31

Every beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

—Seneca

 

“Order’s ready,” Savannah called as she exited the kitchen of Murphy’s Irish Pub. “Country fried sweet potatoes with mango chutney. Hummus with balsamic vinaigrette and garlic toast.” She handed the large appetizers to Shannon. “These both go to table seven.”

Shannon accepted the platters and deftly wove her way through the crowded bar to deliver them safely.

“The new waitress is good, Max.” Savannah smiled. “I like her.”

“She’s okay.” Max leaned along the solid wood bar, chin jutting in what she’d term a masculine pout. From the way his blue eyes settled on Shannon, Savannah knew the waitress was more than okay, but she kept the thought to herself. She’d spent enough time around Max to pick up on when he was in a fighting mood.

“These past few months you’ve gone and spoiled my customers, Savannah. How am I supposed to come up with mango chutney and balsamic whatever when you’re gone?”

She shook her head and handed another couple plates to Shannon. “Don’t start with me. Rosie knows the recipes and she will train someone else in case she needs a backup. Besides, if I get the place I want, it will only be down the street from you. Within walking distance. Speaking of which—” She pulled off her apron and hung it on a hook outside the kitchen door. “I need to leave soon to go meet the seller. I know the location is great but I haven’t had a chance to check inside. It’s been closed for years. For all I know, the place might require months of work.” And lots of money, which was more than likely since the offer seemed way too good to be true.

A tinge of guilt and sadness settled inside her. Four months since Luke’s death, and she still found each day a challenge. For the first couple months, she’d resisted depositing the one hundred thousand dollar check Broderick had written her, but Broderick was right. Without the money, she would never have paid off her debt and kept Luke’s request. Even with savings and the remainder of the money, she still might have only enough to run the restaurant for four months. She’d have to hit the ground running.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

“No, but thanks. This is the first time I’m seeing it so I’d rather take my time and picture how I want it to look.”

“Gotcha.” He sighed and pulled her rain coat from beneath the bar. “The heavens look like they’re about to open so you’d better take this.”

“Rain means good luck.” She took her jacket and slipped it on. “Thanks, Max. I’ll be back before the evening rush. I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand at her. “Go on and get out of here. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back.”

Savannah waved goodbye and stole out the front door. The day was mild for Boston in winter and as Max predicted, rain started within minutes of exiting the pub. By the time she reached the restaurant location a few blocks down, her hood had fallen back, leaving her hair and face soaked. Droplets clung to her cheeks and chin, dripping down her neck into her wool v-neck sweater. The water chilled yet refreshed her at the same time. She shivered and pulled off a soggy piece of paper taped to the door.

 

Savannah,

Running a bit late. Go ahead and take a look around. See you soon.

 

She turned the paper over, careful not to rip it. Simple enough instructions, although they could have texted or called her. Oh well.

Twisting the knob, she pushed the door open and stopped. Hardwood floors covered the large space. Maybe oak or pine? Stone walls and a large fireplace. The ceiling gave the space a log cabin feel and despite its size, the restaurant exuded coziness. Afraid to drip all over the place, she pulled off her coat and laid it next to the door then scooped her hair off her face and neck. Obviously, the seller went to great lengths to keep the place in great condition.

Heading toward the back, she pushed open a large wooden door and gasped. The kitchen was huge with stainless steel countertops and appliances. Copper pots hung from a ceiling rack and knives lined a good portion of the back wall.

“What?” She dug into her bag for the information she’d printed on the location. She could have sworn it was a yoga studio prior to being put on the market. Nothing mentioned a restaurant. Not that she’d complain. It was more perfect than she could ever have imagined.

“Is the space to your liking? I did most of the upgrades myself but admittedly had to get some help installing the rack. It weighs a ton, or at least it felt like it after holding it over my head for twenty minutes.”

Deep and smooth, the sound of the male’s voice froze her. Closing her eyes, she took small, slow breaths. Don’t lose it now. You’ve done so well. God help her, he sounded exactly like Luke.

* * * *

Luke’s heart thudded intensely as he gripped the wall. Two hundred or so years as an immortal and he had forgotten how weak the human body was. Savannah had not turned and the last thing he wanted was to die of a heart attack before seeing her. Perhaps he’d said too much? Not enough?

Suddenly nervous at her stillness, he pushed off the wall and took a step toward her. “The space is fairly bare. If anything is not to your taste, we can negotiate it in the contract.”

She turned. Her eyes shone like pools of emeralds in her pale face. “Am I dreaming?”

His chest ached at the sadness in her voice and expression. He shook his head.

“Then you’re alive.” She released a shuddery breath and eased down to the floor. Tears slid slowly at first but her breath caught on a sob, turning them into full-blown waterfalls.

“Do not cry, love.” He moved forward and kneeled beside her, hugged her against him. “I am here now. Nothing will come between us ever again.”

“No.” She punched at his chest, the impact surprisingly hard. “How could you? How could you leave me? How could you not tell me what I…what I am?” Pushing away his arms, she tried to crawl away.

He grabbed her arm. “Savannah, wait. I know I behaved a complete idiot.”

“No,” she bawled, slapping at his hands. “Leave me alone.” She created some distance and rocked in a fetal position. “Please, leave me.”

“Listen to me, pet.” Panic he would not be able to convince her to listen settled in.

“I’m not your love. I’m not your pet.”

He scrambled to his feet and moved to the windows along the back wall of the kitchen. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and the sun’s rays streamed through. “I did not know how you would take it. I died that day. Look at me.”

She shook her head, her moans muffled as she buried her face against her knees.

“Savannah.” He bent and pulled her to her feet, uncaring he was rough with her. Desperate for his chance. “Look at me.” He shook her.

Her chin lifted before her eyelids drifted open but when they did, the tears had stopped. She frowned at first then her eyes widened as she observed the sunlight shining on his face. “How is this possible?”

“I told you, I died.”

“I don’t understand.” She touched his face, smoothing a finger over his stubble. “Are you—”

“Human?” He finished for her. “Quite.” He smiled.

“I don’t understand. How?”

He shook his head. “Your blood didn’t harm me, it blessed me, changed me.”

She bit her bottom lip as if considering her next move.

He unclipped her hair and tucked several strands behind one ear. “Did I ever tell you your habit of biting your bottom lip drives me crazy?” He did not give her a chance to answer as he cupped her chin and kissed her. She tasted of fresh rain and salty tears. Her hand rested on his chest, timid in its exploration over his shoulder and around his neck. “Bloody hell, I missed you.” Deepening the kiss, he scooped her into his arms and pushed open the kitchen door with a foot. Setting her on her feet, he took off his wool coat and laid it on the floor. Next, he pulled off his turtle neck.

Her gaze settled on his chest and the hunger he saw there made his heart skip a beat.

“What about the windows?” she asked.

“I have a second chance to be with the woman I love. The windows are hardly a priority. Besides, it is raining. Peeping Toms avoid the rain.” He tugged the long-sleeved sweater over her head. Her pink lace bra made his mouth water.

“They do?” She arched a brow.

He grinned and lifted her, letting her legs wrap around his waist as he lowered her with him onto his wool coat. “If they know what is good for them, they do.” He kissed her neck and pulled back. “Of course, if it bothers you we can go elsewhere.”

She shook her head. “I’ve come to an understanding with my scars.”

“Every part of you is beautiful.”

She reached for his belt.

“Just a moment.” Before she could tug down his pants, he undid the clasp of her bra and hauled her onto his lap. “Patience, love. Let me treasure you.”

She placed a hand against his chest. “Has it been you all along? Did you upgrade this entire space?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Even the floor you’re lying on.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “For you, for your dreams. And if you’d let me, I would do that and more every day for the rest of my life.”

“I need you, Luke.”

Bending his head, he found one pert, rosy tip of a breast and suckled. He released a loud, long groan.

Savannah moaned and dropped her head back, pushing her breasts forward. “I’ve dreamed of this so many nights. I never thought to see you again.”

“I know. Forgive me.” He squeezed her wet nipple and suckled her other one. “I thought I lost you too. I did not know how else to keep you safe.” He buried his head against her stomach, cradling her back as she arched into him. “I say it is time we removed these.” He unbuttoned the clasp of her jeans and peeled them over her hips and down her thighs, exposing pink lace underwear. He took a deep breath and coughed.

“Are you okay?” She stilled beneath him.

Remembering a time he’d felt better would have been a feat. “I have yet to accustom myself to the changes in breathing.” Wearing her pink lace underwear, she was a sight. Her skin supple, the creamy mounds of her breasts open to his touch. How he had missed her. He swallowed, suddenly recalling he had not loved a woman as a human in over two hundred years.

“Luke?”

He cupped one perfect, creamy mound. “You always wear matching undergarments,” he said.

Savannah rose on her elbows, her breast becoming heavier as she leaned into his hand. “Do you really want to discuss my lingerie?”

Luke closed his eyes. Her skin wore the familiar scent of orange blossoms. “I have not loved a woman as a human in a long time.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze, amazed at the understanding he recognized there.

“I love you, Luke. And I would accept you in any form. I now realize that.” She covered his hand with hers, pushed it against her. “Touch me, be with me.”

Fighting the urge to take her right then, he kissed her mouth. His fingers slipped beneath the thin lace and reached her clit, flicked the nub back and forth. “Hell. Forgive me.” With one hard yank, he tore the lace from her body and pushed two fingers into her slick sheath.

Savannah climaxed immediately, crying out and gripping his head as her body rolled with waves from her orgasm.

“You were waiting for me.” He smiled, enjoying the tranquility of her expression, her half-closed eyes and parted lips. Climbing over her, he settled his hips in line with hers and waited for her to look at him.

Slowly her eyes opened, and impatience lay within their depths. “Are you not going to come inside me?”

“Would you like me to, minx?” Luke came to his knees and unbuttoned his trousers. He slid them off, hovering over her.

Savannah nodded.

“Tell me so,” he said. “I want to hear you say the words.”

“I want you to come inside me, Luke.”

He brought his tip to her entrance and met her gaze.

“I love you,” she said.

Her words were all he needed to move forward, thrusting himself inside her, and he growled with the intensity of his emotions. She felt amazing. Like a silk-lined glove, she hugged his length, rolling her hips with each drive into her. “I am never going to let you go.” He drove forward. “Never. Do you hear me?” He worked like a piston, moving harder and faster with each plunge into her.

Savannah nodded and let out a soft mewling sound before she catapulted upward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He thrust one last time and poured his seed into her, cradling her to him.

Smoothing her cheek along his, she kissed his ear. “Ditto.”

He pulled back. He’d heard the word before and yet its meaning eluded him. It seemed becoming human had not made him any more modern. “And ditto means?”

She sighed and kissed him, lingering on his bottom lip. “It means unless you have another buyer, renter or whatever for this restaurant space, you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”