Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena)
Read Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena) Online
Authors: Marina Adair
by marina adair
Heroes of St. Helena series
Need You for Keeps
Need You for Always
St. Helena Vineyard series
Kissing Under the Mistletoe
Summer in Napa
Autumn in the Vineyard
Be Mine Forever
From the Moment We Met
Sugar, Georgia series
Sugar’s Twice as Sweet
Sugar on Top
A Taste of Sugar
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Marina Adair
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503933200
ISBN-10: 1503933202
Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant
To all of the first responders, who put their lives on the line every day to protect our families, our homes, and our communities.
T
here wasn’t a person on the planet who Harper Owens couldn’t friend. Problem was, there wasn’t a single man in wine country who hadn’t already sentenced her to a lifetime in the friend zone.
Until now
, she thought giddily, staring up at her Mr. Tall, Dark,
and—
ohmigod
—Mine.
It had taken her eighteen long months of casual conversations, lots
of lash batting, three new shades of lipstick, and a well-orchestrated flash of cleavage, but Harper was about to get her kiss.
From Clay Walker. Respected pediatrician, a Doctors Without Borders frequent flyer, and, on top of being revered by every kid and parent in town, the guy Harper had been hot for since he moved to St. Helena with his son nearly two years ago.
“Thank you for walking me home,” Harper said as they stopped in front of the yellow-and-white Victorian storefront on Main Street. She pointed to the upstairs window of her apartment. “Do you want to come up? I have some wine in the fridge.”
Clay checked his watch. “I wish I could, but I promised the babysitter I’d be home by ten,” he said, and didn’t that warm her heart. He was such a good dad. Devoted, involved, loving, and—
holy smokes
—was Dr. Dreamy checking out her boobs?
She watched his eyes to see if they’d dart again, and they ended up doing a mini-dip—not enough to be called an ogle, but enough that she decided it was the bra, which took her from a moderate B to a sexy C in one shimmy.
St. Helena rolled up its welcome mats at dusk, so there weren’t many people out. Just Harper and Dr. Dreamy, alone on the lamp-lined sidewalk, the gentle summer breeze wrapping around them as they stood under the twinkling lights of her grandmother’s shop and the million or so stars overhead. So she shimmied again and—
bingo
.
He was sizing up the goods. Which meant this was a premeditated escort.
With the latest crime spree including senior citizens, barrel tipping, and indecent exposure in the community fountain—all related events—Clay hadn’t offered to walk her home for her safety. She now knew that he’d offered to walk her home so he could make his move.
And since her body hadn’t been moved on in far too long, she was ready.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask, but there was never a time when Tommy wasn’t around, and I didn’t feel comfortable calling you at work,” Clay said, that deep voice rolling over her and lighting the anticipation that had been simmering since he’d pulled up the barstool next to hers, offered to buy her a drink, then started asking all the
right
questions. “So when I saw you at the Spigot tonight, I figured it was perfect timing.”
“Perfect,” she repeated, stepping closer and looking up into his deep brown eyes. It was perfect. The perfect place for their first kiss.
The perfect moment to take their relationship from
I teach your kid how
to paint
to
I know how to make you pant
in a single brush of the lips.
“I know this is last-minute, but I’m going to San Diego for a medical conference next week.”
“San Diego is beautiful in the summertime,” Harper said, as if all of her knowledge about the coastal city hadn’t come from the passenger seat of her mom’s car when she was nine and her mother was racing toward the border for a starring role in a vacation-resort production of
Evita
.
“It is,” he said. “It’s a one-day conference, but I figured it’s so close to the beach and Gaslamp district, maybe I’d stay the night. Go down Tuesday, come back Wednesday.”
“I think it’s great that you’re starting to make time for yourself. All good parents need a break.”
Clay let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”
Which was why she’d said it. Clay was the most dedicated parent she knew, putting his son above everyone and everything else. Including himself. He deserved some time to be an adult, have some quiet R&R to reboot.
His eyes met hers, soft and warm, like melted chocolate. Harper loved chocolate. “Anyway, I was wondering if you were free.”
“Me?” she asked, so excited she nearly choked on the word. “You want to know if I’m free? Next week?” Which was the worst possible time for Harper to get away. It was back-to-school inventory time at the Fashion Flower, the one-stop kids’ shop in town for all things kiddie, crafty, and couture, and as manager she was the only person who could handle the delivery. But a night away? With Clay? Naked? “You bet.”
“Really?” He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled.
At her.
It wasn’t the same smile he gave her when picking Tommy up from class, or even the one he’d flashed when seeing her around town. This smile was different. He was looking at
her
different. As if she was special. As if she was—
“A lifesaver, Harper. That’s what you are.” Clay released a long, relieved breath. Funny, since she had stopped breathing altogether. “My mom can take him Tuesday, but Wednesday is an early-release day from day camp and she can’t pick him up in time. And his sitter is only fifteen, hence the reason I need to get her home tonight by ten, and can’t pick him up until four, after her cheerleading practice. I didn’t know who else to ask, and you are so good with him.”
“You need me to babysit Tommy?” She had to ask because she’d had a drink or two, and her brain wasn’t functioning on all cylinders, but she was pretty sure he’d just demoted her from
quirky but cute art teacher
to
back-up babysitter
. And her competition didn’t have a driver’s license.
“That would be great. He really adores you. You know?”
Oh
, she knew. She knew this moment so well she wanted to cry. It was just like senior prom when Daniel McCree passed her a note saying he wanted to ask a special girl. Only after Harper had mentally picked out her dress, shoes, and the perfect place to lose her virginity had he explained that the “special girl” was Janie Copeland—captain of the dance team, and Harper’s neighbor.
Harper had delivered Daniel’s invite on her way home, then received a record eleven more invites to the prom that year. None of which were addressed to her.
“Tommy would probably be more comfortable at my place. You can hang out there, watch a movie in my room if that works for you,” Clay offered, and Harper had to bite her lip to stop from laughing at the irony. Clay finally wanted to see her in his bed, only in the most chaste of scenarios. He couldn’t manage to see her as more. It was a position she’d been placed in a million times in her
life, yet never managed to master.
Clearing any trace of hurt from her expression, a trick she
had
mas
tered, she said, “I run the Sprouting Picasso class at the shop at three.”
“I should be home before then.” He looked at his watch again. “I’m late. Can we work out all the details later? Kendal’s mom flips if I get her home after ten.”
“That’s the great thing about thirty-year-old women,” she pointed out brightly, holding on to that smile even if her cheeks hurt from the weight. “No curfew.”
“Something to keep in mind,” he said with a wink. “Oh, and you have some kind of punch on your dress.”
Harper looked down at her favorite daffodil-colored dress and saw the bright red splotch, right below her miniscule cleavage he’d been eyeing all night. And if
that
wasn’t humiliating enough, he pulled her in for a hug. Not a dual-armed embrace, bodies touching kind of event. But a side-hug, pat-to-the-back combo that bros gave each other.
“Thanks, Harper. I owe you,” he said and headed back toward the bar.
Unless he was offering up a tangled sheets kind of favor, Harper wasn’t interested. At all. She didn’t want a favor—she wanted passion, connection, adventure. She wanted to be wanted.
And speaking of wanted, she wanted cookies.
Not the kind with confetti sprinkles that her grandmother made, but the kind that only a strong, sexy man could provide.
And I want a baker’s dozen,
she thought as she fished out her keys to open her grandma’s shop.
The scent of rosewater and lavender greeted her as she stepped inside and felt as though she were transported back in time. The Boulder Holder was a lingerie shop owned by her grandma specializing in vintage seduction for the curvy woman. It also had a great stain remover in the storage closet.
Still at a complete loss, or maybe not so complete, since looking back the intimate questions Clay had asked earlier were all standard résumé info for applying nannies, Harper closed the door behind her and reached to disarm the alarm—which was already disarmed.
“Dang it, Baby,” Harper mumbled, making a note to reprimand the closing manager for neglecting the alarm again. And, apparently, her job, since there was a vast collection of high-end merchandise hanging outside one of the changing-room doors.
The whole point behind hiring a closing manager was so that her grandma could work fewer hours, let someone else lift heavy boxes, and stock the store. Clovis needed to stay off her knee so it could heal from her most recent replacement surgery, but if Baby wasn’t organizing the store at night, then her grandma would have to before opening. Which defeated the purpose.
Frustrated, Harper grabbed the stain cleaner and a rag from the closet and walked over to the large gilded mirror on the wall at the far end of the dressing rooms.
Normally being in her grandma’s shop, surrounded by all of the bright fabrics and bold designs, could erase even the worst of days. The shop was every girl-next-door’s haven—sexy with a touch of sophistication, and a brilliant kaleidoscope of intimates from time periods usually forgotten. A new adventure to be found on each hanger.
Not tonight,
she thought, taking in the image staring back at her in the mirror.
Tonight, Harper felt like a big, stupid banana in a specialty candy store.
“Think of the bright side,” she told herself, pulling her arm out of her dress and slipping it off so she could get at the stain easier. “At least he friended you before you showed him your panties.”
The ability to see the bright side of even the worst situations was Harper’s gift. It was how she’d made it through her eclectic childhood—and how she kept her smile genuine. And being thought of as a babysitter didn’t even touch Harper’s worst list.
“If you’d gone at him in those panties, I bet he’d have forgotten all about curfew,” a distinctively male voice said from behind.
Harper spun around, the scream sticking in her throat as her heart lodged itself there first. Acting on reflex, she threw the only thing within reach at the tall, dark—emphasis on the dark—and dangerous-looking shadow. Only the shadow’s reflexes were skillfully honed because he caught the flying object with one hand, leaving her nearly naked and him holding her favorite daffodil-colored dress.
“Whoa,” the unexpected voice said from the dressing-room doorway. Harper spun around, her heart pounding with adrenaline at the sight of the big, built—and definitely unwelcome—male burglar looming behind her.
A cocky smirk and one
hey baby
wink was all it took for her brain to register the burglar in question, and for her fear to immediately turn to embarrassment. Because standing in her grandma’s darkened shop, holding her dress and a slinky red robe, four hours after closing, was the only man in town who hadn’t put Harper in the friend zone. Because he was the only man in town Harper hadn’t bothered to friend. He was someone who, like her mother, was too busy soaking up that spotlight to make room for lasting connections.
St. Helena firefighter, bro of the year, and legendary ladies’ man—Adam Baudouin.
“What are you doing here?” Harper demanded, looking up at him, and he could see the fire lighting her eyes.
It was a good question. One Adam had crafted a great answer to when she’d first turned around in that pink, teal, and gold embroidered number with the tiny matching thong, which looked as if she’d recently escaped from the Copacabana. Then she’d tossed her dress at him and things had gotten really interesting. Little Miss Sunshine wiggled a lecturing finger his way, which caused everything in silk and lace to do a little cha-cha of its own, and Adam’s mind went to a bad place.
