The Firefly Cafe (4 page)

His fingers tightened on hers for a brief, convulsive moment. He stared down at their
joined hands, silent. The pause lasted one heartbeat, two—then Dylan looked her directly
in the eye and said, “Workman. Dylan Workman.”

Chapter 5

“Dylan Workman,” Penny echoed, smiling. “How appropriate, for a man in your line of
business.”

Dylan dug deep for a carefree expression, even though, inside, he felt a little sick.
What the hell was he doing, lying to this pretty woman about who he was? He knew it
was wrong—and just then, he’d come so close to blurting out the truth that his heart
was still pounding.

Whether it was with relief or regret that he’d kept the deception going, he wasn’t
sure.

“I’d better finish up here so I can get out of your way,” he said, reluctantly letting
go of her hand. Shorter and more curvaceous than the glamazon models Dylan usually
dated, Penny Little had small hands, roughened in places by hard work. He found he
liked the realness of her skin, the way her glow came from within rather than from
a battery of expensive beauty products full of crushed diamonds and gold dust, or
whatever.

He liked Penny Little, period.

Which was the problem, of course. He liked her, as a person—and he wanted her to like
him back in exactly the same way. No preconceived notions based on his bank account,
no weird inequality because she was technically his family’s employee, and definitely
no chance that Penny might look at him and remember everything she’d heard about the
Bad Boy Billionaire.

He wanted her to get to know the real him. Just Dylan, no bells and whistles. And
maybe he’d discover that wasn’t enough for her, but he needed to find out if a woman
like Penny could want him for himself alone. He’d never have a better opportunity.

Dylan listened for her light footsteps on the stairs as he ducked back under the kitchen
sink to confront the leaky pipe. He removed and patched the problematic section of
pipe with half his brain; the other half was focused on the woman upstairs.

The woman whose brilliant smile in the face of a dark, murky past lit up the entire
house, and whose no-nonsense attitude made her a force of nature.

The woman who was currently unbuttoning that sea-foam-green waitress uniform and pushing
the fabric off her creamy shoulders and down to her lush, rounded hips …

A drip of cold water from the pipe splashed down on Dylan’s cheek, and he shook it—and
the vibrant images in his mind’s eye—off with a gasp.

Wiping his damp cheek on his T-shirt-covered shoulder, Dylan forced himself to concentrate
on the plumbing. Luckily, it turned out to be fairly straightforward, and in ten minutes,
he was tightening the segment of repaired pipe back into place. Shimmying out from
under the cabinet, Dylan leaned over the sink to turn on the faucet and test the repair.

“Looking good,” Penny said from behind him.

Dylan jolted, suddenly hyper aware of how low his jeans were riding on his hips after
crawling around on the floor and wriggling into the tight space under the counter.
“Tell me I don’t have plumber’s crack.”

“Not that I’d be uncouth enough to mention it if you did,” Penny said, laughter sparkling
in her voice. “But I meant the pipe.”

“Sure you did,” Dylan teased. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she reacted
every time he flirted with her. Even the gentlest flattery, the most G-rated, Disney-approved
joke, brought a pretty pink flush to her cheeks.

He liked seeing it, wanted to see more of it. He wanted to see more of her, in general.

In just about every way, she was the polar opposite of … Dylan cut off the thought
before the image of his ex-fiancée could form in his mind.

Monique Gallo had been quick to respond to Dylan’s charms, too—but every giggle, every
sigh, every moan had been a deliberate move in a game Dylan hadn’t known they were
playing until it was almost too late.

Penny’s responses were so unstudied, no artifice or fakery to them at all. And when
she looked at him the way she was looking at him now, hazel eyes lit up with happiness
and Cupid’s bow mouth quirked into a secret, feminine smile, Dylan knew she meant
it.

The knowledge went to Dylan’s head like a shot of smoky sweet bourbon. It brought
out conflicting urges in him—made him reckless and hungry with the need to push for
more, but it also gave him the less familiar urge to protect her, to move slowly and
carefully to keep from bruising this tender thing between them.

Caught between desire and restraint, Dylan stood paralyzed as Penny blushed and self-consciously
gathered her dark brown hair into a messy knot on top of her head. Pushing up her
sleeves, she snagged a plain blue apron from a hook by the stove.

She whipped it over her head and cinched the tie around her trim waist as she moved
toward the cabinet to the right of the fridge, her movements quick and a little jittery,
as if Dylan’s presence sparked her nerves.

That was fair, he considered, since she sparked plenty of strange new reactions in
him, too.

The loud clatter as Penny removed the pot she wanted from the bottom of a pile of
heavy cast iron and aluminum cookware startled Dylan into realizing he’d been standing
like a lump, staring at her silently for the past minute. No wonder she was nervous—he
was acting like a looming, lurking weirdo.

Shaking his head at himself, he knelt to pack his new tools back into their super
fancy carrying case, a plastic shopping bag with a yellow smiley face and H
AVE A
G
OOD
D
AY
printed on it.

“Oh!”

Penny’s sudden exclamation made Dylan look up just in time to see her tripping on
the hammer he’d left laying on the floor. She pitched forward and he stood up in a
rush to try and catch her, but all he managed was to get his arms around her and turn
so that when they hit the ground, he took the brunt of the fall on his back with a
solid “Oof.”

“Sorry,” they both said at the exact same time. Dylan broke off sheepishly, kicking
one booted foot at the offending hammer, but Penny laughed. Her soft chuckles vibrated
through his chest where they were pressed together, moving her lithe, wriggling warmth
just enough to remind him that, hello, a beautiful woman was lying on top of him.

“I’m such a klutz,” she groaned, still smiling even though her cheeks were an almost
feverish red. “First the iced tea, now this! You’re going to be eligible for combat
pay
and
hazard pay.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have made such a mess while I was working.”

“Hmm. At least I can get a look at the job you did from down here.” She craned her
neck slightly, making a show of seriously examining the sink’s undercarriage. “Yep,
dry as a bone. You do good work, Mr. Workman.”

The fake name he’d given her hit him like a slap to the back of the head. Her eyes
widened at the pained noise that escaped his throat before he could choke it back.

“Oh my gosh, I must be crushing you! Let me just…”

She squirmed deliciously, trying to find her balance, and every muscle in Dylan’s
body went taut and throbbing with expectation. When Penny got her knees under her,
straddling his waist, and moved to prop herself up on her hands, Dylan’s arms tightened
around her automatically, holding her in place.

“What?” she breathed, staring down at him all pink cheeks and tousled hair. Her mouth
was so pink, the bottom lip so delectably plump, it looked as if he’d already kissed
her.

Unable to bear it another moment, Dylan reared up to capture that tempting lip between
his. He breathed Penny’s gasp into his mouth, and Dylan’s shocked brain finally caught
up to his body. He was still for a frozen moment, the hardness of the linoleum at
his back and the soft weight of Penny’s body all that kept him tethered in place.

Then she kissed him back. Hesitant, at first, as if she wasn’t sure she ought to be
doing this, but when he released that succulent lip and opened his mouth to the tentative
sweep of her tongue, Penny caught fire.

Clasping his head between her hands, her fingers tightened so that he felt all ten
points of pressure, tilting his face to the best possible angle. He groaned deep in
his chest at the clean, freshwater taste of her, with a hint of spearmint, as if she’d
brushed her teeth before coming back downstairs.

Dylan shifted his hips to cradle her body between his legs, the resultant squeeze
and friction good enough to make his eyes cross. The little breaths Penny hitched
against his chest dazzled him. He was pretty sure no one ever breathed so perfectly,
with so much unconscious seduction, in the whole history of the world before.

A door closed somewhere in the house, jarring them apart. Penny stared down at Dylan
for a long heartbeat, and the way she looked at him cut him off at the knees.

Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, chest heaving—Penny looked stunned, as if she couldn’t
believe this was happening.

Dylan swallowed, throat clicking loudly in the heated silence between them, and she
pushed up off his chest. For a guy who didn’t believe in guilt or regret, Dylan found
himself taking a dive right into it.

What was he doing, making out with this woman in her kitchen, with her kid right upstairs,
and this huge lie between them? This was not a woman to be toyed with and cast aside,
Dylan knew.

“Penny,” he said hoarsely, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

The sound of a throat being cleared had them leaping to their feet instead, untangling
their arms and legs in a disheveled flurry. Matthew stood in the doorway, angular
face dark with anger.

“I knew it,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Dylan, who could only be grateful
that the close shave with spilling the truth about his identity had killed his erection.

“Mom, what are you doing with this guy? Tell him to get lost!”

Shooting Dylan an apologetic glance, Penny hurried forward. “Now, honey. I know this
is probably weird for you, but Dylan and I … it was only a kiss. Not anything for
you to worry about.”

Matt twitched away from her, sidestepping so he could keep his glare focused on Dylan,
who stood there feeling helpless and crappy. “I never meant to cause any trouble,
here.”

“Well, you are, so why don’t you fuck off!” Matt shouted.

“Matthew!” Penny looked as if she ached to grab the kid by the scruff of the neck
and shake him. “There’s no call for that kind of language! Apologize to Mr. Workman,
right this minute.”

“I’m not apologizing,” Matt sneered, though his lips trembled. “And if he’s staying,
I’m leaving.”

He turned to go, and a note of iron entered his mother’s voice. “If you walk out of
this kitchen right now, you’re grounded for the next month. End of discussion. No
second chances, Matthew.”

Dylan winced, reading Matt’s answer to that in the defiant set of his rigid shoulders.

“So what,” the kid snarled, eyes unnaturally bright with unshed tears of anger. “You
think I care about being grounded? I don’t have any friends on this stupid island,
anyway. I hate it here. I wish we’d never moved away from Charlottesville. I wish
I could go back and live with Dad instead!”

Penny gasped and fell back a step as if her son had planted a hand in the center of
her chest and shoved her. Frozen into pale silence, she watched Matt turn on his heel
and run from the kitchen. He bounded up the stairs, and the slam of his bedroom door
made her flinch as if she’d been slapped awake.

She started after him, but Dylan caught her wrist, heart hammering and guilt churning
in his belly. “Let him cool down, and tomorrow … I’ll talk to him, man to man. It’s
my fault he’s so upset, let me try to fix it.”

A sharp tremor ran through her. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I don’t know how
to deal with him when he’s like this. He’s so angry, all the time, but if he knew
the truth…”

Dylan frowned, the phrase tugging at his memory. There was more to the story of why
she’d taken her kid and run from her ex, but this wasn’t the time to dig deeper. “If
I’m going to stay here, even for a few days or weeks to finish off your to-do list,
Matt and I need to come to an understanding.”

Penny bit her kiss-swollen bottom lip, clearly torn between the need to make sure
her son was all right, and the hope that Dylan would be able to get through to him.
“Okay, but I apologize in advance for how rude he’ll probably be. And Dylan?”

She grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth, pressing a shaky kiss to his knuckles.
He felt it like a brand.

“Thank you,” she said.

She wouldn’t be thanking him with stars in her eyes if she knew he’d been lying to
her since the moment they met, Dylan thought, heart sinking. But maybe getting to
the bottom of whatever was troubling Matt would cancel out his deception, or at least
balance the scales enough that Dylan would be able to face himself in the mirror.

And even though he knew he didn’t deserve Penny’s gratitude, he had to admit it felt
good to be looked at like that, to feel like he was helping her. The way she made
him feel like there was hope for him yet, like he could be a better man—it was addictive.

Even if it was all built on a lie, Dylan wasn’t ready to give it up.

Chapter 6

“Heads up, burning hunk of man meat has entered the building.”

Penny nearly fumbled the pitcher of ice water she was pouring from. Her friend, Greta
Hackley, shielded her lap with the Firefly Café’s laminated menu and gave Penny a
mischievous look. “Careful, there. I know it’s been a while since either of us had
access to a man we didn’t go to kindergarten with. The fact that he’s ridiculously
sexy—and dropped a bundle of cash on top-of-the-line tools at my store—as well as
mysterious is just a bonus, really. But I’m not so overheated about it that my crotch
needs an ice bath.”

“Keep your voice down,” Penny hissed, using a corner of her apron to mop up the water
she’d dribbled onto the table. Without even turning around, she knew who Greta had
seen walk through the café door.