Cherished (28 page)

“Is that so?” His eyes had darkened and his grip tightened. His cock was insistent against her trousers and she nearly came from how fucking hot it was.

“I don’t know. Do you deserve to be?”

He slid his hand up her belly, between her breasts, to her throat where he collared her with his hand and she couldn’t stop her sigh of longing. Or of the way she seemed to lose any rigidity in her spine and just melted into him. It was as if he’d flipped a switch inside her and she’d gone gooey.

Pleasure pulsed through her, slow and warm, leaving her lethargic.

He bent and kissed her again, his hand still at her throat. He cradled the back of her head with his arm and devastated her mouth. This kiss was more aggressive; his tongue slid against hers, teasing and taking, and when he nipped her bottom lip he laved the sting and made her moan.

“I think I do, yes.” He placed her next to him on the couch. “But I don’t fuck on the first date either.”

She waited.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

The second date was a totally different set of rules.

“I’m actually busy. My friend is a caterer and I help her out.”

His brow furrowed and she tried very hard not to laugh. It was probably the first time he’d heard no in ages.

“Sunday then?”

“I’m free for breakfast or lunch. I have plans in the evening.”

“I’ll be at a family thing on Sunday until six.”

“Monday I’m free. After seven. You can take me to a movie.”

“I don’t want to waste time in a dark theater not looking at you. You’re pretty amazing to look at.” One of his brows slid up
and she tried not to giggle and just barely made it. It would have blown the whole age reassurance thing if she had giggled. But he made her giddy, damn it.

“You say some good stuff, Levi.”

“Monday night it is. How about sushi?”

“All right.”

“I’ll pick you up here at seven.” He stood. “Give me a tour.”

She allowed him to help her up. “You’re imperious.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

He’d be worth it, she wagered. “Obviously this is the living and sleeping area.” She waved a hand at her house. “Kitchen you’ve seen.”

He wandered, looking at her pictures, her art. “What’s behind that door?” He tipped his head to the left.

“Hm. I don’t know if I should show you.”

“The bathroom? Is it a mess?”

She opened the door. “It’s my room.”

He followed her inside and paused. “You sleep out there to keep all your clothes in here?”

“This is far more than a closet.” She folded the throw she’d left on the little fainting couch she’d picked up at an estate sale the year before and took in the space she’d made her own in the years she’d lived in the little house.

Her clothes did indeed take up not just the small closet attached to the room, but two walls as well with pegs and shelves for all her various accessories. But bookshelves lined the third wall and a reading nook and vanity desk and mirror was on the last one.

He touched her clothes, a secret smile on his face.

“Tell me why.”

“I can sleep out there just fine. But this is where I go when I need to be soothed, or to relax and read. I can sew in here. I get dressed and put on my makeup in here. Drink some wine, think about my next project.”

“I like that. A room of your own, so to speak.”

“Exactly. When I’m in here I don’t answer the phone or the door. It’s just alone time. I think you’re the first man to have been in here who I wasn’t related to.”

“An honor indeed.” He turned around the room and realized she’d revealed the inner heart of herself to him. This room was her intimate space. It smelled of her. Whatever perfume she wore bore a faint, but unmistakable mark on the air.

She had hats of all colors and sizes on hooks and in round, pretty hatboxes on shelves. Shoes of all kinds. Her makeup table, and how he loved to watch a woman get ready. A flash of memory of Kelsey lining her lips or dabbing perfume at her wrists came to him. A nice memory.

But this woman was altogether a different creature than Kelsey had been. Confident. Generous. Here.

He pulled out a red dress, examining it. Imagining how it would look on her. He wanted to see it against the warm tones of her skin. “You’re a clotheshorse. I never would have guessed that about you.”

“I love clothes. I always have. When I was a little girl, I went with my mom and grandmother a few times a year to estate sales and garage sales. We’d find clothes and bags, pieces of furniture. It’s where I began to accrue pieces for my first mixed-media stuff.”

“You’ll wear this to sushi on Monday.” He indicated the dress.

“Vintage. I bought that for twenty dollars at a garage sale. I had to replace the zipper. I hate putting in zippers.” She took it from him, her fingers caressing the material. “One of my favorites.”

He didn’t disagree, only looked at her dress and drifted past the shoes in racks on one of the walls before hanging it on a hook near the bathroom door.

“Where do you work?”

“Studio. Come on then.” She switched a nearby lamp off and started to lead him from the room, but he wasn’t ready to go just yet so he snagged her as she passed, pulling her close.

“Thank you for showing me your room.” He brushed a kiss over her lips.

“You’re welcome. Now you know my secrets.”

“I doubt that.”

Her grin was cheeky as she led him from the room and out the back door.

It was a cold, clear night and the yard was quiet as she led him through it. In the distance he saw the bigger house, her parents’ house, he figured. The lights burned against the windowpanes.

He could never live on the same property with his parents. He loved his family. But it was way easier to love them when he lived out here and they lived back in Seattle. The distance was a good thing. He wondered just how involved her parents were in her life.

“I share the space with my grandmother.” Daisy flipped on the lights as they entered the studio space.

“This is beautiful.” And it was. Soaring ceilings with windows would flood the space with light during the daytime. Just then he could see the stars high overhead.

“Thank you. My friend’s brother is an architect. He did the plans and my friends and family did nearly all the building labor. We did have a plumber and electrician in because that was beyond our DIY skills.”

He walked through the space, in awe. He hadn’t told her this, but he was a huge art lover. He’d been raised to appreciate the fine arts by a mother who spent a lot of time and energy fund-raising for various art programs. He went to shows and gallery openings on a monthly basis. That Daisy was an artist as well as a scorching hot woman only made her harder to resist.

“This is all your stuff?”

“Down here, yes. My grandmother has a perch. That’s what I call it. But she has a little loft up there.” She pointed to a space with a comfortable chair, a couch and several easels. “She wants
to be left alone when she works so she heads up there, puts headphones on and does her thing. This is all my space down here.”

Christ. To be her age and have so much talent.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Those garage and estate sales I told you about? I was six when I bought this container of cards and letters. It was pretty. I liked the pictures and handwriting. That was the raw material for my first piece. I papier-mâchéd it into a series of little boxes. My mom still has them. It went from there.”

“They were supportive then?” He paused to gape at a painting of a woman’s upper body, her arms above her head as she arched. A shiver moved through him at the sight. And then craven greed to posses it. “This is…I want this.”

“You do?” She sounded surprised and when he looked up he caught sight of her face. Wariness lived in her eyes. “Why?”

“It’s stunning. I have a large, empty wall in my media room. This would be beautiful in it.”

“I have plans for it.”

“Like what?” He had enough money to outbid anyone who could possibly be his competition.

She looked him up and down. “Plans. I want to enter it into a contest of sorts. When that’s over, if I win and get the placement that is, I’d be happy to discuss selling it to you. If you still want it.”

He wanted it. Almost as much as he wanted her. This woman he’d so underestimated at every turn. He’d seen a beautiful woman, a young woman and he hadn’t paid much attention to the rest of her.

But there was so much more to Daisy Huerta than he’d imagined at first. Anyone who could create something like this was someone he wanted to know.

“I want it. I’ll want it in a week or a month.” He got what he wanted. But he wouldn’t say so. He’d show her.

Chapter 5

“So how was the date with a hot older dude?”

Daisy tied her apron better and looked back over her shoulder at Jules Lamprey, another one of her friends and fellow Delicious member. Jules was blonde. Stunning, with pretty blue eyes and a quick, charming smile. She was good people and Daisy adored her.

She and Jules were filling in on Mary’s Saturday afternoon catering gig. She’d lost three servers she used often and needed the help so Jules and Daisy had stepped in, as had another one of their friends, Gillian.

“He asked me out for tonight but I had other plans. He then asked about Sunday, but that’s Delicious…so.” She shrugged.

“Invite him. So we can meet him.” Mary popped a strawberry into Daisy’s mouth. “What do you think?”

She struggled to chew the giant berry. “Is that balsamic? Yum.”

“Yes. Adrian and Gillian brought it back from Italy for me.” Mary beamed.

“Awesome. And no, not inviting him to Delicious. We have a
date for drinks and dinner on Monday night. Sushi.” She didn’t mention the dress thing he said, though it still flooded her with a sexual thrill every time she thought of it. Of the way he’d just told her what to wear. Of the way she got off on it.

“Why? Are you ashamed of us?” Gillian winked.

Gillian had been the first of their group to get engaged. They’d watched her fall in love with Adrian Brown, the father of her son and all-around Super Hottie McHot Pants rockstar over the last six months. Gillian was a very private person and it had been hard for her to open her life to Adrian. It had been her friends who’d continued to push her, knowing they needed each other. Knowing Gillian deserved to be loved.

So of course she got a kick out of needling Daisy right then.

“It’s only a second date. You guys are special. He doesn’t get any of you unless I know he’ll be around awhile. Otherwise it’s a waste. You’re all too wonderful to waste. And I don’t want my lovely dinner to be wrecked with date angst. Plus, as you’re finally going to tell us when you’ve decided to stop living in sin with your baby daddy, I want to have all my attention for celebrating.”

Gillian laughed, delighted. “Are we that obvious?”

“When you came back from Italy you had a new ring. Obviously he proposed all official like. And you both say nothing for a month as we pester you about it. When you say you have an announcement we just assume. Unless you’re knocked up. Which would also be awesome.”

Gillian blushed. “I’m not pregnant. We’d like to be at some point. But he’s got a lot of stuff to deal with right now. He’ll start recording his new record soon, the new house is being renovated. Though for heaven’s sake my house is just fine.” She shook her head but affection was all over her features.

“Just know we expect to meet him at some point. How else can we know if he’s worthy of you?” Jules kissed her cheek and
grabbed a tray. “Ladies, shall we show this engagement party just how awesome Luxe Catering is?”

“Hell yes.”

Busy, she’d said.

Sunday brunch with his family could not be as entertaining as spending time with Daisy would have been.

Unbidden, a smile came to his lips as he thought of her. Of the way she’d lured him back to her little house and had proceeded to get her ass kicked at cards while she made them margaritas and ferried snacks in as they’d played.

She didn’t expect anything from him. He didn’t expect anything from her. They just got to know each other a little and played cards while listening to music.

It had been a long time since he’d woken up on a weekend so totally happy and relaxed.

“I hear you brought in a trip for two to Mexico, a winery weekend and some art for the auction lunch next week.” His mother sipped her club soda. He’d arrived twenty minutes before but all his brothers still hadn’t arrived, leaving him to fend for himself with Liesl Warner. He’d get even for that later.

“Yes, yes, I did. Rebecca and Howie Slaughter donated the house and plane fare. A local Bainbridge artist donated a rather arresting ceramic piece.”

Daisy had let him choose between several pieces and he’d been unable to look away from the fragile red rose wrapped in barbed wire. It was a small piece. The contrast between the nearly see-through ceramic rose petals and the barbed wire was startling. A piece like that could sit on a shelf or a table and would catch your eye when you least expected it.

Truth be told, he had plans for that piece in his own house. He had the perfect place for it, a shelf in his bedroom. Low and near
his armoire, the light would hit it in the mornings. And it would go wonderfully with the painting he would buy from her.

“Nice job. You know your brother and…Gwen will be here shortly. Did you attend that class you promised to?” Liesl probably tried to keep the derision from her voice at the mention of Mal’s fiancée’s name, but it rang through anyway.

In the background, his father laughed and pretended to cough.

“I went to a dance class. My instructor even offered to write me a note.” He paused to smile at that. “I
am
capable of dancing at a wedding. This topic has now been exhausted. As has my patience. Two years of this. He’s the one sleeping with her, so why do I have to do all this nonsense?”

His mother blushed and he saw the smile she wrestled back into a frown. “Levi Warner, you will watch your language.”

“Ah and there’s my family.” Eli walked in, pausing to kiss their mother’s cheek before nodding at their father.