Come On Closer (11 page)

“That's handy information to have,” he said. “Anyway, I wanted to see you. And you're also saving me from being the third wheel again with these idiots.”

“I heard that,” Ryan said, turning his head. “See if I'll vouch for you now, asshole.” He sounded decidedly unoffended.

“What am I missing here?” Larkin asked as he resumed talking with Aaron. She lowered her voice, in case it really was something top secret . . . though in the Cove, she couldn't imagine anything that would qualify.

Shane shifted uncomfortably. “It's . . . nothing, really. Just a job thing.”

Her eyebrows arched. “A job thing?”

“Yeah. I don't know,” he said, and everything about his body language, from the way he started to rub at the back of his neck to the stiff line of his shoulders, said he really, really didn't want to talk about it. She was belatedly sorry she'd asked. Mostly. Shane wasn't normally secretive about anything, and it was impossible not to be curious. “There's just something Ryan
thought I'd be interested in. I said I'd think about it.” He hesitated. “I'd really appreciate it if you kept that to yourself for now. I'm probably not going to do anything about it anyway.”

“Okay,” she said. When he looked relieved without adding anything more, she said, “Do I get to know what exactly this job is that I'm not telling anyone you're probably not applying for?” If she was going to be keeping a secret, damn it, she'd at least like to know what it was.

“Theater director,” he muttered. “At the high school.” He prodded at the scant remains of his pickled ginger, all that was left of the feast he'd ordered for himself. “I actually minored in theater. Don't laugh.”

Larkin wrinkled her nose. “Why would I laugh?”

His blue eyes were wary when they looked at her, and she saw he was serious.

“I might have hammed it up around here when I was younger, but it's not the kind of thing people expect me to do anymore,” he said.

Larkin snorted softly. “So then why don't you have the application filled out already? Isn't that your thing? Doing what you're not supposed to?”

His laugh was a short, humorless puff of air. “Yeah. Well, the perception and the reality where I'm concerned haven't
actually
had much to do with each other in a long time now. You did notice I'm a lawyer who doesn't date, right? And I'm not exactly swinging from the lampposts on the weekends. I grew up.”

His sudden moodiness startled her. She'd wanted to see what was underneath the smartass exterior she was used to. Sadness wasn't what she'd expected, but
that's what she saw, however briefly. Sadness and a fair amount of bitterness. Maybe this was where some of his sharper edges came from. Learning to soften those . . . that was something she had more experience with than he knew.

“Shane,” she said after a moment of consideration, “what do I look like to you?”

The question seemed to take him aback. “Uh . . . a girl? Sorry, woman. Woman.” He smiled. “A hot woman with flour in her hair. Why?”

“A grown-up, then.”

“I hope so, or I'm in trouble.”

She smacked him on the arm, sensing that he was already retreating behind his considerable armor of sarcasm and inappropriate commentary. “You're right, I'm a grown-up. And I have a job where I get to make sugary treats for a living, in a shop that looks like Candy Land, which also has a couple of sparkly unicorns as decorations. I'm not bored, I'm not boring, and technically, I am an adult.”

“So?”

“So your argument is totally invalid, is what I'm saying. And if you even think about using gender as an excuse, you're getting a chopstick in the eye, because that's also invalid.”

“Not a gender thing,” he said. “Also not a manliness thing, because as we all know, I'm basically a paragon of masculinity.” Across the table, Aaron heard him and began to choke on his beer. “It's just . . . you know, big change, big pay cut. I'm not sure I'm cut out for it anymore.”

“So why consider it?”

Shane was silent a moment, appearing to think about
that while he played with his bottle. “Because,” he said quietly, “it's the only way I can think of to live a thousand lives, instead of just one. It's freeing to shed your own skin for a little while. Not to mention a hell of a lot of fun. I just—”

“Is he feeding you his garbage about why he can't make a career change at his advanced age of thirty?” Ryan interrupted, then looked across the table at his friend. Larkin startled, only realizing how close her head had been to Shane's when she had to pull away. Ryan was busy looking disgruntled. “Dude. If you're too scared to make the jump, then just own it. Quit pretending that being miserable is your only choice. Just watching your father's head explode when you told him would be worth it.”

“Dude. Nobody says ‘dude' anymore,” Shane replied. “And be careful what you wish for. My father's reaction would probably leave Harvest Cove nothing but a smoking crater in the earth.”

“I'm willing to take that risk,” Ryan said.

“My hero, always making the big sacrifices,” Aaron quipped, then grinned when Ryan gave him an exasperated look.

“See what you get in your lunch tomorrow. Just wait and see.”

Larkin laughed. “Aw, you pack his lunches? That's love.”

“More like pity. He's a disaster in the morning. And most of the rest of the time. He's a pretty good cook, though. Plus my shirts are actually ironed now.”

Aaron played his long fingers over the neck of his bottle. “Trust me—I did not move him in for his domestic skills. But somewhere along the way, he really
did learn how to pack a nice lunch.” He smirked at Ryan. “I keep meaning to thank your mother.”

“Don't. She already likes you better than me, brownnoser.”

“Only because I'm everyone's favorite.”

Larkin watched them, amused when Aaron affectionately ruffled Ryan's hair and effectively ended the mock argument. None of it seemed to faze Shane. Their chatter returned to more mundane topics as they finished up their dinners, then waited for their server to tally up their bills. By the time Larkin stood up to shrug back into her coat, she felt pretty certain she'd be seeing Ryan and Aaron in the shop once in a while. She hoped so, at least.

“Nice to finally meet Shane's dream girl,” Aaron said as they all headed toward the door. That gave her a pleasant little shock.
Dream girl?
And the look Shane shot him said that she had indeed been a topic of conversation.

“I can't take you anywhere, Maclean. I'm going to stop trying.”

“If I had a buck for every time you threatened that, I'd be a millionaire.” Aaron's sharp grin softened when he turned his attention back to her. “I'm finally going to get my butt into Petite Treats this week. I want one of those red velvet cupcakes Zoe keeps raving about. She loses her damn mind every time you have them.”

“I know. I sent her home with a half dozen yesterday. I'm not sure she was planning on sharing.” In fact, she'd said as much on her way out the door. Larkin doubted it would stick, though. Zoe's fiancé, Jason Evans, was a big grumbly sweetie—sort of like a half-tamed bear—and from what she'd seen, if he made puppy-dog eyes
at her, Zoe would probably share, even if the sharing was just a small bite. These
were
the red velvet cupcakes, after all.

From his expression, Aaron seemed to be thinking along those lines, too.

“I try to eat pretty healthy,” Ryan said, “but I think I'm going to have to make an exception. Those really do sound good. It was nice to meet you, Larkin. We'll definitely see you.”

“Awesome,” Larkin agreed. “That'll be great.”

Shane said his good-byes, then walked with Larkin to their cars. The night air was cold, but fresh, and she breathed it in deeply, tipping her head back to breathe steam up toward the star-flecked sky. She could feel Shane's gaze on her, the heat and intensity of it. One of these days, she told herself, she'd figure out how to take it in stride and not get flustered. Unfortunately today was not that day.

“I like your friends,” she said, trying to fill the silence and dispel some of the wicked tension licking its way through her like little flames. She'd had some vague hope that her night with him would have ratcheted this down a little. No such luck. If anything, knowing what she was missing only made it worse.

When she turned her head to look at Shane, it was clear from the look in his eyes that she wasn't suffering alone.

“They're good guys,” he replied. “When they don't have somebody new to show off for, that is.”

Larkin chuckled. “Dream girl, huh?”

He grunted. “No comment.” He was, she decided, cute when he was embarrassed. They reached the cars, and Larkin turned to face him, her back to the
door of her van. It brought back memories of the last time they'd been in this position, and her heart began to flutter accordingly. She was just glad it wasn't loud enough for him to hear.

“You've been friends with Ryan a long time, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah. Since junior high.”

“He's sweet. He and Aaron seem to make a good couple.”

“Yeah, it's good to see him happy. He was always kind of quiet and, you know, single. Aaron's brought out the best in him. Which is kind of amazing, if you've ever listened to Maclean run his mouth for any length of time.”

“Isn't that sort of the pot calling the kettle black?” Larkin asked, rolling her eyes and laughing. “He's obviously drawn to people with big personalities.”

“I guess.” He closed in on her, and Larkin tucked her hands behind her back, leaning into her van. Shane braced his hands on either side of her head, and the warmth of his breath dispelled the chill in the air. “What about you, Cupcake Queen?”

She grinned. “What
about
me?”

“Are you drawn to my big . . . personality?” There was plenty of innuendo in the way he said it, which she ignored.

“I think you've got a big heart under the big personality,” she said. “That's what I like.” His expression, utterly dumbfounded, was priceless. Apparently, that wasn't a comment he got much. Pleased with herself for rendering him speechless, Larkin leaned in and pressed her lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. She felt his mouth relax beneath hers, and then Shane
angled his head to take control of the kiss, turning something sweet into something infinitely hotter. He was deceptively gentle, the soft brushes of his lips and tongue against hers perfectly designed to make her want more. She found herself rising up on her toes, fitting herself against Shane's big, solid form to get closer even though it couldn't possibly be close enough.

The kiss deepened as Shane slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her in. Larkin made a soft sound in the back of her throat and wrapped her arms around his neck. She let herself drift in the heat they created, forgetting everything but the longing that coursed through her veins like wildfire. When he pulled back, it took her a moment to collect her thoughts well enough to speak. Especially because he kept her in his arms and buried his face in her hair.

“You smell good,” he said, his voice muffled.

“Thanks. You do, too.” She loved the rough feel of his hair against her cheek, the scent of his shampoo mingled with his cologne. She could happily stay just like this for the rest of the night . . . which was why it was time to go.

Shane seemed to sense it, too, though his expression was reluctant when he let her go. “You sure I can't take you home?”

You have no idea how tempted I am.
“Not tonight,” she said. “But maybe I'll bring you a treat at your office tomorrow, if you're around.”

“I'm always around,” he said. “It's part of the wonder of being me. See you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

He lingered a moment longer. “So . . . definitely not tonight?”

She couldn't help but laugh. He was teasing, but he also looked like a kid who'd been told he couldn't have any more ice cream. It was lovely to be wanted, and to want, this way. But she needed more . . . and she didn't know what more was on offer yet. Still, she felt plenty of regret leaving him here, since her body had a mind of its own and did not approve of this decision. Not at all.

“Definitely not tonight, Shane.”

He sighed. “Okay. I'll just hop the last train to Bummerville and get home, then.” Then his expression softened into a smile, and she saw a wistful hint at the man he was when he forgot to try so hard. “It was a good first date. We'll try it solo next time, see what happens.”

“I bet you've got a few ideas.”

He dropped his voice into a lower register and his voice became a silken growl, like fingernails across silk. It was the perfect villain voice—the kind of villain she'd spend hours fantasizing about redeeming even after he'd met his downfall on film.

“I've
always
got ideas. All you have to do is ask.”

Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold. “I'll keep that in mind,” she said, and his slow, sensual smile did nothing to break the spell he was busy weaving around her. It was time to go, before her resolve broke. Especially because it
had
been a good first date.

She wasn't in the mood to press her luck.

He waited until she had gotten in her van and started to drive away, lifting a hand in farewell, which she saw in her rearview mirror. Larkin felt that dangerous pull deep in her chest again, the one that insisted she turn around, go back, and tumble off the edge of
a cliff. She knew that feeling all too well. Which was why she kept going until Rising Sun was just another set of lights in the distance.

“No tumbling, romantic or otherwise,” she told herself, and cranked the stereo. But no matter what she told herself, all she saw was Shane waving good-bye as she drove away . . . and she wondered if she was already in too deep to let him
go.