Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3) (24 page)

Del with his eyes wide and cheeks bulging.

She stabbed a finger at him. “Thief!”

He showed her his palms but continued to chew as she stalked into the pantry.

“I can explain.” The tip of his tongue flicked out and swiped a pale lilac crumb off his upper lip. His eyes gleamed, gaze slipping from her face down her body to the tips of her turquoise-painted toenails. “But let me pick my jaw up off the floor first—you looking fucking amazing.”

“Uh-huh.” She schooled her features into holding the
glare of death
, even though her pulse skyrocketed at the heat of his gaze. “I’d made an exact number of macaroons to fit on my mother’s fanciest platter, and now you’ve screwed it up by eating one.”

“I’ve a confession to make.”

Del closed the distance and rubbed the ends of her scarf between his fingers, tugging it gently so it pulled against her neck. Reminding her again of what they’d done together. To each other. He bent down, and the scent of him—a hint of shampoo, warm male skin, and a trace of almonds from her stolen macaroons—wrapped around her. His hands closed on her bare upper arms, and his lips brushed her ear.

“That was my second macaroon.”

She gasped, more from the sizzle of contact than his admission. “You had two?”

Her heart pin-balled into her throat, making her voice come out a breathless squeak. As if she cared about the missing baked goods with his teeth closing gently on her lobe.

“Yeah. After I gave in to the temptation of trying the first one…”

His magnetic pull drew her hands to his chef’s jacket, where they fisted either side of his hips, anchoring her, since apparently her body had filled with helium bubbles and wanted to float to the ceiling.

Hot, damp kisses pressed along her jaw. The scrape of his soft bristles conducted a current straight to her happy-place via her nipples, which tightened unbearably against her bra. Her white demi-cup push-up bra that matched her bikini panties—since Slutty Bridesmaid liked being a little daring under her party clothes.

“I was hooked,” he said. “One taste just wasn’t enough…”

Shaye swayed into him, a small noise of pleasure vibrating in her throat. Breasts to pecs, belly to belly, thigh to thigh, her nerve endings lit up like fireworks. His arm slid around her waist and held her to him—like she had the strength to pull away.
As if.

She licked suddenly dry lips. “I thought you didn’t like sweet things.”

The flash of his blue eyes scanning her face sent another bolt of feminine heat flushing through her system, weakening her knees.

“I lied,” he said.

“Liar
and
thief—don’t think I’ve forgotten you’ve still got my panties.”

And didn’t that weaken her knees even more?

He smiled his wicked smile, using his dimple to devastating effect. “Just living up to my bad-boy rep.”

“Oh, you’re bad, all right.”

His talented mouth claimed her other earlobe, and her breath hissed out sharply.

Her hands released his jacket and slid over rumpled cotton to grasp his ass, pulling herself tighter against him. His tongue flickered out to trace a hot line along the curve of her ear. God, the man had an amazing—

“Excuse me?”

Del reared back, and their heads swiveled in unison to the pantry entrance. Holly leaned in the doorway with a hand on her hip and raised eyebrows.

Heat whoomphed into Shaye’s cheeks like a gas flame had ignited inside her mouth. “
I-was-just-getting-the-macaroons.
”

Holly’s lips peeled into a wide smile. “Oh? Has Del hidden them in the seat of his pants? Sneaky.”

Shaye’s gaze zipped down to her hands, which, yes, still clasped two firm and delicious male butt checks.
Crapola!

Her fingers sprang open and she scrubbed her palms down the sides of her dress. Del’s soft chuckle ruffled through the loose strands of her hair. He stepped away, arm slipping from around her waist.

“I ate two of her macaroons,” he said. “Shaye was just exacting a little revenge.”

Holly’s sharp gaze switched from Shaye’s face to Del’s. “Her revenge was squeezing your bum and letting you put a tongue in her ear? Sounds like cruel and unnecessary punishment.”

“She’s got a mean streak even bigger than her sister.”

Del’s voice was warm with laughter, but Shaye concentrated on re-gathering her composure by pretending Slutty Bridesmaid—busted by her best friend—had turned into Virtuous Virgin, a sweet, innocent girl who wouldn’t dream of groping a man in her place of employment.

Shaye popped the lid that Del hadn’t properly replaced back onto the container. “Since you’re here, you can help me carry the macaroons over to the hall.”

She held the container out toward Holly, exaggeratedly rolling her eyes to the side with an eye-brow wriggle, cueing her friend to
shut the hell up
.

Holly sauntered forward, the skirt of her fuchsia dress, which matched this week’s dye streak in her hair, swirling around her knees.

“Sure,” she said. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost on the way over to the community hall and somehow
accidentally
end up in Del’s bed.”

“Holly!” Shaye hissed, shoving the macaroons into her friend’s hands.

A masculine chuckle from behind contributed to another flare of heat across Shaye’s face.

The thought of Del’s bed tempted her more than a couple of hours playing Bridal Bingo and oohing over Mr. & Mrs. towel sets. And if she had a choice between Mrs. Taylor’s honeymoon stories and Del Westlake kissing Shaye until she couldn’t remember her own name?

Total. No. Brainer.

Shaye grabbed the second container, catching a peripheral glimpse of white chef jacket stretched tight over rounded biceps before she turned away. “We’d better get going before my mother sends out a search party.”

“Have fun,” Del said.

“We will.” Shaye hurried after Holly, who’d already crossed to Due South’s back door.

They stepped outside, and Shaye held up a warning finger at her friend’s
I’m gonna burst if I don’t talk
expression.

With her arm looped through Shaye’s, Holly towed her along the path separating Due South and the low building at right angles to it, which housed an extra ten hotel units. They hurried around the corner onto the strip of concrete that served as a sidewalk leading to the community hall.

“Oh. My. God,” Holly said, elbowing Shaye in the ribs. “You and freakin’ Del Westlake?”

“Yeah.” Shaye glanced over her shoulder in case any locals were close enough to catch a whiff of gossip. “But Hol, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Well, of course not.” Holly’s nose crinkled. “It’s not my job to tell your friends and family the two of you are a couple.”

Shaye stopped walking so fast her arms gave a half pinwheel. She choked out a strangled laugh. “We’re not a couple. Gawd. Nothing like that.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Seriously. We don’t even like each other. We just can’t seem to stop, you know…”

Holly slapped an attitude-ridden hand on her hip. “Groping in the workplace?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a workmates with benefits thing.”

“So Del doesn’t check any of your anal
Shaye’s Perfect Man
boxes?”

“Pffft.” Shaye waved a hand. “Del is light-years behind any of my man requirements—which are sensible, not anal—so I’m surprised you’d even ask. Have you forgotten the list you sneakily read when we were thirteen.”

“Never gonna let me forget, are you?”

“Nope.”

Holly nailed her with a glance. “Since you punished me so severely for reading your precious list, I’ve memorized your top five requirements. Handsome, kind.” She held up her thumb then forefinger. “Listens to you, dependable, and lastly, loves you more than anything.”

“Like I said,
sensible
.”

“Isn’t it time you updated your list—you’re twenty-five now, sweets, not thirteen.”

Shaye’s chest tightened, compressing her lungs into hard balls. She had updated her list—on her sixteenth birthday.

Piper had left for Wellington, and Ben and West flatted together in a small beach house. She remained at home, trying to cope with schoolwork plus endless household chores. When her birthday had passed with only a card from Piper, no acknowledgment from Ben, and a tearful
I’m so sorry baby I forgot
from her grieving mother, Shaye had curled up on her bed and rewrote her list.

Handsome
. But didn’t have to be in the same league as Christian Bale or Brad Pitt.

Kind
. Kind to her, kind to animals, kind to little kids—he wouldn’t freak if one of theirs flushed his mobile phone down the toilet.

Listens to me
. Just once, it’d be nice for someone to listen to her thoughts and dreams.

Dependable
. A man who’d always be there for her.

Loves me more than anything
. Maybe it was selfish, but she wanted a man to love her more than his job, more than sports, more than his mates, or his beat-up truck.

The final thing she’d added, with tears snaking down her face, were three simple words.

Not an alcoholic.

Then he’d be the perfect man for her.

Shaye straightened her shoulders. “I’m a little more realistic now, thanks very much.”

“Good. So you can’t deny Del ticks a few of your boxes.”

“He does not. He’s not handsome—” She popped up her thumb.

“Not male-model handsome, but he’s frickin’ H. O. T.”

Shaye ignored her friend’s interruption, since, okay, Hol had a point. She raised her forefinger. “He’s rude, not kind, and he looks bewildered whenever Jade or Zoe talk to him—”

“So did Ben at first; now both your niece and Zoe adore him.”

Shaye held up her third finger. “Del doesn’t listen to me—he sided with his dad when I told them about my ideas for a hot-meal delivery system for the oldies and a monthly catered meal at the community hall.”

“Okay. Don’t check that box then. But he’s here helping Bill—that makes him kind of dependable.”

“He’ll be gone as soon as West and Piper come home from their honeymoon.”

“He’s not staying?” asked Holly.

“He hates it here.”

“How can he hate it? He’s a true blue Stewart Islander!”

“Trust me; he can’t wait to get away from Oban.”
So you’d better not get any more attached
, a little voice whispered in her ear. “So he’s not dependable.”

“Well, what about the last one?” Holly flicked up Shaye’s pinkie finger. “You sure you’re no more than workmates with benefits?”

Her heart had been knocking around her ribs for days, saying
Hello? Trying to tell you something here
, but she’d been too focused on feeling nothing to listen to it.

“He’s leaving in a few weeks, so I’ll just take a little stroll on the wild side”—She performed a neat avoidance of answering Holly’s question—“and enjoy him. Since as you say, he’s H. O. T.”

“But you don’t want anyone to know.”

Shaye leaned into Holly and said, “That good-girl Shaye wants to do West’s little brother?
Hell, no.
Ben and Piper—and probably West, too—would beat the crap outta him, then me.”

“Sweets, they know you’re not a virgin.”

Shaye rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but they’d all worry I’ll fall in
lurv
with Del and end up with a broken heart when he returns to LA.”

“Uh-huh.” Holly did the finger-shake-chastisement under her nose. “‘Cause you won’t, right?”

“Fall in love with Del? Another
hell, no
. Remember what you said after I told you he was an Aries?” She raised an eyebrow at Holly and answered her own question. “You said we’re incompatible—like oil and water.”

“He could still be your Mr. Perfect.”

Shaye looped her arm through Holly’s, and they continued toward the community hall.

“How about he’s my Mr. Perfect-for-now?”

Holly snickered. “I bet he’ll be your Mr. Perfect in bed.”

After the tsunami-sized orgasm she’d had on The Mollymawk, Shaye didn’t doubt it.

***

After Bridal Bingo, Bridal Pictionary, and Toilet Paper Wedding Dress, Shaye thought her face would crack from all the
isn’t this fun
smiling.

Piper sat surrounded by church ladies who cooed while she opened her presents. Mrs. Randal, in her excitement, squealed out one of the party taboo words and had to sulkily give up her string of beads. Hilarity ensued. The bride-to-be looked as if she wanted to loop the beads still around Mrs. Randal’s neck into a garrote to shut her up.

Shaye nibbled on a club sandwich and enjoyed her sister’s torture. Yeah, she kinda did have a mean streak. But hell, it was fun witnessing Piper squirm at some of the raunchy comments coming from the Island’s older constituency.