Love, Chocolate, and Beer (Cactus Creek) (10 page)

“As I said yesterday,” sighed Dani. “I know you don’t
mean
any harm. But, it’s inevitable that my business and other pubs or bars are going to be portrayed negatively in this idealistic ad campaign of yours. From what you’ve explained, you’re establishing a very clear definition for the ‘perfect’ Valentine date and you’re contrasting it to the nightlife, what you consider the antithesis of romance.” Her lips tightened. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

Luke leaned back and let his cocky, business-savvy alter ego make a guest appearance. “Ms. Dobson, are you suggesting that for our first date, you’d find it more romantic if we hung out at some bar as opposed to a night in front of a warm fireplace, enjoying a great meal I cooked for you? You must admit, the two scenarios are quite distant on the romance scale.”

Dani’s eyes blistered in annoyance. Undoubtedly because he’d crossed their professional and personal lives together yet again. “That depends,
Mr. Bradford
. Are you asking me for market research purposes, or to get ideas on how to best get in my pants? With you, it’s hard to tell.”

Even Quinn flinched at that.

If Luke wasn’t so turned on by watching Dani practically spark with fiery attitude, he’d probably have been more irritated at the verbal kick to his shins. Instead, he just arched a brow. “Now Dani, if this is how we’re going to play, why don’t we excuse Quinn from the table?”

Quinn was more than happy to oblige. She quickly exited her seat and moved over to the side, just out of the blast zone, watching like a bystander of a scheduled construction explosion.

Luke leaned in closer to Dani. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Hmmm, would I rather suffer through a cliché date built on your lame, antiquated views of romance or go out and have some fun? Gee, tough choice there.”

“Right. Because you prefer making out with strangers in storage rooms,” he shot back, stung by her words.

“You
asshole
!” Dani shot out of her seat, shoving away from the table.

Luke swore and clamped his hand over hers to prevent her from stomping off. “Dani, stop. I’m sorry; that came out wrong.”

“How the hell did you intend it to come out?”

“I just meant that it isn’t exactly romantic when we’re forced to steal a few quick kisses while hiding in a dark room with people nosing around outside.”

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?” she asked silkily, inching so close he could feel her breath floating across the collar of his shirt. “Are you saying that you aren’t wanting to feel me up against that storeroom wall again right now?” She slid a light hand down his arm in an outwardly innocent act that made his heart rate double. “Wasn’t it the
least bit
memorable?”

He circled around her lightning quick, stamping both hands on the table, one on either side of her, caging her in. “You damn well know the answers to those questions. And you know we share the same answers.” With a quick sidelong glance at the small audience that was starting to eavesdrop openly around them, he added quietly, “But that isn’t romance.”

Dani shrugged impassively. “Then we’ll agree to disagree. I thought it was romantic.”

“Sweetheart, I mean real romance. All the good parts leading up to the fire—the kindling, the sparks, the maddening slow burn. That feeling of being swept off your feet?”

“Like I said,” she repeated quietly, defensively.

Luke’s eyes widened in surprise. A rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Hot, possessive. “Are you saying that so far, I’ve been the most romantic guy in your life?”

“Mr. Bradford, we’re getting very off-track from the goals of our meeting.”

“Screw the goals of our meeting. I’m looking at a different set of goals here.” He slid his hands on her shoulders, eyes gentling with his voice, now low and tender. “Haven’t you ever been romanced, Dani? Or were the men from your past relationships all total idiots?”

Her glare turned proud. “Get off your high horse; not every girl wants the white picket fence. I don’t believe in fairytale romance and I don’t do relationships. So no, the guys I date aren’t idiots. Quite the opposite. They’re smart enough
not
to try your kind
of romance on me.”

“Then consider me the inaugural dumbass who will,” he growled lightly. “I’m not cheating us out of all that comes with a relationship, sweetheart—the falling, hard and fast, without that invisible safety net you keep around you. Ready or not,
my kind of romance
is exactly what you’re going to get.”

He was pushing her. A burst of wild rebellion eclipsed her eyes and he knew the instant she’d decided to pick up the gauntlet he’d thrown. Her fierce gaze flash-cooled to a fired bronze so charged, so stunning, he felt punched in the gut by it.

“By all means, feel free to try and take a swing at that impossible pitch,” she fired back with a measured calm that soon unraveled into a slow, deliberate smile.

Uh oh.

“Who knows? Arguing with you could be fun. I hear great things about make-up sex.”

His neck muscles corded at the thought.

“As long as you know the score,” she warned, arms crossed stubbornly.

Of course he knew the score—how else was he supposed to change it?

“You’ve made it abundantly clear,” he replied drily.

“Well then,” she tossed him a look just this side of dangerous, “while you’re attempting to school me in your Desert Confections variety of romance, I guess I can take the time to show you how folks would have way more memorable connections without all your stuffy rules.”

Instantly, the DNA in his Y chromosome went on high alert, reacting to her very female goading. “What exactly are we talking here, honey? You bringing our businesses into this too?”

“Just following your lead,
honey
. You made that bed—you prepared to lie in it?”

“Are you?” His blood pressure spiked at the double meaning possibilities.

Now her eyes were really dancing. “Okay, smart guy. You do your little romance campaign for Desert Confections—whatever you want to do, however you want it. And I’ll start one of my own for Ocotillos. We can have a town vote to see which of us ends up on top.”

With all her words sounding decidedly sex inspired to his lust-hazed mind, it took Luke a few beats to realize she’d just issued a throwdown. “Are you serious?” He jerked back to study her face. “You want to pit your brewpub against my chocolate shop? In the arena of
romance
?”

“You bet. You sell it your way; I’ll sell it mine. We’ll go to Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re on.” Luke’s grin turned positively wolfish. “I gotta say, I’ve never been more motivated to end up ‘on top’ on Valentine’s Day.”

“You make it sound so dirty.” The slow roaming glance she slid over him was far from disapproving. “And here I thought you were such a tame gentleman the night we met.”

For an unromantic suffering a dry spell, hot damn, the minx could do seduction just fine.

He didn’t rise to the bait though. “I don’t know about tame, but I am a gentleman. Outside the context of this little wager, I fully intend for you and I to take turns being on top, sweetheart.”

Mentally girding his loins, Luke expected Dani to fricassee him with one of her token smart-ass replies. But when she instead just stood there at an utter loss for words, he knew he’d just taken her brain on a field trip her hitched breathing said she was enjoying.

Hell yeah—chalk one point up for him.

She snapped out of it an instant later, however, and the sexiest bedroom eyes he’d ever seen hardened to a glare of annoyance at the satisfaction in his grin.

“Shame only the loser will be kneeling for his,” she flicked her eyes down his frame, “comeuppance.” Leaning in close, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “
My
idea of romance would dictate we take turns at
that
, too.”

He almost fell to his knees right there. Then of course she just had to do that ball-busting signature walkout of hers, leaving him to stare hotly after her to try and get his pulse to stop racing away with his imagination.

A rough sigh shot out of him as he checked the score. 

Okay, that was definitely one point for Dani.

One second later, his phone beeped.

A text from Dani.

Hell, he hadn’t even seen her using her phone. Then again, his eyes had been glued a little farther south from her hands thanks to that sexy strut of her.

>>
TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION EARLIER, YES, I WOULD PREFER WE HANG OUT AT ‘SOME BAR’ INSTEAD OF YOUR FIREPLACE.

He winced and chose his return text carefully.

>>
DOES THIS MEAN WE’RE STILL ON FOR OUR DATE? SHOULD I WEAR PROTECTIVE EQUIPMENT?

>>
HONESTLY, I DON’T THINK IT’S A GOOD IDEA ANYMORE. BUT I’M WILLING TO DISCUSS IT WITHOUT ALL THESE PRYING EYES.

Another beep.

>>
AND YES, PROTECTIVE GEAR WOULD BE WISE.

Chuckling quietly, he texted back with a grin.

>>
YOU KNOW I’M GOING TO BRING MY A-GAME TO WEAR YOU DOWN, RIGHT?

>>
COUNTING ON IT. LOOKING FORWARD TO IT, IN FACT.

Damn, the woman was a walking dare wrapped in a taunting red ribbon. And he just couldn’t get enough of her. After a promise to call her later, he pocketed his phone and thought about the throwdown they had somehow managed to shove each other into. By far the strangest start to a new relationship he’d ever encountered.

And he had a sneaking suspicion it was going to go down as his last.

* * * * *

DANI GRINNED
, feeling Luke’s eyes follow her as she pocketed her phone and made her way down the stairwell.
This was going to be fun.
As far as new neighbors went, Luke was certainly turning out to be—

That’s when she nearly toppled headfirst down the steps as one tiny, extremely tardy detail came crashing down on her.

Luke
was the owner of the chocolate shop next door.

The one she’d basically thrown under the bus yesterday.

-- End of Prequel --

LOVE, CHOCOLATE, AND BEER

A
C
ACTUS
C
REEK
N
OVEL

CHAPTER ONE

“
THE CAVE WHERE
romance goes into hibernation!
”

Dani Dobson practically spewed the water she’d been sipping on all over her computer screen as she repeated the insulting description of her brewpub—or ‘beer joint’ as it had been so asininely referenced in the article. “Holy shit, now the man is
deliberately
trying to piss me off,” she muttered to herself as she quickly scanned the rest of the feature piece about tomorrow’s grand opening of the town’s new chocolate shop.

Written by the aggravating shop owner himself.

“Is that the article on Desert Confections?” came a gum-snapping voice from the open doorway.

“Yes,” grumbled Dani, glancing up at her best bartender, surprised—and peeved—to find amusement on her friend’s face. “Why the heck are you smiling? Xoey, he’s skewering us in this article.” The fact that he’d somehow managed to sweet-talk his way into not just answering interview questions for the town paper, but rather, writing the short editorial piece as this month’s ‘welcome-the-newest-member-to-our-town guest writer’ grated on her nerves even more. Mostly because it was pretty damn good. And because the town paper didn’t
allow
guest writers.

Xoey planted herself in the comfy corner chair and propped her feet up on Dani’s bookshelf, immediately leaning back to tip the chair onto its hind legs as she replied with a shrug, “Actually, I thought it was pretty tame, considering.”