Something Borrowed (18 page)

She reached for his waist, tugged gently at him, urging him to do what she’d wanted him to do for so long. And despite all the reasons not to, she wanted to feel him against her. To taste him. There was no way she could stop even if she wanted to.

With a daring she didn’t know she possessed, she tiptoed up and pressed her mouth against his. She felt a little resistance as the shock registered. Then, with a groan, he returned the kiss. Soft and tentative at first, he nibbled on her bottom lip, snagging it in his teeth. Another groan tore from him as he finally gave in to whatever it was that he’d been fighting.

Then he kissed her full and open-mouthed as his hand tightened around the back of her head, hauling her closer.

He tasted of all things male. Divine, like his food. Like him. Like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Like everything she’d imagined and more. Heat curled around her, around them, locking them in a world of just two. This was what she’d been dreaming of.

All he needed to do now was feed her dainty morsels by the light of his industrial fridge—

‘Chloe.’ He pulled away a little, not enough to deter her, and his hand was still on her cheek, but there was definitely distance. ‘We can’t. I said… you know why.’

‘I know. I know. I know.’ Her voice was surprisingly throaty, and she was shocked at how wanton she sounded. ‘It’s complicated. I’m complicated.’

‘Yes. Very.’

‘I don’t want to stop.’ She turned her head away, but he pulled her to face him again. Time stretched for a few moments as he looked at her with so much regret and desire and growing passion.

‘Neither do I, but… Goddamn.’ He fisted his hands in her hair as he tried to gain control. But she saw the moment he stopped trying to be the good man; in a deep breath, a curse and a decision made. His voice was hoarse and thick with need. ‘Who doesn’t have a little complication in their lives every now and then?’

‘Yes. That. That exactly.’ It was still difficult to haul oxygen into her lungs as every cell in her body hummed with fierce desire.

‘And hell, there’s only so much I can resist.’

‘So don’t.’

‘That easy?’ Then his mouth slammed on hers, a decisive act that told her just how much he wanted her, just how much trouble they were in, and just how deep she was falling, even with his warnings and her own promises.

He walked her backwards and crushed her against the door, capturing her hands above her head, his tongue dancing with hers. Then he kissed a trail along her cheek, her neck, and on to that place just behind her earlobe that made her squirm with delight.

And in turn, she found a place on his throat that smelt so delicious she nuzzled against it, relishing the strength in his body, in the heart that beat rapidly against her ribcage. His hands held her tight, and yet with a tenderness she’d barely known could exist from a man so big and so strong.

Then his hand found her breast and she melted against him as he stroked first over her top then under it. And she responded by pressing herself against him. Closer. Ever closer.

She heard a moan and realised with a shock that it was her. When had Jason ever made her moan?

She banished all thoughts of Vaughn’s cousin from her head.

But they fought their way back.

She’d had her heart broken—more, she’d had her trust decimated by a man who was a blood relative of Vaughn.

She opened her eyes and saw, over his shoulder, the wall of photographs. The stark reminder of what Vaughn had lost and what he held so dear, and his determination not to get involved rang in her ears.

Scarred, he’d said.
Scared
, she thought. But who could blame him? He’d lost the love of his life, and Chloe would be forever competing with that. With a ghost, a memory, with someone capable of shattering his heart.

And now he was capable of doing the same thing to hers. Because if this wasn’t getting involved, she didn’t know what was.

So for the first time in her life, she knew it was her turn to walk away. But she wouldn’t be like all those men who hadn’t had the balls to face her. She’d deal with it head on.

She managed to wriggle away from him, pulling her arms down and pushing lightly on his chest.

The moment she did it, and he stepped back frowning, she regretted it. But it was the right thing to do, for him. For them. ‘You’re right, Vaughn. We shouldn’t be doing this. There are too many reasons why not.’

For a few moments, he looked at her. His eyes were kind and sad and heated as he tugged her top straight and pressed his mouth to the bridge of her nose. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. Sorry.’

Worse thing was, he looked it too.

She dug very, very deep and found a quiet equilibrium—on the outside at least—and gave him a smile that she just knew would be fake and overdone, but it was the very best she could muster given the circumstances. ‘Nothing to be sorry for. It was an itch, and we scratched it. But I don’t think I’ll be coming to the markets tomorrow if that’s okay with you?’

His eyes briefly shuttered closed. ‘No. Maybe not.’

‘And we should probably keep the office door open in future. That is, if you still want me here?’

He was all business as he reached for the tray and the ball, and he gave her a regretful smile that didn’t stretch to his eyes. Damn it, it barely reached his mouth. ‘Of course I do. I think we both need you to work here, Chloe. But no kissing from now on, okay?’

‘No kissing. Good idea. Good job. Right then, let’s get on to it.’ She gestured to the door and ushered him towards it. ‘Come on, skedaddle. I’ve got people to phone. Things to do.’
Feelings to compartmentalise.

He left without a single glance backwards. And, as she slumped against the wall and tried to cool down, she wondered exactly why it was that giving in to temptation was always so much easier than fighting it.

‘
C
hloe
, darling, this has been the best day of my life. And it’s absolutely down to you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love this boat; it’s all been perfect. I just want this night to last forever.’ Taylor may well have been one drink short of a barf, but he was a very, very happy drunk. The perfect client, in fact. No sarcastic comments, no barbs about Chloe’s woeful love life and best of all… there were no exes hanging around with pregnancy news. Yes, keeping business and personal life completely separate was infinitely better for her blood pressure, her mental health and her bank balance—if the large tip Taylor had added to Chloe’s bill was anything to go by.

Plus, she’d been so busy having fun dancing the night away on the love boat that she hadn’t thought about that kiss once.

Well, maybe once. Or twice. Okay—so when the grooms had stared into each other’s eyes and then kissed so gently during their first dance, Chloe had felt a rush of heat as she’d remembered the way Vaughn’s lips had met hers. The tingle through her body as he’d deepened the kiss. The heat of his hands on her skin…

‘Chloe? You okay?’ Taylor looked a little concerned.

Rallying herself, she hugged her client. ‘I’m fine. Honestly. Just getting a little soppy. Ignore me.’

A gentle southern breeze ruffled the striped custom-made curtain tie-backs, and she remembered the hassle they’d caused her, all because her mind had been elsewhere. It was becoming too much of a habit, and one she needed to kick.

She smiled, shoving Vaughn out of her thoughts. At least, to a corner of her head where he wouldn’t cause too much trouble. The man was damaged and, for the record, so was she.

‘It’s been an absolute pleasure to be part of your wedding, Taylor. If there is anything I can do for either of you in the future, just let me know. You have my details.’ Chloe ran a finger along the anchor favour in front of her and made sure the little sticker with her contact details was still intact in case anyone else needed to contact her too.

The disco music had stopped for the night, and the captain was steering the weary partygoers safely back to shore across the thick black water. Lights from the towering buildings on either side of the river studded the endless inky sky, and their reflections shone brightly in the shadows of the river. She’d forgotten how stunning London could be when it put on a show… or maybe she just hadn’t been looking. For too long, her focus had been on the past and on how bad things were instead of pushing forward. ‘Mention me to your friends, will you? I’ve got a couple of spare dates in my diary that I’m looking to fill.’

If only it were only a couple, not a couple of hundred.

The groom slapped a sticky kiss on her cheek. ‘Hey, actually, I was wanting to organise a surprise birthday get-together for Nate in July. Something sophisticated, you know. Upmarket, but intimate. I’d love it to be outside too. Although, hello rain showers in London in the summer! But that would be adorable, right? Eating under the stars, like here? I was thinking about fifty guests? Maybe sixty? Any ideas?’

Now this, she could do. ‘Lots. Dinner?’

‘Of course. And lashings of bubbles. Buckets of the stuff.’

‘Something trendy, but not too hipster? Cool, but not cold? Outside, but with options? I have just the place in mind. And the owner will let us decorate it in any way we like and be willing to discuss any food preferences you have. Any special meals? Favourite dishes? He’ll recreate them for you.’ She added that bit with her fingers crossed behind her back, because who knew whether Vaughn would be open to that?

‘Darling, I knew you’d be the perfect person to ask. Oh, and—’ Taylor gestured over to a couple who were leaning against the boat railings and staring out across the Thames towards Greenwich. ‘Samantha and Greer are thinking of tying the knot. Girls, girls… come here. I want you to meet la belle Chloe, Wedding Planner Extraordinaire.’

Chloe found them a smile; she didn’t have to dig too deeply. Wrapped around each other’s arms, they were clearly besotted with each other. Love did exist, she knew. It was here; she could feel it in Taylor and Nathan’s tenderness and desire to please each other, in Greer and Sam’s need to be connected on a physical as well as cerebral level. It was in their eyes. Something she didn’t recall having seen in Jason’s—at least, not for a long time.

Maybe love just happened for other people. Maybe the Cassidy curse was real after all. ‘Hello, there. I’m Chloe Cassidy, wedding planner. Taylor tells me you’re planning on getting married?’

‘Taylor!’ The statuesque woman on the right—Greer? Gently slapped the groom’s arm. ‘That was our secret! We haven’t even told our parents yet. But yes, and soon, hopefully.’ She rested her head on her girlfriend’s. ‘We want to start a family. We’re both so broody; all we ever seem to talk about is babies these days.’

Chloe ignored the little spike in her heart. ‘No problem. I’m very discreet, but how about you surprise your parents with your fabulous news, and a save the date suggestion or two at the same time? What kind of venue were you thinking of? Party size? Let’s talk details; this is so exciting!’

The women seemed thrilled to be talking through some ideas, and they spent the next hour brainstorming. This was absolutely the best outcome, and Chloe began to feel a little lift in her heart. How could she not when she was surrounded by so much love?

Then it was time to leave. The grooms were just about to disembark and ride off into their future in a fabulous vintage Jaguar car, with the requisite tin cans and ‘Just Married’ sign on the back. She sighed at the sight. Some traditions should never disappear.

She wrapped them both in a hug. ‘Thanks so much for a fabulous evening, boys. Have a wonderful honeymoon. I want to hear all about it when you get back.’

Nate gave her a gentle slap on her bottom. ‘Cheeky. You want to know
all
about it?’

‘No. Really. Not everything.’ She winked. ‘You are just the most perfect couple.’

‘Yes, we are.’ Taylor pecked her on the cheek. ‘Now, all we have to do is find you a perfect knight in shining armour, too.’

‘Oh, don’t waste your time. There’s no such thing, not for me.’ But the memory of that kiss flitted back into her head. Again.

Taylor tutted. ‘Everyone has someone out there for them, honey. You just haven’t found him yet.’

‘Well, in that case, I’m open to offers. But he can leave the armour at home.’

Taylor looked around at the guests—predominantly male and predominantly gay. ‘Not going to get anyone from this lot, love. You haven’t got the right equipment. But don’t give up hope, he’s out there somewhere.’

‘Yeah. One day, eh? Now go. Have fun.’ She waved them down the gangplank and watched them drive off into more fun and love-filled days and nights. Then she made her way to her car.

There’d be no knight in shining armour for her, she knew. That was just a fairy tale for other people. It wasn’t as if she needed one; she was an independent, professional woman who could definitely stand on her own two feet. It just got a little lonely sometimes, plotting world domination. Someone to share her hopes and dreams would have been nice.

A family…

The trouble was, once upon a time she thought she might have found that knight. But she just couldn’t trust her judgement anymore.

* * *

I
t was
past one o’clock by the time Chloe was nearing home. Her bones were weary, but she didn’t feel like sleeping. Ideas for Greer and Sam’s wedding were coming thick and fast, so she had to keep pulling over to the roadside to scribble notes into her trusty notebook. It was going to be an amazing celebration of their love. Then there was the booking for Nate’s surprise party—she added that to her planner—she mustn’t forget to add that to Vaughn’s calendar at work on Monday, too. And discuss menu ideas with him.

The roads were clear, and the moon was high in a black sky. She tapped her fingers in time to the upbeat music on the radio as she drove while humming along. Suddenly, she realised she was driving past
Vaughn’s
, which wasn’t the wrong way home, but wasn’t the most direct either.

Her brain was clearly overloaded to have taken a detour this way—on autopilot.

But, even more strange, there was a light on in the restaurant. At this time in the morning? She'd discovered he didn’t live above the restaurant; he had an apartment in South Kensington, and he closed before eleven on most nights so… who?

Why?

She pulled the car to the kerb and told herself she was just checking that everything was okay and that she wasn’t getting out of her car and walking up the path because she wanted to share this good feeling with him.

‘Vaughn?’ She tapped on the door. It was open. This was a completely stupid idea, because if she’d caught burglars mid-burgle, she was going to be in deep trouble.

As she stepped through the door, she was greeted with ear-splitting, loud rock music. The seating area was in darkness; the sound was coming from the kitchen.

‘Vaughn?’ she called out, breathing easier knowing he wasn’t being attacked, or robbed; although his hearing was possibly being murdered by the intense, thick bass.

Her heart jittered a little. She ignored it. But when she stepped into the kitchen and saw him, his back to her, sleeves rolled up and pummelling something on the steel counter, she couldn’t help notice her pulse escalate.

Even from the back he was formidable. Tall, dark and intent. Long legs in chequered chef pants, a straight back, strong, broad shoulders emanating such power.

Not wanting to stop him—and secretly wanting to watch him so engrossed in his work just for a moment—she tiptoed a couple of steps to the side and stilled. He was utterly lost in his world as he punched, threw and punched again a huge silky skein of dough. He hummed along to music that seemed to light something up inside him. He was totally focused, mesmerised by the rhythmic fluid actions, and she wondered what was going on in that head of his.

While he was kind and considerate, he was also completely content in his own company. He didn’t need anyone else. Clearly. The physicality of the work suited him, too. This suited him. Here was space and time to think and breathe. Not to mention that a man who was engrossed in hard physical work, that worked muscles she could see stretching and contracting, was inordinately sexy. Just watching him sent a rush of heat through her. She ached to cup her palms around his hands and trace his movements. To press and push and pull in rhythm with him.

That wasn’t the only kind of trouble she’d had in mind.

But, after a while, he seemed to sense she was there, and the spell was broken as he turned sharply, his fist curled to his chest, his breathing hard and fast. ‘Shit, Chloe, you made me jump.’

Only feeling slightly guilty, she stepped towards him and looked down at the counter. ‘That poor dough—what has it ever done to you?’

‘It snuck up on me in the middle of the night and made me jump.’ With a quick flick of his hand, he turned the amped music down so they could be heard. His eyes softened as he smiled. And her heart tripped. ‘What are you doing here so late? Weren’t you supposed to stop working hours ago?’

He started to push against the dough again, sinking his fingers deep as he answered, ‘I could ask you the same. I’m starting the dough to let it rise overnight so we can make our famous bread rolls tomorrow. You?’

‘I saw the light and wondered…’ What had she wondered? She hadn’t really thought this through. She’d seen the light on and wanted to talk to him, to tell him her good news and ask about his day. In truth, she’d just wanted to be with him. God, that admission sucked. ‘It looks more like you’re paying the dough back for some evil deed it’s done you.’

He grinned. ‘It’s therapeutic. Come and see. Oh, and it’s magic.’

Uh-oh.
Another goofball. Next thing, he’d be joining her mum in a ghost hunt. ‘Okay, Dumbledore, why is it magic?’

‘Because you take basic ingredients—flour, water, yeast and salt—each of them nothing much on their own, but when you mix them together and encourage them to bind in a whirl of chemistry… Boom! Magic happens. Add some time and heat and it turns from a thick, sticky dough to delicious, mind-blowing bread.’

‘Do you always finish your days like this?’ When she worked here, she always left before the staff finished clearing up. Apparently there was a whole world of things happening that she had no idea about.

He glanced at the wall clock. ‘It’s been a busy night and I’m still wired. Making bread calms me down, helps me sleep.’

‘But why are you making it tonight? And aren’t you supposed to have the day off tomorrow, anyway? I saw the roster; you haven’t had a day off in weeks.’

His shoulders rose. ‘Do you ever really switch off when you have your own business to run? I was mulling over some recipe ideas; keeping my hands busy frees up my head to think. Research reckons that mundane tasks allow the subconscious to play.’ Oh, and he was wise too. ‘I told Jacques I’d do the bread prep for him, so he won’t have to get in too early tomorrow.’