The Only One (Sweetbriar Cove Book 3) Page 2

  And she already wanted a taste.

  Brooke caught herself. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

  “Too bad.” Riley didn’t seem heartbroken by her rejection. In fact, his smile hadn’t slipped at all. “Can I ask why not?”

  “Let’s just say I’m on a diet,” she replied.

  Abstaining from sexy men for the foreseeable future.

  “Now that’s a shame,” he drawled. “Sometimes you just need a little . . . indulgence in your life.”

  Brooke flushed. He was looking at her like she was covered in whipped cream with a cherry on top. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her like that, so blatant and sexual. Not since—

  Archer.

  She stopped. The memory of the man she’d left back in Chicago was like a bucket of ice water, jolting her back to reality. “Thanks, but no,” she said shortly. The bartender brought her credit card, and she scribbled her signature on the slip. “Enjoy your night,” she said, avoiding Riley’s gaze, and quickly crossed the room back to her date.

  Doug was still pacing on the patio. “Sorry, it’s work,” he said, cupping his hand over the phone. “The salinity levels are haywire at the lab.”

  “That’s OK, I’m going to head home,” Brooke said, pulling on her jacket. The sooner she got a safe distance from Riley and his molten smile, the better. “Good luck with your crabs!”

  2

  Brooke slipped through the crowd and exited into the cool twilight breeze. The bar was set down an alleyway, right on the waterfront, and she took a moment to breathe in the salty tang. She still felt flushed, her heartbeat racing from that odd encounter at the bar, and she couldn’t help but think of Riley’s brazen invitation—and the suggestion gleaming in his eyes.

  What would it be like to say yes?

  Brooke shook her head. Going home with a complete stranger was madness—and the last thing she needed in her life right now. She’d uprooted her life and moved cross-country to leave all her romantic drama behind, not dive headfirst into something new.

  She heard the door swing open behind her, and a rush of music and laughter coming from inside.

  “Having second thoughts?”

  She recognized the voice before she even turned. It was Riley again, just stepping outside.

  “Are you following me?” Brooke narrowed her eyes.

  “Nope, just heading out for the night.” He held up his hands in innocence. “I’ve got plans, remember?”

  “Right.” Brooke relaxed. “Gluten-free dessert.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t approve.”

  “It’s none of my business.” Brooke shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant even as her pulse kicked, having him near again. “You can eat whatever you like.”

  The words were out before she realized just how dirty they could be. Riley grinned wider. Brooke flushed. “You know what I mean!”

  “Oh, I do.”

  She bet he did.

  Brooke looked away. “I’m just going . . .” She gestured towards the street, her face still burning. He nodded, but for some reason, she didn’t take a single step.

  What was it about this guy that kept drawing her in? He was just another handsome player, she knew his type, but still, he was igniting something in her bloodstream that Brooke had almost forgotten how it felt.

  Hot and restless, wanting more.

  “It’s OK, you know.” Almost as if he was reading her mind, the man took a step closer.

  “What is?” Brooke asked, her heart beating faster as he approached.

  “That you want me.”

  She tried to roll her eyes, but Brooke knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Especially not the man who was now standing just inches away, close enough for her to feel the heat from his body, and see the wicked gleam in his gaze.

  “It’s not rational,” he said softly, his voice a low, sexy drawl. “There’s no pro/con list, or reasons why. It’s elemental. Just simple chemistry in the end.”

  “You’re saying we have no control?” Brooke managed to reply, even as her own grip on it felt very far away—and getting further with every second.

  “Sure we do,” he replied, his lips curving in a tempting grin. “But why do you want control so bad? You know what your body needs. Don’t you want to know how it would feel to just . . . give in?”

  Brooke shivered. Even though she knew it was just another line from a guy who’d probably told it to a million girls before, she couldn’t help the way her pulse kicked at his seductive words—or the surge of heat that flooded through her as he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek.

  His touch burned through her, and Brooke felt every nerve in her body spark to life again.

  God, she wanted him.

  The realization made her stomach twist with shame. She knew how dangerous this desire could be. She should have learned her lesson by now, but still, here she was, ready to make the same mistakes all over again.

  Leaping first, head-long into passion, not thinking she would ever hit the ground.

  “I should go,” she said, but still, her feet didn’t move.

  “OK,” he replied, his gaze not wavering.

  “Right.” Brooke swallowed. She’d thought his eyes were blue, but out here in the shadows, they were more a flinty grey. Watching her, unwavering, like he could see the struggle whirling in her mind.

  Riley took another step closer. Now he was touching her, his torso just barely grazing hers, hot and solid. Brooke felt herself sway closer, drawn by some invisible force. She hated to admit it, but he was right.

  This didn’t make any sense, but God, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to close the distance between them, take her face in his hands, and kiss her like she’d been wanting ever since the moment she first laid eyes on him across that crowded bar.

  Hot, and slow, and achingly sensual. He teased her lips, easing them open as his tongue roved deeper, sliding into her mouth. The sensation shuddered through her, a jolt of desire that set her blood alight.

  Damn, this man could kiss.

  In an instant, Brooke gave up the fight. There was no use pretending she didn’t want this too, not with her heart racing in her chest, and desire snaking through every inch of her, a sweet ache clawing between her thighs.

  One kiss, she told herself. One kiss, and then she’d stay away from temptation. She’d learned her lesson.

  What harm could one little kiss do?

  She pulled him closer, her arms going up around his neck, her lips parting wider, kissing him deeper. She licked into his mouth, and felt him tense against her, the lean muscle of his stomach clenching at her boldness. Brooke felt a shiver of satisfaction. She was surprising him.

  Good.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, and then before she knew what was happening, they were up against the wall, his body hot and hard, his lips demanding, teasing her, tasting her, the sensual slide making her moan out loud. Brooke’s head spun with the heat of it all. She didn’t recognize herself, but she didn’t care; all that mattered was the feel of him against her, and the wicked things he was doing to her mouth.

  He slid his hands over her body, possessive: the small of her back, the curve of her hips. Brooke found herself pressing closer, wishing they weren’t separated by layers of clothing, so that she could explore the muscular planes of his body and feel his hands on her bare skin. Deeper and deeper, the kiss became an inferno. The world faded away, until Brooke forgot the past year of heartache, and the ball of guilt and shame that stayed knotted in her stomach; she forgot her inhibitions, and her solemn vow to keep her heart protected this time around.

  She only wanted him.

  More. Now.

  Riley finally tore his mouth away with a ragged groan, kissing a blazing trail down the bare arch of her neck. Brooke shuddered to his touch, trapped deliciously between the solid planes of his body and the wall behind her. She could feel him, hard against her, and it
just made her hotter, gasping for breath as his hands, and mouth, and wicked tongue roved across her body, taking her to heaven and back.

  This was madness. This was bad news. This was—

  “Oh,” Brooke moaned aloud as his hand skimmed across the swell of her breast. She pressed into his palm, already aching for more, but he teased her, gently skimming over her blouse until Brooke could hardly stand it. Those promises of self-control she’d made herself just a few moments before seemed like a distant dream.

  Why settle for one kiss, when she could have a dozen?

  And why stop there when this man seemed more than willing to make the pleasure last all night long?

  Brooke opened her mouth, ready to give in to temptation, when the bar door swung open again and the sound of laughter and voices flooded out.

  “You should have stopped me at that second margarita,” a woman exclaimed, her high-pitched voice piercing Brooke’s haze of desire.

  “Or third, or fourth,” her friend giggled, their heels clattering on the sidewalk.

  Brooke snapped back to reality.

  What was she doing? Besides almost stripping naked in the back alley of some beachside bar.

  Oh God. Brooke gulped. So much for making better choices!

  The man with his mouth currently doing incredible things to her earlobe hadn’t noticed they had company—or maybe he just didn’t care. But Brooke did. She pulled away just in time, putting a precious few feet of space between them by the time the women stumbled past.

  They disappeared out onto the street, and Brooke took an unsteady breath. Her heart was racing, and her knees felt weak. She didn’t understand it. Since when could a kiss undo her like this?

  “Where are you going?” Riley gave a lazy smile and reached for her again, but Brooke skittered back.

  “I . . .” she started, her mind still scrambled. “I don’t . . .”

  Speak!

  “I have to go.” Brooke finally managed to get the words out. “This was . . . something.”

  She turned on her heel and started walking swiftly, before she did something really stupid, like invite him back to her place to ravish her until dawn. Part of her almost hoped he would come after her, but she made it to the street alone, no footsteps sounding behind her on the sidewalk.

  Her car was parked right there by the curb. She quickly tumbled in behind the wheel and started the engine, driving away so fast her tires let out a squeal of protest. She managed to make it through the winding town streets and back onto the highway, the shoreline blurring into twilight strips of blue and hazy gold as she drove back down the coast.

  She took a deep breath, and then another. The intoxicating mix of adrenaline and desire was fading with every mile, leaving a hollow feeling instead. The thought of the empty apartment waiting for her was no comfort, and for a moment she felt truly rootless, the distance between her and her old life stretching further than just the miles of empty roads.

  She suddenly pulled off the highway, following a dirt road down to a deserted strip of beach. It was a beautiful spot, but they all were out here at this time, the last of the sunset fading over the horizon. She sat there in the driver’s seat, watching the water turn from blue to grey to glinting midnight in the dark.

  What was she doing?

  The question echoed in her mind again, but this time, it wasn’t about a hot stranger, or a kiss—however epic that kiss might have been. It was about everything. Her career, her life; Brooke couldn’t believe that it was only a few months ago that she’d been back in Chicago, feeling like she finally had it all figured out. A job she loved at one of the most exclusive hotels in the city, and a man she was crazy about: it had all seemed so perfect.

  Seemed being the right word.

  Brooke sighed. She could still feel the echo of heartache, lingering there behind her ribcage.

  God, what a fool she’d been.

  She’d met Archer at work. He was technically her boss, brought in to audit and reorganize the hotel, but their late nights poring over occupancy rates had led to even later nights in the hotel bar, talking about everything under the sun. Brooke had been smitten, the kind of butterflies-in-her-stomach crush she hadn’t felt since high school. He was charismatic, smart, and well-traveled, but even so, she’d been cautious at first, not wanting to complicate her career. Archer didn’t have any such reservations.

  He pursued her with thrilling determination, showering her with flowers and steamy texts and sweet little gifts, until she happily believed every word he said. That this was the real thing. She was the one he’d been looking for. His divorce was almost final, just some paperwork to get squared away, but he promised that wasn’t going to hold them back. They signed a lease together on a gorgeous apartment downtown, and Brooke even splurged with her savings, picking out furniture to make it their perfect home.

  Even now, she cringed to think of it. Of course she should have seen it coming. Of course, it was the oldest story in the book.

  Of course a strange woman showed up on her doorstep one cold March morning to inform her that yes, she was Archer’s wife, and no, they weren’t separated—at least, they hadn’t been, until she’d found a strange credit-card bill full of charges for the days that Archer was supposed to be traveling, out of town.

  He’d been lying to Brooke all along.

  She felt the hot sting of shame all over again. How could she have believed him so easily? She was a smart woman, she had a college degree and great references, she could program her universal remote and tell when her friends started dating low-life, no-good cheaters. But it turned out, when a low-life, no-good cheater came along to sweep her off her feet, Brooke was swept right up in all his pretty lies.

  Whatever the signs, she’d been blind to them at the time. She’d been so caught up in the thrill of it: first the sneaking around, to stay under the radar at work, and then the pure rush of being with someone so handsome and powerful. Hearing him tell her she was the most important thing in the world, making those plans together, a life she could imagine as if it was already real.

  She’d fallen for him, in the worst possible way. Free fall, no grip on solid truth—and nothing to save her from the pain of impact when she finally hit the ground.

  Heartbreak and humiliation, all in one sickening moment. After learning the truth that night, Brooke couldn’t even bring herself to confront him. She’d packed up her things and crashed on a friend’s couch, handed in her resignation at work, and burned up the phone lines all weekend calling every professional contact and acquaintance she could think of, searching for any available position until finally, she had a lucky break.

  The Sandy Lane hotel, Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

  They needed a new manager; she needed to put as much distance between her and Archer’s treacherous smile as possible. Immediate start? No problem. She drove for two days with a car full of boxes, hoping desperately that she could leave her mistakes behind.

  But of course, it didn’t work that way. She’d thrown herself into work, made friends, and tried to build a new life for herself here, but four months later, she could still feel that sickening lurch of guilt and shame like it was yesterday.

  Would it ever get any easier, knowing what a fool she’d been?

  The last of twilight disappeared into the dark of the ocean. Brooke watched it go, then turned her key in the ignition. Tonight had been a mistake from start to finish. She had no business dating anyone right now—not when she couldn’t see a liar when the truth was right in front of her.

  Or when she let desire do the talking, up against the wall of that alleyway.

  She felt a shiver, remembering Riley’s mouth on hers, then pushed the thought away. From now on, the only man she needed in her life was the British guy on TV, telling her how her cake should rise.

  She didn’t trust herself with anything more than that.

  3

  Riley Ford woke up alone.

  That wasn’t so unusual; he preferr
ed to end the night on his own. It was hard to sleep with someone else tossing and turning in bed with him, and besides, while the cabin on his sailboat was sized just right for one, most women’s idea of comfort was a little more than a ten-foot-square room bobbing on the ocean tide.

  No, what was unusual that morning was that he hadn’t just crawled out of someone else’s bed just a few hours before.

  Riley sauntered into the tiny galley kitchen and set his espresso machine on to boil. It took up half the counter space in the slim room, but there were some things from his former life he wasn’t set to compromise.

  His phone buzzed on the bench. A message from Layla.

  I missed you last night. Hang later?

  Riley winced.

  He shouldn’t feel guilty for blowing her off. They weren’t serious, just a handful of dates while she was in town for a yoga retreat, but still it would have felt wrong to fall into bed with one woman, when his body still ached for someone else.

  The blonde in the bar.

  She’d struck him as a curiosity at first: so buttoned up and restrained in the middle of the bar. But her flirty quips had sparked a challenge Riley couldn’t resist—and that was before she turned him down and left him hanging. Talk about waving a red flag at a bull. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had done that. Hell, had it ever happened before? Not back when he wore designer suits, that’s for sure, dropping cash on expensive dinners and bottle service at the latest clubs. Even here, rolling out of bed in jeans and two-day stubble, Riley had never had a problem finding an appreciative audience for his charms.

  But this woman? She hadn’t bought his lines for a second. In fact, she’d seemed almost amused, which only made him want her more. Still, he wasn’t about to go out of his way chasing someone who wasn’t interested in having a little fun; not when he had plenty of girls on call who knew exactly how the game was played. This one had turned him down flat, and he knew how to take a hint. But when he’d stepped out of the bar and seen her there in the alleyway, her hair falling out of that prim braid, and the heat in her gaze enough to ignite his blood at twenty paces . . .