Taste of Love: A Romance Sampler

  * * *

  Finishing a second Creamsicle that night, Evan was heading upstairs for the third time. He was having a hard time falling asleep. The different bed, he told himself. Or maybe it was company business niggling at his mind. Louis Stoddard had insisted Evan was the only person he’d allow contract negotiations with, and so on the second day of his vacation Evan had gone to Stoddard’s Manhattan office. The only thing pleasant about the two-hour return drive down the congested Garden State Parkway was that he was heading back to Holly. So he was disappointed when, on his arrival, her cottage was already dark.

  For the umpteenth time he found himself glancing out the window on his second-floor landing. He tapped the pane with the clean wooden ice-cream stick. "Wake up," he muttered softly. "I’ve missed you, Glory Girl."

  Bright and beautiful Holly with her secret. What was he letting himself in for? he wondered. Then the memories of her jade-green eyes flashing in anger when she’d seen the poster on his wall, sparkling with relief when he told her she could stay, and closing softly as he kissed her tripped across his mind. Holly with her endlessly long legs. Holly stumbling over the garden hose. Holly’s skin beneath his fingers.

  Evan chewed the little wooden stick. How had she taken possession of his mind and body in less than forty-eight hours? Evan Allen Jamieson, head of a multimillion-dollar company, a qualified pilot in four different aircraft, and select negotiator to Louis Stoddard, was bewitched, smitten, enchanted, and just plain thunderstruck with the Glory Girl. He was also thirty-seven, divorced, and had not just fallen off the proverbial turnip truck when it came to women.

  He rolled his eyes heavenward and pleaded. "A sign, just give me a sign. Something that—"

  A noise out on the street interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the rational, reasoning person he was. Snapping the ice-cream stick in half, he reminded himself he was not entering puberty. Tomorrow he’d reevaluate Holly’s situation. Yes, that was it. Examine the facts coolly, weigh the known against the unknown. Then get to work at uncovering the unknown.

  Evan walked down the hall with a new resolve. Things had a way of working out. All he had to do was keep a cool head. And find out who was making all the racket in his front yard. He quickened his steps. Probably just a few teenagers harmlessly celebrating summer.

  The shouting got louder.

  "Jeese." Was he ever this loud at that age? Entering his bedroom, he strode across celery- colored carpet and pushed open the balcony doors. From his vantage point some fourteen feet above he could see three young men out on the sidewalk. He could also see Holly Hamilton pressing against his privacy fence as she crouched behind a shrub not five feet from the young men.

  "Idiot!" one of the boys shouted to another.

  "You lost her?" another shouted. "How in Alpha Chi’s name could you lose her? I swear you’d lose your—"

  Evan reached behind him and flicked on the spotlights. "Excuse me," Evan whispered loudly.

  Three faces looked up toward the balcony, their eyes squinting in the spotlight’s glare. Evan leaned over the balcony rail and stared down at them. "Could you keep it down? My wife just got the baby to sleep in there," he said, pointing over his shoulder.

  Although she was well hidden in the shadows, Evan could see Holly’s mouth open then close quickly. Now if she’d only trust him on this, he’d have her safe within the fence in half a minute.

  "Sorry," one said. "It’s just…"

  Another picked up the line. "The Glory Girl. We think we’ve spotted her, but bat brain here," he said, indicating one of his friends with a punch to his shoulder, "lost her."

  Evan leaned over the railing and feigned lusty interest. "Really? The Glory Girl, the one with the, uh…" He traced the traditional feminine form with his hands as Holly glared up at him.

  "Yes!" the threesome shouted from below.

  Evan nodded, then rocked on his heels. "Well, I did see someone in a bathing suit rush by here a few minutes ago. She got into a, now let me see," he said slowly. "A convertible. That’s it, a light-colored Jaguar."

  "Which way was it headed?" asked the one rubbing his shoulder.

  "Ah, forget it, dork," said another. "She could be anywhere by now." He looked up at Evan. "Thanks. Sorry if we woke your kid."

  "No problem," Evan answered back in a stage whisper. He watched them walk to the corner and waited until they’d disappeared around it.

  Leaning his elbows on the wrought-iron railing, Evan rested his chin in the cup of his hands and stared down at Holly. Still pressed against the wall, she’d sunk to her haunches and had dropped her forehead against her knees.

  "Hello, down there."

  Immediately she twisted her head up in his direction and mouthed the words, "Are they gone?"

  "Yes."

  She struggled to her feet as she brushed leaves and sand from her body. "You don’t have to sound so smug."

  "I don’t, that’s true," he said in a purely conversational tone. "Then again, you ought to have seen this from my viewpoint."

  Holly sighed. "Well, you may as well double your smugness and get it over with. I forgot my gate key. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in North Jersey or Manhattan?"

  "I’m back."

  "I can see that!"

  "Shhhh. You’ll wake the baby…."

  Holly pushed her way free of the shrub and onto the sidewalk as she glared up at him again. "You don’t have a baby up there."

  She was wearing her orange swimsuit, and her hair, still wet from the ocean, clung to her shoulders in thick locks. Sand coated her legs like a dusting of light-brown sugar, and that suit, that suit that reached to the equator, stuck tightly to her body like plastic wrap. Evan sighed.

  She stared up at Evan. He hadn’t changed his stance; he continued smiling at her. "What are you staring at?" she demanded.

  "You."

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and, staring down at her toes, her legs, her body, asked indignantly, "What’s so funny?"

  "You are," he said. He pushed up from the rail.

  Funny? He thought she was funny? She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Should she be upset? she wondered. Or should she be delighted that she’d amused him and he cared enough to tell her so? Somehow she liked making him smile. On some unexplored feminine level it tickled her. She smiled back.

  "Holly, why were you swimming alone out there at this time of night? It’s dark and dangerous as hell in that water."

  He wasn’t kidding; his tone was deadly serious now.

  "I had to get out of there," she said, pointing over the fence. "I needed the exercise."

  "You weren’t frightened? Didn’t you see that movie about the shark?"

  "Evan, I’m a big girl. Right or wrong, I make my own decisions." She was practically shouting at him. If she didn’t watch it, the boys would be back chasing her. Quietly she asked, "Could we talk about this inside the gate?"

  "Good idea."

  In less than a minute he was out of the house and releasing the gate latch. The gate sprang open, and Holly was through it like lightning. Instantly she backed against the fence, spread- eagle fashion.

  "I thought I heard someone." She closed her mouth and forced herself to breath deeply through her nose.

  "Do you ever do anything calmly?" Staring at her heaving chest, he realized he was feeling anything but calm himself. The thin material of her suit accentuated the swell of her breasts and the pebbly outline of her nipples. The tugging in his gut was starting again. Come to think of it, the tugging had begun the first few moments he’d seen her on the beach and had never completely stopped. And why should it stop? he asked himself. Had she any idea what her uneven breathing was doing to his?

  She finally managed a whisper. "I can’t remember."

  Evan blinked. "Can’t remember what?"

  "The last time I had a calm moment." Her gaze traveled over his body. "Evan?" she whispered conspiratorially.

  The tugging had taken
on a wrenching quality. He reached out to trace her cheek with his fingertips and decided in that instant that he liked her best breathless. "What is it?"

  The waistband of his pale-blue boxers rested dangerously low on his hips, exposing a vertical line of crisp hair below his navel. "Evan, you’re in your underwear."

  "I sleep in my underwear." Leaning closer, he inhaled deeply. She smelled of sea water and cherry candy. "What do you sleep in?"

  She slept nude and had no intention of telling him. And even if she wanted to, how could she tell him anything with his lips skimming hers?

  Evan stepped closer. The cool curves of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her lips were cool and sea salty on his tongue. He probed gently, and her lips parted. Groaning softly, she shifted against the intrusion of his touch. Slipping his hands over her hips, he pulled her closer. "Kiss me, Holly."

  Holly pushed slowly off the fence and into his embrace. Evan’s arms and the shadows of the night closed around her. Strong arms held her, protected her. No one could hurt her. Not while Evan held her so close and kissed her so deeply. She moaned softly from relief and from desire as she drank in the sensations. With his thighs pressed against hers and the heated flesh of his arms across her back, the rest of the world disappeared. His hard determination was melting her, making it impossible to think of anything but making love with him. But giving in to her own desire and his would complicate their lives. Making love would result in no good for either of them. No matter how badly she desired him, she couldn’t do it. To him or to herself.

  Here and now he wanted her. To hell with the world, he wanted her so badly it pained him. He slipped his fingers inside the straps of her suit and slid them down her arms.

  "No," she whispered, pulling back. She made a business of adjusting the straps of her swimsuit. If she didn’t watch it, she’d be trusting him with everything. "This is crazy. I can’t."

  Taking a step back, he rubbed his hand over his mouth. A slight tremor coursed through his body, and then he was in control again. "You’re right. We’re not a couple of teenagers." He took a huge breath and smiled at her. "We just feel like them. Come on, let me walk you back to your door where we’ll shake hands good night."

  "Like on a first date?"

  He nodded.

  Shaking his hand was safer than kissing him. Unsatisfying, but definitely safer. Evan’s kisses were not meant for endings, they were meant for beginnings. She shivered at the delicious thought.

  "Are you getting a chill?"

  "A little. I dropped my towel when they started chasing me." She rubbed her arms.

  "Sorry I don’t have my letter sweater to wrap around you." They began a slow stroll across the patio. "I’ll remember to bring it on our next date." He pointed back to the attic of the huge house. "My mother’s got it packed away up there with—"

  "Evan, we can’t have a next date. You know I can’t…"

  "Playing hard to get, are we?"

  She decided not to pursue the conversation, even if he was keeping it on a light note. When they arrived at the cottage she reached for the door handle. She was almost home free. Once inside she wouldn’t be tempted to give in to the flood of feelings rushing through her. Once inside she wouldn’t have to stare at her feet while trying to avoid staring at him. Once inside the temptation of Evan Jamieson would cease.

  He reached out to take her hand.

  "Holly?"

  One more kiss, that’s all, she promised herself. Reaching up, she wrapped her fingers around the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. This time she explored. This time her tongue did an erotic dance inside the warm cavern of his mouth. Quick and hungry and thorough. Then it was over, and she was inside her screen door and heading for her living room.

  He clawed the screen. "Hey, I just wanted to shake your hand."

  Holly stood stock-still as she listened to Evan whistling "As Time Goes By" while he made his way back across the patio. When he’d slid his door shut, she went into her tiny living room and sat down on the sofa. And laughed. Evan. Precious, sexy Evan. Teasing, intoxicating Evan. Evan. She laughed until the tears slid down her face. And then she began to cry.

  ###

  If you enjoyed this excerpt from Glory Girl

  and want to read the rest, visit

  https://susanconnellbooks.com/site/books

  for more information

  And now for that nibble I mentioned

  A Man Like This

  Susan Connell