Wedding For One. Dawn Atkins

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      They jerked apart as if stung.

      “Mariah, I want you to meet Dave Wood. He’s the floor manager and my chief cook. He’s the wizard who keeps things rolling around here.”

      “Miss Monroe,” Wood said, bending slightly in greeting. “You should be wearing gloves and a hair net in this room. As should you, Mr. Goodman.” He looked at them the way a disapproving valet would look at the profligate playboy he served.

      “Dave runs a tight ship,” Nathan said.

      “Aye, aye, Captain,” she said, saluting him as she clicked her heels together. Woods nailed her with a look. The boss’s airhead daughter. Even though it was what she wanted him to think, she felt wounded. He hadn’t even given her a chance to prove it.

      “Dave could take over this place if he wanted to,” Nathan said to her.

      “My job is fine as is,” Dave said.

      “You’ll want to shadow Dave,” Nathan said. The idea seemed to annoy Dave, so she knew getting on his wrong side would be an easy way to make herself unwelcome around here. Hair nets, huh?

      Their last stop was the packaging room, where Nathan described the shipping process. She could hear pride in his every word. Her task was to reinforce that pride, while helping him work through this strange spell of dissatisfaction.

      “It’s obvious you love this place,” she said. “Maybe all that’s wrong is you’ve been taking it for granted.”

      “You think that’s what’s wrong?”

      “Maybe. I just don’t think Cactus Confections is what’s bugging you.” And a man who couldn’t stand a decorative rock being moved didn’t seem a likely candidate for running off to find himself. There was a sadness in his face, a disappointment almost, that she couldn’t figure out. “We’ll know more once we’ve tried a few more exercises.”

      “Exercises? That sounds scary.” She could see he was trying to lighten the moment. “Will there be a rack involved? ‘You vill work in ze vactory and you vill like it.”’

      “I was thinking some counselling,” she said.

      “Counselling?” He pretended to shudder. “I’d rather have the rack.”

      “Relax. I’ll go easy on you. We won’t get to the primal screaming until the third day.”

      His eyebrows lifted. “What will the neighbors think?”

      “That you’re finally getting laid right.”

      “What makes you think I need that?”

      “Look at you.” She gripped the muscles below his neck, trying to ignore how terrific he felt. “You’re tight as a coiled spring. If you were getting what you need, you’d be more loose.”

      “Sounds good. Maybe you could help me, um, loosen up?”

      Her mouth went dry. “Sex isn’t the only way, you know.”

      He stepped toward her, close enough to kiss. “Just the best,” he murmured. Was he serious or teasing? Why on earth had she brought up sex again? It was her traitorous subconscious that wouldn’t let her forget how much better Nathan had been at making out than the frantic high school boys she’d gone all the way with. He knew how to take his time, how to give her pleasure….

      “Where’s the harm?” Nathan whispered. “We can start with just a kiss.” His lips met hers.

      The word just didn’t belong anywhere near that kiss. She felt lit up inside. His lips were firm against hers. His tongue pushed its way in, and he shifted his mouth to reach more of her. She made a sound and her knees gave a little. His arms went around her, tight and secure.

      She remembered him holding her this way all those years ago—making her feel safe, protected and so desired. But this was even better because this Nathan was more mature, more sure of what he wanted than the Nathan of eight years ago.

      She just wanted to let go in his arms, keep kissing him and being kissed by him. She knew Nathan would never let her fall.

      A fist of rational thought muscled into her dazed brain. She was letting one kiss turn her back into the needy teenager she had been once. This was absolutely not part of the plan. She broke off the kiss and shoved at his chest. “Enough!”

      “But I don’t feel loose yet,” Nathan said, reaching for her.

      “Then take a hot bath,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I came here to work, so let’s work. Show me a spreadsheet or something.”

      What in the world was she saying? She made a wobbly turn toward the corridor that led to the offices, gratified at the shocked look on Nathan’s face. Good. He had no idea what she’d do next.

      The problem was neither did she.

      THAT KISS HAD BEEN a mistake, Nathan told himself in the shower the next morning—lighter fluid on the embers still glowing in his heart for Mariah. He was an idiot to tempt himself with the impossible. Mariah had moved on. He should, too.

      He’d heard that men sometimes locked onto their first loves and stayed stuck. That was obviously his problem. Eight years was too long to hold on to someone who’d flown away.

      He shoved his face in the pounding stream and promised himself no more flirting or kissing or touching. Period.

      There was good news, though. There was a chance he could get Mariah hooked on the factory. She’d loved seeing the place, he could tell, and she’d stared, hardly breathing, at the spreadsheet while he’d explained it. Fascination was probably what accounted for the odd trembling he’d felt her doing. He, on the other hand, could hardly keep from grabbing her and kissing her.

      She definitely liked being back at Cactus Confections. Hell, she even loved how it smelled—something he was no more aware of than the air he breathed.

      She’d always been a sensitive person. That was one of the things he’d loved about her. She’d made him more aware of things—sunsets and cricket rhythms, the textures of things. Like skin and mouth…His mind locked on the kiss in the tasting kitchen.

      Talk about tasting. He’d wanted to swallow her whole. Forget it, he told himself, toweling down roughly. If he kept himself in check and played it right, he could get Mariah to take his job. Then he could leave with a clear conscience, knowing Meredith and Abe would be fine and Mariah would have found her place in the world.

      She’d be here any minute for more self-discovery baloney. She’d said therapy was the plan for today. He could only hope she wasn’t as good at psychology as she was at kissing. He did not intend to confess the real reason he wanted to leave Copper Corners.

      He sighed, heading into the bedroom for clothes. He had to have some coffee. Screw the body’s natural wake-up mechanism. For this, he’d need fortification.

      5

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