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Blake ran a hand over his freshly shaved chin for the third time in ten minutes and popped another mint into his mouth. He’d been showered, dressed, and ready for anything when she’d called, but then he puttered around for a while to give her some time. Growing up with his sister and mother had taught him that women needed to perform their ablutions before a social event. The rituals enhanced their self-esteem, and he wanted Sarah to be totally comfortable when the evening began, to help erase the damage done by her father and that jerk, her ex.
Now that he knew what was behind Sarah’s fear of men, Blake could try to reassure her. It stood to reason if he generated enough positive vibes, they would cancel out the negative ones that haunted her. She’d said something about feeling like a failure, not good enough. So his plan was to make a list of all the totally legitimate, wonderful things about her and try to say something nice about each of them without sounding like a con artist. It would be tricky but worth a try.
Meanwhile, way at the back of his mind, a tiny red beacon of guilt flashed.
He heard the echo of his mother’s warning and wondered whether he shouldn’t be planning to confess his double identity instead of planning to take Sarah to bed.
Nope, the last thing I want now is to spook her.
Once she understood how much he cared, she’d be much more likely to forgive his silly charade. He had a chance to take their relationship to the next level, and it was a miracle he’d finally gotten this far after almost a year of watching, hanging around, and hinting. Plus, every guy knew that women liked them much more after they’d had sex. He’d discussed it with his buddies many times. That was why women got so freaked out if they didn’t call them the next day. After the sex, they were totally hooked.
Blake stopped in the hallway to check his hair in the mirror again.
And on the hook is right where I want her, he thought, smiling at himself. Only for the best possible reasons, of course.
Blake would take excellent care of her heart if he was lucky enough to win it. He wanted nothing more than to fall in love, settle down with one amazing woman, and make a family. From where he stood, Sarah and Devon looked like the cornerstones of happily ever after.
He looked at the clock on his phone and decided an hour was plenty of time for her to primp, so he led Hershey outside. After putting him in the truck, they drove off down the street.
* * *
SARAH SAW BLAKE PULL into the driveway as she stood between the stove and the granite island, stirring the risotto, a big white dish towel wrapped around her waist over a rosebud-print cotton sundress. Her long hair was loose and still damp, and she was barefoot. Acoustic guitar music played quietly in the background. Everything on the list was done, and when he came in the door carrying a big bouquet of sunflowers and a brown paper bag, she welcomed him with an easy smile.
Hershey and Kahlua danced a hello to one another and took turns lapping water from the stainless-steel dog dish in the corner. Sarah turned the heat to simmer and set down her spoon to walk around the island and let both dogs out into the fenced yard. She paused to give Blake a bold kiss on the cheek as she passed. He smelled like soap, and his face was smooth and soft. She was tempted to let her lips linger but pulled back. His hands were both full, so all he could do was stare longingly.
She laughed at his frustrated expression. “Welcome,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Wow, these are gorgeous! Thank you.” She took the flowers to the sink. Her hair swung to one side as she bent to take a large vase out of the lower cabinet, and she felt the air touch her back where the low-cut sleeveless dress exposed her skin and knew it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Hope they’re okay. I didn’t know what kind you like,” he mumbled, sounding a little choked up.
She heard the catch in his voice and turned around slowly to face him with her pulse racing. “Yes, they’re lovely. So cheerful, summery.”
His face was flushed, and his eyes glittered. A shadow of panic lurked in her belly, but then he smiled the most tender, heart-melting smile she’d ever seen, and it was all okay.
He really cares for me, she thought.
She added water to the vase and took the flowers to the island, where she had laid out a plate of cheese and crackers. Salmon fillets were marinating, a salad was in the fridge, and a box of fresh chocolate éclairs sat on the counter. Check, check, and check. Dinner could be served in ten minutes, whenever they were ready. Sarah relaxed her shoulders, looked up at him, and smiled into his eyes, cocking one hip as she leaned against the counter.
“I brought something else I know you’ll enjoy.” Blake held the eye contact, hesitating with a sly smile. Then he pulled two bottles, a little white box, a carton of half-and-half, and a cocktail shaker out of his shopping bag.
Safely behind the granite counter, she swiveled and took up her spoon again, stirring as the risotto softened and thickened. “What are we having? Sombreros?”
“Nope, chocolate martinis. Ever tried one?”
“Never. Sounds fabulous!” Sarah’s chocolate addiction stirred like a sleeping dragon, and her mouth watered. “There’s an ice dispenser in the refrigerator door. And here are some glasses that should work.” She turned to reach high and pull them out of a cabinet, stretching up on tiptoes.
When she turned around, he was staring at her again, still holding the bottles in midair with a dazed expression. Then he hurried to get ice and measure the ingredients. He did his thing with the cocktail shaker while she removed her apron and turned off the risotto. Then they took the drinks and snacks out to the patio, where she had already set the table and lit lanterns.
The outdoor speakers carried quiet music into the cool, green space where blue hydrangeas and purple bee balm made a border under the shade trees. Cedar armchairs with padded seats surrounded a matching table, where Sarah arranged the food and flowers. Blake poured the martinis and garnished them with chocolate truffles on toothpicks, reminiscent of the olive in a traditional martini. He carefully passed one of the glasses to her and held his up for a toast.
Blake leaned close and captured her eyes. “To us, Sarah. And I mean it.” He nodded solemnly, and she mirrored his expression, raising her glass to meet his. The aroma of cacao and alcohol wafted into her lungs, mixed with the scent of his powerful pheromones, and a reaction began to stir deep in her belly.
They drank the smooth, dark, frothy concoction, and she thought how adorable he was to put this together for her, even adding the chocolate garnish as a finishing touch. He would probably have been happier with a cold beer. As for Sarah, the kick of chocolate liqueur and vodka went straight to her head in seconds, and after the third sip and a few nibbles on the truffle, a pleasant heat radiated from her core.
Blissful sensations pumped into her awareness with every heartbeat, and her lips began to throb. Licking them, she tasted truffle, and a frisson of pleasure brought goose bumps on her skin. This was the point when she usually got up and exited, but tonight, she gave herself permission to ride the wave of endorphins wherever it might go.
Sarah crossed her legs, settling back in the chair, and saw his eyes follow the line of her calf down to her pink-polished toenails. If she looked anything like she felt right now, there must be a seductive grin on her face. One strap of the sundress had fallen off her shoulder, and she glanced down to see the top curve of her breast. She left it that way and watched his face when he noticed. As she raised her glass for another sip, he reached over and took her free hand, playing with her fingers. When he touched her, there was a snap like static electricity.
“I hope you understand,” Blake started, a hesitance in his voice and a little pucker between his eyebrows. “I’ve been trying not to move too fast. Like you asked. Following your lead.” When she started to speak, he went on, “No, don’t say anything. You’re just about the most beautiful, smart, funny, wonderful woman I’ve ever come across, Sarah.” He examined her face, as though checking her reaction. “And I’m amazed by how you juggle work and family so well. I really admire you.”
Sarah heard his words through a haze as he refilled her glass and added another skewered chocolate truffle. “Oh, no, I don’t think—” she objected but then reached to pop the truffle into her mouth. “Mmmm, so good.” She saw him watching her and returned to the conversation, though most of her attention was on the field of energy that radiated between them. “Blake, I know what I said before, but now, well, I guess I feel differently. About you, that is. I know you’re a good person and you’d never lie to me or hurt me. I was just scared because of what happened before. But I can’t let it ruin the rest of my life, or Devon’s.” Letting it all out in a rush, she leaned toward him and felt his heat, every skin cell in her body yearning to be touched.
Blake gave her hand a warm squeeze, and she felt it all the way to her toes.
He looked relieved but flustered. “You can’t imagine how glad I am to hear you say that, Sarah, but maybe we should think about—”
Distracted by his hand, she interrupted. “No, Blake. Let’s not ruin this. It’s very simple. I like you, and you like me, right? No stupid hang-ups, no misdirected anger, no hidden agendas. A clean start, okay?” She laced her fingers through his and gave him a long look, smiling.
He hesitated but nodded, his eyes cautious.
“So, how about that salmon? Why don’t you start the grill while I get things out of the fridge?” She pulled her hand away, took a deep cleansing breath, and stood up to go inside.
“Okay, whatever you say.” He still looked worried.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Let’s grill. I’m starving. I could eat a brontosaurus.”
Now he grinned. “Yes, ma’am! Me too.”
“Be right back.” She went inside to get the salad, rice, and fish then stopped at the mirror by the back door to check her makeup and fluff her hair. So far, so good. They were past the awkward part. She felt confident and powerful. After putting the food on a tray, along with the bottle of red wine and two glasses, she carried it out to the patio, and they began to chat comfortably about work, friends, and family.
Everything was going great. Why had she been worried? Being with Blake was so easy, like hanging out with someone she’d known all her life. Sarah let go of her fear and opened wide, pushing all of the dark and bitter feelings out into the fresh air. Watching him enjoy himself, looking at her with such admiration, was like cold water in the desert. She felt herself melting, softening, as the scars that had held her rigid for so long began to dissolve.
It was a beautiful night, and something magical was finally happening in her life.
* * *
THE SUN HAD SET, AND shadows under the trees deepened as the sky turned pink then lavender then navy blue with a few stars beginning to wink. Hershey and Kahlua had eaten in the kitchen earlier and were sitting like a pair of bookends on either side of the table, watching for scraps that might fall.
Blake had a moment to think when she took the dishes inside, telling him to stay seated. He watched her through the windows while she moved around the kitchen, graceful and efficient. It was dark outside on the patio and lit from within the house, like a stage. He was the audience. The skirt of her dress swayed around her bare legs, and a flash of skin showed her naked back when her long hair swung to one side. He felt like a voyeur, and it was incredibly sexy.
Totally enchanted, he watched as Sarah took a pastry box out of the refrigerator and brought it, with two plates and forks, to the table. She opened the lid and showed him four chocolate éclairs dripping with fudgy frosting.
Her eyes shone. “Two each!” she said, her voice husky. Then she dipped her finger into the frosting and brought it to his mouth.
He licked the fudge from her finger and was about to lean in for a kiss when she pulled back, focused on the pastry, and put the éclairs on two plates. Taking a fast bite, she closed her eyes in a mock swoon.
“A really great meal,” he said, nodding in admiration as he downed both of his pastries in a few swift mouthfuls. She polished hers off and wiped her mouth on a napkin, watching him appraisingly. “Terrific dessert, by the way. Paisley’s handiwork?”
“Yes,” she said, gathering up their dishes. “But dessert isn’t finished.”
He raised one eyebrow and stood to move a chair out of her way.
Sarah deliberately brushed against him as she slipped by, whispering, “Come with me!” She led him to the kitchen door, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he followed. “Let the dogs in too,” she said then kicked the door shut behind them. She put the dishes on the counter next to the sink and beckoned, flipping off the kitchen lights.
He moved in for a long kiss, bending her back against the smooth granite and thinking about taking her right there, or on the floor. But she wriggled out from underneath him and slipped away toward the stairs, beckoning again with her finger.
“Come up to my tree house, Tarzan,” she said. “I’ll make it worth your while!”
Blake didn’t have to hear it twice. He bounded up the stairs behind her, watching her sway as she went. All thoughts of his mother’s advice fled as his mind shut down for the night and the combination of alcohol, chocolate, and testosterone drugged him into a state of mindless passion. Like a human sacrifice too thoroughly hypnotized by bliss to anticipate the fall of the knife, he took her to bed without further consideration of truth and lies or right and wrong. All he knew was the touch and smell and taste of her, and the crashing waves of passion that eventually brought them both to rest on her soft white sheets, twined in one another’s arms.