Call To Redemption. Tawny Weber

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СКАЧАТЬ mostly it was just my mom, brother and I.”

      “Were you close?”

      “No.”

      Sure, her mom and brother had been close. So close that her mom hadn’t had much room—or need—for her. But with five years between her and Danny, he’d had his own life. His own interests. Still, he’d cared enough to make a fuss about her birthday once. But he’d left her. He’d joined the Navy, decided he had something stupid to prove. And died.

      Her mouth trembled as she tried to keep her smile in place. Not because she was upset or hurting. Hell, no. She’d spent almost a decade teaching herself not to wallow in grief. But she’d forgotten how nice it’d always been when Danny fussed about her birthday.

      “Seriously.” Darby shrugged off the dragging sadness and returned to their earlier topic. “Don’t you think candles are on par with kids beating on piñatas or scary clowns making balloon dogs?”

      “I think every year we mark off should be noted in a special way. You think we should stop celebrating life when we hit a certain age?”

      “You make it sound as if you like getting older.”

      “Don’t you think it beats the hell out of the alternative?” Dominic considered another malasada, rolling it between his fingers a few times before tossing it into his mouth. “I like to think that someday, I’ll be blowing out eighty or ninety candles on a big ol’ cake covered in chocolate frosting.”

      “Chocolate?”

      “I do love me some chocolate.”

      “Mmm, chocolate,” she murmured. Darby didn’t know if it was the way he said it or if it was her oversexed imagination, but she had the sudden image of Dominic laid out on the bed covered in frosting so she could nibble and lick her way up his body, then back down again. “I have a sudden craving for a taste.”

      “Maybe I’ll ask the chef to whip up a bowl of my favorite,” he suggested in a husky tone.

      Darby knew what he was asking.

      This was supposed to be a friendly morning-after breakfast. A friendly, mature way to end a very intense night of hot sex so it didn’t seem like a cheap one-night stand.

      The way it was now, Darby could get up, grab the bag she’d brought back after a quick trip to her hotel room between bouts five and six and, with a friendly kiss on the cheek, end her vacation fling.

      The door was wide-open, a neon sign flashing overhead a guarantee of no regrets or recriminations on either side. But only if she walked through that door in the next half hour.

      If she stayed, if she agreed to chocolate frosting, she was making a commitment. The kind that said, yes, she’d be spending more of her vacation with this man. That instead of enjoying her next seven days at the resort alone, wallowing in doing anything and everything she wanted by herself, she’d spend at least some of that time with him.

      The only commitment Darby was willing to make in life was to her career. That was the only thing she had control of, the only place she had any guarantee that her hard work, devotion and emotional investment would give any sort of return.

      Unlike relationships, her career didn’t make unreasonable demands. Unlike friendships, her career didn’t let her down. Unlike family, her career didn’t break her heart.

      Yet, as she stared at his compelling face across the breakfast table, she was tempted. And, hey, this was vacation. In normal life, she didn’t have random sex. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of gal.

      Yet, here she was, having a vacation fling.

      Sitting across the table from the man she’d had random sex with, contemplating the wisdom of extending one wild night into a weeklong frosting fest.

      All she could do was shake her head.

      “Well, I have to say this sure beats my normal morning routine.” She scooped up a spoonful of fruit, reveling in the burst of flavor from the fresh pineapple. “Why not see if we can beat my usual evening routine by enjoying a little chocolate frosting. Maybe you could pull some strings and get cupcakes to go with that frosting.”

      “You want cupcakes, I’m your man. What’s your favorite flavor?” His smile flashed, and was so damn sexy that Darby almost squirmed in her seat. “We’ll combine mine and yours.”

      Oh, how many images that brought to mind. Darby pressed her hand against the butterflies doing the tango in her belly. When had she become totally obsessed with sex?

      She wanted to think all she felt for him was a physical attraction. Sure, maybe there was an energy between them, and she liked the way he talked. And yes, she liked the way he seemed to appreciate her strength, how he seemed to admire individuality. And there was something powerful about the intensity that seemed as much a part of him as his sexy smile.

      Her gaze scanned the man across from her, noting the way the sun glinted of his muscles, how his smile seemed to reflect that light.

      And suddenly she didn’t care. It didn’t matter why. She wasn’t worried about where it was going or what she was feeling.

      She was on vacation.

      She was simply going to enjoy it. Every delicious second of it.

      “Chocolate,” Darby admitted. “Chocolate goes great with chocolate.”

      * * *

      “CHOCOLATE-CHOCOLATE, HMM? That sounds delicious.”

      Intrigued, Nic watched the play of emotions chasing each other across Darby’s face. The woman was a study of conflicting emotions. Sweet one second, edgy the next. She spoke of that birthday cupcake with a hint of joy, then dismissed it with a voice that spoke of heartbreak. She enjoyed the meal with gusto, from fried dough to champagne-laced fruit juice, yet seemed satisfied to celebrate her belated birthday with a generic latte.

      “Tell me more about these birthdays of yours.”

      “What’s to tell? A year passes, age increases. Sometimes increase brings privileges, sometimes it brings wrinkles. And every once in a while, it includes candles, wishes and presents.”

      From her tone, it was just that matter-of-fact. Nic wondered what had happened to make her that way. Was it simply a lack of sentiment or was it something more?

      “What about holidays? Do you have a favorite?”

      “Holidays?” Her eyes widened behind the big round lenses of her sunglasses. “You want to know my favorite holiday?”

      “Sure. C’mon. We’ve put jobs, careers and personal-life details off-limits, right? So let’s talk generics. What’s your favorite holiday?”

      “President’s Day.”

      “Seriously?” Nic grinned.

      “Seriously. It’s the one time of year that everyone in the country is equally enthusiastic about anything to do with political figures.”

      Now that was a great point. Well argued, clever СКАЧАТЬ