That was good, he guessed, directing his attention back to the paper. He’d been concerned when she hadn’t arrived back at the house after her morning baking, afraid awkwardness over the kiss had driven her to avoid him. But she looked unruffled. Serene. Apparently she wasn’t embarrassed, nor was she experiencing the same aftereffects as he.
So, yeah, good. It made him effing thrilled to know she wasn’t suffering from the I-want-mores.
“I need a taster,” she said, in that slightly scratchy voice of hers.
His whole body jolted, the L.A. Times in his hands rattling. A taster? Her mouth? Or— Dropping the newspaper, he whipped his head around.
Her expression innocent, Layla gazed on him, a plate of small, two-bite cupcakes in her hands.
I’m a very bad man, he thought. I’m a very bad man and an idiot. He cleared his throat. “What do you have there?”
“A new flavor,” she answered, holding the plate closer. “Tell me what you think.”
What I think? I think you’re incredibly beddable, with those big brown eyes and that lush, top-heavy mouth and—
“Vance?”
With a grimace, he reined back his wayward mind. If Layla could waltz in, apparently unaffected and feeling no residual weirdness, surely he could act like a civilized human being. Blessing the newspaper that hid his overeager hard-on, he reached for one of the treats. His nose told him... “Lemon?”
“With a hint of candied ginger.”
He took a bite. Tart yet delicate, the flavor spread on his tongue and was so delicious he resisted swallowing for a moment. Then he popped the rest in his mouth, chewing as he reached for another.
“Good?” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.
“Great.” Possibly addictive.
Now she did laugh. “Slow down. You’re getting crumbs all over yourself.” Her hand reached out and her fingertips grazed his bottom lip.
Vance stilled. So did Layla, her gaze shifting upward to lock with his. They stared at each other and their kiss played out in his memory once more. He recalled the sweet warmth of her mouth, the smooth skin of her shoulder, her moan that he felt on his tongue as he thrust deep.
The walls seemed to close in, the room becoming a bubble that contained only him and Layla. And a driving need for sex.
Of all the promises he’d made her father, getting naked with the man’s daughter wasn’t one of them.
Slowly, as if a sudden movement might shatter his tenuous restraint, Vance returned the cupcake to the plate. Her hand dropped from his face, but her big eyes remained trained on him.
It was up to him to end this dangerous intimacy.
“We need to go outside,” he said. “I’ll get a blanket. You put on a sweatshirt.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Time to put another check mark on the Helmet List.”
It was the plan he’d come up with when he’d woken, bleary-eyed and nearly strangled by the disordered sheets. Getting on with the Helmet List would remind them both of their purpose at Crescent Cove.
Which wasn’t to forge an unwanted closeness.
He snagged a bottle of wine and a couple of plastic glasses. They weren’t elegant, but the alcohol might blunt the edge of his need. Just beyond the deck steps, he spread the blanket on the beach, then settled himself on it, assuming Layla would join him there when she was ready.
But after a few minutes he found himself impatient and he glanced around, just in time to see her put her foot on the sand. She wore a pair of stretchy exercise pants that clung to the slender length of her long legs. A matching zippered sweatshirt covered her top half. They were a striking shade of blue-green and with her wavy brown hair sliding against her shoulder, she looked like a landlocked mermaid.
Jesus, she was sexy. The way she walked gave her hips just the slightest sinuous swing, and it made his belly clench. What worried him more was the accompanying gnawing want that he found harder and harder to ignore. He’d spent years indulging every reckless urge: fast cars, extreme sports, hard drinking. He was much less practiced at self-denial.
It’ll be good for your soul, he told himself. You’ll be a better man for it.
But the man in him wasn’t any better once Layla gracefully settled onto the blanket beside him. He stared at her bare ankles and toes and thought about her legs twined around his hips and those pretty feet crossed at the small of his back, bringing him deeper inside the wet and heated softness of her.