Wendy Etherington - After Dark

Without commenting, she pulled the plastic food containers from the bag. “I brought napkins and utensils. I wasn’t sure if you had them.”

“I have forks and paper towels.”

“Metal forks?”

“Plastic.”

“Naturally.” She finished laying out the meal and tried to pretend her pulse wasn’t vibrating simply from the sound of his voice. “I must say, Mr. Kendrick, this is by far the fanciest date I’ve been on in months.”

“This isn’t a date.”

She dropped into a chair and looked up to see him scowling at her, as usual. “You’re telling me.” Smiling, she patted the chair next to her. “You’re hungry. Have a seat.”

He hesitated.

She met his gaze. “I’m not going to keep asking.”

He sat.

They ate in silence for several minutes. “This is good,” he said, somehow sounding impressed and reluctant at the same time. “I was starving.”

“You can’t do the work you want without rest and fuel.”

“Is that a speech?”

She paused and looked over at him as she sipped her tea. “Are speeches usually one-liners?”

“I guess not.”

“Then, no, that wasn’t a speech.”

After several more minutes passed, she rose, folding her napkin, dumping her empty plate into the large, gray plastic can he’d so artfully set near the back door. When she turned back, he was standing behind her.

All six-foot-three amazing inches of him.

She drew a quick breath. Her gaze jumped to his. “Your eyes are bloodshot.”

“Up too late last night.”

Since his body heat was making her head spin, she simply took his plate from him and dumped it into the trash.

When she turned back, he was close.

Really close.

“Thank you,” he said, his gaze roving her face.

“You’re welcome.”

He scowled. “I thought about you half the night.”

Her stomach quivered. “That’s a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

This negative attitude toward her was really starting to be annoying. Unrequited lust wasn’t familiar territory for her. And though Aidan obviously wasn’t totally immune to her, her ego was taking a pretty serious hit. Why was she bringing him lunch, trying to make conversation, sympathizing with his pain and, in general, being nice, when his only genuine smile probably came the moment the door shut behind her?

She lifted her chin. “Well, that’s just f—”

His lips captured hers, silencing her in a flash. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she was pretty sure she let out a moan of longing, then she angled her head and sank into him.

He didn’t hesitate to tangle his tongue with hers. He tasted of the lemon he drank with his tea. He smelled of sawdust and spicy sandalwood.

She clutched his T-shirt in her fist, grasping to get closer, to absorb him into her. She wanted to feel his bare, sleek skin against hers, to have that intense gaze focused on her, to feel his muscles harden beneath her…to have him tremble and gasp along with her.

His hands, braced at the lower part of her back, molded her to his body, and she felt his need, the hunger, the wild lust. It had been a long time, too long, since she’d felt desire grab her so effectively by the throat. Since the liquid heat of her body had rushed and pulsed.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so—

Ding-dong.

Aidan lifted his head, his eyes flashing silver like a wolf after prey. “What the devil is that?”

“Doorbell,” Sloan gasped, linking her hands behind his head, tugging him back to her, inhaling the sharp scent of arousal. “They’ll go away.”

Their mouths met again. He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. Light and gloriously exciting. She wanted—

Ding-dong, ding-dong.

He yanked away, looked down at her and snarled.

Okay, maybe I’m taking this wolf metaphor a little too far…

“I’m going to kill whoever’s at the door.” He stalked away, apparently to do just that.

Sort of curious but mostly to cheer him on, Sloan followed him, pausing at the end of the hall, from where she could see the front door, but avoid the more serious bloodshed.

She did have on her favorite cream pantsuit, after all.

“What the hell do you want?” Aidan barked.

Again with the metaphor.

Sloan shook her head, sure the other voice was a man’s. And familiar.

“She’s busy,” Aidan said. “Come back later.” He started to close the door.

A hand gripped the edge of the door, forcing it open. “Where is she?”

Sloan gasped. That sounded like—

Davis, his hair lighter, his face paler than she remembered, appeared in the doorway. His head swiveled right and left, then he caught sight of her, hovering in the hall.

“Hey, baby,” he said, smiling as he started toward her. “Miss me?”

BABY.

What a common, stupid name. Especially for Sloan.

Sloan Caldwell was no baby. For one, there was nothing cute about her. She had smoldering looks, hot legs and amazing, erotic lips.

But Aidan watched—with no small amount of resentment—as his former sales manager, Davis Curnan, slid his arms around the woman he’d been holding only moments before and lifted her off her feet for a hug.

“You look beautiful, as always,” Davis said, setting her down and cupping her cheek.

Sloan smiled, though a little hesitantly. “Thanks.”

The whole reunion made Aidan’s stomach turn—and not just because he wanted Sloan for himself. Last time he’d checked, Davis had been dating a brunette from his accounting department.

“As heartwarming as all this is,” he began, walking slowly in their direction, barely resisting the urge to grab Davis and shove him out the door, “I’m afraid the lunch break is over.”

Sloan’s gaze shot to him, as if she’d forgotten he was there.

Great. Now he was forgettable.

“Oh, Aidan. Ah—” She glanced at Davis, then wriggled out of his arms. “I guess you know Davis.”

“Of course,” Davis said, then smiled. “He used to sign my paychecks.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows. “Actually, they were processed in the accounting department, if you recall.”

Davis found humility long enough to act embarrassed. “Right.” His gaze slid to Sloan. “Not anymore.”

Ah, so the big-city romance is over, and now you’ve come back to claim the small-town girl.

Aidan had known, of course, that his sales manager was from Palmer’s Island. In fact, the few conversations they’d had about Davis’s hometown had led him to investigate the area for real estate after his parents’ deaths and his need for a new beginning. Davis could technically be termed responsible for Aidan’s coming to the island.

Davis’s involvement with Sloan, however, was a nasty surprise Aidan didn’t like one little bit.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” Davis cajoled, sliding his hand to the small of Sloan’s back. “Why don’t we let Aidan get back to work, darling?”

“Darling?” Sloan’s expression went from pleasantly embarrassed to seriously pissed in the space of a heartbeat. She grabbed his hand and flung it off her. “You ran out on me, dumped me for somebody else and now you dare come back here over six months later, calling me baby and darling, thinking I’m gonna jump into your arms?” She narrowed her eyes. “Think again.”

Feeling much better, Aidan rocked back on his heels, dying to see how the clever salesman would slide his way out of this tight spot.

Davis turned bright red. “Sloan, honey—I don’t really think this is the place—”

“Sure it is. You came here to find me.” She held out her arms. “Here I am.”

Davis actually winced. Aidan had never seen him so rattled. But then fury from a goddess like Sloan was bound to put any man off his stride. Hadn’t Aidan himself spent half the night debating whether he should put his efforts into seducing her or running in the opposite direction?