Deliciously Sinful (13 page)

W
hy in the hell would we take your car when we can take mine?”

Phoebe opened the trunk of her old Land Cruiser and tossed her bag into the back. “Because I refuse to go anywhere in that yellow monstrosity.”

“It’s not a monstrosity.” Nick threw a couple of mesh containers into the Toyota. “It’s a valuable piece of machinery. It’s the most uncompromising off-road vehicle available.” He threw a bucket and some gloves into the car.

She slammed the trunk closed and tilted her head. “And you need that in Los Angles…why?”

“Because…” He paused. “Because they’re really cool.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, then. Get your ass in my real off-road vehicle and we can get going.”

“Real off-road vehicle?”

“Yeah. What?”

“A Hummer is definitely an off-road vehicle.”

“Really? Do ya mean like you take it off the freeway sometimes?”

He scoffed. “Yeah. Well. Maybe.”

“Just get in the car. Killer.” She walked to the driver’s door, opened it, and sank into the seat.

A few moments later Nick opened the passenger door.

Phoebe went to start the engine, but he put his hand on hers, stopping her from turning the key. A spark of electricity shot up her arm and landed in her chest.

She hated that.

“Did you just call me killer?” he asked.

She looked sideways and tried to appear innocent. “What?” She remembered when he’d called her that same name, and it had annoyed her so. Did it annoy him?

Didn’t look like it. He seemed to be trying to bite back a smile. “You called me killer.”

She tried to look nonchalant. “So?”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“Aw, fuck it.” He released her hand and grabbed her head. Then he was kissing her. His lips were warm and soft and gentle. When he touched her, every part of her mind and body seemed to liquefy and dissolve into glue, pouring into this one person.

She fought it. She fought it so hard he had to hold her head steady while he kissed her. So she kissed him back, tried to take control. When she felt him relax a little bit, a sigh of satisfaction escaped him. She wanted to sink into him; every part of her wanted to give in.

But she couldn’t. She could not give in one inch. Then he’d be in control, and she couldn’t have that. When he was in control, he did things like spank her. Feed her. Fuck her.

And she liked it way too much.

It was so enticing. She wondered if she could just have fun and not worry about her feelings. About falling for him.

Maybe, just maybe, she could.

Could she enjoy it? Could she separate herself enough to give in and be okay when he left?

The thought was somewhat enticing. She knew if she gave in again, it would open yet another door. She would be jumping down the rabbit hole. The question was, How would she feel when he was gone?

At least a year. He’d be there at least a year, and hopefully longer. And when she thought about it like that, the possibility opened just a bit. Could she do a temporary relationship with Nick?

If so, she didn’t want him in control all the time. It was fun to fight him, so she did.

She grabbed his head and held him steady. She pushed her way into his mouth. There was nothing but this, this battle between them.

A subtle battle of control.

Just kissing. Just their hands and mouths and tongues. A battle she knew she was fighting, and yet it was smooth. Natural. This struggle between them. Fight, retreat. Back and forth. Lick, suck. Push, pull.

It was a fight as natural as the moon’s battle against daylight.

It was he who released her.

She blinked a few times before she could focus, and when she could, she saw he was staring at her.

Her defenses were still up. She met his gaze. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No.” She wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Why did she always feel so challenged by him? And even more important, why did she enjoy the battle so much?

“Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked.

“What way?”

“Like you want to laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you. Trust me.”

“Trust you? Why the heck would I do that?” The words just flew out of her mouth. She didn’t know where they came from. But there they were. Her heart hurt with the need to trust him. He’d gotten her to do just that time after time…

But that had been a mistake. A fun mistake that had led her here, to now.

He just shook his head and leaned back into his seat. “I’m letting you drive, right?”

“Letting me?” She barked a laugh. “What do you mean,
letting
me? You think because I’m a woman I should just hand over the reins?”

Without turning his head, he slanted her a look. “Are you driving a horse?”

“Yes. This is my horse.” She tapped the steering wheel. “And these are my reins.”

“Giddyup, then.”

Why did he make her laugh?
Why?
But turning to start the engine, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know,” she said. “For such a prick, you can be kind of funny.”

“Did you just call me a prick?”

She pulled out of the driveway and onto the narrow two-lane road that led away from the house. “Don’t act all offended. I’d bet money on the fact that you’ve been called a prick dozens of times.”

“And that makes it okay?”

“It proves my point. You can be a prick. Everyone thinks so.” But she was still smiling when she said it.

“Ah, but a funny prick. Right, love?”

She maneuvered around a hairpin turn, and her hands clenched the steering wheel. Not because of the dodgy thin road that led to the coast, but because of his words. That word.
Love.

“Nick, I thought I asked you to stop calling me that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

If she hadn’t been driving, she might have punched him. “I know I did.” Because she’d hated it when he’d said the word to Sherry.

“No. You yelled something like, ‘
Don’t call me that!
’” He mimicked her tone in a high-pitched yell that made her cringe. “You didn’t ask. You demanded. In fact, you’re a pretty demanding woman in general.”

Watching the road, she straightened her back. “Fine. As long as you know I was right.”

“You always have to be right, don’t you?
Love.
”

She ignored the taunting word. “No.” She paused a moment before continuing. “Well, I guess I do.”

He patted her knee. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery.”

“Oh, go jump off a cliff. I’m in charge of a lot of things. I have to be confident and sure of myself. The minute you back down, people start to run you over.”

He glanced out the passenger window. “Yeah. You do have a point there.”

“I’m sure it’s that way for you, too.”

Looking back at her, he said, “Yes, you have to be sure of yourself to run a kitchen. If any of the sharks sense blood, you’ll be ripped to shreds.”

The tone of his voice had changed. He sounded pensive, and even a little sad. Her heart went out to him.

“Is that what happened to you?” she asked softly.

He jerked his head back. “What? Hell no.”

The road was getting windier, and Phoebe drove the SUV around another tight curve. The closer they got to the ocean, the foggier it became. It was going to be cold and damp at the beach.

“Right,” she said. “Sorry I asked. Of course, you would never be anything but one hundred percent self-assured. Must be nice.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, poppet. It’s not about what you are; it’s about what you let others perceive you to be.”

“Ha! So you’re saying your whole ‘I’m Nick the Prick and I’m perfect’ personality is just an act?”

“No. I really am a prick.”

“I know.”

“But I’m not perfect.”

“What?” She feigned disbelief. “You are admitting that you’re not Mr. Perfect?”

“Of course I’m not. If I was, do you think I’d be here?”

She clenched her jaw. She wasn’t going to say anything. She really wasn’t.

“Then why the heck
are
you? Here, that is?”

Too late. She could never keep her mouth shut.

“Honestly?”

“Please.”

“Well, Phoebe, I came here because I couldn’t get a job anywhere decent.”

“Thanks.”

“My visa only allows me to work in California, and let’s face it. There’s really only two decent cities in this state.”

The fog was getting heavier, and she had to slow down to a crawl just to see the road. “And they would be?”

“Los Angeles and San Francisco.”

“Why didn’t you take a job in San Francisco?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders tighten. “Every offer I got was a step down from where I was. I couldn’t do it.”

“But coming here wasn’t exactly a big step up in the ladder of your career.”

With one long fingertip, he rubbed the fabric of his jeans where it covered his knee. “That’s true. But at least here, no one knows me. No one here knows or cares what I was before.”

“You really care that much about what people think?”

“No. I care what I think about myself. And living in the city and working at some chain diner would make me want to—” He ran one hand over his head. “I’d rather stick a knife in my eye.”

She continued to crawl through the fog. “You’re right about one thing, Nick.”

“What’s that?”

“No one here cares.”

He jerked back. “Okay.”

“What I mean is, this isn’t L.A. This isn’t some backstabbing city where everyone has an agenda.”

“I suppose you’re right about that.”

“People here actually care about the community. And we have a pretty high tolerance for the mistakes people make.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t fire an employee if he made a mistake?”

“It would depend on the mistake. If he’d lied, stolen, or cheated, then yes. But if it was an honest mistake, then I’d give him a second chance.”

He grunted.

“All I ask out of the people who work for me is one thing.”

Sinking into the seat, he crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that, love?”

“All I ask is loyalty.”

She glanced over and saw that he’d closed his eyes. His facial expression was relaxed, but she could see every muscle in his body was tense. Why was that?

“You can be really draining,” she said.

“Now what are you going on about?” he asked.

“I never know with you. I never know what will flip a switch in you that changes your entire demeanor from utterly nonchalant to ultratense.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a flask. “Can we just be quiet for a minute?”

She swiped the flask out of his hand. “You can’t drink that in the car. It’s illegal!” She threw the flask into the far back of the Land Cruiser.

“Hey! It wasn’t as if I was going to give the driver any.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still totally illegal!”

“Well, what do you want me to do? Sometimes you just keep hammering on and on. Talk about draining.”

“Fine. Let’s just be quiet for the rest of the drive.”

“Thank God.”

And that was the last they spoke for the next thirty minutes.

P
hoebe pulled the car into an empty gravel parking area and came to a stop. Glancing over, she saw Nick’s eyes were still closed, but she doubted he was asleep.

She punched him in the arm. “Wake up.”

He opened one eye. “Are we there yet?”

“Yes. Now get up and let’s get going. It looks chilly out there.”

Straightening, he gazed through the windshield to the sandy beach that ended just a few feet from where she’d parked. Beyond the sand were rocks that jutted out of the ocean, and the waves crashed against the boulders and tide pools in violent bursts.

“Wow,” Nick said.

She glanced at him. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…it’s gorgeous. Reminds me a bit of home, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They don’t have beaches like this in Southern California.”

“No, they don’t.” She stared at the turbulent water. “I’ve always loved it here. It’s very peaceful to hear the waves crashing, to wander around the tide pools. I don’t know why I don’t come here more often.”

“You have a lot going on, Phoebe. With the farm and the restaurant. Jesse and Steve.”

“Yeah. But still, it’s important to make time for yourself. To regroup.” Still staring at the water, she said, “Right?”

“I suppose, yeah.”

“And anyway, now I have you to run the kitchen. That’s helped me tremendously. I really should make more time to do some things for myself.”

She turned to him. “I really do think you’re doing a fabulous job in the café, Nick. Thank you. You obviously know what you’re doing—”

He rolled his eyes.

She ignored him. “So I’m going to step back. Let you do your job without me hovering around all the time.”

“That’s very…shocking to hear.”

“Why? You’re the one who’s always telling me how great you are.”

“And you’re the one who’s always telling me not to question your authority.”

“Look, Nick. All I’m saying is, thanks to you, I can start focusing more on my farm. And maybe even myself.” The simple thought scared her. But she was starting to see that she couldn’t do everything. At some point she needed to delegate, and Nick was slowly proving he could handle the responsibility.

He shifted and reached for the door. “Shall we?”

She watched him exit her car. His body was stiff, and his movements were fast and jerky.

Now what? What had she done to piss him off this time?

Opening her own door, she sighed and let it go. She realized she was never going to figure out Nick Avalon. But that didn’t help get rid of her overwhelming desire to know him. In fact, the more time she actually spent with him, the more she liked him. When they weren’t arguing, of course. Because then she often just wanted to throw rotten fruit at him.

They retrieved their oyster-gathering tools from the trunk. As Nick grabbed some gloves and a basket, Phoebe pulled her North Face jacket tight around her neck. It had been so long since she’d been to the beach she’d forgotten how cold it could be, even at the start of summer.

There was a mountain that separated the ocean from the valley where Redbolt was located, and the weather could change drastically by simply driving “over the hill,” as the locals called it.

A chilly breeze whispered the back of her neck. Luckily, she always came to the beach prepared for cold weather, and now she dug a knit hat out of her backpack and pulled it onto her head.

“What?”

Nick was staring at her. “Nothing. You just look so…”

“What?!”

“Cute.”

“Oh, shut up.” Apparently his hissy fit was over.

“Phoebe, why can’t you just take a compliment for once?”

“Because I don’t believe you.” She picked up a basket and stomped off toward the reefs.

“You don’t believe anyone except yourself?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Sometimes.”

He whistled long and low. “Wow.”

Stopping, she spun around. “Now what are you talking about?”

“You. You just have so many defenses up. And I bet no one even knows it.” He smiled smugly. “Except me.”

Just then a cold burst of air hit her in the face, and she wiped at her nose, which had started to run. “You have no idea what the heck you’re talking about.”

He came closer. Her instinct was to back up, but she didn’t. She lifted her chin and met his gaze.

“You’re scared of me,” he said.

“Are you totally insane? Why the hell would I be scared of you?”

“Aha!” he said, as if he’d just discovered something.

“What now?” she yelled, frustrated.

“You said a bad word.”

“I did not!” Had she? He made her so mad. He had her totally out of her mind and she didn’t even know what she was saying anymore.

“You said
hell
.”

“That’s not a bad word.”

“It is when Phoebe Mayle says it.”

She spun on her heel and made her way down to the oyster bed. Why was he doing this to her? One second he was flirtatious, the next he was pensive, the next he was a prick.

When she looked back, he was still at the car, changing into rain gear. She watched him.

He was making her crazy.

And he was making her incredibly turned on.

It had to be the boots. Pausing at the edge of the water, she watched as he waded into the sea toward a reef of oysters. He wore knee-high rubber boots like those fishermen wore. His khaki pants were tucked into the boots, and he wore a heavy white cable sweater that looked straight from Ireland.

He wore a black cap on his head. He looked like he could have just stepped off a fishing boat. This was a far cry from the hip version of Nick Avalon that had shown up at her door. The boots were a far cry from the hip trainers he normally sported.

And she found them kinda hot.

He obviously knew what he was doing. Phoebe had come out and collected oysters before, but Nick did so with an intensity and purpose that sort of shocked her.

He wore heavy rubber gloves and carried a big wire basket in one hand. In his other hand he wielded a small black rake, and with this tool he began scraping oysters from the reef and dropping them into the basket.

She watched. She didn’t know why it was so fascinating to observe Nick like this, but it was. He seemed so comfortable out here in the wildness of the sea that it surprised her. She would never have expected Nick Avalon, the snooty chef from Los Angeles, to wander out in the cold waters of the northern Pacific Ocean to gather oysters.

He looked up at her and smiled.

Right then, her heart melted a little bit. He looked so happy, like a kid. She smiled back, and it came from deep inside her. He made a motion as if he wanted her to join him, but she was nailed to her spot.

The wind whipped at her, and she pulled her hat farther down on her head. She didn’t care how cold it was. Watching Nick out there, stepping carefully through the rocky reef, was simply fascinating.

He
was fascinating to her.

And, for some reason, she was starting to trust him.

And there was no denying her body’s response to his touch. Just the thought of his fingers on her skin sent a shiver through her, a shiver that had nothing to do with the chilly fog surrounding her.

She loved being touched by him. Loved it so much it scared her.

She’d had casual sex; she’d had sex when she was in a serious relationship. Until she’d met Nick, she’d thought sex with Bear was as good as she was ever going to get. And the casual sex filled a need.

But, there was nothing casual about the way she felt when Nick touched her. When they had sex, it touched her somewhere, everywhere. From her toes to her chest to her head. She’d experienced a connection with him unlike anything she’d ever encountered before.

She hugged herself tightly as another breeze hit her. Yeah, she was starting to recognize how she felt about Nick. The question was, How did he feel about her?

When he was young, the one place Nick could go to get away from everything, the one place he felt safe, was the beach. Now, as he raked up another shell, he retreated to that place. He lost himself in the salty air, the sounds of the waves. He forgot about his father, his job, where he was…He forgot how easy it was to lose himself from everything.

Well, everything except
her
.

Nick thought he’d never seen anything as cute in his life as Phoebe at that very moment. Standing there on the beach, in her puffy jacket and faded jeans and colorful knit hat; he waved at her, and she waved back. It made his chest clench.

She was starting to trust him. Just a little bit, but it was there. And despite the fact that he’d always considered himself a heartless bastard, he couldn’t help the tug of guilt that was getting stronger every day.

He was going to leave. He was going to leave this place and leave Phoebe. Even now, as he raked up another oyster and dropped it into the basket, he was resolved to go.

He couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up all he’d worked for to live the rest of his life working in a tiny café in the middle of nowhere.

Oh, his dad would love that. His dad, who’d told him cooking was for “sissies” and thought he could beat the idea out of him. As if smacking Nick across the face would make him a “real man.”

Nick had proved his father very wrong. He’d become a chef and had earned a reputation as one of the baddest boys in the industry.

He laughed to himself. Maybe all those beatings his father gave him had been a good thing. By the time he finally moved out at seventeen, he’d developed a thick skin. And to succeed, Nick had certainly needed to be tough. If his father had taught him anything, it was the ability to be strong. To overcome anything.

So why was he having such a hard time with the idea of leaving? He glanced back at Phoebe, who was still watching him. A vision flashed through his mind. Here, cooking what she produced and collecting food from the sea. It could be a good, simple life.

And the thought made his heart pound with anxiety.

He wasn’t meant for anything good or simple. He was meant to prove himself, every day. Prove he was a man.

Prove his father wrong.

And cooking vegan brunches in the middle of nowhere was not any part of that plan.

Phoebe smiled at him. He smiled back. And he ignored the way his heart hurt because he knew he’d be leaving her.

She’d be pissed, but she’d get over it. She was a strong woman. And if she didn’t get over it, well, he’d live with that. He was used to living with people hating him. She’d just be one more individual in the world who thought he was a prick.

Well, according to what she said, she already did. He was just going to prove her right.