rock and a hard place?”
She laughed, glancing at Blaine. “We should set him up with Violet. He’s got a wild look in his eyes.”
She thought he was kidding? His fingers tightened around her, bringing her attention back to him. The air sizzled, and her amused expression quickly faded, replaced briefly with surprise and then undeniable hunger.
“Dean,” she said softly. “Put away your hammer, big guy.” She pressed her hands to his chest, forcing space between them. “We have work to do.”
He pulled her against him again, holding her gaze. “What do you see in my eyes, doll?”
As she searched his face, her eyes darkened. “A hurricane,” she said softly. “As dangerous as it is mesmerizing.”
She pushed away again and closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds. When they opened, his hurricane was met with a storm—heat and wariness battling for dominance.
He stepped closer again, their chests touching. Lust thrummed like a heartbeat between them as he brushed his beard over her cheek and spoke in a low voice, “You want the hurricane, but you need the safety of knowing it won’t demolish your shelter. Let me show you we can have both.” He drew back just far enough to gaze into her eyes, recognizing the uneasy look of reluctant acceptance beneath a host of conflicted emotions.
“Breathe, doll.” He felt himself smiling, and with a hand on her back, he guided her toward a worktable by the windows.
“I am breathing,” she snapped, walking slowly beside him. “Geez, Dean. Give a girl a minute to recuperate after blowing her away.”
“That was a whisper,” he said confidently. “When I blow you away, you’ll need hours to recuperate.”
Her cheeks flushed, but that spark he loved rose in her eyes, and she said, “That almost makes me want to throw caution to the wind and accept the challenge.”
“Almost?”
She stopped beside the worktable and stared at him. The longer she looked, the softer her expression became.
“Yeah. Almost.” She turned abruptly away and motioned toward the showroom displays. He noticed her hand was trembling ever so slightly. “This is like a texture wonderland. How do you decide what to use? It’s all so pretty.”
Nice redirect.
He wanted to push her over the hump between friendship and something more, but her abrupt subject change told him to hold back. Struggling to douse the inferno inside him, he set the landscape plans on the table and said, “Most of the time the right materials speak to me as I design the project, and I know immediately which will be a perfect match.” Like I did with you. “But this is a really special project, and it’s got me a bit perplexed. I’d like your opinion.”
“You really do want my opinion? I thought you were just saying that to Blaine.”
“Yes, Emery. I truly want your opinion.” And so much more.
AS DEAN ROLLED out the landscaping plans, Emery tried to calm her racing heart. She’d seen the way Blaine had looked at her, and normally, a good-looking guy like that would capture her attention. But she hadn’t felt a single belly tingle or had any lingering lustful thoughts. She’d felt nothing. Nothing! Her body had been too consumed with the rush of sensations caused by Dean’s nearness. And every word he said, every heated glance, every breath since had proven she’d been dead wrong earlier, when she’d thought she could lock her emotional floodgates closed. Even now, as he leaned over the table, holding down the edges of the plans to keep them from curling up—not looking at her, not speaking to her—her stomach fluttered and her pulse skyrocketed.
How could she possibly process all of the emotions crawling up from the depths of her soul, where she must have been unknowingly hoarding them away?
“Here, let me show you,” Dean said, drawing her from her thoughts.
She told herself she was just getting carried away because of his earlier confession and his brazen comments. She could totally regain control. No problem. Just switch back into friend mode.
She tried to look over his shoulder, but he was too big. She went up on her toes, but he was still too bulky for her to get a clear view of the plans. She ducked under his arm and stood within the confines of his body. See? She could handle this.
His chest grazed her back, and she fought the urge to lean into him. He reached around her with his right hand, still holding the edge of the plans with his left, and pointed to the drawing, bringing his chest tighter against her back. Her temperature spiked, obliterating her ability to concentrate on what he was saying. Every time he moved, his body pressed closer, making her hyperaware of every blessed inch of him, from his abs moving with every inhalation, to his hips, and lower… She clenched her teeth, trying desperately to catch his words so she could hold on tight and climb free from the lust dragging her under, but his breath smelled minty, and her mind spiraled down a dark path. What would his mouth taste like? How would he kiss? Rough and demanding? Or would his kisses be tender and giving?
“Doll?”
She started, her body burning and flustered. She’d never been so affected by a man. Ever. The truth of their situation hit hard. She inhaled a calming breath, but there was no calming her racing heart. Weren’t there steps for dealing with denial like there were for grief and addiction? She felt like she’d been cut off cold turkey from her safe haven. The gates leading to Denial Palace had slammed closed and locked up tight—leaving her to face her attraction to Dean head-on.
Turning to face him, she was immediately drawn into his piercing blue eyes. Fear and lust coalesced, as she mentally batted away the darts of friendship and career that bombarded her. He was so confident about them. Could he be right? Did she want him to be? Oh, yes! Yes, I want you to be.
She inhaled deeply, hoping she wasn’t about to ruin their friendship and everything she’d pinned her future on, and said, “Let’s do this.”