Hot Licks (4 page)

Gwen climbed into the passenger side of the jeep she
and James had ridden up in, leaving Rome and Porter to
continue their discussion on possible ways to secure the
clearing and contact their parents, Santos, and the police.

Thankfully she didn’t run into anyone as she mounted
the stairs to her room, not wanting to explain why she was
wearing so much dirt. There she stripped off her work
clothes and jumped in the shower. After pulling her long,
damp hair in her custom braid, she sorted her clothes and
made the journey down to the first floor and the large room
off the kitchen that served as the laundry facilities. It
amused her every time, seeing all the washers and dryers
lining two of the room’s walls. Her own mother would have
been in heaven. Raising five kids meant her own single set
had rarely been idle.

While her clothes were washing, she headed back
upstairs to her suite and spent some time on the internet
looking up information about the pirate Claude Morgan.

Finding nothing new, and feeling a touch homesick, she
called her mom. Knowing her mother worried about Gwen,
especially her lack of interest in the opposite sex after
Steven’s cheating, and equally knowing how it would make
her mother laugh, Gwen relayed her introduction to Rome.

“Is he single?” Kathleen wanted to know after her
chuckling eased.

Gwen closed her eyes. “He’s not married, if that’s what
you mean.”

“And is he handsome?”

Pressing her lips together, Gwen hesitated before
saying, “Yes. But,” she rushed on to say, “I don’t know if
he’s all there. In his head I mean. Seriously, who pounces
on a woman like that?”

Something suspiciously like a snort came over the line.

“Honey, every woman likes to be pounced on now and
again. It makes us feel terribly wanted.”

“TMI, Mom! Besides, I’m not talking about a husband.

I’m talking about a stranger.”

“Who was with the ATF, you said. That’s a dangerous
job. You don’t know what he saw.”

“Which makes him a dangerous man.”

“No. I’d say protective, if he thought you were in danger
as he said.” Kathleen argued softly. “Single, handsome and
protective. I think you should go for it.”

“I’m not going to get involved with my employer’s son.

No hanky panky where I work. You know how well that
turned out.” Gwen complained.

Her mom was silent a moment. “Steven was an ass,
baby. Not all men are like that. I worry that his stupidity
colored your outlook on the male gender.”

Gwen stared down at her fingers which idly rubbed
along the top of the small wood table that function as both a
place to lay her food and desk for her laptop. “I know that,
Mom. But at the same time I don’t want to make another
mistake.”

Kathleen’s mom-dar picked up on what Gwen hadn’t
said. “So you like this Rome?”

Gwen squeezed her eyes shut.
How did she do that?
“I barely know him so I can’t form an opinion.”

“Which means you
do
like him.”

Exasperated, Gwen huffed out a breath. “I’m going now, Mom. It’s time for dinner.”

Another delighted laugh. “Avoidance. Now I
know
you like him.”

Gwen shook her head, her lips curved in a rueful smile.

She should know by now that her mom knew
everything
.

“Love you. I’ll talk with you later.”

“Love you too, baby girl.”

Closing her cell with a soft snap, Gwen padded into the bathroom and debated on makeup. She didn’t normally wear much; moisturizer, sunscreen, protective lip balm.

Anything more generally melted in her profession. When not working she added tinted powder to combat shine, but as she wasn’t sure who might be at the dinner table tonight, she scrutinize her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

With her hair off her face, every blemish was out front and center. She wasn’t vain enough to say she was gorgeous, but she was realistic enough to know she wasn’t butt ugly either.

Her skin wasn’t creamy and flawless, it was oily. Acne had been horrid to her in puberty and still visited every now and then to torment her. On the bright side, her face didn’t have a single wrinkle like so many of her counterparts seemed to collect at an early age, despite the protection they wore and slathered on their faces. Two small, roundish scars, one above her left eyebrow and the other at her right temple, were a result of a bad case of childhood chickenpox.

And was that a pimple forming on her chin?

And why she suddenly cared about her looks was irritating. Blowing out a rude sound, she dabbed concealer over the pimple and called it good. After all, she wasn’t trying to make Rome, or anyone for that matter, interested in her. Work and romance did not mix. Unfortunately for Gwen, the fluttering in her tummy started as soon as she stepped out of her room and headed for the kitchen, making a liar out of her brain.

Dinner at the Orchards Bed and Breakfast was served at six-thirty, an informal affair as guests and family members ate together, which was why Gwen never knew who to expect. Melinda Felix was a social butterfly to her husband’s quiet strength. Melinda also had a talent for drawing people out and making them feel at ease, creating a welcoming and lively atmosphere at the dinner table.

Questions about horseback riding were directed to Porter as the horses were his babies. Deep sea fishing inquiries went to Santos. Though not his love, he handled that aspect of the company when necessary, preferring to run the orchards themselves along with his father. Luckily for Santos, fishing trips were generally secondary to horseback riding and he could often push the task on to his younger brother, making Porter the second most visible family member of the B&B.

Gwen was present for a couple of reasons. Mainly to respond to guests’ questions about hikes and to meet those who already reserved hikes. It was always good to meet and get to know those you’ll be spending several long, hot, physically active hours with before hand. Mostly, though, she joined those at the dinner table because she couldn’t cook a pot of boiling water.

Living at the house sure had its benefits, personally as well as professionally. Since she was the one who led the weekday hikes, Dennis handled the weekends; the meetand-greet dinners, as she liked to call them, afforded her the opportunity to size up the guests, giving her advanced notice of any physical or temperamental complications.

Tonight she met a young family of four with two boys: the Merchins, an older couple on their honeymoon, and a group of three female friends, not much younger then Gwen, who’d previously been to the Orchards.

To Gwen’s surprise, only Melinda was at the table, all the men suspiciously absent. Beth, one of the single females, commented on Porter’s absence – because he’d been soo very helpful the last time she’d been to the Orchards, gag – and Melinda smiled, stating that her son was engaged elsewhere. As welcoming as the family was, they were still very private about certain matters, and opening their home to outsiders only meant their personal lives were that much more private.

Gwen knew Porter was every bit as outgoing as his mother and his dark good looks and natural charm drew women like flies to honey. But she also knew he never messed around with the female guests. At least not while they stayed in his mother’s home. Once they left, all bets were off, and if Porter had had a fling with Beth and called it quits, then it was no surprise he was missing in action. But that didn’t account for the absence of the other men.

When Beth opened her mouth for the hundredth time in ten minutes, Melinda slanted Gwen a hard look. That was her cue to launch her hiking spiel, effectively taking everyone’s attention off whatever topic Melinda deemed too personal or persistent and back to professional status.

It was one they used quite often.

“So,” Gwen began, “since you’re all here, I’d like to tell you an interesting story about a pirate named Claude Morgan.”

Thus the intrigue turned to history rather than the present. As expected the two young boys, appearing too quiet at the start of dinner, became animated and excited as talk of pirates and lost treasure took root. Unfortunately, due to the events of the day, Gwen wondered if maybe the tale of Morgan should no longer be told. Because someone, most likely a former guest, had taken the story far too seriously.

Much later, after dinner was long over, Gwen slipped from her room and headed to the large garden behind the house. Millions of stars twinkled clear and bright and, with the help of the full moon, a warm glow enveloped the lush landscape. The soft soles of her canvas shoes made very little noise as she made her way over the brick pathway, winding around a white gazebo and then left past one of the several decorative benches scattered invitingly throughout the garden. Reaching her destination, she curled up on the padded seat of the covered swing, leaving one leg free to dangle over the edge and push it in motion.

It was soothing, sitting out in the darkness, letting the silence, the scents of the tall rose bushes in front of her, and the motion of the swing weave their magic. She often came to this spot, to think, to dream and to calm herself if her day had been full of people. It wasn’t that she minded people, for the most part, but surrounded by nature was definitely her comfort zone.

Having grown up with rowdy siblings made finding quiet time a precious commodity. Gwen would take long walks to get away from the commotion and to clear her head. Those walks turned into hikes which then led to an interest in the forestry service. It was a nice balance of social activity and peaceful silence. Though here, at the bed-and-breakfast, sometimes the social outweighed the peaceful.

Tonight she was beyond tired; yet too wired to turn herself off. Irritation and anger at the vandalism done in the reserve played a huge role in her restless brain, making her wonder the whos, whys and wherefors. Then sneaking in like a thief amongst those thoughts was Rome. Mostly remembering how it felt to have his hard length pressing along her backside, which then burgeoned into wondering how the same position would feel if they’d been naked.

No
. She shook her head at those naughty images.
The
man’s obviously stressed out to the breaking point. You
don’t go around jumping people. It’s just not done. No
matter what Mom said.

Unfortunately, that little voice inside her head decided to screw with logic.
Like you didn’t watch that bead of sweat
roll from his temple, down over the strong cords in his
neck and slide under his t-shirt. You wanted to follow it.

With your tongue.

Gwen grimaced. “Doesn’t matter because I’m so not going there. He’s clearly not right in the head.”

“Someone I know?”

The low male voice came out of the dark and nearly gave her cardiac arrest. “God!” She gasped, slapping a hand to her chest and swiveled to stare at the man standing at the corner of the rose bed, practically on top of her.

Either she’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard – or seen – him approach, or he moved more silently than a ghost.Dim as it was, she couldn’t clearly make out his features, though she could tell he was dressed all in black, or some other dark color in monochrome, from his boots to a t-shirt that stretched taut over wide shoulders and lay loose at his abdomen. The jeans were also loose, and since his position put his groin at her eye-level, she had an unobstructed view of the enticing bulge under the fly. With some difficulty, Gwen forced her eyes upward to glare in Rome’s face. “You have got to stop doing that.” She hissed out.

“Doing what?” Rome’s face was all innocent confusion.

Gwen folded her arms over her chest, too aware she wore no bra under her sleep shirt, a cami really, paired with matching boxing shorts. Soft and lightweight, they were perfect for summer nights, the color a combination of sea green and white. But under Rome’s gaze she could feel her nipples bead and wanted to curse her lackadaisical habit.

Agitated, and hoping the night sky didn’t showcase the small buds of interest, she set the swing in motion again.

“You need to wear a bell or something so you don’t sneak up on people.”

One dark brow raised. “That would defeat the purpose.

If I wore a bell, then I wouldn’t be able to sneak up on people, now would I?”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying you wanted to scare me to death?”

White teeth flashed. “Of course not. You spoke so I thought you were talking to me. If you were talking to me, then you knew I was here.”

Gwen couldn’t fault his logic. She had spoken aloud.

To herself.

“Unless you were talking to yourself?”

While she wasn’t embarrassed at being caught having a conversation with herself, she felt her cheeks heat at what she had been talking herself out of. Rome. Her. Naked.

That about said it all.

Ignoring his question, she asked one of her own. “What are you doing out here? I figured you’d be sound asleep after your long drive.”

He gestured to the swing. “May I sit?”

The word “no” stuck at the back of her throat. Even at this short distance her body was reacting to him with full blown physical attraction. Her heart was beating faster, and while she could blame some of that on his startling her, the swirling sensation low in her belly was nothing but arousal.