Cape Cod Kisses (8 page)

“Severn? You’re kidding me. I live in Annapolis. What’s the name of your café?”

Severn was only a thirty-minute drive from Annapolis. It really was a small world. “It’s called the Creek Café. Have you heard of it?”

“Heard of it? I was there two weeks ago on my way back from a meeting. But I don’t remember seeing you there.”

He’d been to her shop? She would have
definitely
remembered seeing him. Quinn Rockwell wasn't the kind of man it was possible to forget. “I’m guessing you must have come on a Tuesday. That’s the day I work with my suppliers, and I usually do that from home, because otherwise I get too involved with my customers to get any real work done.”

They walked through a residential neighborhood with lush gardens and expansive beach houses. The hilly street had an incredible view of the town. By that point they’d taken so many turns that the resort was no longer in sight, but the view of low tide was awe-inspiring.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Quinn said, clearly noticing how enthralled she was by the view. “This is one of my favorite views on the island. At high tide it looks like the bay is spilled out before us. Now, at low tide, it’s more like the bay has been sucked away, leaving footprints on the sea floor.”

“
Footprints.
I love that.” And she also loved finding out about Quinn’s surprisingly poetic side. One more lovely surprise to add to the others. “Low tide always feels like such a miracle. Just the idea that all that water recedes like it does is amazing. When I was a kid I used to envision a water god that would inhale a deep breath, sucking all the water into his lungs at low tide, and then at high tide he’d blow it out until it refilled the mold it had left behind.”

“A water god.” He looked as pleased by her imagination as she’d been with his. “That would explain the footprints. When I was a kid we’d skateboard and ride our bikes all over the island. I used to wish there was a ramp big enough to send me flying up over the water.”

Shelley was stirred by the wonder in his voice, something she’d never heard in either of her parents’ voices, or from anyone in their extremely wealthy social circle—a true love of life and dreams of something other than mergers, takeovers, and investments.

Seeing the hint of nostalgia in Quinn’s eyes and hearing it in his voice as he talked about his childhood made her extra interested in finding out more about him. How could a guy from a family as wealthy as the Rockwells have had such a normal childhood, with skateboards and bicycles? What had it been like to grow up on this island? And how could he have ever left it?

Having met Abby, Shelley already knew that Quinn’s mother was a far cry from her own cold mother. But since she’d also met his grandfather, she had to wonder how the rather forbidding older man fit into the Rockwell family equation.

“Did you like growing up here?” she asked.

Tension suddenly filled Quinn’s grip, and she realized she’d struck a nerve. He was quiet for several moments as they headed down the road, then cut over toward the marina. He seemed to take careful consideration before answering.

“Growing up on an island isn’t like growing up in the city. Not that I have that experience to compare it to, but there aren’t as many things to do here, and there are limited career choices, obviously.”

“But did you
enjoy
it? Spending afternoons riding your bike or your skateboard? Being so close to the bay and growing up in such a close-knit town?”

Instead of answering her questions, Quinn stopped beside the boathouse and looked at her. “You have a way of making me think about things that I’d long ago forgotten.”

“A good way or a bad way?”

He stepped in close and caressed her cheek. She barely stifled a moan at how good it felt to be so close to him. Close enough that she could feel the heat of his body all along hers. She wanted to close her eyes and revel in the intimate moment, but she didn’t want to miss the intense look he was giving her. A look full of not only desire, but something else, too. Something deep and sweet. “A good way, Shelley. A surprisingly good way.”

For a moment she was positive he would kiss her again. And even though she was still torn over his being a Rockwell, she held her breath waiting for the press of his lips over hers.

But he must have read her mind—and the conflicts she was still struggling with—because instead of kissing her the way she could see that he wanted to, he sucked in a harsh breath, then stepped back. “Come on. Let’s get to your secret.”

But just because he didn't kiss her, that didn't stop him from rubbing seductive little circles on the sensitive skin of her palm with his thumb as they continued toward a boathouse. With every soft caress on her hand, she felt her breath grow shallower, her legs get weaker, and her need for him ratchet up another million levels.

By the time he led her to a shed beside the boathouse and handed her two metal rakes, she was a lust-filled mess. “Would you mind holding these?”

“Sure.” It took everything she had to keep her voice from being breathless. Husky. “But what are we going to do with them?”

From the way his dark eyes had dilated and he was running his hand roughly through his hair, he looked just as wrecked by unfulfilled desire as she was. “You’ll see.”

He snagged a bucket, and then she followed him into the boathouse. Tools and boating equipment filled the high-ceilinged building. Large workbenches lined the walls, with cabinets above and below. Quinn reached into a cabinet beneath one of the work areas, grabbed a towel and tossed it over his shoulder. He took the rakes from Shelley and put them in the bucket.

“Now we’re ready,” he said as he led her away from the boathouse along the main road.

Yes,
she thought. She was so freaking
ready
to kiss him again, it wasn't even funny...

Still, she tried to focus on the secret he was about to show her. “We’re either going to build some funky sand castles,” she guessed, “or you’re going to use the rakes to dig a shallow grave, bury me before the tide comes in, and hope no one notices.”

“Sweetheart, if those are the best ideas you can come up with for a rake and a bucket, you haven’t spent nearly enough time on the island yet.”

Sweetheart
. He barely knew her, yet the endearment sounded natural. Just as natural as it had when he’d said it to her last night. Right before she'd thrown herself into his arms and learned just how good a kiss could be. Good enough to turn a girl
wanton.

“I already love it here on the island. So much, in fact, that I’d like to stay longer.”

He shot her a questioning glance. “Are you considering extending your vacation?”

“I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking yet, but even in the short time I’ve been here…I feel like I
fit
, you know?”

“I can’t imagine you not fitting in anywhere.”

“Oh, there are definitely places,” she said softly.

But she didn’t want to go into details on her family life right now. She wanted to get to know the real Quinn Rockwell, and if she told him about her childhood and her concerns about wealthy people as a whole, he might try to bend to please her.

She didn’t even know why she’d revealed to him that she’d like to stay longer, but once the words were out, she knew they were true. She did feel like she fit in with the easygoing lifestyle here, at least what she’d seen of it so far. She felt relaxed and accepted here, just like she always had with her aunt in Eastham.

Shelley was glad that he didn’t push for details as they walked down a side street to a sandy, rutted road that looked like it had seen better days. Every part of her was keenly aware of his athletic build, the firm outlines of his thighs against his khaki shorts, his strong hands engulfing hers. He was just so sexy and confident, and best of all, noticeably lacking the air of self-importance that surrounded her father like a cloud. Quinn felt substantial—not that she needed a big man to protect her, or that she was looking for one, for that matter, but she felt safe with him.

At the end of the dirt road, a hill rose up to meet thick, spiny bushes. “We’re heading through there.” He nodded to a narrow path between the thorny bushes. “I’ll go first to clear away the branches.”

“What’s over the ridge?”

He grinned, and her heart started pounding faster at the way the expression utterly transformed his face, from handsome to heart-stoppingly gorgeous and carefree.

“Your surprise.” Quinn carefully pushed aside the bushes.

He held the bucket in one hand high above the tops of the bushes and used his other hand to hold the branches away from her, oblivious to the way thorns were clinging to his own shirt.

“You’re getting pricked!” She tried to pull the branches from his shirt and a thorn stuck in her fingers. “Ouch.”

She drew her hand back, and a bead of blood appeared on her finger. When she sucked it into her mouth, Quinn’s eyes darkened and the air between them sizzled, causing her pulse to quicken. She couldn't stop herself from imagining what it would feel like to have his mouth on her finger, his tongue licking a lazy path up her skin.

“Shelley.”

She'd never heard anyone say her name with that much heat, with that much desire. Her finger fell from her mouth, making a loud kissing sound that hung in the air between them.

The sound was so unexpected, and loud, that a second later they both laughed, momentarily breaking the spell. Long enough, at least, for Quinn to guide her the rest of the way through the bushes. As they climbed down the steep dunes toward the beach, Shelley stumbled and nearly fell down the last few feet.

He caught her and swept her against his chest.
Oh God.
He smelled potent, virile. Delicious. So delicious that Shelley’s body immediately heated up and she couldn't tear her gaze away from his mouth. A mouth that had tasted better than anything else ever had.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Her response came out breathy and swoony. She never swooned.

What is wrong with me?

Quinn put his hands on her waist as he lifted her off her feet and set her on the sand. And when their eyes caught and sparks flew again, Shelley suddenly realized she’d gotten it backward about something being wrong.

Not only had things never felt so
right
with anyone else, but every moment they spent together having fun this afternoon made the idea of an island fling with Quinn look better and better.

Rockwell or not.

“CLAMMING?” SHELLEY LOOKED so sexy with one hand on her hip as she looked from the bucket to the wet sand and then to him in surprise that it took all of Quinn’s willpower not to kiss her.

Their outing had started out as a way to spend time with her, but it had already moved way past that. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted her—and the more he liked her, too. Unlike some women who seemed acutely aware of every move they made, almost to the point of appearing calculated, Shelley was clearly comfortable in her own skin and didn’t seem to worry about how she acted. And she was obviously not attracted to his family wealth. She’d nearly run from it, in fact. He definitely wanted to get to the bottom of what that was all about, but right now he just wanted to have some fun with her.

And, hopefully, to also make good on his promise from last night to give her a kiss that she wouldn't be able to forget...

“Clamming is my dirty little secret.” He grinned at the thought of digging around together in the sand with her for a while. It had been a really long time since he’d done something like this, an activity that wasn’t attached to a spreadsheet or a bottom line.

Quinn took off his shoes, and she did the same. Hell, even her pretty painted toe-nails turned him on. Every last part of her was so beautiful, so damn sexy. The sparks that flew between them as he took her hand to lead her closer to the water line were so strong that he once again had to forcefully tamp down the urge to kiss her. He was desperate to feel her curves against him, to hear her gasp with pleasure, and to see desire take her over. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop at just one kiss, and right now he was determined to show her a good time—outside of the bedroom. So, for now he’d have to be satisfied holding her hand as they walked across the bay floor.

“Clamming has always sounded like a lot of fun,” she said. Her words were a little husky, and it wasn't hard to guess that she was right up against the edge of desire the way he was. “But how can we do it when there’s no water? Don’t the clams move around?”

Lord knew he wasn't having any easier of a time staying focused on clamming as he told her, “Most people get big rakes, about as tall as you are, and when the tide is still around waist high, they drag the rakes through the bay floor and scoop up the clams. But when my dad taught us how to clam when we were kids, he’d take us out at low tide and make us use our hands to dig them up. The sand is soft on top, but it’s hard just an inch or two deeper. It makes for sliced-up fingers from razor clams and fingernails full of grit, but it’s actually more fun than using rakes.”

“More fun? I’m in. Let’s do it that way.” She tossed her rake into the bucket.

“You sure? It’s pretty messy business. You might break a nail, and like I said, razor clams can cut pretty deep.”

“Do I look like the type of girl who cares about breaking a nail?” She stepped in close and went up on her toes, bringing her closer to his height. “And before you answer that, you should know that if you answer yes, I’ll work twice as hard to prove you wrong.”

Their thighs brushed, and just as his body registered the feel of hers against him, every sizzling, perfect memory of the hot kiss they’d shared came rushing back. He’d tried to refrain from kissing her until he was absolutely sure she wanted him to, but everything she did drew him closer.

“Okay, skinny-dipping girl. Let’s put your money where your mouth is.”

Shelley had a handful of looks, and Quinn now realized he was cataloging them. Her eyes widened when she was excited. When she was nervous, her lower lip quivered the slightest bit. And when the air between them heated up and her breathing quickened—just the way it was right now—her whole face softened, from her stunning green eyes to her full lips, as if she were readying herself for a kiss.