Loving Bailey (6 page)

The shock of his words had her sucking in air
and he caught her gasp with his mouth, cradling her head with his
hands so he could taste and tease her. When he finally broke the
kiss, he pressed his lips to her forehead, his fingers still
tangled in her hair. Bailey decided there was nothing sexier on the
Earth than a man struggling to catch his breath because of her.

“Have to go now,” he said again, his lips
against her skin, and she nodded, too unsteady to speak.

Spencer stepped back and she immediately
missed the warmth of his body.

“Here,” she said, handing him the box of
food. “Don’t forget this.”

He took the box and smiled. “Can I still go
to the market with you in the morning?”

“Absolutely, how early can you get up.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “As early
as you want.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” she said,
matching his grin with her own.

He bent one more time, pressing his lips to
her hair, and then with a reluctant sigh, he walked out of the
door, carrying his box of provisions in front of him.

Bailey slumped against the counter.
Perfect.
Now she had to take the rest of her day off and
drive down the mountain to help Jen with the kids. Or at least find
something to do with her car so the lie wasn’t quite so obvious.
And then there was nothing to look forward to but another night
home alone with her battery operated boyfriend.

Rolling her eyes, she stacked the lunch
dishes and followed Spencer out the door.

Trace looked at his almost naked peony
bushes, just shadowy mounds in the gray dawn and grimaced. God,
after what she’d seen yesterday, he wouldn’t be surprised if Bailey
had thrown away all the flowers he’d given her. Unless she was too
busy with the writer to even notice.

Fuck
.

It didn’t matter how he looked at it or tried
to spin it for himself. This was a disaster. He’d avoided what he
wanted the most, kept Bailey at arm’s length, so he wouldn’t lose
her. Now, with one stupid misunderstanding, he’d pushed her into
the other man’s arms.

He met Jake coming back from the asparagus
beds, his arms loaded down with a tub of the tender green spears.
Together they walked to the barn and started wrapping the asparagus
into bundles. They didn’t talk. There wasn’t any need to, and Trace
had learned long ago that even though he liked to get up before the
sun and watch the world wake up, most people didn’t.

They stacked the bundles upright in the tub
and Jake poured some water in the bottom to keep them fresh. This
early in the season, his customers at the market were so grateful
for fresh produce, the asparagus would be gone before lunch. Trace
grabbed one of the boxes of greens the interns picked that morning
and carried it out to the truck.

He met Amanda coming out of the chicken yard
loaded down with a basket of eggs. She froze when she saw him and
stood, chewing on her lip.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said,
dancing from foot to foot in the cool morning air. “I guess I
misunderstood some things.”

“Yes, you did.” His voice was harsh and
unyielding and even in the dim light he saw her face fall. “It’s
okay,” he said, deliberately softening his tone. “We can pretend it
never happened.”

Her grin lit the darkness and for a moment at
least, he felt like less of an asshole. Although why he should be
the one feeling like a jerk was beyond him. He hadn’t been the one
doing the kissing.

“Great! Thanks so much.” She turned and
practically bounced off to the barn, swinging the basket in front
of her.

“Don’t break the eggs!”

It took longer than he thought it would to
finish loading the truck, and by the time he and Amanda and another
intern named Jane were on the road to the farmer’s market the sun
was almost up. It was so early in the growing season, the start of
the abundance which continued through the summer and into early
fall. It amazed him what he managed to gather from his farm before
spring was even in full swing.

Jake had stayed behind to supervise the two
remaining interns and get the restaurant orders ready. He and the
young women had to hustle to get the vegetables out and showcased
before the crowd showed up to shop before work. He’d just finished
stacking big bunches of bright red rhubarb next to the quarts of
strawberries in their green paperboard cartons when he saw her.

He knew she’d come. She always did and part
of him had been counting on having a chance to see her. To show her
there wasn’t anything going on with Amanda. He hadn’t counted on
Bailey showing up first thing in the morning with the writer
guy.

Did that mean they had met early for the
drive down the mountain? Spencer hadn’t struck him as an early
riser. Or had Bailey rolled over in his arms this morning and
nudged him awake? The image of her naked and warm nestled against
the writer’s chest, her hair a sexy mess and her lips swollen from
his kisses was so clear Trace clenched his hands, crushing the
carton of berries he held.

“God damn it!” Sticky red juice ran down his
fingers.

At the sound of his voice, Bailey turned and
her gaze caught his. As he watched, she reached for Spencer’s hand,
raising her chin defiantly.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

He set the ruined carton of berries on the
ground at his feet. When he stood, Bailey and the writer were
making their way to his stall.

“Hey Trace,” she said, her voice artificially
bright.

“Bailey. Spence.” God, he hated that guy with
his fake work shirts and clean hands. Hands which had touched
Bailey. Hands which were touching her now.

“Spencer,” the other man said, stepping
behind Bailey and resting his hands possessively on her shoulders.
“Bailey brought me here to help me fill my kitchen. Although she’s
probably going to have to show me how to cook, too.”

His thumbs stroked Bailey’s neck, running up
and down over the soft skin peeking out from behind her hair. It
was like a train wreck and Trace couldn’t manage to look away.

“I didn’t know the rooms at the lodge had
kitchens or are you heading home?” He couldn’t keep the hopeful
note out of his voice.

“No. I found a reason to stick around for a
while.” He smiled down at Bailey and Trace clenched his fist to
keep from punching the guy. “I moved into one of the cottages so
I’d have more room.”

“These are nice,” Bailey said, deliberately
ignoring both men to concentrate on the asparagus.

“Pick out whatever you think we need,” said
Spencer. “Be sure to get some of these.” He picked up a carton of
strawberries. “I miss out on them yesterday, and I want them
tonight. We can find some place to get chocolate to go with
them.”

Fucking writer was planning to seduce the
woman he loved with his own strawberries.

For the first time since they arrived at the
stall, Bailey looked uncomfortable. She stared at Trace but when he
didn’t speak, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at
Spencer.

“Sounds good,” she said, trading the carton
in his hands for one with better berries. “We’ll need a dozen eggs
and some greens, too.”

“Of course,” said Trace. “I’ll get Amanda to
help you.”

Trace called Amanda over and walked away
before he put his fist through Spence’s face.

Bailey turned one more time to look at
herself in the mirror. The purple silk of the demi bra was pretty
with her dark eyes and hair. The lace cups held her full breast out
like an offering. The tiny triangle of the thong was just enough to
cover her trimmed curls and when she looked over her shoulder to
check out her back and butt she smiled.

She might not be super model material, but
she looked good. Hers wasn’t the kind of body a man was likely to
turn down.

She picked up her glass and took a swallow of
the crisp, cold white wine to settle her nerves. She was going to
do this. She was going to have sex with Spencer. Quite a lot of it
if he was game. And she thought, glancing at the thong riding low
over the dimples at the small of her back, he should be up for
it.

The double entendre struck her as a little
too funny and she set the wine glass back on her dresser. She
wanted to take the edge off not get drunk.

And any reservations she’d had about sharing
this night with Spencer instead of Trace had been smashed flat when
he got the skinny blond to help her at the farmers’ market. He was
having fun with someone – so could she – and Spencer seemed like
he’d be a lot of fun.

She’d had such a nice day with him. After the
market they’d gone to Blacksburg to shop and wander around the
college town. They had a great lunch at Gilly’s and then strolled
around the duck pond at Virginia Tech, taking breaks every so often
to kiss like the other lovers sprawled in the grass between
classes.

He kept his hands on her all day, stroking
her cheek, touching the small of her back. Every caress woke up her
nerves and ratcheted up her desire. By the time they made it back
up to the top of the mountain, her body practically vibrated for
him.

She dropped him at his cottage, saying she
wanted to grab a shower before dinner. He kissed her, his hands
cupping her face, teeth nipping at her lip. She opened for him, and
he groaned, tasting her and taking her higher with each stroke of
his tongue. When he told her she could shower at the cottage it
took every bit of willpower she had to turn him down and drive back
to her apartment.

She didn’t want to make a big deal out of the
virgin thing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t wanted to do something
about it for a while now, but she did want to at least fuss a
little over her appearance. She picked up the glass, took another
swallow of wine and walked to her closet, hoping some different
clothes had magically appeared in there while she was out.

She rifled through her familiar wardrobe,
trying to decide between a dress or pants. The last thing she
wanted to do was look like she was trying too hard, but pants
didn’t seem quite right either. She had nice legs, she thought,
taking another sip. It would be good to show them off.

So a dress, but nothing too formal. If only
Jude’s fiancée, Autumn, lived closer. She had fantastic clothes and
she wore dresses or skirts almost every day. She would have
something sexy but not too fussy. Bailey’s gaze landed on a blue
wrap dress with three quarter length sleeves and a skirt which was
just full enough to accentuate her waist without ballooning her
hips. The dress tied at the side which should make untying it fun
and if she wore high heeled sandals and no hose, it would look
pretty but not too formal. The heels meant she’d have to drive to
the cottage instead of walk, but that was a better plan anyway.
Getting sweaty and dusty on the way defeated the whole purpose of
the shower.

She slipped into the dress and heels and took
a few extra minutes on her makeup, adding a little pale shadow to
her normal eyeliner and mascara. Before she slicked on a coat of
sheer lip gloss, she finished the rest of her wine. She spritzed
perfume under her hair behind her ears and on her wrists, rubbing
them together to release the scent, and then on a whim, she lifted
her skirt and sprayed a quick pulse of scent on her thighs.
Imagining Spencer nuzzling her skin there and inhaling the scent
had her reaching for her empty wine glass.

Instead of going for a refill, she glanced at
the clock on her nightstand and decided it was late enough to meet
Spencer at the cottage. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the
restaurant on her way out, locked the doors and climbed into the
car for the short drive to Spencer’s.

By the time she parked in the gravel space in
front of the cottage her hands were shaking with a mixture of
anticipation and nerves. She took a slow deep breath and slid out
of the car. Before she made it to the porch, Spencer threw open the
door and hurried out to meet her.

“Thank God. I didn’t think you’d ever get
here,” he said, grinning.

He had changed, too, his normal chambray
shirt replaced by a crisp, polished, cotton dress shirt open at the
top to reveal a triangle of tanned skin at his neck. He wore black
pants hung low on his narrow hips and a pair of black leather
loafers she was sure cost more than her shoe budget for the year.
He looked so handsome, his sandy hair curling over his collar and
the dark stubble on his chin giving him a rakish look; her mouth
watered.

But it was his eyes that pulled her forward –
clear, open blue with fine lines at the corners from an abundance
of smiling and an unabashed pleasure at seeing her. He wasn’t
hiding anything. He wanted her there. She didn’t need to guess how
he felt.

“Lead me to your kitchen,” she said, handing
him the wine.

“Hm mm, no way you’re cooking tonight. You
look fantastic by the way.” He caught her around the waist and
pulled her against him, nuzzling the tender skin behind her ear and
sending shivers of pleasure through her. “Smell good, too.” He
tugged the lobe of her ear between his teeth and she tipped her
head to give him better access. “Good enough to eat.”

Delicious tremors followed everywhere his
mouth touched and Bailey felt her nipples pebble tight under the
silk of her bra. She slid her hands around his waist, cupping his
butt and pulling him against her. The heels made her almost tall
enough to fit him into the hot V of her body, the hard length of
him riding just above her mound.

He bent and claimed her mouth, swallowing her
gasp of pleasure and kissed her until she doubted her ability to
stay standing.

“Come,” he said, managing to infuse the words
with more than one meaning. “I’m cooking for you tonight. Just tell
me what to do.”