RECLAIM MY HEART(54)

Tyne panted, dragged her eyes open. Her gaze met his and she grinned at him. She elbowed herself away from the window sill, wincing and muttering, her legs now dangling on either side of him. “That was wonderful, but I’m too old for this kind of acrobatics.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” Each tiny word was emphasized with a kiss.
“I’m going to be sore tomorrow.” She nibbled on his neck and her lips spread as she added, “But this is worth a few achy muscles.”
Tyne hugged him, caressed his shoulders, his back. “Lucas, this place smells like sex.”
He couldn’t contain his grin. “Yeah, it does.”
“What if Zach wakes up? What if he needs a drink of water or something?”
Lucas chuckled, and then he kissed her, deeply, thoroughly. Damn, if he didn’t feel her naked body against his soon, he would go absolutely nuts.
“Let’s fix that,” he told her. “Let’s go to bed.”
He lifted her knees and she automatically wrapped her legs around him again. Lucas freed himself from his sleep pants, scooted her off the counter, and slid himself into her as deep as he could go. Her eyes went wide with surprise. She fit him like a tight, wet glove, and Lucas feared he might lose all control. He gritted his jaw, determin jaas deeped to rein in his need. At least for the moment.
Desire smoldered in her gaze, and soon she was wiggling and shifting against him. Her brazen kiss scorched his mouth, her tongue inviting him to do as he wanted. “Yes,” she pleaded. “Let’s.”
Lucas carried her into her bedroom and closed the door.
?     ?     ?

Fresh, hand-pitted cherries sat in a bowl on the countertop, macerating in kirsch that had been diluted with an equal part of water. In a second bowl, a mixture of flour, ground almonds, baking powder and cocoa had been thoroughly blended. The whites of six eggs were in a third bowl. Tyne crooned a wordless melody as she used a wire whisk to beat the egg yolks together with a couple ounces of powdered sugar in a fourth bowl, watching closely for the ingredients to reach that perfect pale fluffiness.
Although she loved preparing any type of food, everything from vegetables, meats and fish to grains, pastas, fruits and nuts by any method of cooking, roasting, steaming, smoking, broiling, braising, simmering, sautéing, she had to admit that baking was her true forte. Bread was both fun to make, and nothing beat the luscious smell of a fresh loaf browning in the oven, but baking sweets made her hum with pure happiness.
When the yolks were a light lemon yellow, she mixed in melted butter and vanilla, then reached for a rubber spatula and folded in the dry ingredients. The alarm on the stove sounded, letting her know the oven was pre-heated.
She liked to work alone in the kitchen. There was something about measuring and stirring, whipping and folding that calmed her. And after waking up in Lucas’s arms at sunrise and remembering how intense, how carnal, their love-making had been the night before, she’d felt the need to find some way to compose herself. She was waiting at the market when the shop owner unlocked the doors for business, and as soon as she’d returned home, she’d shooed Lucas and Zach out of the house with a promise of something sweet and spectacular.
Zach had peeked into the grocery bag, his eyes lighting up when he spied the cherries, the cocoa and flour. “Black Forest cake,” he’d exclaimed. The confection had long been his favorite.
She’d playfully smacked his fingers away from the ripe fruit and told him to get lost for the rest of the morning.
With the batter nicely mixed, she started whipping the egg whites.
Her thoughts turned, yet again, to Lucas. Her behavior last night had been overly aggressive. She wasn’t sure if that was because she feared he would reject her or what, but once they were in her bedroom, she’d pulled off his pajama bottoms, nudged him down onto the bed and then slipped out of the silk cami she usually slept in. She’d touched him, kissed him, straddled him, fitted him inside her…?and rode him. Slowly at first, and then with increasing swiftness, as if something or someone were chasing her.
The whisk clattered against the rim of the bowl and she saw that the egg whites were stiff and glossy. She began folding them into the cake batter.
Nerves chirruped in the pit of her stomach as she tried to figure out why she’d been so bold with Lucas, so unreserved. He hadn’t seemed to mind; in fact, judging from his response, he’d enjoyed himself.
Their ruined evening at Reflections interrupted her sensuous musings, and quickly following were thoughts of Vera and Earl Denver. Maybe Vera wouldn’t blab to her mother about seeing her at the restaurant. Maybe.
The mere thought of seeing her parents caused her hands to tremble. They’d brow-beaten her to the point that they’d wrung every ounce of self-worth out of her; by the time she’d left for Florida, she’d felt, ss caused like an old cleaning rag, floppy and completely used up. But despite all her hurt and anger, she still felt guilty that she’d disappointed them, and that triggered a strong annoyance at herself for allowing them to manipulate her. God, what a vicious cycle of negative emotion. She released her hold on the bowl and the spatula, rested her palms on the countertop and gulped in a deep breath.
She was being chased. By the past. And it was surely going to catch her.
A couple of hours later, that’s exactly what happened.
She had pulled the three round layer cakes from the oven and set them on the counter to cool. Then, with the rich scent of warm chocolate hanging heavy in the air, she’d taken a long soak in the tub with a good paperback and realized what a luxury a mid-morning bath could be. She’d gotten dressed, dried her hair, reapplied her makeup and was pulling out the whipping cream to make the filling for the cake when the doorbell rang.