Bed, Breakfast, and Bondage (Emerald Valley) Read online

  He wanted to argue with me; I could see it in his expression. But he knew I was right. He straightened and nudged me away from the sink, where he turned on the water and grabbed the dish soap.

  “You don’t have to do that. I can handle it after I get the tables bused.”

  Leaning over, he gave me a soft kiss. “You bus and turn the rooms; I’ll handle dishes and start another pot of coffee.”

  At this point, I wasn’t about to argue with him. I needed the help—and the caffeine—desperately. “All right. Thank you.”

  I was almost to the door when he said my name.

  “Naya?”

  I turned, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “This isn’t over.”

  * * * *

  By tacit agreement, we returned to our earlier “all business” mentality. To think, before I’d talked to Leah about him, I’d wanted my Devlin—the Devlin I, apparently, couldn’t resist—back on a day when I was already fraying at the edges. No, I definitely needed professional Devlin, not my Devlin.

  He’s not yours anymore.

  Aaaaand, just what I needed—the annoying voice of reason. Where had it been when I was begging Devlin to touch me?

  With a smile plastered on my face, I finished up Thanksgiving right. The guests all seemed well satisfied, and I’d even gotten three new reservations for graduation time out of it. All in all, Thanksgiving had been a success.

  The kitchen was spotless, and Devlin was stacking the last of the extra plates and silverware on the counter.

  “I didn’t know where these went,” he said.

  “I’ll deal with them tomorrow. Thank you, again, for cleaning up the last of it.”

  “Is everyone settled?”

  “Dinner customers are out the door, and the regular guests are either doing their own thing or watching sports on the living room TV. Do you want to join them? I should have asked earlier.”

  “Nah, I’m good. You know I’d rather watch hockey than football anyway. I caught updates on the Vancouver-Ottawa game on my cell earlier.”

  I gave a mock gasp. “Not Seattle?”

  “It’s sad how you don’t keep up with these things. My heart cries tiny icicles. Marauders played Chicago on Tuesday. Next game’s not until tomorrow.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t miss your boys,” I teased. I saw only one silver-domed dish remained on the kitchen table. “Is this mine or yours?”

  “It’s for you. I ate while you were out chatting up your guests. Sit. Eat.”

  “I can’t. Honestly, I’m too tired to eat. As soon as the washer is finished and I can switch out the rented tablecloths and linens to the dryer, I’m going to bed.”

  “Don’t you know it’s rude not to even taste what I’ve slaved over all day?”

  His voice came out teasing, so I didn’t take offense. I gave him a tired smile. “I’ll wrap it up, have it tomorrow. Or in the middle of the night, when my stomach inevitably wakes me up.” I rubbed my eyes. “Which reminds me, I need to put out the customary snacks for our early risers. This day never ends.”

  I started to reach for the fruit bowl, but Devlin grabbed my hand. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

  His gaze was intense, and though I’d thought my tired body couldn’t possibly respond to his touch, I felt my pulse leap.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to repay you for your help today.”

  Devlin muttered a sharp curse and pulled me into his arms. “Quit saying that. I love what I do, and today wasn’t a hardship. I’m talking about you and me.”

  “I’m sorry for that too.” I stepped out of his embrace. “It was a mistake. You and me… We don’t work. At least, not outside the bedroom. We haven’t for a very long time.”

  “Things are different this time.”

  “No, Devlin, they’re not. And I just…can’t talk about this. Between Leah’s emergency and Thanksgiving, it’s been a stressful enough day. So I’ll thank you for giving up your holiday, whether you want my thanks or not, but I need you to leave. Please.”

  He studied my face for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he conceded. “All right, I’ll leave.”

  I walked him to the back door and watched him make his way through the Emerald’s small parking lot. Once he was at his car, he turned and waved. I was turning to go back inside when he called out.

  “I meant what I said, though.”

  “About what?”

  “This isn’t over between us. I’m giving you your space tonight, but I’m not leaving for good. Not until we settle this.”

  With that pronouncement, he waved and got in his car, leaving me standing on the back porch in the cold November air, speechless and stunned.

  Chapter Four

  If I’d thought I could rebuild my defenses against Devlin’s charm, I was greatly mistaken. I found out soon enough that the man was on a course to drive me crazy.

  It started off fairly innocuous. The day after Thanksgiving, I once again walked into the kitchen to see him at the stove. Somehow—even though Leah had only asked him to help out for Thanksgiving—I wasn’t surprised to find him here. Nor was I fool enough to be ungrateful for his help.

  But my mind kept returning to his declaration the night before. He wanted to “settle this”? Even with a solid eight hours of sleep, my brain couldn’t seem to suss out whatever plan Devlin had concocted. And I could just bet there was some crazy idea brewing in that thick head of his.

  “Good morning.” He smiled and gave me a quick kiss, then handed me a cup of coffee. “I didn’t ask you yesterday for your reservation schedule, but I knew you’d have a full house for breakfast this morning.”

  “Uhh… Yes,” I replied stupidly.

  “Can you make me a copy of the schedule and any allergies or dietary restrictions? I need to know how many for breakfast each morning. Leah didn’t have a hard copy.”

  “She wouldn’t. She posts the new info on the fridge every Thursday night.” I shook my head. “Wait, wait, wait. No. What are you doing here? I was going to call Kathleen at The Tasty Pastry and ask her to put aside an assortment of muffins, scones, and breakfast pastries for me.”

  “And now you don’t have to. Leah said she had a waffle iron, so I stopped by the store on my way here and picked up what you didn’t already have for my mom’s cinnamon-apple waffle recipe. Leah said it’s generally a favorite for the guests, and I prefer to keep the food seasonal. I’ll probably also make pumpkin-spice waffles, since I still have some pumpkin left over, and I enjoy working with it.”

  Lei had sent him over? Of course she did.

  “Hello? You awake?”

  I tapped my fingers against my coffee mug. “Mostly. I’m just contemplating the murder of my best friend.”

  “I’d have come anyway. And you can’t kill Leah; you’d miss her too much. Besides, Jon would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t stop you. You wouldn’t make me listen to him whine for all eternity after what I’ve done for you, would you?”

  I gave him the hairy eyeball. “I’m paying you for your time.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Cooking is my passion. How many times do I have to tell you? I love doing it. Besides, I don’t normally do breakfast, so it’s a nice change of pace for me.”

  “Give me the receipts for the food you buy, at least. I’m reimbursing you.”

  “Deal.”

  Devlin turned back to his foodstuffs, and I knew I was going to lose his attention. Having seen him lose himself in his work yesterday had reminded me that what he’d chosen to do with his life was his first priority. His career, the path he’d taken, and how he’d chosen to structure it, would always come first. It was the same for me, so I didn’t fault him for it.

  He wanted LA lights, glamour, all-star-chef cooking competitions, employers who gave him free rein to create signature dishes that would wow celebrities, producers, and renowned food critics. With years of study, hard work, determination, and probably (if I was bein
g cynical) a leg up from his looks and charm, he’d been making it all happen. I watched the televised competitions, I followed the news and gossip about him, and I was proud of everything he’d done. He was making his dream come true, and if that took him eight, nine hundred miles away from me, from my own hard work, dream-building, and town I loved that was just too small for him… Well, then, I’d had plenty of years to come to terms with it.

  The problem was, whenever we were together, things got out of hand. It was frustrating, wanting someone—loving someone—who wanted such a different lifestyle from yours. More than once we’d tried having a long-distance relationship, and we’d tried the no-strings-attached-sex route. Each time, it had ended in broken hearts. Neither of us wanted to give up our dreams, so Devlin inevitably left, and we both got on with our lives.

  I didn’t fool myself into thinking I’d stopped loving Devlin. I’d tried that too, and found that the best I could do was put how I felt in a box and move on. I didn’t stop living when he left town. I dated men I found attractive and engaging, men whose life plans were more compatible with my own. They should have been good matches. Perhaps they would have been, were it not for the years of shared history that created such a strong foundation for Devlin and me. Or maybe love wasn’t logical. Either way, I found myself screwed—figuratively and literally—whenever Devlin came to Emerald Valley.

  One day I had to find some damn willpower.

  A yelp brought me out of my dreary contemplations. Devlin threw a knife in the sink and started washing his hands.

  “Can you get me a Band-Aid?”

  “How’d you manage to cut yourself? Aren’t you supposed to be good with knives?”

  He shot me a glare over his shoulder. “Accidents happen, and you’re bad luck in the kitchen. Everyone knows that.”

  I really couldn’t refute his argument, so I pulled out the first-aid kit Leah kept in the kitchen and wordlessly handed Devlin a Band-Aid and a latex glove he could put over his bandaged hand to ensure the kitchen was kept sanitary. After he tossed the apples he’d been cutting and started washing the cutting board, he turned to look at me.

  “What had you standing there watching me for so long?”

  “You knew I was there?”

  “I always know when you’re around.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. There were some new laugh lines that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him. Seeing the proof of his aging, however slight and however relatively young we both still were, added to the feelings of melancholy I’d been experiencing, thinking of our constant separation. Devlin turned off the water and took my coffee cup from me. He set it on the counter before he lifted my chin so I couldn’t avoid his gaze.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I wasn’t going to get into it again. It wasn’t worth the heartache. And yet… “Nothing. I’ve just missed you, is all” slipped out before I could stop the words.

  I was anticipating the kiss before it came, yet I was still unprepared for the long, slow glide of his mouth against mine. The languid tangling of tongues, the speedy build of arousal, all were familiar notes to this often-played tune. I should have stopped it but didn’t.

  It was Devlin who ended the kiss. The self-satisfied grin spreading across his face had me withdrawing from him once more. I could have called him on his arrogance, but I didn’t do that either.

  In the end, I drew up my dignity and started to walk out of the kitchen. But Devlin, like always, tried to have the last word.

  “I misspoke earlier,” he said.

  “How so?” I looked over my shoulder at him.

  “I said cooking was my passion. It is, but it’s not my only passion.”

  I snorted and went for sarcasm. “Your other passion is sex? Color me surprised.”

  “Don’t be deliberately obtuse. It’s you.”

  My heart skipped a beat at that, but I kept my voice even when I spoke. “Well, despite all appearances to the contrary, I’m not available for pursuit.”

  Immediately, I knew those words were an error. Devlin loved a challenge. I backed out of the kitchen before he could reply, but it was too late. I’d drawn the proverbial line in the sand, and now he’d be bound and determined to cross it.

  God help me.

  * * * *

  That was how it started. Thanksgiving weekend, he lulled me into a sense of complacency by letting me think I might have actually won our quasi battle of wills. But after the chaos of the holiday weekend had ended, he upped his game in earnest. He dropped by the B and B to make breakfast for the guests and for us, and damn if he wasn’t making me remember how easily we fit together. Then there were the flirty texts and phone calls, which started out fun and got increasingly hotter, until the mere sound of my cell going off made my panties damp. I was distracted, frustrated, and horny as hell, but I held out, positive I was doing the right thing.

  That lasted two weeks.

  It was Thursday afternoon, and I hadn’t had any guests for the past three days. The lull had been good, both for catching up on my part-time job as a photographer and for pulling everything together for the Emerald’s fifth annual Hanukkah party. It had also been beneficial to my sanity as well; Devlin hadn’t been in my kitchen, tempting me to throw caution to the wind. I was sure my defenses against him were adequately prepared, even if I was in danger of wearing out my little vibrating friend because of those damn phone calls.

  I was in my office, filing signed contracts and putting away the photo albums I’d brought out for my client meeting, when I heard the front door open and shut. Since my office was on the first floor and we got walk-in guests once in a while, I kept the place unlocked while I was working. I put on my best innkeeper smile, but before I could walk out to reception, I heard Devlin call out my name.

  Caught off guard, I needed to take a moment before answering him. Then I had to do the ten-second scramble to try to talk my nipples into standing down. No surprise, they didn’t listen, so I had to resort to plan B: crossing my arms over my chest and looking indifferent.

  Plan B was an epic failure. As soon as Devlin stepped through my office doorway, his eyes zeroed in on my crossed arms.

  “Miss me?”

  There was something about being around a person I’d known practically forever that brought out the immaturity in me. “Bite me.”

  “Anytime, anyplace.”

  Maybe it wasn’t just me.

  I shook my head. “What are you doing here?” He took off his wet jacket and—after I narrowed my eyes at him—put it on the coatrack I had in the corner rather than on my desk.

  “I had to escape the nuthouse. My twin has officially gone insane.”

  “And here I’d thought it’d always be you who’d crack first.”

  “Ha-ha. I’m not even kidding here. He’s been back at work, and if I or my parents aren’t taking care of Leah—who, by the way, is getting incredibly bitchy the longer she’s on bed rest—then Jon freaks. Today, she slipped by me and went downstairs to grab some laser toy for her cat just as Jon came home on his lunch break. I had to run for my life.”

  Even when he was rattled, Jon generally reacted with calmness. “He was that angry with you?”

  “Who knows? He freaked and acted like Leah was a bomb about to go off, and, well, she went off. Just not in the way he was expecting. I’m not ashamed to say I left my twin to fend for himself. Bit sorry about abandoning the feline, but he can squish himself behind Leah’s massive shoe collection to hide, and I can’t.”

  I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “Fair enough. But there are plenty of other things to do in Emerald Valley besides visiting the Emerald, however fabulous it is, if I don’t say so myself. The town isn’t as small as you seem to think.”

  “I never said it was. But”—he stalked toward me—“I happen to like it here. Must be the management.”

  “Flatterer. But it’s good you’re here. I wanted to ask if you were interested in helping out at th
e B and B’s annual Hanukkah party on Saturday. Leah and I have been hosting Hanukkah parties for the past five years, and luckily, first night falls on a Saturday this year. Since Hanukkah often starts during finals time, a lot of students at the college miss out on celebrating. We like to give them a place to celebrate and have a fun, low-key break from studying.”

  “That’s nice of you guys.”

  “I’d say it’s good business sense—the kids tell their parents, and we get a lot of bookings that way—but really, it’s just plain fun. I don’t really do much for Hanukkah anymore unless my nieces and nephews are visiting. So I’ve DIY’d some decorations especially for the party, which I’ll put up tomorrow.”

  “And the food?”

  “Originally, I had conned your mother into making latkes. But since you’re here, I’ll ask you now. How about it? If you’re not interested, I won’t take offense. I can figure something else out.”

  “I can’t believe you think I’d pass on this.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I was being considerate. You love spending the holidays with your family.”

  “Have you seen my family these past two weeks?”

  “Point taken.” I smiled. “You’re going to go over the top, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. Before the Jon incident, Leah also mentioned she’d volunteered the two of you to help out at a Hebrew school Hanukkah party next week as well.”

  “That’s Wednesday. One thing at a time, champ.” I turned, bent over a box of Hanukkah decorations, and got a little bit of an ego boost when I heard Devlin’s sharp intake of breath. I obviously hadn’t worn the pencil skirt for him, but heck, why not use it to my advantage, since I had it on? Devlin deserved it after the sleep I’d been losing over wanting him.

  It was terrible of me, but… “Did you say something?” I asked with fake innocence.

  I grabbed the printout of the party checklist I’d made, stood up, and turned around, only to startle when I saw him so close. The man moved like a damn cat when he wanted to.

  “You know I hate it when you do that.” I immediately wished what I’d said hadn’t come out so breathless sounding. He crowded me, until I was backed up against my desk. I ordered myself to stay standing, not to let him lay me down and—