Sweet Stuff (26 page)

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Authors: Donna Kauffman

BOOK: Sweet Stuff
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Brutus leaped from the boat to the pier. Riley tried her best to keep him from dislocating her shoulder on his mad dash to the grass, but her thoughts were still back on the boat. And with Quinn. She definitely hadn’t seen this morning happening. . . not like it had, anyway. But she was thankful and relieved. If he’d called and asked to see her on some kind of official date, she’d have been a nervous wreck. She’d have overthought her choice of clothes, overthought how she should act, overthought how the whole transition from date to possible sex might go, not to mention the getting naked part—speaking for herself anyway—followed by spending far too much time worrying about every single aspect of that dynamic.
Instead, he’d just shown up, been funny, charming, sexy, and somehow made her feel the same, despite being in dorky sleep clothes with massive bed head. He had literally swept her off her feet and taken her to bed, where they’d had the most amazing sex she’d ever experienced.
It had been thrilling and fierce. He made her feel like a femme fatale siren goddess. For that alone, she’d be forever in his debt.
Brutus bumped his head against her leg and she got a bag, cleaned up after him, then started back to the boat after depositing it in the big trash can.
What she and Quinn had done hadn’t been anything like lovemaking, not really. It had been hot, but not necessarily intimate. Of course, for a first time ... She paused as Brutus sniffed some particularly intriguing fishy smells, and her thoughts drifted to after, when he’d pulled her close to him, and then after that, when they’d kissed.
She sighed deeply. Her body felt all warm and achy—in a good way—just thinking about that kiss. Hands down, that had been the most intimate act they’d shared. It had gone on and on, and she’d felt truly connected to the part of him that mattered.
He knew his way around a woman’s body—like a violinist intent on making a Stradivarius weep. But he’d been the first one to admit that his relationships never got past that part.
She’d loved the snuggling, the banter, after they’d woken up together, and how he’d wanted to keep her there with him. He’d made her feel alive and desirable in her own skin, not just comfortable, but sexy and naturally at ease. He was a hedonist, making her aware of every single cell in her body at all times, and making her feel good about it.
She remembered how he’d laid himself bare to her, standing in his foyer, when she’d cracked under the pressure of her own fears. She knew he could open up and be more than a very skilled lover. A whole lot more. Would those two parts of him eventually blend? Could he open himself up fully and make love to her?
And, more important, would he want to?
She shook her head, and smiled dryly at her own thoughts. “He makes you feel like Cleopatra and Sophia Loren all wrapped into one exotic package and you’re already worrying about what happens next?” She let Brutus lead her back to the boat, thinking about the irony that Jeremy had loved her for her mind, her offbeat humor, and her skills with the work they shared. He’d made her feel strong, respected, valued ... but he’d never made her feel comfortable in her own skin. In fact, she’d always suspected that while he claimed to love her body, the lushness of it had always been a little too much for his true personal taste. He was taller than she was by a few inches, but slender. In fact, they weighed close to the same. She’d never sprawled herself across his body as she had Quinn’s. As years went by, they learned to satisfy each other’s needs and their sex life remained a healthy enough one. Was it any surprise she’d assumed he’d come to love her body as he’d come to love her? Just like she’d come to love his skinny, long bird legs and the complete lack of hair on his chest?
Wasn’t that what a couple did?
She thought again about how Quinn had brought every part of her body to a feverish pitch, kept her there, vibrating on the edge, then effortlessly teased her up and over, again and again, to a series of the strongest climaxes she’d ever had. Or known she was capable of having. She was not a screamer. She smiled privately.
I am now
. That had certainly not been in the repertoire with Jeremy. Their lovemaking had been ardent at times, but much more ... staid. Jeremy wasn’t particularly earthy.
Riley let Brutus hop onboard, then followed him along the walkway and on deck. Something smelled amazing. She’d thought it had been coming from one of the other boats, but almost all of them were battened down for the winter.
“Quinn?” She climbed down the companionway and found him in the galley.
Tousled hair, rumpled khaki slacks, no shirt, towel tucked sideways in the waistband of his pants like a short apron. He looked up, spatula in one hand, and grinned. Her heart fluttered, flipped, then did a lovely little freefall—which made no sense. He always looked hot. And had shot her that sexy grin more than once.
Of course, this time he was half naked in her own kitchen, but still. She thought her heart had higher standards than that. Or at least more integrity than to be swayed by a hunky chef.
Who plays your body like a violin,
her little voice reminded her. Needlessly.
“Come taste this,” he said, lifting up the spoon.
Rather than duck past the galley for her shower, and the very wise distance and time it would give her to sort through her jumbled thoughts, she walked right over to him. “What did you even find to make?”
He carefully tipped the spoon to her lips. “Rice, cheese, and mushrooms. Some flour from your baking supply stash, milk, and a few of your spices to make a sauce. Here, try.”
She took a nibble, then felt her eyebrows climb halfway up her forehead as the rich, creamy, incredible flavors burst all over her tongue. She closed her eyes and groaned as she finished off the nibble. “Where did you learn to do that?”
He shrugged. “Necessity. I hate eating out all the time. And you forget, I was chief biscuit cutter in Grams’ kitchen.”
“Right, right. Never underestimate the culinary powers of Grandma.”
“Did you learn to cook from yours?”
“What? No. I never knew my grandparents. Two of them were alive when I was born, but infirm. We were stationed overseas.” She shrugged. “They were both gone by the time we returned stateside.”
“Military brat then?” he asked.
She nodded. “My dad was killed by a land mine when I was little. I don’t remember him.”
“I’m sorry, Riley.”
“It’s okay. I lived on base, so I wasn’t the only kid who went through it. Maybe because of that it was—well, it wasn’t normal, of course—but it was part of the culture of that life. You got yourself through it, as those around you did. “
“And your mom?”
“Also military.” When he looked surprised, she said, “That made it hard—she was gone a lot. I got shuffled around a lot. But I kind of liked the freedom I had ... and the security of knowing I lived on a military base. It was an interesting combination.”
“And now? Your mom? Still serving?”
Riley shook her head. “She passed when I was in college. Complications from pneumonia.”
Quinn’s expression was tender and sad. “I’m sorry for that. I know what it’s like.”
“Thank you. It’s okay now. I was thankful—very—that I’d grown up as independent as I had. Helped me move forward and be okay.”
“It explains a lot about you,” he said.
It was her turn to look surprised. “As in?”
“All good,” he said, echoing her words from the beach that day, when she’d been describing how she saw him. “You have this innate strength and you’ve definitely tackled life, even when it hands you rough stuff. You hung in, you pushed through. Maybe there is something about losing parents young that makes us wary of allowing ourselves to want something, or to let someone else contribute to our feelings of security. We know, quite literally, how fleeting life can be.”
She thought about that, and nodded. “You probably have a point. I think, in my case, though I avidly pursued my career, I was too eager for the sense of security that came with someone suddenly being there for me. Maybe because my parents largely hadn’t been, even when they were alive? I don’t know. I do know that I sucked it all in, draped it all over myself, and paraded it around. I loved everything about being half of two, rather than only one.”
“I can see that. Reacting that way. It helps me understand how you went the other direction after it was over. I’m glad you told me.”
“Good,” she said. “I don’t want it to be awkward.”
“If you mean your past relationship, I don’t want it to be either. For the record, I don’t need to know about it. That’s your business. I understand the general dynamics enough to understand why this leap was hard for you to take. I don’t need or want you to mine your own pain just to help me understand you better.”
“I—thank you.” Riley ducked her head for a moment, surprised not only by his words, but by this welling of ... she didn’t know how to label the emotions he was making her feel. Except to know that instead of scaring her, they made her feel good. As if she was on solid ground. And that was ... a lot. “You promised me you’d always be square with me. I promise you the same thing. So, if you want details, I’ll give them to you. But I feel ... sturdier, with you. Than I thought I would. I very much like being in the present, especially this one right now, with you.”
“Then the present is where we’ll stay. Though I do have one last dead cat question.”
She didn’t exactly brace herself, because that teasing gleam had come back into his eyes. She realized not only how well she’d come to read him ... but that she’d also come to trust that what she found there was real. “And what would that be?”
“Where did you learn to cook? Or what made you want to learn?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” She laughed. “Military base food. I never had family cooking, even when staying with other families. It was always my luck to get stuck where meals were prepared much as ours were—leftovers and quickly thrown together potlucks. I remember watching TV and seeing families on those shows always gathered around a big table, enjoying all that food together. I wanted to be an honorary Walton.” She laughed, and a bit of pink warmed her cheeks.
He grinned. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll call you Riley Sue.”
“Thanks, Quinn Bob.”
He laughed outright at that. “If you’re going to grab a shower, you might want to do it now. I’ll put a plate together for you.”
“Okay.” she said, grinning, too. “Thanks.” But she didn’t make a mad dash to the shower. She stood right where she was for a few moments longer. As soon as she moved, he took her arm in a gentle hold and turned her back to face him.
“Everything okay?”
“Amazing.” There was nothing about the last hour and a half that had been anything short of that. And she had a lot more than hot sex to base that judgment on.
“But?”
She dropped her chin, which he lifted right back up. “You always do that,” she said.
“What, not letting you hide? Or wanting to know what’s bugging you?”
“No, reading my mind so you know there’s something bugging me in the first place.”
“More of my godlike skills.” He offered her a crooked grin. When she didn’t smile back, his faded. “Come here.”
“I should really—”
“Come here, is what you should really do.” He gently cupped her head and tilted her face up to his. “Did I do something wrong?”
Another part of her simply melted. “No. You’re everything that’s right.”
“Too much still?” His gaze searched hers and she realized that maybe he needed reassurance as much as she did.
That it mattered to him, that she mattered, did reassure her ... even as it made her nervous. “I—” she began, then faltered, not sure how to put her thoughts into words.
She was falling in love with him.
“We probably should have waited,” he said, “given everything else. We should have spent more time getting to know each other with our clothes on first.”
That got a spontaneous laugh from her. “You might be godlike in many ways, but neither of us is superhuman. Given what happened this morning—and in your foyer, and on the beach—just how long would we have been able to hold out?”
“Well”—a teasing light came into his beautiful blue eyes—“when you put it that way. We were simply victims of the primordial order of things. There was nothing else to be done but surrender to the inevitable.”
“Something like that,” she said with a wry smile. “Maybe that’s the way the whole thing is going to be with us. Explosive and primordial and completely incapable of going at any other speed than full tilt.” She paused, and dipped her chin.
After a moment he very gently tilted it back up again until their eyes met.
“So, yes. It’s still too much,” she said softly. “But I’d rather have too much, too fast, than nothing at all.”
“I don’t know if this helps, but it feels that way to me, too. It’s all a new roller-coaster ride for me. So, hell yes, it’s too much right from the starting gun. But you’re right. I’d rather hurry and play catch-up than ditch the ride altogether.”

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