Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (5 page)

And don’t forget your own wayward libido.

Unfortunately she had a feeling she was on her own with that one.

He let her get down the hall and out the door—he was chivalrous like that—but that didn’t mean he forgot about the woman. How could he? The sight of her body had been seared into his brain, and even with no sleep for the past twenty-two hours, it was quite a while before he could settle in. Even longer before his dick relaxed enough for him to drift off.

Noon was only six hours of rest, but whatever. He rolled over, blinking away the groggy residue of the long night’s drive and weird sleeping hours—hours filled with dreams featuring a mysterious brunette with a figure that made his whole body ache. One place in particular. As he sat up and threw the covers off, he glared down at the offending appendage. “Stand down, will ya?”

His cock bobbed. If Hank didn’t know better, he’d say it was laughing. “Fucker.”

Knight raised his big head and gave a low
woof
from his bed near the wall. The shepherd slept fully extended, front and back legs stretched straight out, which meant he’d outgrown the largest dog bed Hank could find a few months ago, around his first birthday. Now he slept on a pile of old comforters just long enough to accommodate him.

“Morning, boy.” The words came out gravelly with travel and fatigue, matching Knight’s. Hank cleared his throat. A hand out summoned the shepherd over for a quick lick of his fingers—a
good morning
—and then Knight went to the door.

“Just a minute.” He didn’t want a replay of this morning, this time with himself in the starring role. Somehow he didn’t think he could make near the impression the woman had.

After putting on some running shorts, he let Knight out to do his business. A quick rummage in the fridge proved he had a guest: fresh fruit and vegetables, leftovers neatly stacked in clear containers. A large chunk of cake. He grabbed the box and went in search of a fork.

“The breakfast of champions.” A good one too. When the sweet chocolate icing hit his tongue, he moaned like he was about to orgasm. Holy shit. Had his sexy little trespasser made this?

Taking the cake with him, he went to his room for jeans and a shirt. Alice was the only person with access to his place while he was away. She had to be responsible for his mystery guest. He’d shower and then have a talk with his friendly downstairs troublemaker.

The market was busy by the time he got down there. The building had originally been a massive horse barn, constructed about fifty years ago. When Hank bought the surrounding ten acres, he’d converted the upstairs to a living space. After meeting Alice and tasting her damn fine pastries, he’d convinced her to open the Citrus Pointe Market downstairs, a full bakery and general store featuring local produce and handmade art and pottery. Citrus Pointe was a small out-of-the-way town along the scenic route skirting the Southern California coast, so tourists came through regularly and loved the market, as did the locals. Alice had steady business year-round, and Hank got all the bread and pastries he wanted for free, especially his favorite, bear claws.

Speaking of which…

The large barn doors at the front of the building were thrown wide to the mild late-spring air. Wooden bins of locally grown fruit and vegetables lined the long front porch, some Hank recognized from his search of the fridge earlier. But it was the smell of warm cinnamon, sugar, and yeast wafting from inside that tugged him forward. Commanding Knight to stay on the porch, he answered the call.

Knight whined, brushing his paw on the rough wooden floorboards once, twice. Hank looked back over his shoulder.

“I’ll bring your treat, buddy. You stay.”

With the reassurance, Knight settled happily on his haunches, pink tongue lolling. The shepherd was well trained and a familiar fixture on the market’s porch when Hank was in town, so he had no worries as he made his way inside. Besides, Knight knew that causing a ruckus meant no bear claw for him. He didn’t want to miss the treat any more than Hank did.

Crowds milled through the general store, browsing the local pottery and bundles of dried herbs from nearby fields and art featuring Citrus Pointe at its most beautiful. Hank bypassed it all in favor of the best part of the market, the bakery at the back of the building, handing out nods and greetings along the way. A long line of customers snaked several bodies deep before the back counter, more than usual, in fact, but he forgot to wonder about it when his gaze rested on his mystery woman at the cash register. Hank thanked whatever genetic blessings had made him tall, allowing him to catch a glimpse of her before she could see him. He’d take every extra second he could get. She was worth each one.

Dry and clothed, she was just as breathtaking as she’d been upstairs. Okay, not quite as breathtaking—nothing could make him as speechless as the view he’d been treated to this morning. Still, the dark, curly hair falling over her shoulders, the creamy skin, even the white of her smile as she greeted the next customer made his fingers itch for pen and paper and his bass. It was a feeling that was at once familiar and not. He wrote music on a regular basis, but not like this. He didn’t usually have inspiration standing in front of him. And he certainly wasn’t looking to write new music now, not with the band in turmoil.

Not like he wrote ballads or anything, anyway; he was more likely to be screaming praises to her gorgeous ass, and wouldn’t she appreciate that?

The woman gave Nolan Jones a sweet smile as the older man finished up his order.
Sweet.
No, she definitely wouldn’t appreciate him writing about her. Yet the ghostly impression of notes played through his head anyway.

He shook it away.

Pretty blue eyes lifted, met his. A pink flush crept up the slender curve of her neck to her cheeks. She was blushing. Damn.

A sudden tightness behind his zipper confirmed exactly how beautiful she was with that blush. He wanted to trace it, tug her chin up, force her mouth open…

Stop.

But he could still enjoy the blush. Just to keep it there, he winked. His mystery woman dropped her gaze, but not before he saw the pleasure in her eyes.

Which only made him harder.

“You have a good day, Sage,” Nolan said. When he turned around, he nodded at Hank, then carried his lunch off. Hank lost track of the man, his eyes and mind stuck on the woman.

Sage. The name suited her natural, earthy beauty, the same beauty that sent a shiver down his spine to places south he’d rather ignore in a crowd. This crowd, at least—onstage a hard-on was uncomfortable but attention-getting; here it just labeled him a perv. Except the way the blood rushed through his veins and his gut clenched told him the reaction wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Sage wasn’t looking at him—her attention was on the swinging door to the kitchen, one hand raised to gain someone’s attention. Trying to get away. When he chuckled, she shoved her hand into the pocket of her apron, cleared her throat, and faced him like a trainee about to be disciplined.

“Hello.”

The word was strained, but he didn’t comment. “Hello, Sage,” he said, drawing her name out, savoring it on his tongue. “I guess we haven’t been formally introduced, have we?”

Sage cleared her throat, the blush that had colored her cheeks before making a quick resurgence. He could practically see images from this morning’s encounter flashing across her mind—and enjoyed every one.

She wasn’t a coward, though. Embarrassed or not, she straightened her shoulders and faced him head-on. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Sage Lyndsey.”

And just like this morning, her courage sparked the urge to tame her. He shoved the instinct away and held out his hand, wanting to know her touch as well as her name. “Hank Nash. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Satisfaction purred to life as Sage shook hands with him. Her grip was firm, businesslike. Her lips, however, twisted in a rueful smile. “We’ve already met.”

The words were light, a bit breathless and tense at the same time. She was trying hard. Hank knew his grin had a wolfish edge, but it was impossible to hide. “And that was a pleasure too.”

Probably a dickhead move to remind her, but the blush he got out of it was so worth it. Even as it faded, he had the craziest need to prompt it to life again.

“Well, are you going to hold her hand hostage all day, or are you gonna order?”

“I don’t know, Merry,” Hank said. He released Sage’s hand as slowly as possible and winked as their fingers separated. Only then did he turn to the other woman. “It would be a great way to spend the day.”

Merry huffed at his antics, but said only, “’Bout time you got home.”

Chuckling, Hank leaned across the wide counter to hug her. Being over six feet had its advantages.

“What’s this about ordering, huh?” He squeezed Merry’s rounded shoulders gently before returning upright. His hip settled against the counter like it had a hundred, maybe a thousand times before. “Since when do I have to order? Am I in the doghouse or something?”

“Only with some people,” Merry said tartly, her glance sliding toward Sage. So she knew. If Sage had been this flustered when she came downstairs, he wasn’t surprised. Alice and Merry were better interrogators than some of the experts he’d known on the LAPD.

“Besides,” Merry continued, “you don’t have a doghouse. That baby of yours thinks he’s too good for the stuff other dogs have.”

“Or I do.” Hank chuckled.

Sage muttered something he couldn’t make out, irritation in those pretty blue eyes. There was definitely no love lost between her and Knight after this morning.

“So, Sage”—he grinned down at her—“how long will you be staying with me upstairs?” He was beginning to hope it would be a while. He wanted to know a lot of things about his new roomie. A lot of personal things.

Merry frowned his way.

“What—”

Sage interrupted quickly. “I’ll find something right away.”

Merry frowned in Sage’s direction. “Why? Not like he’s using the room. Besides, he’ll be off again in no time.”

Not anytime soon, he wouldn’t, but he had no interest in explaining his work complications right now—he was more interested in repairing the damage he’d obviously caused. “Exactly. I’m not trying to rush you out. I enjoy the scenery too much.” Ah, that blush. “You stay as long as you like.”

“No, I—” Sage stopped, sighed. Her fists balled up noticeably inside her apron pockets. “I haven’t looked for anything permanent yet. All the stuff with buying the market…I’ve just been too busy. I’ll start today, but thank you for the offer.”

Hank’s nod was automatic, his mind snagged on the word
buying
. Buying what? Why would she… “You bought the market?”

Merry snorted. “Alice held back a lot, didn’t she?” She jerked her chin toward the kitchen. “She’s in the back. Better go see her. You can grab your bear claws while you’re in there.”

Shock held him mute. Merry’s sympathy shone through her faded gray eyes, but she didn’t explain. Whatever was going on was obviously Alice’s story to tell. Sage kept her eyes on the counter as he rounded it, but her quiet gasp when his body brushed lightly against hers in passing reached his ears. Even intent on getting to Alice, he felt a flush of heat at the sound.

Merry opened her mouth as he neared. Closed it. Tried again. “Hank, I—”

He settled a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “I’ll talk to Alice.”

In the kitchen Alice stood at the long counter down the center of the room, the makings for the market’s sandwiches, lunchtime favorites in Citrus Pointe, laid out in front of her. She glanced up as he entered. What he saw there stoppered the words ready to fly from his mouth. Resignation. Concern. He crossed the room, his chest throbbing with resistance every step of the way.

She didn’t stop her preparations when he came close enough to lean a hip against the counter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked when the silence went too long.

Alice’s sturdy hands stilled for the briefest moment. “Because it all just kind of happened. Fast. Barry’s getting worse, Hank. Much worse. Deirdre offered for us to live with her, begged us, really. She knew Sage from high school, and one thing led to another.” She shrugged.

Hank settled a hand atop hers, gently stopping her near-frantic movements. Alice didn’t protest when he hugged her to him, but a shudder shook her hard. “I couldn’t tell you over the phone,” she admitted, the words somewhere between a statement and a plea.

“About Barry, or about Sage?”

“Both.” With a shaky breath, she shook off his hold and got back to work. “It’s just…so much faster than we expected. Deirdre wants us with her, wants all the time she can get, and I…”

He understood. Alice’s husband had been diagnosed with liver cancer less than six months ago. Hank hadn’t experienced that kind of loss personally, but Alice and Barry had been his friends for eight years. “But to sell the business? You can come back after—” The
it’s over
choked him before it could escape.

After setting the sandwich she’d just finished onto a nearby platter, she turned to face him. The determined look in her eyes went soft the longer their gazes held. “I know what my options are; believe me, I’ve considered them all, for weeks. But I can’t predict how long it will be before…or even how long it will take me to get back on my feet. Besides, I’m tired of the headaches.” Her grin was small but there. “Let someone else handle the paperwork; I’ll bake the bread.”