Sweet Kiss (6 page)

“Whoa, you’re serious?”

“Why would I lie?” They were trading questions and answers like they were on a television game show.

“Say it again,” he urged.

“I. Am. Not. Engaged.”

Seconds later, the truck swerved, then slid to a stop at the side of the road. Before she could collect her thoughts and sputter another word, Tappe’s strong arms tugged her across the seat toward him. His lips descended on hers while his arms gathered her in an embrace. The sweet taste of strawberries on his lips sent shivers of desire racing through her. He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. “Those last four words were the best I’ve heard since I arrived in Little Heron Shores,” he whispered against her lips.

“I’m glad. We’re crushing the lobster rolls.” She barely got the words out before he took her by the shoulders and kissed her soundly again, ignoring the dinner bag completely. His fingers threaded themselves through her hair and drew her tight against him. With a soft moan Kate surrendered to him, to his need, and to his celebration of the fact she was unattached and single. The kiss was sincere and so thorough that when he released her, their long-lost, glorious kinship rekindled itself like wild sparks flying from a firecracker. She nudged him away and uttered between ragged breaths, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea, Tappe.”

“It’s the best I’ve had all day.” He gave her room, but still held her in his arms. His eyes had darkened—the same seductive shade as the backwaters when night descended. “I’m so glad I don’t have to hate some guy I never met. I’m so thankful I didn’t have to punch some clown’s lights out in a battle for you.” He kissed her hairline. “I’ve dreamed of this moment since I arrived here. Those kisses are even sweeter than I remembered them.”

Torn by conflicting emotions, Kate scooted back to her side of the truck and took a deep breath. She looked over at him, and the sight of his muscular, well-toned body stoked a gently growing fire in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, the truck seemed too small, too secluded, and it unnerved her. She needed to tell him she had no room for romance in her busy life. “Seriously, Tappe, I can’t do this. At least, not right now. We’re starting something here and neither of us knows what to do with it or where it’s headed. You know nothing about me since we left high school. We’ve changed. We have history. We’ve aged. We’re no longer hormone-driven teenagers.”
And I know nothing about you and the last ten years of your life.

“That’s debatable.” His mouth quirked with humor. “But if it’s time you want, babe, I have plenty to spare. We can easily get caught up on a decade. We’ll take our time and ease into it.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay. That’s good.” She took another deep cleansing breath. “What I want right now is to make this jam before midnight.”

He smiled. The charming smile that made most women swoon. “Any chance we could make something better than jam tonight?” he asked hopefully.

“Tappe.”

“Oh, all right.” He heaved a sigh and settled himself behind the wheel. He threw the truck into drive.

“You’ve been eating my strawberries.” Kate retrieved the flattened dinner bag. Her attempt to straighten it was futile so she tossed it back on the seat between them.

“Yeah, I had a few when I was loading them. You must admit, the smell is powerful. The taste is addicting.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “By the time we finish tonight, you’ll be on strawberry overload.”

A warm, gleeful expression lit up his face. He pressed the accelerator, nudging the truck’s speed to a crisp pace and crooned, “Ooookay! And if we finish the jam-making early, then can we move on to
other
activities?”

“Tappe, behave.”

Chapter Five

Minutes later, when they pulled into the driveway of Fay’s house, it took only one glance at the porch through the truck’s window for Kate to realize something was amiss. Stunned, she gasped at the spectacle before them.

“Oh, no,” she cried and tugged anxiously on the door handle as soon as the pickup stopped. She jumped down and scrambled up the steps before Tappe could get his seat belt unbuckled.

He followed, but they both knew the problem before she reached the top step. Everyone who lived near the ocean could recognize the familiar stench. A load of rotting shrimp shells lay all over the porch and, with a little help from the heat of the day, the odor was putrid and overwhelming.

He came up behind her, standing on the second step down from the top. Elbows raised, her hands on her forehead, Kate pushed her hair flat against the sides of her head surveying the mess in utter bewilderment.

“It’s either a kid’s prank or you managed to tick someone off royally,” Tappe said.

“But why here?” Her voice rose an octave. “Why on Fay’s porch? No one hated Aunt Fay.”

“I don’t think they’re out to avenge dead people,” he said quietly.

Kate thought about Violet and her desire to sell the place, then dismissed the thought. Surely she wouldn’t be crazy enough to be vindictive or hurt her own sister. However, Donald Meyers might be a likely suspect, especially if he wanted a cut from the sale of the house and property.

“Why?” Her voice caught. She blinked away tears starting to puddle in her eyes. “Why?”

“Hey, hey.” He rubbed her soothingly on her back making circles. “This is fixable, Kate. Do you have a key to the back door?” When she nodded and removed a key ring from her pocket, he pulled her off the steps to the truck and helped her shuttle the first load of berries around to the back of the house and into the kitchen. While she made more trips back and forth from the truck to the kitchen, he grabbed a broom and went to the front porch where he swept up the shrimp shells, then took a bucket of soapy water and scrubbed and hosed down the porch.

Putting the incident temporarily aside, they ate a quick dinner of mashed lobster rolls and salads before falling into an easy rhythm of jelly making, dividing the chores and work space. Kate washed the berries while Tappe removed their hulls and any green portions and tossed them into large bowls. Kate showed him how to mash the first batch of berries on a large cookie sheet and measure out the right amount of berries, adding lemon and sugar to a huge stockpot. She stood at the stove now stirring the bubbling mixture, waiting for the temperature to register 220 degrees Fahrenheit on the candy thermometer.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him as he worked. He was enthusiastically caught up in the activity, hooked on the entire process, and obviously experiencing a childlike euphoria as he stood by the table with a potato masher, squashing the second batch of berries. He wore her aunt’s red checkered bib-apron and every so often popped a freshly washed berry into his mouth, then rounded the table to feed one to her. He looked endearing and lovable.

“You keep eating those berries and you’re going to get sick,” she cautioned like a grownup after refusing the fourth berry he tried to offer her. “And I’m not warning you again.”

“This sure beats wire-brushing old paint and barnacles off the hull of a boat,” he confessed. “Hey, watch.” He tossed a berry in the air and caught it in his mouth. “This mouth is very skillful, very dexterous, and is full of delightful surprises, Kate.” A mischievous grin lit up his face.

Heat crawled up her neck to her cheeks and she turned her attention back to the pot to avoid a response.
Oh, she knew how very dexterous his mouth could be. The man was an expert at using those sensual lips.
“So tell me about your internet security business.”

“What’s to tell?” He continued to work as he talked. “It grew so rapidly I barely had time to eat and sleep. While in the Netherlands, I married Helena who I thought understood the craziness of the whole business. When a client called with a suspected security breach, you went to work on the problem whether it was three in the morning or three o’clock in the afternoon.” He started to mash the berries with more vigor, pounding them with vicious strokes.

“Tappe.” Kate frowned and looked at him. “Stop. It’s okay. Stop blaming yourself and stop blaming my berries for the divorce.” She had heard the break up was awkward and painful.

Tappe’s hand halted in mid-air. He stared at her, the anger in his eyes fading.

“So your marriage ended because of long hours?” The idea someone would be so selfish to leave a person they loved because of hard work baffled Kate. She had spent most of her life working doggedly, ignoring the clock to become financially sound and able to start her own business.

He shook his head regretfully. “Not exactly. I found Helena in bed with one of my employees.” There was despair in his tone. His lips thinned and he drew in a deep breath. “The divorce was simple. Swift and without complications. I wanted out immediately. But, hey, she was in no position to give me grief since she was carrying another man’s baby.”

“Oh, no-oooo.” Kate set the spoon aside and reached for him, brushing an errant shock of hair from his forehead and tenderly rubbing his back. She leaned her head against his shoulder as an unaccustomed pain spiraled in her chest. Intense desolation and understanding swept over her. He was an only child, and he had always talked about having a houseful of kids. To know his wife carried another man’s child must have been heartbreaking.

“Luckily, I had mom and dad in my corner.” He shrugged and stepped away, his eyes growing dull and unreadable. There was a strain to his voice. “I always wondered what could have been if I hadn’t worked such long hours or was more attentive to Helena. She was a vivacious person who loved to party. Loved to go out nights and be with friends.”

“Oh, be reasonable,” she chided him softly, standing on tiptoe and giving him a quick, reassuring peck on his cheek. “Marriage is a two-way street with both partners making sacrifices. Helena could have easily voiced her disappointment with your long hours and your wacky schedule if it was the real and only problem.”
And no woman with an ounce of sense who cheats on her husband gets pregnant before the divorce
. “I bet their relationship was going on for a long, long time.”

He shook his head. “My mother said the same thing.”

Hoping to lighten the mood, Kate pointed to the windowsill above the sink. “Look what I found searching for jelly jars in Fay’s pantry.”

Tappe picked up the grimy jar of candy hearts. “No way! I can’t believe Fay saved your candy hearts.” He twisted off the lid and shook one into his hand.

“Neither can I. Don’t you dare put that into your mouth. Those candies are over a decade old!”

“So? Sugar doesn’t spoil.”

“Okay, go ahead. Eat it. Poison yourself. Why should I care?” she said drily. “Just don’t call me in the middle of the night.”

With a shake of her head, she turned back to the stove, took out a cold plate from the freezer, and plopped a teaspoon of the liquid from the bubbling pot on it, then ran a finger through the mixture to see if the jam stayed parted and stable, refusing to run together. She removed the pot from the stove, set it on the table, and started filling the pint and half-pint jars.

“You don’t mean that.” He dropped the candy back into the jar, and came up behind her. He started nuzzling her on the side of her neck.

“Do you realize I’m working with hot liquids?” She tried to be stern as she squirmed away, still holding the hot pot. She could never quite pull off reprimanding Tappe, especially when he was on a roll.

And he
was
on a roll. “Not as hot as you are. Want to make out?”

Kate looked at him askance. “Now? Here? Are you sane?”

“Yes, I’m fairly lucid. But if your answer is a no to making out, then can I lick the pot instead?”

“If you promise to quit licking my neck.”

“Oh, Kate, you wound me.” Grinning, he all but skipped over to the silverware drawer, rummaged through it, and found a spoon. He dipped up some jam from the pot and blew on it. Seconds later, he tasted it and groaned in pleasure. An infectious smile spread across his face. “Ah, Kate, this is delicious. This is spectacular. I didn’t know it was so simple to make. Can we give a pint to my mom and dad?”

“Sure.” When she turned from filling the last jar, he pulled her to him. “Taste this,” he murmured. He bent and devoured her lips. It was a sweet kiss of sugar and strawberries and intensity. His mouth found the hollow of her neck again where he planted another tantalizing kiss. She wiggled away. But the contentment and peace that flowed between them melted away ten years, leaving them wrapped in invisible warmth and euphoria.

****

It was late, almost midnight, when Tappe dropped Kate off at her small bungalow in town. They had water-processed twenty-five jars of jam and left them to cool in the kitchen. Kate had plans to go back in the morning and get them once she picked up her car from the garage.

“I had a great time.” He parked the truck and swiveled toward her, his hand on the back of the seat. “In fact, I had a spectacular time. Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You’re welcome, but I won’t feel sorry for you if you have a stomach ache tonight. You ate way too many berries and I’m guessing a pint of jam.”

“No way.” He grinned.

“You were like a kid in a candy store.” She grew serious. “Speaking of which, I’m looking for someone to help with Children’s Day during the town’s week-long Valentine’s Day Festival. I need help with the older children—like the ones you were teaching to tie knots. Do you think you could lend a hand? Maybe come up with some ideas or games to keep them busy? We’re going to have age-appropriate prizes.”

“Sure, why don’t we plan to meet tomorrow after work? Call or send a message to me when you’re free. I’ll check my phone when I can. I don’t always keep it on me when I’m out on the docks or working on a boat.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ve lost a few in the water so I’m well aware of the time and cost it takes to replace one. We could grab a quick dinner and kick around some ideas.”

“Sounds good.” She gazed at her house and bit her lip. “I forgot to leave the porch light on.”