Spooning Leads to Forking (Hot in the Kitchen #2) - Kilby Blades Page 0,65
mellow—all piano and soft percussion—with a little bit of rhythm to step to and lyrics that were full of romance. Despite this being their first embrace, they moved with a sweet, joyful familiarity of lovers who had been dancing together for a very long time. It felt disorienting and addictive and gratifying all at once and—like everything else with Shea—it felt amplified.
When they finally kissed it was luscious. Her lips were soft and sinful and sweet and her body begged to be touched. Not ravaged—though he hoped the day her body wanted ravaging would come soon—it asked to be caressed and cherished and loved.
The kiss confirmed certain suspicions. Dev could now be sure she liked his hair from the way she threaded her fingers through it as they touched. Untold wants and needs awakened within Dev as she nipped at his lips, stroked his neck, and ran her cool hands up his arms.
He didn’t know what he did—it must have been something—to cause her to moan a half-desperate, “Dev…” But something in the tone of her voice and the shuddering of her breath twisted his world. When he pulled back long enough to look into her eyes and she said it like that again, Dev knew he was fucking gone.
“So what is it that you actually do?”
An hour later, they lounged together on the sofa, a new bottle of wine opened and their make out session on pause. He liked their casual position and the newly-earned privilege of making sure they always touched.
Dev cocked his head. “Sorry…was it unclear? The whole sheriff-slash-grocery-store-slash-restaurant owner doesn’t make sense?”
“Seriously,” Shea said with amused impatience. “I still don’t understand the endgame with your investing. Some people talk like you’re staying here and other people make it sound like you’re going back to California.”
Dev took a sip of his wine.
“My goal is to buy the mills from Packard and turn them into agile manufacturing operations. That’s the only way to get out of the cycle we’re in. If you bring in a single industry—especially a natural resources industry—you’re setting yourself up for boom and bust. The reason why we’re in trouble now is because lumber markets have shrunk.”
“So tell me about your factory of the future,” This was where some people’s eyes glazed over—if you didn’t geek out on business, you could get pretty bored. So far, no glazing seemed to be happening. Shea actually seemed pretty interested. So he’d give her more than the Cliff’s Notes version of the story.
“A factory of the future would be set up so that the factory space is agile. It would be conducive to retooling and reconfiguration as industries and opportunities change. The hydroelectric power we get from the river will always make us cost competitive, but right now we’re losing because we deal in the wrong commodity. A new kind of factory would allow us to manufacture whatever the markets demand.”
“That’ll dovetail nicely with the other riverfront project.”
Dev frowned and his hand stopped mid-motion from raising his wine glass to his lips. “What other riverfront project?”
“The one that group of guys from New York have been talking about for the past few weeks.”
“What guys?” Dev had a sinking feeling he already knew, but he held his breath as he waited for a description.
It was Shea’s turn to narrow her eyes and frown a bit in confusion. “You kind of can’t miss these guys. They’re pretty loud and kind of obnoxious.”
“Do you mean the executives down from Packard?”
Shea shrugged and snuggled in closer. “I think they might be. I think one of them’s named Don.”
Dev felt protective of Shea as he ducked to usher her into the yurt, a sentiment he would try not to let seep into his body language during the meeting. What little he knew of her ex confirmed that this Keenan character had held her a little too close. Dev would suppress his instinct to touch her again—would settle for guiding her lightly with his hand on the small of her back. Things between them were still too new and there was still too much they’d never talked about. Impossible as it seemed, Dev had to do his best to take it slow.
Hands were shaken and introductions were made. An extra chair had been added to the circle. Cliff looked more than a bit miffed to find himself in Laura’s yurt at eleven o’clock on a Friday night. Laura had brought down a thermos of coffee that was gratefully acknowledged and accepted by all.