Nobody But You(37)

“It’s a tangy, zesty condiment that’s like a cross between vinaigrette and pesto,” she told him. “I’ll have plenty.”

“How do you know how hungry I am?”

The words—not to mention his voice—gave her a shiver in the very best kind of way. “How hungry are you?” she heard herself whisper.

He let five solid beats go by, during which time he just looked at her. “Frighteningly hungry,” he finally said.

Another woman promptly ran her cart into Sophie’s. “Oh, sorry!” the woman gasped, face red as she hurried off.

“You’re making quite an impression,” Sophie managed dryly.

He shook his head like he disagreed and stepped closer to her, right inside her own personal little space bubble. Now she was in his orbit and in danger of being sucked in and going up in flames.

But she didn’t make a move to a safer zone. In fact, all she could think of was how he’d felt moving over her, in her, his voice a low, sexy murmur in her ear. She knew the texture of his skin, the dips and valleys of his beautiful body, the sounds he made when he came…

Something flashed in his eyes. Heat for sure. And maybe humor. “I like what you’re thinking about,” he said.

“You have no idea what I’m thinking about.”

“Wanna bet?” he asked, running one hand up her back until the pads of his fingers slid beneath her hair and brushed the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.

Her very long few days vanished in the flame of hunger flickering to life at his touch. She’d thought she could stay away, ignore him. Ignore this. She’d been delusional.

Jacob lowered his head so that his mouth was a fraction of an inch from hers and they were sharing air. He wasn’t touching her anywhere but with those rough fingertips, and yet she could feel him, big, warm, strong. So strong.

Yearning washed over her in waves, and she was the one to make the move, fisting her hands into his shirt and yanking him in. She who kissed him. She who planted her mouth on his and, at the taste of him, moaned.

The last time they’d kissed, he’d made her feel wanted, made her feel sexy, vibrant. Alive.

She wanted that feeling again, that sensation of flying without a net, knowing that he’d catch her…

Kissing him gave her all that, and when he slid his hands into her hair and cradled her head, it also gave her more.

She heard something crash and tried to pull free. Jacob, not so easily startled, was much slower to lift his head, keeping his hands on her when he turned his head to look.

Another woman had come down the aisle and had run her cart into the display of pie crusts. She wasn’t alone. She had a much older woman at her side, holding on to the cart like it was a walker.

“Wow,” the older woman said. “Haven’t seen a kiss like that in a long time.”

“Mother,” the younger woman hissed. “Shh!”

“Just calling it like it is,” the older woman said, not shhing. “And look, it gave her a healthy glow. Wouldn’t mind a glow like that,” she said wistfully.

While the woman rushed her mother out of the aisle, Sophie drew a shaky breath and ordered herself to get a grip. “So,” she said, trying to remember what they’d been talking about.

“So,” he said. “You done working for the day?”

“No. I’m temping for a property management company, opening up one of the vacation homes for some English duke and duchess on a secret American getaway. I have to unload all their supplies and check that everything got cleaned and set up.” Her lips were tingling.

They wanted another kiss.

She gestured to the huge cart in front of her, filled with high-end wines, fancy cheeses and crackers, and other things like caviar and stuff that cost more than she’d spend for herself in a month. “I’m filling their fridge from their list of requests,” she said. “But I’m having trouble finding”—she consulted her phone again for the list—“goat-cheese ice cream.”

He winced. “Who eats goat-cheese ice cream?”

Still eyeballing her list, she shrugged. “Apparently the duchess. Also, it needs to be whiskey and pecan flavored.” She tried not to gag at the thought.

“What else do you need to find?”

Detecting a note of humor in his voice, she lifted her head. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh…” She eyed the list again. “The duke wants condoms. Ribbed for her pleasure.” She managed to control her grimace on that one. The duke was eighty-five if he was a day, and although he was tall and…duke-like, gravity hadn’t been kind. He’d been a rugby player in his day and all that muscle had atrophied, so he now resembled something like a plucked rooster. “He also wants massage oil, but it has to be organic. And…” She paused, unable to say the next item with a straight face.

“What?”

She shook her head. Nope. Couldn’t do it.

Jacob came up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the list. He left no space between them, his arms brushing each of her sides as he rested his hands on the cart handle in front of her.

She pretended to study the list. But the truth was, she’d forgotten how to read. She’d forgotten how to breathe.