Love on Beach Avenue(45)

Not just the physical core. The emotional one.

Much more dangerous.

He remembered the taste of her, sweet like raw honey dripped over his tongue. The breathy moans from her lips, the sting of her fingernails as she dug into his flesh, the way her body had madly pressed against his, seeking more. That kiss had consumed them both and been more than either of them expected. It had burst open feelings he’d never thought possible.

If Ron hadn’t interrupted, who knew what would have happened.

But he had, and she’d run. Wanted to forget. Thought it was easier to ignore his texts today, pretending the kiss was nothing. Because if they acknowledged there was something more between them, there’d be a mess on both of their hands.

She was a woman who probably believed in weddings, love, and forever. He was a man who’d sworn to never allow such emotions in his life, because he’d experienced firsthand how poisonous the result could be. She was his sister’s wedding planner and best friend. He was eight years her senior. They lived in completely different states. The only thing they could possibly have was a short summer affair, and he bet Avery would fight him every inch of the way.

Unless . . .

Unless he could convince her it was the perfect setup. Her work schedule had little downtime for dates or relationships. He could be the one to scratch an itch. Fit into her life as she wanted him. He still had a month in Cape May ahead of him, stretched out with nothing to do but help with the wedding and lie on the beach.

It was possible he’d be able to tempt her with him being at her beck and call, whenever she needed him. He wouldn’t mind being used. Not by her.

Not after that kiss.

“What do you think, Luce?” he asked, stopping his servitude to take a swig of beer. The television murmured low in the background, and he was sprawled out on the sunporch, enjoying the view of the ocean in the distance. Not a bad vacation at all. But it would be better with Avery in his bed. “You think I can seduce her into seducing me?”

Lucy threw her head in doggy annoyance, her pink bow bouncing merrily. Her nose tipped up in arrogance. She took a long time to warm up to women, especially if they got close. It had taken his sister a while to get her to finally accept she was part of the family, too.

“Bitch,” he said fondly, patting her head. “I’m going to try anyway. I know it’s been a while, but I’ve never experienced a kiss like that.”

Lucy growled.

He laughed, cuddling her, and drank his beer while he studied the ocean, thinking of Avery. Her fierceness and passion for her work. Her sharp mind and refusal to lose a bet. Her joyful laughter.

But most of all, that gut-stirring, explosive, perfect kiss.

And how much he wanted to experience it again.



When he walked into the room, her stomach tumbled.

Not a good sign.

For the past two days, she’d been desperately trying to forget the kiss. She’d ignored his texts, figuring she needed a bit of distance to reset before she saw him again. They had an appointment with the florist on the schedule, so there was no reason to see or talk to him beforehand.

Guess the distance hadn’t helped.

He had that ridiculous man purse over his shoulder, and Lucy peeked over the edge to check out the surroundings. His hair was damp and gleamed coal-black in the explosive sunlight. He wore his glasses today, but somehow, ridiculously, they looked sexier than usual. Was it the newly sported stubble? The casual clothes consisting of shorts, a muscle-hugging T-shirt, and canvas boat shoes? Or did he exude a simmering intensity she’d never seen before? Dear God, she was doomed. From now on, she’d think of their relationship in terms of BK and AK.

Before Kiss and After Kiss.

She forced a sunny smile that matched her last name and chirped out a good morning, which came out way too fake. Still, he smiled back, allowing her to keep a healthy distance of space between them.

“Why doesn’t she walk?” she asked.

He frowned, glancing down at his dog. “Why walk when you can ride?”

A laugh escaped. “Can you say spoiled? Hi, Lucy. How are you?” She reached out tentatively, holding her fingers up.

Lucy stuck her head out, sniffed, then disappeared back into her tote.

She’d been dissed. Again. “Guess she doesn’t like me much.”

“Eventually, she will. If you keep trying.” His gaze narrowed on her, and suddenly there was little air in her space. It all got taken up by his big body, glinting blue-gray eyes, and seething male energy.

“R-Right. Well, let’s get inside. Devon is one of the best florists in the Cape, and she squeezed us in. I’m assuming you don’t know much about flowers?”

His grin made her pause. “Oh, I’ve been studying up,” he said casually.

She had no time to panic at his words as a door opened. Devon greeted them in her usual zen manner. She wore denim overalls, a white T-shirt, and old pink sneakers. Her dark hair was braided and fell to her waist. Devon was proud of her hippie mother, who’d birthed her after a hookup at Woodstock, and was the ultimate flower child a generation later. “I have everything set up. Come to the back,” she said in her singsong voice. “I’m thrilled to be working with purple—it’s such a great chakra color to incorporate in a lifelong commitment.”

Avery ignored the look Carter shot her.