“Oh, Lucian, it’s so beautiful.”
Sydney ran her hand over the new granite countertop that Lucian had just installed in the café. It would separate the dining area from the wine and beer and cappuccino machine on the back wall. If her tables were full, then customers could wait here on bar stools and have drinks or hors d’oeuvres until they were seated.
“It’s strong enough to hold an elephant, too.” Screwdriver in hand, Lucian knelt behind the countertop and gave the last screw head on the supporting cabinet a solid twist.
“I don’t suppose I’ll get too many elephants for customers,” Sydney said lightly.
Lucian stood, slipped his screwdriver into the tool belt around his waist. “I suppose not. But there are Henry Offman’s two teenage sons. Don’t think I’d want those boys to come in any restaurant I owned. Some say they single-handedly shut down Barney’s Buffet. Just be sure you don’t have any All-You-Can-Eat nights or they’ll clean you out.”
Laughing, she shook her head and joined him behind the counter. “How would you like to be my first cappuccino customer? Or maybe an espresso?”
“That’s straight-up black, right? Whipped cream and foam on coffee is for wimps.”
“Espresso it is.”
He leaned against the counter and watched while she prepared the coffee. “Looks like you’re just about ready to open.”
“Six days, four hours and thirty-two minutes.” She handed him the aromatic dark coffee in a demitasse.
Lucian raised a skeptical brow at the miniature mug, then took a sip. “Not bad, Syd. By the way, I like your hair like that.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. “I just got it cut this morning.”
Lucian’s cell phone rang and while he spoke to his foreman regarding a building permit on a job site outside of town, Sydney glanced into the ceiling-high mirror behind the cappuccino machine. She still couldn’t believe the woman looking back at her was Sydney Taylor.
It had taken her an entire week to work up the courage to go to the salon. She touched the sides of the shaggy, layered cut that Frederico had insisted was created just for her. He’d also talked her into adding a few highlights to her already blond hair, and while she had those silly pieces of foil in her hair, he handed her over to Marie, the esthetician, who’d tweaked and plucked, plastered mud on her face, then applied a light touch of eye make-up. By the time her hair had been blown dry, Sydney looked and felt like a new woman.
Marie had oohed and ahhed and nodded with approval.
Frederico had called her Sexy Sydney.
Sexy Sydney.
She smiled. No one had ever called her sexy in her entire life. She liked it.
She’d gone straight from the salon and bought that short skirt she’d told Reese last week she was going to buy, plus a few other items of clothing that she’d always admired on other women, but never thought right for herself.
She couldn’t wait until Reese saw her in them.
Or not in them.
She felt her skin heat up at her lurid thoughts of Reese, what it felt like to have his hands on her, his mouth. They’d seen each other several times since they’d made love that first time. On Monday, when the tavern was closed, they’d gone for a drive through the back roads of the country to a lake where he told her that he and his brothers used to race cars and drink beer. Just thinking about how she and Reese had made love in a secluded glen by the lake made her heart quicken. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever thought that she’d make love outside, surrounded by trees and bushes and the sky overhead.
With Reese Sinclair.
A woman couldn’t ask for a more skilled, generous, thoughtful lover. One minute he was gentle, the next wild and rough. These past few days had been the most exciting time of her life. He’d come to her apartment one night after the tavern had closed, a bottle of wine in his hand. They drank it in her bed. And just yesterday afternoon he’d shown up while she was unpacking an order of bread baskets and dragged her over to his cottage. She’d been breathless, excited that he’d wanted to make love with her so much that he couldn’t wait until that night.
But he hadn’t wanted to make love. He’d wanted to show her his brand-new, just arrived off the UPS truck, first edition, signed copy of Hemmingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.
The pleasure and excitement in his face had made her heart stutter. There was so much more to Reese Sinclair than she’d ever imagined, and the fact that he’d wanted to share something so special with her made her eyes tear.
Then she’d been the one kissing him, tugging his clothes off as she pulled him to his bed with an urgency that startled herself.
With a sigh, she turned back to the cappuccino machine and made herself a cup. She refused to think beyond the moment. She’d be a fool to think that there was any kind of future for her and Reese. She understood that their relationship—whatever it was—was not permanent. They were…dating. Sort of. Enjoying each other’s company. Definitely. They took each day as it came. No commitments, no plans, no explanations.
And if she started to dream for a moment, let herself think for even a millisecond that there could be more, all she had to do was remember standing at the front of the church, forcing her knees not to give and her voice not to shake as she looked at all those people and made her excuses. The pity in everyone’s eyes had nearly done her in. They’d seen all along what she’d been too blind to see. That Bobby had lied to the very end, made promises, told her he loved her and wanted her to be his wife. She didn’t ever want to see that look in anyone’s eyes again. She wouldn’t be a fool again. This time she’d be realistic. No expectations.
But Reese was honest. He’d made no promises, and he’d certainly never told her that he loved her. As long as she didn’t make a foolish mistake and fall in love with him, then she would survive when he decided to move on to the next woman.
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. She didn’t want to think about that now. She wouldn’t.
She turned suddenly and bumped into Lucian who’d just finished his call. He steadied her with one hand, then frowned at the coffee that had splashed over the side of her cup onto the front of her blue cotton sweater.
“Did it burn you?” he asked with concern.
“No, no, I’m fine.” She grabbed a bar towel from a hook under the cappuccino machine and dabbed at the spot. “I’ve got it.”
“You sure? I’d help you out, but then you might have to slap me. Course,” he said, grinning at her with that same Sinclair smile that made women melt, “it might be worth it.”
Laughing, she shook her head. The Sinclair men were all hopeless flirts, charming, but deadly. And Lucian, well, there was something under the surface with Lucian, something under that Sinclair smile and eyes that appeared wounded. She recognized that look. She’d seen it in her own eyes.
But she already had her hands full with one Sinclair male. She wasn’t remotely interested in another.
That wasn’t how it appeared to Reese, however, when he chose that moment to walk into the café. At the sight of his brother standing so close to Sydney behind the new countertop, with his hand on her arm, smiling at her and her smiling back, Reese’s blood started to simmer.
“Can I get in on the joke, too?” He kept his gaze carefully on Lucian as he crossed the room. “Or is this just between you two?”
Startled, Sydney jumped, but Lucian turned smoothly and grinned.
“Hey, Reese.” Lucian dropped his hand away from Sydney’s arm and leaned back casually against the small counter that held the coffee machine. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his espresso. “What’s up?”
“Not much.” His gaze slid to Sydney, who had just enough guilt in her eyes to make his jaw tighten. And just what had she done to her hair? He looked back at Lucian. “What’s up with you?”
“Just putting in the counter for Syd,” he said easily, then raised the little cup in his hand. “I’m her first espresso customer.”
“Is that right?” A muscle twitched in the corner of Reese’s eye. He didn’t want Lucian to be Sydney’s first anything. Or any other guy for that matter. And he sure didn’t like his brother standing behind that counter getting so cozy with his girl.
“Would you like a cup?” Sydney asked quickly and turned toward the machine. “It will just take a minute.”
“Maybe if you put it in a real cup,” Reese said evenly. “That little thing Lucian’s got there won’t do much to get the heart pumping.”
Lucian raised a brow at his brother’s dig. To say his name and “little thing” in the same breath were fighting words and they both knew it.
While Sydney worked the machine, Reese glared at his brother. Lucian grinned right back, sipping his coffee.
Reese took the cup that Sydney offered, was irritated that she seemed to be avoiding his gaze. “Ah, I’ve got to go soak this or the spot will never come out,” she said hesitantly as she glanced down at the front of her sweater. “I’ll be right back.”
Reese noticed the coffee stain between her breasts, then narrowed his eyes as he realized that Lucian was looking at the same spot. When Sydney turned and walked out from behind the counter, Reese nearly spit out the coffee he’d just drank. She was wearing a tight, black skirt that didn’t have enough fabric to wipe a tabletop dry. Her legs went on forever. So did Lucian’s stare.
“Put your eyeballs back in your sockets and close your mouth,” Reese growled after Sydney was gone.
“Did you get a look at those legs?” Lucian whistled softly. “Lord have mercy, I think I’m in love.”
“Unless you want to eat that little cup in your hand,” Reese warned, “don’t say another word.”
“Why, Reese,” Lucian said with a smile, “I do believe you’re jealous. Just say the word, Bro, and I’ll back off.”
“I’m not jealous,” he snapped. “I never get jealous. But just touch her again, keep looking at her like that, or thinking what you’re thinking, and you die.”
“Well, well.” Humor lit Lucian’s eyes. “So you do have a thing for Sydney, don’t you? We were all wondering where you’d been keeping yourself when you weren’t at the tavern.”
Reese had never come out and exactly announced that he and Sydney were seeing each other, but he had a right to a private life, didn’t he? Who he saw or what he did was nobody’s business but his own. “Sydney and I—” he hesitated, trying to think of the right words “—have an understanding.”
“Which is?”
“We like each other, enjoy each other’s company.” He took a sniff of the strong coffee, then sipped, decided he liked the strong, rich flavor. “That’s it.”
“Right.” Lucian gave a snort of laughter. “That’s why you started barking and growling when you walked in and saw me with her. Because you like her.”
“That’s right.”
“When I dated Susie Hutton at the same time you did, you never even blinked,” Lucian said, obviously enjoying every minute of Reese’s irritation. “Or Mary Walinkski. She dumped you to go out with me and you didn’t care. You liked them, didn’t you?”
“I liked them different,” he insisted. “And Mary didn’t dump me. I got busy and she got bored sitting around waiting for me to call. Anyway, Sydney is different, that’s all.”
“Different from what?” Sydney asked as she came back into the room, still wearing that little black skirt that had raised his blood pressure twenty notches and a V-neck pink sweater. It was all Reese could do not to grab the chef’s apron laid over a bar stool and cover her up with it. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Lucian, warning him off.
“Or should I say, different from who?” Sydney handed a check to Lucian. “Thanks, Lucian. The countertop is perfect.”
“Anytime you need anything,” Lucian said smoothly, “anything at all, Syd, just give me a call. You have my home number?”
Reese understood perfectly well that Lucian was goading him, but it still didn’t ease the desire to grab his brother by the scruff of his neck and shove him out the door.
“That shouldn’t be necessary.” She smiled. “I’m sure I can find you if I need you.”
Reese gritted his teeth, decided to rough his brother up later for setting him up like this.
“Thanks for the coffee.” Lucian handed Sydney back the cup, slid a grin at Reese as he passed him. “See ya.”
Reese nodded stiffly, watched Lucian stride casually out the front door, whistling as he stepped out into the cool November air.
“What did you mean, ‘I’m different’?” Sydney asked, dragging Reese’s attention from his brother back to her.
He moved toward her, backed her against the countertop and braced one arm on either side of her. He covered her mouth with his, felt a surge of hot satisfaction at the soft moan he heard rise from deep in her throat.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “You taste like coffee and cream.”
“Stop trying to distract me,” she said, then slid her hands up his chest and gently nudged him away. “How am I different?”
“Your hair, for one thing. You cut it.” He knew enough about women to never say you didn’t like a new hairdo, but in this case he did like it. It made her eyes look bigger, her face softer. “Very sexy.”
Pleasure shone in her blue eyes, and he felt something shift and move inside him, an unfamiliar tilt to his equilibrium that had him tightening his grip on the countertop to steady himself. Lack of sleep, he decided. He hadn’t had much of that this past week, between making love at night with Sydney, or wanting to.
“That’s what Frederico said,” she said, her voice breathy.
“Who?”
“The stylist who cut my hair.”
“Oh.” He felt the tension ease from his shoulders. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to beat up every guy in town, including Lucian.”
Especially Lucian, he thought, remembering the way his brother had drooled over Sydney’s legs.
“Reese, Frederico is a happily married man, with two children.” She laughed at the surprise on his face. “And Lucian? You’re actually jealous of your own brother?”
There was that damn word again. “Protective,” he said, deciding he liked the neutrality of that word.
“Of me?” She stared at him in wide-eyed wonder. “Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked irritably, uncomfortable with the shift this conversation had taken. Why did women have to make things so complicated? Pick every thought and word apart and analyze it?
“Well…” Her gaze dropped to his chest while she busied one fingertip circling a button on his denim shirt. “I realize that we’re sleeping together, but I never—”
“Just stop right there.”
He took hold of her arms, narrowed his eyes as he looked down at her startled face.
“We’re not just sleeping together,” he said through clenched teeth, then eased up on the tight grip he had on her. “I think I deserve better than a comment like that, and so do you.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Her fingers stilled, then she asked carefully, “So what are we doing, then?” she asked carefully.
Oh, hell. Too many damn questions, when all he wanted to do was drag her upstairs to her apartment and make wild love with her all afternoon. “We’re…seeing each other, Syd. Exclusively. In spite of what you may have heard about me, I’m not with a different woman every night and while I may not be a saint, I sure as hell haven’t slept with all the ones I have gone out with. Not even close. Got that?”
He’d never explained himself to any woman before, Reese realized with annoyance. It surprised him, as much as it aggravated him, that he felt the need to do so now.
“All right.” She spread her fingers on his chest, her expression thoughtful. “So you like my new haircut?”
His annoyance dissolved, in its place a heat built where her fingers had begun to move over his chest. “Yeah, I do. And you know what else I like?”
“What?” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his throat.
“This skirt.” His pulse quickened when she nipped lightly at the base of his throat. “I especially like this skirt.”
His hands slid the fabric up and slipped underneath to reveal the tiniest sliver of black satin. He moaned softly, reached behind her and cupped her firm buttocks, lifted her up to fit snugly against the growing ache in the front of his jeans.
“I was hoping you would,” she murmured, slipping her arms around his neck and pressing herself even closer, moving her hips in a way that made his heart slam like a fist in his chest.
He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her, didn’t understand the need that rocked him to his very core. Didn’t want to understand it.
Right now, he only understood the urgency racing through his veins to possess her completely, thoroughly, mindlessly.
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to her tidy, organized apartment, laid her down on her feather mattress, felt the last of his control snap when she held out her arms to him and pulled him down beside her.
“Just for the record,” she said, gasping when he pushed her skirt up around her waist, “I’m not interested in Lucian.”
“Sydney—” he skimmed the edge of her panties with one curious fingertip, felt masculine satisfaction at the sound of her sharp intake of breath and the upward thrust of her hips “—I don’t want to talk about my brother right now.”
“Okay.” The blue of her eyes darkened with desire when he palmed the soft mound between her legs. She moved against his hand, closed her eyes on a moan. “What shall we talk about? The weather?”
“I heard there’s a storm coming in.” Just watching her squirm underneath him set Reese’s blood boiling. He moved over her, inched her sweater upward with one hand while he caressed her intimately with the other. “You might want to stay inside to keep warm.”
“Maybe I should light a fire.” She sucked in a breath when his hand closed over her breast.
“I’ll do it.”
He slipped his hand under the band of elastic on her panties, then slid into the damp heat of her body and moved in a time-old rhythm, letting her set the pace. She arched upward when he leaned down and kissed her belly, raked her hands through his hair, grasping at his shoulders while his mouth moved lower.
“Reese,” his name was ragged on her lips, a frantic plea.
He took his time, nuzzling the sensitive flesh on the inside of her thighs, softly biting, teasing with his mouth, stroking, loving her.
When she surged upward, gasping, then melted bonelessly back onto the soft mattress, he quickly slid her panties off, still kissing her while he tugged his jeans down. She opened to him, drew him to her. He heard her name on his lips as he drove himself deep inside her, heard the sound of his own hoarse breathing and her soft encouragement.
Insanity, he thought, as his body coiled tighter and tighter. What her hands did to him, her mouth. He looked at her, thought her the most beautiful, exciting woman he’d ever seen. Her eyes, glazed with passion, met his hard gaze; her lips, softly parted and swollen from his kisses, whispered his name.
Pure insanity.
And then he did go crazy, completely, and took her with him.