Slowly he pushed aside the dinner tray and held out a hand. She took it, her eyes still on his. She knew the question, although he didnt ask. She gave him the answer, by sweeping her arms around his neck and offering a slow, long, openmouthed kiss.
It seemed like a zillion times that day shed peeled off her slacks and blouse. This time, though, was different. This time he pushed her blouse up, silky inch by silky inch, his strong callused hands cherishing every touch, every sensation. Yearning, licking hot, sang through her bloodstream. All her life shed been restless. All her life shed craved excitement. For the first time she had the crazy idea that hed been the one she was searching for. Not an event or a place or an activity that was exciting-but him.
Only him.
The thought surfaced, then dissolved. Hed made her clothes disappear, so she concentrated on doing the same magic trick with his. Then they were together again, on their knees, breasts, tummies, pelvises rocking to the same music, creating the same friction, dancing to the same primitive beat.
He lifted his head long enough to smile-one of those all-male disgusting smiles of complete possession. I own you, babe.
Well, yeah. He did at that moment. But she owned him right back. Which she showed him at great length and detail.
She woke up past midnight to find him raining kisses all over her face and throat. Are we waking up for a reason? she murmured sleepily.
I wasnt sure if you could sleep here or had to go back to your place. I want you to stay. But you could have to get up awfully early in the morning for the café.
I do. Five-thirty.
Well More kisses. Concentrating on her cheekbones. Then her jaw. I can either get up and drive you home at five in the morning. Or now. Whatever works easiest for you.
She hadnt thought about it, but now that hed raised the question-and she was awake-she put in a vote. I dont want to leave you, but it really would be easier to be at my place. Then I just have to walk downstairs to open up. And you dont have to get up at that ungodly hour.
I dont mind.
I do. Its not like we cant spend the whole night together another time. She answered his sleepy kisses with more of her own, yet suddenly remembered. Teague, you dont have to drive me at all. I have your car.
I know you do. But were not making love and then you drive yourself home.
He insisted, the silly man. So they dressed and bundled up-she took her new work clothes-and he saw her to the door. Main Street showed no signs of life by then. Occasional crystal snowflakes drifted around the traffic lights. Gossamer-thin clouds whisked around the full moon. The street was theirs, no one else anywhere in sight. A good-night kiss turned into two, then four.
She let him go finally, feeling warm inside all the way to the bones. That love word was humming in her pulse again as she unlocked the door and zoomed up the stairs on happy wings. At the top she kicked off her boots, plopped down her packages and bent down to switch on a lamp for light.
Her crazy, giddy smile suddenly faltered.
In the middle of the attic floor-heaven knew how it had gotten there-was a huge, four-foot chocolate heart wrapped in red crinkly paper.
An early Valentines Day, the card read. Four more days until the real thing. This is just the beginning.
The heart was extravagant. Thoughtful. Romantic. Unique. And God knew she loved chocolate.
Yet a shiver chased up her spine.
The present was wonderful, but it was the kind of thing Jean-Luc would have done.
And suddenly she was scared.
Ten
Carrying a dripping spatula, Daisy charged over to the window dividing the kitchen from the café. It wasnt even eight in the morning, yet people were pouring in as if there were no tomorrow.
Her lavender-lemon shortbread cookies were good, but not this good.
The café always drew a good morning crowd, but traditionally they were the coffee suckers, the commuters desperate for a fast cup or the retirees gathering for the daily fight about politics. This waswell, everyone. All ages.
More cookies, Daisy! Harry bellowed over the transom.
Im coming, Im coming! Or she was trying to. She hadnt slept well because of worrying about Teague, so shed come in bleary-eyed-prepared to bake. But damn. Not prepared to need quadruple batches of her shortbread cookies.
She sprinted back to her bowls and oven mitts and cookie sheets, too far to hear what people were saying and too busy to ask Harry what was going on. The shortbread recipe had passed down from her dads family-the Scots side-but her mom had put the French flair to it, richening it up with the sneaky hints of lavender and lemon. The cookies werent sweet so much as intense. Addictive. Particularly since she had the best source for the best lavender in the universe-her sister Violet.
A blast of cold air indicated more customers pouring in, and Daisy shook her head. As good as the cookies were-and she knew perfectly well that her skills as a baker made them darn near fabulous-there was still no explaining the high demand in the café this morning.
Harry showed up in the doorway. I could use you a few more hours, if you want the work. Hell, Daisy, I had no idea you were gonna bring in this many customers when I took you on part-time.
Again she glanced over the transom window. Standing-room only. Every booth was filled. And the door was opening yet again. For Petes sake, what on earth are all these people doing here?
What do we care? Theyre buying-although I have to admit, Harry wiped his brow, Im not used to working this hard. I wish to hell we hadnt let Jason take off for a few days. And Janelle cant do the tables by herself.
I can see that. But whats the deal? Schools arent closed today, are they? Or is it some historical persons birthday that I dont remember?
Harry rolled his eyes. Come on, Daisy. You know what theyre here for.
She didnt. Not only was she running on half empty, but shed been too busy to think ever since they opened the café that morning. I have no idea, she insisted.
They know all about the heart. The big four-foot chocolate heart. And now they want to know what youre going to do about it-and then what Teagues going to do next. Harry waited for that to sink in before adding, You didnt think itd escape anyone in White Hills when UPS brought that package in, did you? The whole towns been watching Teague and you spend time together.
She gulped. All this buzz was about her?
Someone called Harrys name and he turned back to the bustling café she went back to her cookies and baking, pulling out croissants, three loaves of buttermilk-lavender bread, another round of cinnamon clusters, and of course more cookies. But her heart kept sinking.
Shed called Teague last night, sure his feelings would be hurt if she didnt-hed want to know shed found the heart. But he must have fallen dead asleep, because he didnt answer. She left a message, trying to express an exuberant thanks and hoping to catch up with him this afternoon. But now
Unease kept rippling through her. Last night shed been ruffled by a feeling of déjà vu, and now here was a second déjà vu, even more upsetting and nettling than last nights. She wanted to be thrilled over the heart. What woman wouldnt be charmed by such an extravagant romantic gesture?
Except, last night, her first thought was how many times Jean-Luc had done something like this-tried to pull the wool over her eyes by doing something effusively romantic. For years shed built up a knee-jerk response. Gift, trick. Get a gift, look over your shoulder for the trick-because something was going to hurt and soon.
She knew that Teague was nothing like Jean-Luc. She knew. And it certainly wasnt Teagues fault that his gift had turned into a spectacle. He couldnt possibly understand how sick and shaken she felt about being the focus of attention. As a kid, God knew, shed done wild things to get attention, but then shed married Jean-Luc, the master of public, flashy gestures. So many times Jean-Luc had pulled off some grandiose gift or event in a big public way-as if to show everyone how much he loved her-when they couldnt afford that kind of extravagance. When shed been working two or more jobs to pay for his last wonderful gesture.
Daisy just couldnt seem to stop feeling as if she were floundering. Shed just learned the harsh lesson that when a man felt obligated to shout how much he loved a womanhe likely didnt.
She heard the sheriffs booming voice, glanced out and saw George settling at his usual center seat at the counter-he always had his first cup at the café-only this morning Harry and Janelle were both running to keep up with the other customers. With everyone else so busy, Daisy brought out the pot and a fresh plate of cookies-but she mentally braced. To expect George not to flirt and tease was like wondering if the sun was going to come up in the morning.
Sure enough, George said immediately, So. I hear youve got yourself a beau.
Beau? Isnt that a term that died out before the Civil War?
George just grinned at her attempt to divert him. So maybe we need a different term than beau. How about victim? Here youve been in town less than three weeks and already youre breaking hearts.
She was living up to her old reputation, he meant, which stung her conscience even more. She might have been careless with boys back in high school, but shed grown up. So much so that the idea of hurting Teague in any way bothered her terribly. Look, George, the heart was a joke. Ive been doing some work with Teague, and I let on how much I love chocolate.
Uh-huh.
Really, thats all it is!
Yeah, well, my ex-wife let on lots of times how much she liked chocolate and I bought her plenty, too. But nothing like a four-foot heart. That had to cost some. And Teague-hes usually the most practical guy in town. Practical, serious, quiet, sticks to himself. For him to make a big gesture like that-oh, baby, youve got him hooked with a capital H.
Daisy frowned. The comment made her realize that the townspeople didnt know the real Teague. For darn sure, he was sturdy and strong and practical, but he wasnt all that quiet and didnt naturally have a loner personality at all. He also had a whole personality side that he didnt show easily to others-the side that bought a mutt named Hussy a pink collar. The side that made him lie about his expenses so a wheelchair-bound customer could afford him. The side of him that listened to a down-on-her-luck divorcee-such as herself-and somehow didnt make her feel bad for the failure shed made of her life. The side that somehow wormed her into telling him the truth, because a woman just knew that she could trust him.