She was all the way across the deck. He was probably only imagining things.
But hell, he had a damn fine imagination.
He was definitely—
definitely
—going to have to find her this weekend.
And seduce her.
He could do it. He had a way with words. Everyone said so.
And women loved him.
Oh yeah. He would have her this weekend. No doubt about it.
Tara couldn’t hold back a grin when she walked into Darby’s Bar and Grill with Emily, Jamie and Kaitlin, who had come over with her on the ferry. Kristi lit up at the sight of her and waved. It felt like coming home.
She wasn’t sure why.
Tara had never gone to college, choosing instead to attend culinary school. She’d never regretted her decision, but in her heart of hearts, she’d always been a little jealous of her friend Kristi and her tight camaraderie with the Dawgs. Early on in her college days at the University of Washington, Kristi had had the good fortune to be assigned to McCarty Hall where she’d met the most amazing group of friends. For four years the Dawgs, as they called themselves, had banded together, helping each other study, survive and snag the big screen TV in the lounge for marathon football binges.
O
nce they’d all graduated, they’d continued to hang together, even going in together to share a vacation house on an island populated by Seattle’s rich and privileged.
Tara felt blessed whenever
they invited her to hang out with them. And a little sad that this tribe wasn’t really
hers
.
What Tara envied the most was the relationships. The men in the group were like overly protective brothers and the women like soul sisters. They always—
always
—stuck up for each other, often like rabid pit bulls. She’d craved friendships like these; her life had been fraught with upheaval, moving every year or so as a child. She treasured the times when she was included in the group—the odd weekend here and there. But deep in her soul, she knew she wasn’t “one of them.”
As she approached the table, something snagged her attention and her steps stalled.
Holy shit
. Cam had his arm around Kristi. And it wasn’t a casual
gee-where-should-I-put-my-arm
embrace. It was a
she-is-mine-so-fuck-you-all
embrace.
Tara swallowed the painful lump in her throat and forced a smile. The bright light of Kristi’s response nearly blinded her. Kristi had always had the hots for Cam. How many thousands of times had Tara been forced to listen to her woeful longings?
Of course, she’d ended each conversation with a panicked
please don’t tell anyone
.
And now, here they sat, plain as day.
A couple.
Yeah. Envy was a horrible thing.
And the strange thing was, Tara wasn’t even sure why she was jealous. She didn’t want a man. Didn’t need a relationship—in fact she had
vowed
to avoid them. She certainly didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Cam.
She should be happy for Kristi.
She resolved to work on that.
Taking her seat, her gaze fell on Kristi’s sister Bella and, once again, her brain hiccupped. Because Holt Lamm, the beast, the biggest, bossiest man in the group, had
his
arm around
her
shoulders. Bella, the prickliest woman on the planet, now had a
boyfriend
.
What the hell was going on here?
Clearly, the universe was mocking her. Or punishing her for dumping a perfectly adequate man simply because he didn’t thrill her to the core.
Or punishing her by mocking her.
First that up-close and personal run-in with a super hot guy, and now two of her long-time single friends were paired up with guys they’d always drooled over—though in Bella’s case, the drooling had been clandestine. But Tara had noticed.
Regardless, it wasn’t
nice of the universe to mock her like that.
Kaitlin slid a menu over the polished wood of the table and Tara slid it right on
over to Jamie. She already knew what she was ordering. She always had the same thing when she came here. Darby had an amazing blue cheese and apple salad with walnuts and creamy vinaigrette. It was something she dreamed about and drooled over when she wasn’t here.
Silence settled around the table as everyone else studied the menus. It was shattered
when a loud thud, followed by a cheer, resounded through the room. Tara glanced over toward the ruckus and her nose wrinkled as she recognized the guy with the ascot from the ferry wallowing in the sawdust next to his overturned chair.
Idiot
.
He’d been drunk off his ass when he’d cornered her on the car deck
, precipitating her headlong flight up the stairs and into the arms of—
Her heart stuttered as her attention landed on
him
.
He was smiling a bit as he reached out a hand to the idiot on the floor. She allowed herself a second, or maybe more, to soak in his gorgeousness once more. It should be against the law for one man to be so dang cute.
“Who are those guys?” she asked. She didn’t mean to ask. The words slipped out through the drool.
“The blond is Ash Bristol
,” Holt responded—though it had been a rhetorical question. “He has the place next to ours.”
“Bristol?”
Emily peeped. “As in the Bristol Foundation?”
Cam nodded. “Ash is the
‘heir apparent.’” He took a sip of his beer. “Ash is a friend of Lane’s.” Their friend, Lane Daniels, another one of the Dawgs, owned the vacation house they shared.
“And the others?” Tara asked
, because really, Ash was not the one whose name she needed to know.
Cam smirked. “I don’t know the guy in the ascot.” Snorts around the table at that. “But that’s Parker Rieth in the blue and Devlin Fox in the Polo shirt.”
Tara’s heart stopped. And then began thudding painfully in her temples as a white hot fury overcame her. “
That’s
Devlin Fox?” She glared across the restaurant. It wasn’t bad enough that the gorgeous guy she ran into on the ferry turned out to be friends with the douche in the ascot she’d been running from. No.
He had to be her worst enemy too.
Damn. Damn damn damn.
“You know him?” Bella asked.
“He writes a Foodie Blog.” Tara glowered around the table, trying hard not to snarl. Or pout. “He gave Stud Muffin a bad review.”
“What?”
Cam squawked.
Jamie shook her head.
“Why did he do that?”
Tara
crossed her arms over her chest. She’d spent her life learning her craft. Spent her life savings opening her own bakery. Spent years building clientele. Then, with one crappy review, business had tanked. Totally into the toilet. In one fell swoop, many of her regulars had stopped coming in.
She wasn’t sure she’d be able to make the bills th
is month, which was devastating.
A
nd all because of
him
.
It was unfair for one man to have so much power.
And why had he panned her bakery? “Because I don’t have gluten-free.” She muttered, then added, under her breath, “Big baby.”
Still,
gluten-free was a huge deal in Seattle. She’d spent the past week working up recipes. And fantasizing about wreaking vengeance on a certain blogger.
It had been a
mere fantasy, until now. But now…
Kaitlin shifted closer, drawing Tara’s attention.
“What are you thinking?” she asked in a whisper, her features tight.
Tara froze. It didn’t do to
think
around Kaitlin. Not that the elfin redhead read minds, or at least that’s what she claimed. But she seemed to
know
things.
“Nothing.”
Tara made it a point to bat her lashes.
Kaitlin’s
nose rumpled, as though she smelled something nasty. Like a lie.
But hell. Tara couldn’t tell Kaitlin what she was really thinking because Kaitlin—the sweet, innocent soul that she was—would try to talk her out of it. Ramble on about Karma and shit.
No, Tara couldn’t tell anyone what she was really thinking about.
Because she was plotting revenge.
She was going to get Devlin Fox back. And she was going to get him good.
“Hi there.”
Devlin turned on the barstool, his trademark smile
firmly in place. Everything within him froze. It was her. That little slice of heaven from the ferry. Damn. She was as hot as he remembered.
She sidled up next to him
and the chatter of the bar receded. Fascination—and something else—rose.
“Well hello there.”
He liked her scent, something floral and light. He liked her heat as she pressed against his side. She lowered her long lush lashes and peeped up at him through the fringe. Damn, that was sexy. She licked her lips. That was sexy too.
“I never got to thank you,” she purred.
“Th-Thank me?” Was that her hand? On his thigh?
Shit yeah.
“For saving me.” Her fingers flexed. “I would have tumbled to my death if you hadn’t grabbed me.”
“I doubt you would have tumbled to your death. Disfigurement, perhaps. Dire injury. But not death. Don’t exaggerate.”
She laughed, a low chortle. “Well… Thank you.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Can I buy you a drink?”
Devlin blinked. He’d been hit on in bars before, but no woman had ever offered to buy him a drink.
She might just be a perfect woman. “Sure.”
“What’s your poison?”
“Whiskey sour.”
She signaled to the bartender.
“So…I’m Devlin.”
“Devlin.” She cooed. Actually cooed.
“And you are…?”
“Interested.”
He jumped a little as her hand skated up his thigh. His pulse skipped. “I…ah…yes. But what can I call you?” He had a pretty good idea where this was headed, and he wanted to know what to cry out as he sank into her steamy depths. It was only polite to know a woman’s name at a moment like that.
She pursed her lips, as though she were thinking it over. Or thinking about something else. Her thumb snaked up. Nudged his balls, ever so lightly, and through thick denim, but he felt it like an electrical charge. “Call me Sugar.”
“Sugar.” Oh yeah. She was sweet.
“Would you…like to go for a walk?”
“A walk?” His cock lurched. All thoughts of that drink faded.
“It’s a beautiful night…”
She looked over her shoulder and then threaded her fingers in his, leading him toward the back of the bar. He didn’t know why they weren’t heading for the front door, but didn’t much care.
She was a beautiful woman. She wanted him. And he was just drunk enough to follow her anywhere she led.
He shot a glance at Parker who sent him a thumbs up.
They barely made it out the back door of the bar before she kissed him.
Damn
. Backed him up against the wall, raked her fingers through his hair, pulled his head down and took his mouth.
And damn, she was a good kisser. She ate him with heat and passion and carnivorous zeal. He responded in kind, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He nearly passed out when she sucked on it, nibbled it, toyed with it. He couldn’t help imagining her doing the same to his cock.
Her palm roved over his chest and made its way down to his hips. He didn’t dare move as she slowly teased the band of his jeans. She pulled back and held his gaze as she popped the snap.
“Mmm
,” she murmured, reaching in. His eyes crossed as she molded his length. Squeezed. “Such a big boy.” She licked her lips and his brain short-circuited. When she went to her knees before him and blew a hot breath on him through the cotton of his briefs, he nearly lost consciousness. “I want to taste you,” she said. “Take off your pants.”
Holy God.
Yes.
In a frenzy, he kicked off his shoes, and ripped off his jeans, hopping from one foot to the other. He held still, frozen in place, as she hooked her thumbs in his briefs and eased them down
revealing his eager cock. She dragged his underwear down until they pooled at his ankles.
He heard the catch
in her moan. Felt the trace of a warm finger around his swollen head and down to the base. He shuddered.
“Ah. Yes,” she said, coming close.
Her heat caressed him. His knees knocked. She fisted him. Pumped. Once. Twice. Blood pounded at his temples. Thrummed in his cock. She bent closer. Her damp breath kissed the head. “Such a big dick,” she said.
If he’d been in his right mind, her tone would have warned him, but he wasn’t in his right mind. He was a little drunk and a lot horny and there was a gorgeous woman on her knees before him with his cock in her fist.
Her mouth hovered over the tip.
Yes. Yes.
Just a little more…
She released him and stood up in a rush. Her beautiful, seductive expression morphed into something bitter. He gaped at her, stunned.