French Roast (6 page)

“To us,” he said because any romantic words had evaporated from his mind.

Their glasses clinked. “To us.” She took a sip. “Yum. Thanks, Bri.”

He popped an olive in his mouth, off balance. Their relationship made him feel a whole hell of a lot more than he was ready to feel. Hadn’t he just gotten out of an insane relationship not too long ago? One that had consumed him, annihilated him. He loved being with Jill, but when she looked at him like that…She had always looked at him like that. Like he was everything, could do anything.

He couldn’t be her hero.

He wasn’t a hero.

Hadn’t he proved that in New York?

She dug into the food, talking with her hands. Everything she said came from her whole heart. God, he didn’t want to hurt her by not being able to give her everything she wanted.

A blue jay cackled from the nearby tree, and squirrels chased each other, jumping from branch to branch. Occasional moans danced across her lips as she ate and drank her champagne. He ate in silence. He’d gotten carried away. It was Valentine’s Day for Christ’s sake. He’d feel normal tomorrow.

He fed her more tapas. They ate. Sipped more champagne. Took a few pictures of each other and then one of them together. Then he put the picnic away. She seemed to naturally end up with her head leaning against his chest as they both looked out over the valley.

The quiet unnerved him. Being with Jill and not needing to talk was new. Part of him wanted to talk about anything and everything to take away the intensity.

When she turned her head and met his gaze, his breath caught. He could drown in those luminous green eyes. His hand cupped her cheek.
Drown
was too scary. He could wade in them.

The tightness in his chest didn’t ease, but he fit his mouth to hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

***

Jill kept her eyes open as he kissed her, tracing his dark brows, the slash of his high cheekbones. Was there anything more dear to her? Hadn’t she missed this face?

He sipped at her lips and stroked her tongue in long sweeps, making her heart sing. Her blood boiled. She tugged on his lower lip as he turned her onto her back.

“Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss your breasts right now?”

She inhaled sharply. Everything inside tightened. “Well, it
is
pretty warm in the sun. So long as you cover me up from the rays, I can give you a little skin.”

He tugged on her zipper. “Afraid of a sunburn?”

She helped him lift her shirt. “Jemma and I tried sunbathing topless once when we were teenagers. You have no idea how much that hurt.”

Her nipple tightened. “You mean here?”

“Yes, there.”

He met her gaze dead on. “What do you want? Tell me.”

Voicing her desires was new and awkward and…kinda hot. “I want you…to kiss my breasts.”

His mouth tipped up. “So do I,” he murmured as he lowered his head and took her nipple between his beautiful lips.

Her back arched. The sun warmed her face, while his mouth incited a different kind of heat. He kissed his way across her chest until her nipples were wet and hard and aching. A cold breeze blew, making them tighten even more.

Her soft moans couldn’t be contained. Cold then hot, hot then cold. She was being exposed to more than just the elements.

Her body strained under him. When he slid his hands down her sides and into her snow pants, she stilled. Waited for the touch she sensed was coming. His mouth gentled on her breast and his hand slowed, as if he were seeking a sign. She wrapped her arms around his neck and urged him on. His fingers parted her folds and traced the V of her thighs to her core, his touch delicate, a mere brush. When her hips jerked, he deepened the caress, slipping one finger inside.

She moaned at the sensation paired with the raw tug of his mouth on her breast. The bold touch of his hand. Her body struggled against him, wanting more, wanting to give
him
more.

He eased back from her breast. “Shh…it’s okay. Let me show you.” He leaned up and took her mouth in a long, hot kiss.

She dug her boots into the snow as his palm continued to press against her center. Another finger joined the first. They caressed, rotated, and swirled until she was throbbing with desire. Her pulse beat wildly, erratically. Her body broke out in pure heat. Their tongues danced. He sucked on her neck, her earlobe, her lower lip. Her hands reached for him.

“No.” He pressed them over her head. Opened her legs wider. Stared at her with those Bengal-tiger blue eyes. “I want you to feel this, all of it.”

She closed her eyes as his fingers picked up the pace, stroking and stroking until lightning bursts raced up from her toes. Still his mouth tugged on her breast as his fingers swept deep and hard into her, his palm pressed against her. She convulsed with a loud moan, coming apart, anchored by him. Then sensations drummed all over her body until she relaxed against him in one long liquid line. He kissed her lightly and released the pressure between her legs. Rearranged her clothing. Pulled her head onto his chest.

Wow
, was all she could think. Simply wow. It didn’t equal anything she’d experienced on her own, and wouldn’t it be even better when they had sex?

Her cap must have come loose because his fingers threaded through her hair. Even her scalp sizzled. She inhaled long and deep and turned in his arms. His mouth looked pinched, but he tried to smile.

“What about you?” she asked in a voice she didn’t recognize.

He pushed a curl behind her ear. “This was for you. I want you to know how it’s going to be between us.”

Her mouth turned dry. In that moment, she made the decision. Soon, very soon, she would make love with him. There was nothing she wanted more. Hadn’t he shown how much he cared by giving pleasure to her so unselfishly?

“I’m sorry about the other night. I wasn’t ready. I—”

“It’s okay. I won’t rush you.”

She thought about mentioning this was her first orgasm with a guy, but she didn’t want him to think she’d been waiting for him, even if it was partially true. She hugged him tight.

“Did you bring me out here because you knew it couldn’t go too far?”

He squeezed her and then moved away, sitting in the snow. She had a moment of guilt as she realized he was trying to cool off.

“Partly. Rolling around like two sunburned jackasses wasn’t my idea of our first time together.”

“Then there are the satellites,” she added, making him laugh.

“I brought you up here because we always came here when we needed to get away from school or our parents.”

She tugged her cap on. “This was our wishing spot.”

“Our wishing spot?”

The sky seemed endless when she raised her hands to it. “We always talked about what we’d be when we grew up, remember? You talked about becoming a famous chef.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Yep, and you made it.” She sang a few bars of
New York, New York
by Frank Sinatra.

He turned away quickly. Something about the new lines around his mouth made her cut off the song early. What
had
happened in New York? After what he’d done for her, she didn’t want to ruin their mood by asking again, even though she knew he hadn’t shared the full story. Patience wasn’t her virtue, but she’d try with him.

She rose, her legs still unsteady. “So, I’ve been thinking about our place. Mortimer Wilson is going to be putting his property on Main Street up for sale in a few weeks. I went by his furniture shop. Took some rough measurements.”

“You did all that while I was MIA?” he quipped, throwing the pack on his back.

“I told you I had some new ideas to discuss, but you wouldn’t meet with me. I thought you were backing out after what happened last week.”

“Sorry. I was trying to build the surprise.”

“Well, you did.” She grabbed a ski pole. “I’ve done some sketches. Thought about the layout.” She drew the general space in the snow and then segmented it with lines for walls. “I thought we’d put the kitchen here. Office across the hallway by the walk-in cooler. We can split the front section into two. An informal one to cater to families—something funky, maybe with an Impressionistic feel. Monet blue on the wall with clouds and bright yellow flowers in chunky Provencal vases.”

She sketched the second section more slowly when he rubbed his hand against his temple, the lines around his mouth as pinched as her Aunt Gladys before her morning prunes.

“Ah, it’s just a brainstorm.”

No smile.

“The second section would be more elegant, with a real French café feel. Dark wood tables with feminine-shaped chairs. Butter-yellow walls. Maybe a mural of somewhere in France.”

“Like the Eiffel Tower?” His voice might be silky soft, but she heard the edge. And she had no idea what had put it there.

“God, no! Umm…A field of wildflowers. Wait. They have sunflowers, right? Like Van Gogh.”

His silence was as vast as the valley.

“Or we could do something else.”

He looked up. Gave her a fake smile. Touched his wrist in the telltale gesture of time ticking away. “We need to get going if I’m going to make it to work.”

She grabbed her other pole and snapped into her skis. “They were just ideas, Brian. Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind? This is never going to work if you’re not honest with me.”

“Let’s talk about it another time.”

He took off. She had to dig her poles in deeper to keep up with him. “Was there anything you liked about what I said?”

“Jill…”

“You don’t need to spare my feelings. If we’re going to be partners, you need to tell me what you think.”

“Fine.” Snow flew as he swished to a stop. “It’s not in line with what I’ve been thinking. I don’t like theme restaurants.”

“But you like French food. Plus, the locals love pretending to leave town. It’s the best of both worlds.” Her heart pounded hard under her suit, drumming up a dangerous tune about their potential partnership.

He cleared his throat. “And the whole thing about two sections. I didn’t imagine this as a place for families.”

Her mouth dropped open. “But Bri, that’s the fastest growing market in Dare. So many people are sticking around after college and starting families, not to mention the young professionals from California who are moving here to raise their kids in a small town. These people have good taste and the money to spend. Plus, they like introducing their kids to new things.” Her throat tightened. Jill blinked back the tide of welling tears. So she’d lied about being impervious to his opinion. “Did you like anything?”

His sigh carried across the space. “I like to see you this excited.”

She shot ahead of him, not wanting him to see her devastated expression. “That’s not much.”

“Hey!” he called, but couldn’t catch her.

All the way down the mountain she struggled with herself. Brian’s reaction made her think they could never work together after all. Her traitorous mind spun scenarios of Mac Maven’s mysterious offer. Jack had emailed her back mid-week with a glowing review and then followed up with a call, but he’d been just as darn cryptic as his friend both times. She couldn’t turn off her curiosity button. What did Mac want from her anyway?

Brian was breathing harder than she was when they reached his truck. She unclipped her boots and felt his hands on her waist, turning her toward him. “Look, we’ll work it out. Everything’s going to be fine.” His voice was about as soothing as a dentist who was about to start drilling for cavities. “I don’t like color. That’s no surprise. I’m a guy. I’m looking for something understated. I don’t want the décor to outdo the food. Let’s set up a meeting for sometime this week and go through all of the details.”

She almost rolled her eyes. Some boring place that didn’t cater to families wouldn’t last eight months in Dare.

“Hey.” He tipped up her chin. “When we used to come here and make our wishes, what did you used to say? I can’t remember.” He put his arms around her. Her head fell to his chest without her conscious realization.

“I talked about making it big. Like my grandpa. Being a major town player.” No change there.

“That’s all?” he joked.

“I had other dreams.” Jill didn’t mention that the main wish she’d made on that boulder was to be Mrs. Brian McConnell someday. She pulled away, opened the car door, and reached for her boots. When the lace on her ski boot wouldn’t untangle after a minute, she let out a low shriek.

“Let me help,” he said from outside the vehicle. He’d been watching her struggle. “You need to be more patient.”

But that never had been one of her virtues.

Brian sank to his knees and angled her boot onto his thigh. The sun illuminated his face as he frowned, working slowly with the knot. His puffy lips reminded her of what he’d given her today. That he’d wanted to give her pleasure without taking it for himself. Her concerns about the restaurant faded. He was back. He was here. And he wanted to be with her. What could be more important?

“You got pretty tangled up here,” he muttered.

You’ve got that right.

He slid one boot off, a gentle hold on her ankle. As he pressed her stocking-clad foot into her hiking boot, Cinderella and the glass slipper popped into her mind. The handsome prince on his knees, his touch loving, his face indulgent—exactly how Brian looked in this moment.

She fell back against the seat as a major realization descended. The girl inside her had always loved Brian McConnell. Now she knew for sure that the woman inside her did, too.

Too bad Prince Charming hated every idea she had for their place together. He might be able to cook, but it was becoming abundantly clear that he had no head for business. She could run the castle, and she didn’t want to have to smash her glass slipper on his sparkling kitchen floor to drill that home.