A Touch of Cinnamon

  Still, that sentence had been on a loop in my brain ever since. Of course, I’d known I’d hurt him, but to think that by doing what I thought was saving myself tremendous pain, only to cause him that pain, made me feel like a jerk of epic proportions.

  “You ready?” Dru asked as she walked into our office.

  Her eyes conveyed her concern, but she still managed to give me a reassuring smile.

  “As I’ll ever be,” I replied as I rose from my desk.

  This would be my first real test. We were meeting Millie and Jackson and Jackson’s friends at the bar for a drink, kind of a pre-celebration celebration, for their engagement. The actual dinner would be held a week from tonight at Prime Beef, and would be a more formal affair, with tons of people in attendance. Tonight was just for friends and family. Which included me, and Jericho.

  “I’ll stay with you the whole time,” Dru promised as we headed out.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I assured her. “It’s going to be fine. We talked . . .”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Dru said dryly, and I decided to let it go.

  When we arrived at the bar, I was happy to see that we’d arrived before Jericho. Not that I was anticipating any problems, I just wanted to get settled and in my seat, maybe have a few sips of my drink before the comradery commenced.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Rob, Jackson’s friend and fellow teacher, said as we walked up. His wife, Jan, gave us a wave before going back to stealing fries off of Rob’s plate.

  “Ladies,” Ty, another teacher and friend, greeted.

  “Hi, everyone,” Dru replied.

  Jackson, Rob, and Ty all taught at the same school, along with Rebecca, Ty’s girlfriend, who I saw standing at the bar. I waved at her, then took a seat across from Jan.

  “The happy couple not here yet?” I asked.

  “No, not yet,” Ty said. “They were dropping Kayla off with Jackson’s parents, and should be here soon. Rebecca’s putting in an order of appetizers and getting a couple pitchers.”

  “What’s up?”

  I looked up to see a large man walk up to the table. I’d never seen him before. He was tall and built, like a UFC fighter or someone who did lots and lots of CrossFit. His hair was dark, and his face ruggedly handsome.

  I turned my head and noticed Dru watching him, her eyes unblinking and her mouth hanging slightly open.

  I kicked her under the table.

  “Hey!” she cried, coming out of her trance and shifting toward me to punch me in the arm. “That hurt.”

  “Ow,” I muttered, rubbing my arm and glaring at her. I lowered my voice and said, “I was trying to help you out before drool started dripping down your chin.”

  Dru flushed and said, “Shut up, I was not drooling.”

  “You sure as hell were staring at him like he’s a medium-rare steak and you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

  Dru rolled her eyes, then looked back at the man, before turning back to me and asking, “Did you see his eyes?”

  I glanced at the stranger who was talking to Rob and Ty, his voice deep and rumbly. He must have noticed me staring, because his eyes flicked to me, and wowza, they were the palest green I’d ever seen. Truly striking.

  Not knowing what to do, I lifted my hand and waved my fingers. “Hi, I’m Natasha, you can call me Tasha, and this is Dru. We’re Millie’s sisters.”

  “Hi,” Dru squeaked, and I looked at her with surprise. She never got weirded out or intimidated by guys, ever.

  The man rounded the table and strode toward us, his movements surprisingly graceful.

  “Michael O’Donnelly, you can call me Mick,” he said, his hand outstretched.

  I took his hand first, since Dru was sitting there like a statue, and said, “Nice to meet you, Mick.”

  Once I heard his name, I remembered that he’d been the private investigator that Jackson hired to find his now ex-wife. Millie had mentioned that they’d become friends, and Mick had joined the fantasy football league and often met the guys for drinks.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I said.

  He released my hand and offered it to Dru, who stared at it like it was a stick of dynamite.

  I kicked her again.

  “Ouch . . . stop doing that,” Dru complained, but it woke her up enough that she shook Mick’s hand. “Hi.”

  They stayed like that for a minute, staring at each other in a way that had me feeling the need to fan myself, then Mick let her hand go and turned. I watched curiously as Dru’s cheeks flushed, and was about to ask what the heck was going on when a movement caught my eye, and I looked up.

  It was him.

  Damn.

  Apparently in the last couple weeks he’d lost his razor and missed an appointment with his barber, because his dark hair had grown out a bit and started curling around his neck, and he had the beginnings of the sexiest beard I’d ever seen.

  Shit, I thought, as my heart started racing and my body warmed at the site of him. He knows I love it when he starts looking a little shaggy, a little . . . dangerous.

  Was he doing it on purpose?

  Jericho ~ Present

  “HOW’S IT GOIN’, MAN?” I asked Mick as I joined him at the bar. “Maker’s neat,” I told the bartender, then turned to the man who’d become a friend over the last few months.

  “Another day, another case filled with bat-shit crazy people,” Mick replied with a grin before taking a drink of his Guinness.

  Mick was a PI and often dealt with the kind of people I’d grown up with, and, yeah, bat-shit crazy about covered it.

  “Can you believe those two?” I asked, tilting my head toward Jackson and Millie, who were currently slow dancing in the middle of the bar. Led Zeppelin was on the jukebox and they were the only ones out there, but they were oblivious.

  “Yeah, good for him after that waste of space he was married to before. It’s a relief to see two decent people making it work, saves me from getting too cynical,” he replied.

  “Shit, you’re the most cynical bastard I’ve ever met,” I countered with a grin, but Mick just chuckled.

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  I was about to follow Mick back to the group when I saw Natasha walking my way. I leaned back against the bar, trying to look casual as I watched her.

  Beautiful as ever, her bright-red bob swayed around her face as she walked. Her makeup was smoky, and she was wearing a little black dress that showcased her body in an amazing way. A flood of memories assaulted me as she moved, eyes locked on mine, neither of us breaking contact.

  “Hi,” she said softly, her voice slightly rough, as if our little eye play had affected her as much as it affected me.

  “Natasha,” I said in greeting, dipping my chin slightly. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Oh, uh, we have pitchers at the table,” she said, looking back over her shoulder.

  I followed her gaze and saw that her sister, Dru, was watching us like a hawk.

  “Beer?” I asked, memories swirling. “Did you develop a taste for it? I’m sure they have some Pinot Grigio behind the bar . . .”

  Natasha flushed.

  Yes, I remember everything, I thought.

  “That sounds good,” Natasha said, taking a deep breath before crossing to the bar and sitting on a stool. She surprised me when she nodded to the stool next to her.

  Another olive branch . . . What would she think if she knew I wanted the whole damn tree?

  I signaled to the bartender and took the offered seat.

  “So,” I began, turning my head slightly, so I could see her out of my periphery. “You know there’s more to talk about . . .”

  “I know,” she said quickly, cutting me off, “but can tonight be about Millie and Jackson, about friends . . . about getting reacquainted? Please?”

  Never having been able to deny Natasha anything, I replied, “Of course.”

  After a few beats, Natasha’s wine arrived and she cupped the goblet and said, “Prime
Beef is amazing, Jericho. Truly. It’s exactly as I’d always pictured it.”

  I grinned, happy that she thought so.

  “Thanks, Hector and I worked hard to make my vision a reality, and really, without his expertise in the kitchen, Prime Beef wouldn’t be half of what it is.”

  “Hector? From when you were younger?” Natasha asked, and once again I was reminded of how much she knew about me.

  “Yes. I got in touch with him before graduation and he had just started Le Cordon Bleu. Once I heard that, we started spit-balling ideas and came up with the plan to open Prime Beef together. We agreed on almost everything, the theme, the ambience, the food . . .”

  “Almost everything?” she prodded. It was one of my favorite things about her, the way she paid attention, truly listening when I, or anyone, spoke. When she was with you, you knew you had one hundred percent of Natasha’s focus.

  It was a rare thing.

  Although, in that moment, I found that I wished she hadn’t caught that little detail. It was nice talking to her again, just hanging out, without the weight of the past. Without the questions. Without the reminder that she was no longer mine.

  “Uh, yeah, the location . . . We disagreed about where to open it,” I said softly, biting back a chuckle when she lifted her glass and took a big gulp. “Hector wanted to be in the city.”

  I saw by the look on her face that she regretted asking as well, regretted the fact that the easy, catching-up phase of this conversation was over.

  “And you . . . ?” Natasha asked, although I could see the answer in her eyes.

  “I came here for you,” I admitted. When her eyes closed, I continued, “At least initially . . . you’re what brought me here. But, when I saw the town, met the people, and looked at properties, I fell in love with the place. It’s everything I never had growing up, and I completely fell in love with it.”

  Natasha nodded, understanding how I’d longed for something different than what I’d grown up with.

  “And, Hector, is he okay with it now?” she asked, avoiding my confession.

  “Yeah,” I replied with a chuckle. “He loves it, actually. He’s got his favorite fishing hole, loves the farmer’s market, and has a great team in the kitchen.”

  Before Natasha could say anything else, Dru walked up behind us.

  “Hey,” she began, then caught herself and said almost kindly, “Hey, Jericho,” before turning to her sister. “Millie wants us to play the Elvis Trivia Game with her.”

  Natasha groaned dramatically, causing me to chuckle.

  “Seriously, again? Do we have to?” Natasha whined.

  “It’s her night,” Dru offered.

  “Hers and Jackson’s, I’m sure he doesn’t want to play Elvis Trivia.”

  “No, but he’d be all for Pride & Prejudice Trivia,” Dru said with a laugh, and, yup, that was completely accurate. “But alas, the guys are playing pool.”

  “Jericho, you in?” Mick shouted from across the bar.

  “Guess that’s my cue,” I said, hopping off the stool to get to the pool table before I got wrangled into Elvis trivia. “It was nice talking to you,” I added sincerely.

  “You, too,” Natasha said with a small smile.

  And as we walked in opposite directions, we kept our eyes on each other, just for a moment, and my hope of winning her back grew just a little brighter.

  Natasha ~ Past

  THE FIRST SIX MONTHS OF school went by like a whirlwind, and it was all because of Jericho.

  We’d spent every waking minute together. When I wasn’t in class, I was with Jericho, and when I was in class, I was thinking about Jericho.

  No, I didn’t let my grades suffer; I still studied, I just did it with Jericho.

  I didn’t really get to know my roommates, because I was never in my dorm, choosing instead to spend my nights at Jericho’s apartment. Not only was it nicer, had more room, and afforded us privacy, he had a kitchen.

  We ate out often, but we’d recently found that we really enjoyed making meals together. I’d started checking out cookbooks from the library and we experimented with different dishes. It was fun, and added a whole new element to our relationship.

  But tonight, I’d put together a meal all by myself. I wanted to surprise Jericho when he came home from class with a special dinner, and a special night.

  It was our six-month anniversary. Six months since that fateful first day of class and our coffee date. I’d made steak, baked potatoes, and roasted asparagus, with a chocolate Bundt cake for dessert.

  It wasn’t only special because we’d been together for six months, but tonight I was going to tell him that I loved him, and I was also going to give myself to him. Like, go all the way . . . for the first time.

  I was a little nervous, but mostly excited.

  We’d obviously kissed a lot, and made out, and had done other things . . . things that made my body hot and tingly, and I knew it was going to be an amazing experience, I just had to convince Jericho of the same thing.

  I knew he liked me, and I could obviously tell when he was turned on when we made out, but he’d never tried to push me into anything. I think he was worried that I wasn’t ready. I mean, I knew that he wasn’t a virgin. He’d been completely honest about his past, so I couldn’t help worrying just a little bit, that it was my inexperience that kept him from taking my virginity.

  Is it a turn off for him? Does he wish I were more experienced?

  I didn’t know, and couldn’t bring myself to ask, so, tonight, I was taking things into my own hands.

  I finished setting the table with my dollar store finds: a white tablecloth, two candlesticks with holders, and a pretty blue set of napkins, just as I heard Jericho’s key in the door. My stomach gave a whoosh, as I waited for him to come find me.

  “Tasha?” he called from the living room.

  “Here,” I replied, knowing all he had to do was peer around the corner and he’d see me.

  I tried to lean casually against the chair, then felt foolish and stood up and clasped my hands together.

  “Hey,” Jericho began, then stopped and took in the room, and me.

  I was wearing a slip of a dress, which was very short, and just a touch see through. I’d bought it specifically for this night, and hoped I looked as sexy as I felt. My body was positively humming with anticipation already, and he’d done little more than look at me in shock.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, his voice a touch rough.

  “Happy anniversary,” I said sunnily, then found my feet and crossed to give him a kiss.

  I put my arms around his neck and looked up at him, sure that my love for him was written all over my face.

  “I made a special dinner to celebrate,” I told him, then tiptoed up to brush my lips across his.

  Before I could pull back, Jericho took over the kiss, deepening it until my head got light. His arms snaked around my back, his hands coming to rest on my satin-clad bottom as he squeezed and pulled me closer. Close enough to feel his erection straining against his shorts.

  I sighed and wriggled, trying to get closer, eager to feel his body against mine.

  When he moaned, my knees started to buckle, my need for him swelling and expanding within me.

  “Are you sure?” Jericho asked, moving his lips from mine to leave a trail of kisses down the length of my neck.

  “Yes,” I gasped. “So sure.”

  “What about your dinner?” he asked, and a thrill shot through me.

  He doesn’t want to wait until after dinner, that’s a good sign, right? He’s saying yes, and he wants me now . . .

  I wanted to wrap my legs around him and secure me to him before he could change his mind. Instead, I tilted my head to give him better access and managed to say, “It’s in the oven keeping warm, it’ll hold.”

  I squealed as Jericho bent and put his hands behind my knees, swinging me up and into his arms. Then, his mouth was on mine once more as he moved us through the a
partment and into the bedroom that we’d been sharing, chastely, over the past few months.

  Jericho laid me down on the bed and got in beside me. He moved his kisses from my neck, across my shoulder, and down over my chest, before kissing my breast through the satin of my shift.

  I arched my back and moaned; we’d gotten this far before, and it was one of my favorite things, having his hot mouth on my breasts, and when he sucked my nipples and bit down gently, I put my hands in his hair and cradled him close.

  “Jericho,” I said, urging him up. When he complied and was laying over me, his gorgeous face in mine, his hard body covering my length, I looked into his eyes and smiled. “I love you.”

  Jericho’s eyes shut for a moment, as if he needed to freeze time and commit it to memory, then he opened them and grinned beautifully.

  “I love you, too, Natasha . . . so much.”

  Jericho ~ Present

  “SO, WHAT’S WITH YOU AND Red?” Mick asked as we watched Jackson take his shot.

  “They have a history,” Ty answered, before I could say anything.

  “Really?” Mick asked. “Lovers?”

  I almost spit out my whiskey at that.

  “Who the hell says lovers?” I asked with a chuckle, lowering my voice to mimic Mick’s tone.

  “Adults,” Mick replied with a wink. “Did you want me to call her your girlfriend? ‘Cause that’s a lady right there.”

  “Well, when I met her, girl would have been a more apt description, but, yes, to answer your question, she’s my love.”

  “Present tense,” Mick noted, never one to miss a clue.

  “At least they’re on talkin’ terms now, the last time we were here, it didn’t go down as good,” Ty added, then clapped me on the back and said, “Progress.”

  I nodded at Ty, then looked at Mick and said, “Yeah, present tense. At least on my end.”

  “Little Red’s not feeling tall, successful, and brooding? Maybe she’ll go for a yoked, rough and tumble, Irish Mick,” he suggested with a chuckle at his own joke.

  “Don’t go there,” I warned, the thought of Natasha with Mick causing red to flash before my eyes. Hell, not just the thought of her with Mick, the thought of her with anyone but me.