Sometimes what you find isn’t what you were searching for

Beau Petty has been searching his whole life. Searching for a place that fills all the empty spaces in him. Searching for a way to tame the restlessness. Searching for answers to the secret he’s never stopped trying to solve. What he wasn’t searching for was a woman to claim all of him, but when Cora Silvera walks back into his life, he’s ready to search out all the ways he can make her his.

Cora has spent her life as the family nurturer, taking care of others. But now she’s ready to pass that job on to someone else. It’s time to make some changes and live for herself. It’s in that moment that her former teenage crush reappears and the draw and the heat of their instant connection is like nothing either of them has experienced. He craves being around her. She accepts him, dark corners and all.

Beau thinks Cora’s had enough drama in her life. He wants to protect her from the secrets of his past, even if it means holding back the last pieces of himself. But Cora is no pushover and she means to claim all those pieces.

Also By Lauren Dane

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Whiskey Sharp: Torn

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Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Whiskey Sharp: Torn

Lauren Dane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08328-7

WHISKEY SHARP: TORN

© 2018 Lauren Dane

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

May we all be fortunate enough

to be understood by those who love us.

Author Note

While Pioneer Square and SoDo are two very real neighborhoods in downtown Seattle, I’ve taken some liberties. Added some buildings, renamed a few, as it helped flesh out the characters and their stories. Still, Pioneer Square is every bit the former home to bootleggers and the criminal element partly responsible for the face of the city today.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Author Note

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Extract

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Pointed west home beckons.

Waits for you like a lover.

NOT TOO MANY hours after getting off an airplane, Cora approached Whiskey Sharp—a barbershop, and in the evenings, a bar. The lazily swirling red-and-white candy cane sign out front was illuminated and the interior lights cast a shine against the gold-toned flourish of the shop’s title on the front glass doors.

Inside, it smelled of sandalwood and amber, two of the more popular scents of the products used in hair and beards. Music played loud enough to feel like an embrace but it didn’t drown out the low hum of conversation from the people knotted around the bar area.

Alexsei Petrov, Maybe’s husband, but also Cora’s friend, owned and ran the place that had become another home for Cora. He saw her come in and smiled, tipping his chin to where Maybe stood, working at her station. Giving someone a shave by the looks of it.

Three months before, her friend’s hair had been platinum blonde, but currently the tips were a brilliant teal blue that bled into a wash of purple.

It would have looked absurd on most people, but Maybe managed to make it seem retro and futuristic at the same time when she coupled it with high-waisted gray pinstripe pants and a crisp white button-down shirt.

Rachel stood, her hip resting against the table, a smile on her face reserved for the client who Cora now recognized as Rachel’s man, Vic, sitting in Maybe’s chair getting that shave.

The weight of the familiar was lovely and bloomed through her belly. This was another one of her places. Full of her people.

“You bitches are still the hottest chicks I know,” she said as she approached.

Rachel looked over, her eyes widening in pleasure and recognition. “You’re here!”

“I told you I’d come by,” Cora said, swallowed up into a hug.

“I know but you’re here now. Yay!” Maybe took over the next hug, smacking a kiss right onto her lips before stepping back.

Laughing, she got hugs from the wild bearded Russians, as Rachel and Maybe referred to their dudes.

“Everyone missed you. Not more than us, naturally, but still,” Rachel said after Cora had been loved up on by all her friends. “Three months is way too long to go without seeing you.”

“It’s nice to be missed.” She was pretty sure she’d just finished her last extended trip with her mother. Yes, it was travel for work and she liked to go to new places. But these long stints meant she had avoided getting a dog or a cat. It wasn’t fair to have to leave them with someone for weeks and weeks. It also meant that aside from one long-distance relationship that had ended two years before, Cora hadn’t really seen anyone seriously.

She wanted more roots. And a dog. And maybe someone to go on dates with.

She’d settle for a drink and some food as she hung out with her crew to start.

“Wren said she already invited you to dinner,” Maybe called out as she began to clean her station up.

“She informed me one of their friends is cooking and that there’d be cake. So naturally I’m in.”

Gregori—another wild bearded Russian—was Vic and Alexsei’s cousin. He also happened to be a hugely successful artist Cora had known for years through the local art scene. He and his wife, Wren—an artist in her own right—lived in a loft space above Whiskey Sharp.

“There’s always cake at their place. It’s like a little bit of heaven right upstairs,” Maybe said.

“It’s like what I imagine heaven to be, that’s for sure,” Cora answered.

“If there’s no cake, how can it be heaven?” Rachel said it like a sacred prayer and Cora agreed utterly.

“I can’t wait to hear all about your time in London but Wren said she wanted to hear it too and so not to visit too much without her.” Maybe hooked her arm through Cora’s. “I want to hear it now, so let’s get going. I’m also hungry.”

“You know how she gets when she’s hungry,” Alexsei said with a smirk at the corners of his mouth. Maybe rolled her eyes, but smiled as she did it, so Cora knew she wasn’t offended.

And he was right because Maybe was lovely and sweet, but not when she was hungry.

They all headed out and down the sidewalk half a block to the doors leading to the small lobby, where the residents of the lofts had their mailboxes and the elevator.

The scent of garlic and onions swirled around her senses as they got out on the right floor. Gregori and Wren’s door was painted bright, shiny red and flew open before they were able to use the doorbell.

Wren, wearing a huge grin, rushed at Cora and hugged her tight. “Hi! Come have champagne and eat yummy food while you tell us all how the last three months were.”

“I can do that. You look fantastic,” Cora told her as they headed toward the kitchen area. “Marriage agrees with you.”

Her friends had come back from an impromptu trip right before Cora had left for London only to announce they’d gotten married along the way. After several years of living together, it had been the right choice for their relationship.

“I look exactly the same except for the ring part and the way his mom gives me, and then my belly, a pointed look every time I see her,” Wren said.

“Welcome to my world,” Maybe said. “Irena has now taken to telling me about all the baby clothes she saw but didn’t buy because she had no grandchildren to wear them. I tried to get her obsessing about Rachel’s womb, but she’s too wily.”

“Mind your own womb. You’ve been with Alexsei longer than I’ve been with Vic. It’s your time to shine, bitch,” Rachel said with a laugh.

“I’m so messed up. I missed you all so much.” Cora hugged each one tightly.

“You’re the perfect kind of messed up,” Rachel said, linking her arm through Cora’s.

This was good. The best, happiest part of her life.

Her stomach growled as she sucked in the scents all around. “I need food.”

“We’ve got that covered,” Gregori called out to them. “Come, I’m pouring champagne.”

“No need to call me twice when there’s booze involved,” Cora murmured to Rachel, who snickered.

Fairy lights and candles made the loft glow. Plus it was the perfect light and her skin would look way better than the jet lag currently responsible for dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s all romantical in here and shit,” Cora said, and then nearly swallowed all her spit when she caught sight of who was standing at the stove.

CHAPTER TWO

There is wild joy in recognition.

A leap of faith to let yourself be known.

An old magic.

WELL OVER SIX FEET of hot-ass ginger celebrity chef, former model and childhood poster boy for a cult—and most notably one of her first really hard crushes—Beau Petty had aged really, really well. He had the kind of face that would only get better as he aged. At seventy-five, he’d still be searingly hot because it wasn’t just that he was chiseled and taut and broad shouldered, his attitude seemed to pump out confident alpha male.

He’d been gorgeous when she’d been sixteen and he twenty-one or -two, but seventeen years later, he was magnetic and intense on a whole new level. It made her heart skip a little just looking at him.

Cora had to lock her knees when his gaze flicked from Rachel over to her and his expression melted from surprise into pleasure as he dried his hands on a towel and headed toward her.

And then he hugged her and holy wow it was better than a doughnut. He smelled good and was big and hard and, wow, he was hugging her and when he stepped back he said her name. “Cora.”

It seemed as if the word echoed through her, plucked her like a musical note.

Wow.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said as he stepped back, and she had to crane her neck to look up, and up, into his face.

“What an unexpected surprise,” Cora told him.

“We have some catching up to do.”

The lines around his eyes begged for a kiss.

“You guys know each other? I mean, duh. Obviously as you just said her name and there was a hug and stuff.” Maybe smiled brightly, fishing for details in her cheerful, relentless way.

“First champagne and introductions, and then we will hear that story,” Gregori said, interrupting Maybe’s nosiness long enough to hand out glasses.

* * *

HE’D KNOWN BACK then that she’d had a crush on him, but she was still a kid. Then. Now? She still carried herself as if a secret song played in her head. But there was nothing girlish about her now.

Her hair—shades of brunette from milk chocolate to red wine—was captured back from her face in a ponytail, tied with a scarf that managed to look artsy and retro instead of silly. It only accentuated how big her eyes were, how high her cheekbones, the swell of her bottom lip that looked so juicy he wanted to bite it.

“Get started, if you’re hungry.” He indicated the long butcher-block counter where he’d set up some appetizers. “I was down at Pike Place earlier so the oysters are sweet and fresh. That’s also where the octopus in the salad came from, caught today. Just a quick grill with lemon and olive oil and pickled red onions.”

“Oh my god, really?” Cora cruised straight over and grabbed a plate.

A woman with an appreciation for food was sexy as hell.

“Update me on your life. What are you doing here in Seattle?” she asked, after eating two of the oysters and humming her satisfaction. “So good. This octopus is ridiculous. Is that jalapeño?”

“Good catch. Yes, in the olive oil I used to dress it.”

“I like it. What else are you making? Not that this isn’t really good, but I’m greedy.”

Watching her enjoy his food was a carnal shot to his gut. It set him off balance enough that he focused on the food for a few beats.

“I’m working on a new cookbook so I’m trying out some seafood recipes. Scallop and crab cakes with a couscous salad,” he said, pointing at the food.

“Yum! Ah, that’s why you’re in town?”

“I’ve been in Los Angeles for a long time.” Feeling antsy. He had houses, but no home. “I felt a change would be good. A friend who owns a number of restaurants in the area has given me access to his kitchens so I can try my ideas out there, as well.” He liked working around other chefs, found creative challenge in that atmosphere in a kitchen where the whole team loved to cook.

It was a good sort of competitive spirit. Pushed him to up his game, to be better. Far healthier for his liver and heart than all the drugs and alcohol that’d fueled his early twenties.

“That’s excellent,” she said. “Sometimes a change in surroundings is what you need to hit the reset button. Congratulations on your success. Every time I see your face on a cookbook or on television it makes me smile.”

He’d come a long way since he’d left the religious group many called a cult back when he was just seventeen. When he’d met Cora he’d only been out of Road to Glory for three years. Barely more than a legal adult. Modeling and wasting his money on drugs and private investigators, trying to find the children that had been stolen from him when the remaining cult members not yet arrested had gone on the run.

Seventeen years and it had been more than one lifetime. And he still hadn’t found his sons, who were adults by that point. Wherever they were now, all Beau could do was hope they were all right.

He shoved it away, into that well-worn place he kept his past, and went back to her compliments. “Thanks. What are you up to these days? I know your mom is still working because I listen to her stuff a lot when I cook.”

“She and I just got back from three months in London as she finished up a project.”

Rachel wandered over to them to add her two cents. “And she pretty much runs the gallery. Plus she holds the tattoo shop together. And keeps Walda out of trouble, which is a full-time job. She writes poetry and takes amazing photographs. Oh, and she’s an amazing knitter.”

“I keep books for my sister from time to time. That’s hardly holding the shop together,” Cora said with affection clear in her tone.

“And the marketing. You set up the new network too. So, yeah, holding things together. It’s what she does. How do you and Cora know one another?” Rachel repeated Maybe’s earlier question more firmly, clearly taking his measure.

“At first glance you think it’s Maybe who’s the pushiest. But Rachel is way sneakier,” Cora told him with a shrug. “Beau and I met when he and Walda lived in the same building in Santa Monica. I was fifteen or sixteen at the time. He was a model so Mom kept herself between us. As if he even noticed me when he was surrounded by gorgeous models.”

He hadn’t noticed Walda getting between him and Cora, but Cora had been correct that he hadn’t seen her in that way. For a whole host of reasons, chiefly that she was simply too young.

Then. Not so much now.

“We were there a year so I had a tutor, who, if I recall correctly, Beau definitely noticed.” Cora snickered.

Beau hadn’t learned algebra until he was an adult. Hadn’t read a single classic literary novel until he was twenty-one. Education was a tool, something to dig yourself out of a bad spot—especially if you didn’t have the face and fortune to be a model while you got your education—so he was glad Walda snapped to it when it came to being sure her daughter got what she needed.

He honestly couldn’t even remember the tutor, just the sweet kid who’d grown up well.

“Anyway, that’s how we met, and in the intervening years he’s been a supermodel and now a celebrity chef and cookbook author.” Cora smiled at him. “Go you.”

“How do you know Gregori?” Rachel asked once they’d settled in at the long table in the main room.

“Beau and I were young men with more money than sense in the art scene,” Gregori said. “He was one of the first friends I made here in the US. We’ve been in contact on and off since. I had no idea of the connection between him and Cora.”

“It was a pleasant surprise,” Beau told them with a shrug. “I know many people. I’m friends with very few, so those I like to keep around.”

“I didn’t even know crab and scallop cakes were an actual thing. I vote yay,” Cora said as she put another two on her plate.

In addition, there were brussels sprout leaves roasted with parmesan and walnuts, fruit and cheese with honey, wine, champagne and at the end, not just one cake, but two.

Not a lot satisfied Beau more than seeing people enjoy food he’d made. Cooking was his way of pleasing others. Of being worthy.

Even as fucked-up as he was, he’d managed to substitute out the most harmful ways of feeling worthy and pleasing others. His life was his own now. No one made his choices. He owed no one anything he didn’t want to give.

A far cry from his days in Road to Glory, when every bit of his life had been chosen for him and the others in the group.

“You’re having a very intense conversation in your head,” Cora said quietly.

He shrugged. “Not really,” he lied.

She sniffed, like she wanted him to know she saw right through him. Defensiveness rose in his gut, warring with fascination and no small amount of admiration that she would not only see the truth of it, but also let him know she got that he was evading.

But she let it go and he appreciated it a great deal.

A few hours in, Vic and Rachel peeled off. Gregori explained that Vic worked in a bakery, the same one that had provided some of the sweets they’d eaten that night, and had to be up by four-thirty.

He realized, as they cleaned up, that he didn’t really want his time with Cora to end. Which was unusual. Unusual enough that he paid attention to it. She was a gorgeous, creative, interesting woman and an old friend. That was it. Probably.

Still, when she headed to the door, he followed. “Hey, where are you off to?”

“Home. I’ve been up well over twenty-four hours at this point and the travel has just sort of smacked me in the head. Now that my belly is full and I’ve been loved up on by my friends, I’m going to head back to my place and sleep for many hours.”

“Where are you parked? Do you need a ride home?” Wren asked Cora, and then Gregori sighed. Clearly he’d noticed the chemistry between Cora and Beau all night.

Cora hadn’t seemed to hear Gregori’s sigh as she replied, “I’m just parked right around the corner at the lot near Ink Sisters. I’m good. Thank you though.” Cora hugged Wren, and then tiptoed up to do the same with Gregori.

“I’ll walk with you,” Beau said, grabbing his coat. “If that’s cool with you.”

Cora shrugged. “Sure. You don’t have to. It’s not that far.”

“And then you can give him a ride,” Gregori told her. “He’s staying in a flat in the Bay Vista Tower so he’s on your way home anyway.”

Gregori gave him a very slight smile. Beau owed his friend a beer for that little suggestion that allowed him more time with her.

“Ah! Yes, that’s totally on my way home. I can easily drop you off as a thanks for walking with me and defending my honor in case a drunken Pioneer Square reveler gives me any guff. Not that they would with an eleven-foot-tall dude, but you know what I mean,” Cora said.

“There are perks to being tall. And I’d appreciate the ride as I walked over earlier today.” And he’d get to be alone with her in the car, where he planned on asking her out.

He shouldn’t. He usually kept himself clear of getting involved with a friend or anyone in his social circle that he might have to see regularly in the wake of something unpleasant.

But she felt like home to him in a way that he couldn’t really put into words. And he really needed home after drifting for far too long.

* * *

CORA LIKED WALKING with Beau. When she stopped to peer more closely, and then photograph a wet leaf, he didn’t get impatient. When she wanted to look in a window or pause to stare up at the lights, he paused too. He meandered like she did. Which was something she found herself charmed by.

Certainly there was no denying the way people tended to get out of their way as they came along. Even sauced-up patrons, who’d poured out of bars and onto the sidewalks, parted to let them pass. He was big. Sturdy and broad shouldered. As a short girl, it was pretty freaking nice, she had to admit.

So she told him. Or, well, she thought it out loud, and then just went with it because it was too late to do anything else.

He leaned closer and the heat of him seemed to brush against her skin. “It’s a novel thing to imagine the world from your perspective,” he said in a voice that wrapped around her and tugged.

What an unexpectedly wonderful compliment that was.

“Thank you. You have a great voice. I figure I should go ahead and tell you that.” Flattered and a little flustered, Cora pointed at her car as they came upon the lot where she’d parked. “That’s me.”

Cora didn’t think herself overly concerned with things. But this car—named Eldon—was her not-so-guilty pleasure.

A gift from her mother—because Cora never would have done it for herself and because Walda loved giving extravagant gifts. When it appealed to her anyway.

It was low-slung and sporty, and when she got in and closed the door, the world drifted away.

He came to a startled halt. “That?”

Cora was glad it was dark enough he couldn’t see her blush. “Okay. I know. It’s an extravagance. My mom decided I should have it. And I tried to turn it down or talk her into a less, uh, over-the-top choice. But she’s Walda and she does what she wants.”

“I’m jealous. I nearly bought a TT S last year.”

Oh. Well, that was nice. Thanking him, she clicked the locks and he waited for her to get in before he followed suit.

“You’re really tall and I was worried you’d have to bend like a pretzel to fit in the passenger seat. So I’m glad that didn’t happen because you have those jeans on and I don’t want you to have to cut off circulation or whatever.”

Jesus, she just made a thinly veiled joke about his dick getting bent in an uncomfortable way. She’d been hanging out around the Dolans way too long.

He snorted a laugh. “I’ve never been as entertained by a conversation,” he said as she pulled out of the lot.

“Oh. Well. Good because I’m entertaining that way so I’m delighted you can see the benefits. I’m glad you’re in Seattle, Beau. I hope we’ll see one another again before you leave. And wow, this whole segment of our conversation is really just me wandering all around. I’m normally better at this. Really.”

“Still entertaining. Five stars,” he said through laughter. “I’d love to see you again. Me and you. What does your kitchen look like?”

“Uh. It’s a nice kitchen. I like to cook well enough. I decided to take the space from a third bedroom and make the kitchen and the master bigger. Gas stove.”

He nodded and she felt a little relieved that she’d passed a test of some sort.

“Are you free tomorrow night? I’d like to make you dinner and catch up on the last seventeen years.”

He just asked her out. She hadn’t imagined the chemistry between them. This day was pretty fucking great so far.

“Totally free. I’ll be home by six and I can handle the dessert.”

“I’ll be there by six-thirty with everything I need.”

A wave of heat washed through her. There was no misunderstanding the way his voice had that husky undertone. That was perhaps—hopefully—an I’ll be putting my mouth on you at some point during this date tone and she liked it. It left her drunk with delight.

She gave him her address as she found a space to slide into across the street from his building. “Okay. So. Um. I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”

He unbuckled himself, but before he got out, he leaned close and surprised her when he laid a kiss on her lips.

Just a casual kiss. Quick but not so fast he didn’t slowly drag his teeth over her bottom lip as he pulled back.

“See you then.”

Still tasting him, she watched as he jogged across the street, and then made his way into the building.

Cora wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting herself into, but she liked it.

CHAPTER THREE

In a flurry of wind a red leaf skitters

Dances on the air

As summer dies

And autumn puts on her fiery crown.

“WHY AM I not surprised?” Cora asked.

Rachel and Maybe stood on her porch with a pink-and-white box holding her favorite doughnuts and bearing big grins as well as coffee.

She opened up. “Get in here before you let out all the warm air.”

“You’re not surprised because we’re predictable and nosy. And because we come bearing coffee and doughnuts.” Rachel kissed Cora’s cheek before she put her things down and hung her coat in the front closet.

“We were sort of bummed to find out you’re alone this morning,” Maybe told her as she popped the lid off the doughnut box and carried it, along with her coffee, to the living room.

Cora snorted. “Don’t you two have to be at work or something?”

“My first appointment isn’t until one,” Rachel said as she chose a chocolate-glazed.

“I’m sleeping with my boss,” Maybe told her. “Makes it easier to take time off when I want to. So what’s the deal with you and sexy chef guy? I know I wasn’t imagining it. Especially when he just about shoved Wren out of the way when he got the chance to walk you to your car.”

“He’s making me dinner tonight.” Cora sipped her coffee.

Rachel grabbed one of the throw blankets Cora kept everywhere and tucked it around herself before saying, “I Googled him this morning after Vic left for work. He pretended like he didn’t know I was going to. We like to pretend I’m nicer than I really am. It’s why we’ve stayed together for two years.” Rachel continued after another bite of her doughnut, “But you know Beau’s had quite the colorful life. I mean. Wow. Also the modeling shots alone might have made me pregnant.”

Cora nearly choked on her coffee as she laughed. “Now imagine seeing that in person when you were sixteen.”

“Dude, I’m absolutely convinced I’d have had no idea what to do with a guy like him when I was sixteen. All the tattoos and the piercings. Super hot.”

“We saw the tasteful nudes. He’s quite gifted. And a natural redhead.” Maybe toasted Cora by holding her doughnut aloft a moment.

“You’re going to have to Heimlich me if you make me laugh like this while I’m eating,” Cora said between fits of giggles. “I missed you both. A lot.”

“We missed you too. When you’re done telling us about Beau, let’s talk about you not leaving for so long again.” Maybe reached out to squeeze Cora’s leg a moment.

“He’s got a complicated backstory, to say the least. It’s not every day you meet someone who was raised in and later escaped from a cult. Still, there’s something, I don’t know, genuine about him. He’s...” Cora raised her hands, not finding the right words for how she felt. “Aside from being gorgeous, he’s interesting. It was easy being with him last night at Gregori and Wren’s. And then after. He kissed me. Just a fast thing. Not a peck. No tongue, but he gave me some teeth when he broke the kiss. And he used the sex voice on me. It worked. I mean. Every part of me heard it, like a tuning fork.”

“Zing.” Rachel nodded her head and Maybe echoed the action. “You have zing. I have zing with Vic. Maybe’s got it with Alexsei. Zing is good if it doesn’t, you know, cloud your head because your other parts are too dazed. If you know what I mean.”

Cora batted her lashes and leaned toward her friend. “No. What do you mean?”

Rachel started to reply before narrowing her gaze and flipping Cora off.

Laughing, Cora said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been dazed with zing. It’s not underrated.” She hadn’t had that sort of delicious sexual chemistry with someone in years and she hadn’t realized until then how much she’d missed it.

“Seems to me your priorities are in the right order,” Maybe told her. “Get some.”

Rachel rolled her eyes before adding, “He could get it, no lie. I mean, if I wasn’t head over heels in love with Vic. Literally over the weekend. I need to start stretching before sex.”

Cora and Maybe both burst into giggles. This too, sisterhood, was a sensation she’d missed. The ability to be totally who she was—bumps and scars and flaws aplenty—with these two women in her living room filled her with happiness. Made her more confident.

“Now I’m going to have that in my brain every time I see him. Which is often, in case you haven’t noticed,” Maybe managed to say.

Rachel just shrugged. “So you’re going to let Beau get all up in your space. I also found out some details about his personal life. He’s got a reputation. Or maybe had? Anyway, he likes the ladies. And a few gentlemen too. But not for very long. He used to be a favorite on all the gossip sites. Partied. A lot. But you know, some of those pictures from back in the day were with Gregori and we know he’s changed. He’s had the same core group of friends for years. Gregori and Ian Brewster, the restaurateur friend he mentioned, both live here in Seattle. Another lives somewhere in Europe. That shows something good about him, I think. He’s loyal once he, uh, commits.”

Cora clapped her hands over her ears for a moment, blushing hard. She shouldn’t be gossiping about him! “Oh my god. I should have stopped you sooner but let’s be honest, I wanted to hear it.” She waved a hand, took a bite of her doughnut and thought awhile before she spoke again. “I knew about most of it. I’ve followed his career here and there over the years. I’m going to let him make me dinner. We’ll catch up and have—hopefully—great conversation, and then if there’s anything else—smooching, groping, what have you—that’s all good. At some point he’ll take his new recipes and that chiseled jaw away from Seattle. So why not enjoy what I can now? It’s not like I want him to move in or be my boyfriend or whatever. I just want some fun and to hang out with an old friend. Hopefully have excellent sex. Also I’d like a dog, which isn’t really about sexing up Beau, but more of a life goal thing. Not a big one because my little yard isn’t really good for a big dog. Small and smart and not yappy. I don’t like yappy dogs and the neighbors would complain.”

“This conversation is moving at the speed of light. I’m here for it. And another doughnut. We need to start our walks again so I can have more than one doughnut without guilt,” Maybe said, and then started to snicker. “Just kidding. I love having more than one doughnut and feel zero guilt about that. But I do love our walks too.”

Rachel said, “Okay, now that you’ve told us about your romantic life, why don’t you tell us the rest. Seeing you so happy about this Beau thing has underlined for me I’ve seen that Cora less and less over the last eighteen months or so. You’ve sounded less and less happy, more and more tired. Don’t you think it’s time to seriously rethink your job situation?”

They knew her so well. She hadn’t even really had to say anything.

“I love to travel. A few weeks away is one thing, but three months and more? Too much. And, to be totally honest? It’s a lot harder on my mother than it used to be. But she won’t admit it and she doesn’t have an off switch. So things go left and I have to clean up the mess. Then she gets mad at me because she’s not forty anymore. More often than not what I do is make excuses for some terrible thing she’s done to make someone cry and keeping her out of jail or worse. It makes me tired.” And it wasn’t what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Being her mother’s cleanup person wasn’t a career she was interested in.

“Fair enough. She’s a big personality. But you’re not her keeper.” Maybe used what was left of her doughnut to stab Cora’s way and underline the point.

“Ha! I totally am her keeper. It’s turned into a family joke. I’m the Walda whisperer, the keeper of the creative. It’s fucking exhausting and I don’t think it serves her. Not who she is now. Her career is different. The world is different. I’m different.” Cora shrugged. “Anyway, I used to be content wandering the globe whenever and wherever she needed me. It was wonderful while it was wonderful. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve had a relationship with my mom that is totally unique and good. But it’s also... I’m the mom most of the time.”

“I think it’s absolutely fair that you want to reevaluate the situation now. Yes, she’s getting older, more frail. Especially in the last two or three years.” Rachel paused, looked Cora square on. “Even if none of those things were true it’s still okay. You’re an adult. You get to make choices based on what you want. You get that, right? You want to build a life that’ll take you into your future. You want to shift gears, sink roots and make a life that entails a different sort of work,” Rachel said. “Do it.”

“It should be all right for a while. She’s done, except for promotion, which won’t start for three or four months. And even then it shouldn’t take her too far from home. I should encourage that.” Cora grabbed her notebook and jotted a note down to do more radio and podcast interviews and to have them done in a local recording studio instead of traveling.

Rachel looked pointedly at the notebook before focusing on Cora again. “You’re still taking a few weeks off though, right?”

“Well. I won’t be traveling anywhere nonrecreational. In fact, I was thinking of leaf peeping and could probably include some birding. Perhaps cap it off with a stop at Samish Cheese? Something for everyone.” Cora grinned at them.

“I’m in,” Maybe said.

“Me too,” Rachel said. “Now, getting back to the question, which was about you taking a few weeks off.”

“Yes I am. From my mother. But I’ll be at the gallery. There’s a new installation coming up so I want to be there or who knows what they’ll do?”

“So now you can finally quit being the Walda-keeper and shift to the gallery full-time. But you can still take a week or so. I mean, what did they do for the last three months without you there?” Maybe asked.

The gallery was her baby. Sort of. Cora had spent a lot of time and effort in creating a space that had a voice. A unique voice in a very rich local art scene. “Call me fourteen times a day?” She’d pretty much done the job over the phone and online anyway. But that? That’d felt like it should have. She’d wanted to be involved. It fed her creative hunger in a way few things did.

“Okay then,” Rachel said. “Over the last several years you’ve mentioned here and there that you want to run the gallery full-time. Why not finally make that shift? Then someone else can handle your mom.” Rachel’s severe look had Cora’s denials dying in her chest. “It’s unfair that they’d expect you to keep on like this indefinitely. Oh sure, they all thank you for doing it—and they should—but none of them has stepped up to help you out. Not on this. Plenty of people can be your mom’s personal assistant/manager/keeper. For the right kind of money,” Rachel added at Cora’s expression. “You’re irreplaceable because no one will be as perfect as you. That’s a given. But Walda’s not the only diva in the world. We can help you find the right solution.”

Maybe leaned over to squeeze Cora quickly. “You want to defend your family. But I promise you we aren’t attacking them. We’re your best friends and it is our god-given right to take your side. And to tell you the truth.”

“So let’s skip the part where you tell yourself you’re selfish for wanting something for yourself. Who but you knows Walda works better when lightbulbs are this or that wattage? Or that she likes nutmeg in her coffee? And so what if you do? She’s a grown woman, not a toddler. She can express her wishes to someone else. It’s not like she’s shy,” Rachel said, deadpan.

No, Walda wasn’t shy. But beneath all the feathers and bright colors and whatever else she did, her mother wanted to be loved.

Of course Cora felt selfish. And guilty.

“It’s on the list of things I’m thinking about,” Cora told them both. “Thank you for caring about me enough to make me face this stuff. But I’m done with facing it for now. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me what’s been happening. How was your show last weekend?” she asked Maybe, who played drums in a punk rock band.

As Maybe excitedly filled her in, Cora leaned back, tucked herself under a blanket of her own and let being with her friends wash over her.

CHAPTER FOUR

That time you walked in

And the universe shifted...

I’ve been falling ever since.

OF ALL THE things from his childhood, Beau had come to terms with the way he’d been raised when it came to a usual lack of nervousness. He’d been a spokesperson, a face for Road to Glory from a very young age, which had given him a natural sense of ambition and ability. A gift of relating to people.

But as he wrestled the box with all the ingredients for dinner out of his trunk, he realized the butterflies in his belly were all about her.

It was fucking delicious.

He didn’t even have to look at his phone for the number of her town house because once he entered the circular courtyard he knew immediately which porch was hers. It just had the most life around it. An overflowing planter on either side of the steps framed them artfully.

And on each step, words had been painted.

I am the light of a thousand stars

I am cosmic dust made human.

As he got to the top step, he caught sight of her through her front window. She stretched up to light candles dotted across a mantelpiece. He couldn’t see anything but the grace in the movement, lost his other senses for a bit as his heartbeat seemed to thunder in time with the blood pounding in his cock.

He managed to hit the doorbell, and when she opened up to him, her smile lightened his nervousness. She looked at him like she knew him. And wanted to be with him anyway.

“Come in!” she said as she stepped aside to admit him. “You can put the stuff on the table.” Cora indicated a stout, round table in the nook just to the left of the kitchen.

He managed not to rush, no matter how much he wanted to hug her. Beau even managed to get his coat off and slung over the back of one of the chairs before he said hello and pulled her into an embrace.

She hummed, low and pleased, and a shiver rode his spine.

“Good evening,” he murmured as he brushed a quick kiss over her brow.

“You smell good. What are you cooking for me tonight?” she asked him as she started to poke through the crate.

“Thank you. You not only smell good, you look good.” She wore a bright yellow sweater with faded blue jeans and thick socks. Cora looked like a fucking flower. Pretty and fresh and sexy all at once.

She blushed and he found it incredibly appealing.

“So I, uh, do you like pasta? I was thinking linguine with clam sauce for the main. Some bruschetta with mushrooms and parsley and another with roasted and marinated red peppers and garlic.”

“Yum! I like all those things. I have a feeling I’ll be overeating. I grabbed some wine, red and white, and some Prosecco just for giggles. I wasn’t sure what you’d be making and it’s not like a bottle of wine won’t find another use if I don’t drink it tonight. Oh, and there’s beer too.

“I didn’t know what you’d be needing, so I just made sure the counters were extra clean,” she said with a shrug. “Cooking stuff is in the cabinets and under the stovetop there.” She pointed. “Use whatever you find. Ask if you don’t see something.”

“Perfect.” He washed his hands while she poured them both a glass of red wine.

“I’m a rebel. I wear white after Labor day and drink red wine whenever I please.” She toasted him, clinking her glass to his.

“I like a little rebellion. We can have white later with the pasta, if you like. Red would be fine, as well. Basically, anything you want because I aim to please.” He tied on an apron and began to get to know her kitchen, setting the oven to get the bruschetta started.

She cleared her throat before speaking. “Can I help in any way or just watch you prepare a feast for me and fantasize about you kissing me?”

He didn’t stop himself from bending down to kiss her. Intending it to be quick. But once she sighed softly, he couldn’t keep it quick. Instead he backed her to the counter and settled in, tasting, teasing, sipping at her until his skin felt too tight.

Cora slid her tongue along his as she pressed herself closer, her hands at his waist, fingers hooked through the belt loops of his pants to hold him there.

She was sexy. Sweet and hot. Like nothing he’d experienced.

It rattled him enough to break the kiss, but in two breaths he had to go back for another kiss.

Because he needed it. Her taste was dark and rich and utterly irresistible. He wondered if the rest of her tasted as good.

With a groan, he pulled away when the oven preheat timer dinged.

Cora cocked her head, her smile gone feline and satisfied. “Well, okay then. You can find me available for kisses anytime.” The slight slur of pleasure in her voice was a caress along the back of his neck.

“Now I’m ready to get back to work. You just sit there, keep my wineglass filled and be available for more kisses in case I can’t get along until I have another.”

“Right-o.” She hopped up on one of the stools facing him across her kitchen island.

He sliced mushrooms thin as he tried not to stare at her mouth, but she made it difficult because she talked a lot, smiled a lot, laughed a lot.

It was really only the fear of slicing into his finger instead of the veggies and herbs that kept him from drooling over her like a cartoon dog.

That made him snort, catching her attention.

“Do I amuse you?” she asked, a teasing note in the words.

“Absolutely. So what did you do today? What have you been up to over the past seventeen years? You only hit the highlights last night.”

“Today I had coffee and doughnuts here with Maybe and Rachel, and then I went into the gallery for a few hours.”

“I need to stop by the gallery and check it out. I’m curious and always looking for something new. Up until now, my art guidance has come from Gregori. Fortunately, he knows my taste so he rarely steers me wrong.”

Her eyes lit as she beamed at him. That’s when her dimple came out and had him licking his lips for another taste of her.

“That’s such a mistake to reveal to someone who runs a gallery.” She sipped her wine. “I had a meeting with a new artist today. She’s got a show coming up with us and I’m amazed at the stuff she does. We like to focus on regional artists, give them space and a voice. She came here with her family from Cambodia when she was an infant, so her stuff, which is mixed media, has this sense of roots and ownership of gender and identity that blows me away. She used to be a chemist for the state department of fisheries and one of her kids encouraged her to take early retirement and give her art more time. And she did. That was three years ago.”

He liked the way she talked about art. A lot like he suspected he sounded when he talked about food. As she described the pieces she planned to put into the show, the passion for what she did seemed to flow from her.

“Sounds fantastic. I’ll definitely cruise by the opening.”

“Oh gosh, please do. Not only do I think you’d like her work, it’s nice to be supported by your friends. The opening should be pretty fantastic, if I do say so myself. Which naturally I do because I’m speaking. Anyway, I throw a good party. I’ll make sure you get an invite.”

Her kitchen was well stocked but not overdone. The town house wasn’t huge, like the condo he was in. But it was comfortable. She’d made excellent use of the space she did have.

It was warm and accessible, a lot like her, so that wasn’t really a surprise.

He found all the tools he needed—which meant he could leave all the stuff he’d brought just in case in the trunk of his car. She kept his glass filled and did an excellent job of rubbing garlic on the bruschetta when he asked it of her.

By the time they settled in at her table, it was nearly eight, but he was warm from the wine and the exertion and though he’d snacked as he’d worked, he had quite the appetite for the pasta.

“Would you be weirded out if I took a picture of this? I mean it looks like art,” she said.

Pride filled him. “Not at all. I’m flattered.” And he was.

She went to grab her phone, took a few pictures and then put it away again, giving him all her attention once more.

Mesmerizing.

After she ate and moaned with joy at whatever it was she tasted, his ego was about to explode. That and his dick. He was grateful his lap was hidden by the table.

“Tell me about the words on your porch steps,” he said. “Where’s the quote from?”

“Do you like it?”

He nodded. “Very much.”

“It’s mine. I’ve been writing snippets of poetry since I was a kid. That’s part of a poem called ‘Star Stuff.’ I change it up from time to time. Paint new verses when it appeals to me.”

“Lots of layers to you, Cora Silvera.”

“Like an onion.”

He stood and began to help her clear the table and clean the kitchen, over her protests that he’d cooked so she would clean up. It also enabled him to be close enough to brush against her as they moved around, wiping counters and filling the dishwasher.

“Come through to the other room for a while. Tell me how long you’re going to be in Seattle.” She took the bottle of white wine along with her into the living room, where he joined her, settling on her overstuffed couch.

“I’m here for...well, for the next while. At least a year. Likely more. Love the weather and all the stuff to do outdoors. My friends live here—including you. It’s a food culture I really like. And I’m done with New York and LA. Not for visits—I still love both cities. Both were great for my career. But it’s time for something else. Seattle seems a good place to be somewhere to land. Finish this cookbook.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. There’s a cherry walnut cake for dessert but I’m pretty full,” she said, voice lazy as she leaned against the cushions.

“We should do something else until we digest dinner.” He took her hand, threading his fingers with hers, and tugged her toward him. “I can think of a few ways to spend some time.”

“Yeah? I think maybe we have some of the same ideas on that.”

“Let’s compare notes.”

Before he knew it, she was on his lap. And like he’d figured, she fit him.

Perfectly.

“Let me know when I get too heavy,” she said, her lips so close to his, the heat of her made him a little light-headed.

“When that happens, I’ll get on top. I like being on top.”

With a laugh, she nipped his bottom lip, tugging it sharply. “I’m not surprised by that.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The way your mouth skates over my throat

is burned into my skin.

A WAVE OF dizzy delight flowed through her as he leaned her back against the arm of her couch, never losing contact. It terrified her nearly as much as it excited her. In another person she might have found it too much. But while intense, it met her own intensity. Her own want of him.

He didn’t flinch from what he wanted, instead, once he was sure she was on board—which was scorching hot in and of itself—he took it.

Nothing had ever seemed so sexy to her.

He didn’t rush to her mouth, instead he sent hot, openmouthed kisses from her temple down to the hollow beneath her ear.

It was... Well, whatever he was doing to her, it set her aflame.

He seemed to radiate sensuality and every bit of it was focused on her. Added to the sheer physicality of him—that ruggedly handsome face with those gorgeous eyes and the mouth she was currently very fond of—it was as if the universe had detonated a sex bomb right there on her couch. Sporting a seriously impressive erection if the ridge under her thigh was any indication.

Cora dug her fingers through his hair as he teased kisses down her throat. She wanted to take a big bite of him. Wanted to leave a mark.

He hadn’t even touched her boob yet and she was this mad for him.

“I want to gobble you up,” she said, shoving back at him, twisting a little to climb into his lap, facing him. In her position, he was less intimidating and more deliciously big and tall in a hot chef/lumbersexual way.

And...she could also confirm that the ridge against her thigh was indeed a very healthy hard-on.

Yay!

He groaned, pulling her closer until she groaned in return, grinding herself against him.

It wasn’t quite a frenzy, but their chemistry seemed to sizzle and rise, humid with sex. Pumping her full of desire.

His hands slid to her waist, gripping and holding her against him as he rolled his hips.

At the very end of his movement upward, he dug in just a little harder, brushing against her clit just right, even through the denim.

She gasped as a burst of pleasure brought stars behind her eyelids.

And when she opened her eyes, it was to find him watching, naked greed for her on his features.

It was humbling. It was giddy wish fulfillment. And it was flat-out hot. Shivers of delight rode her skin as he reached up to grip her by the back of her neck and brought her to him for a kiss.

Heat roared from his fingertips up to her lips, where he slid his tongue over and then into her mouth, and got busy devastating her with deft nips, licks and kisses.

In all those fantasies she’d had back as a young woman she’d had no idea what he was truly capable of. Of what he was capable of evoking in her.

Hot damn.

He wanted her as much as she wanted him. More than that, there was something else, something extra between them, that only seemed to stoke the heat.

* * *

CORA DIDN’T WANT to stop whatever was happening. She wanted to ride it out with him. Wanted to jump into whatever storm they were making.

She sucked his bottom lip and pressed herself to him, grinding herself over his cock.

He moved to lean her back, pushing her coffee table out of the way with a foot until they landed on her rug.

“You with me?” he asked her, his voice full of briars and thorns.

“Yes!” She pulled him down to her to get at his mouth again. The slight burn on her neck his beard had left behind was something she felt to her toes and straight to her clit.

He broke from her mouth long enough to angle his free arm under her shoulders to bring her where he wanted, but also to give her some protection against the floor at her back.

Not that she’d have complained.

Cora squeezed her thighs together, needing a little more sensation. Orgasm had been building since before she’d even opened her door to find him on her porch. Before he’d made her a meal and kissed her into oblivion.

By that point, her whole body seemed to be an erogenous zone. He’d pushed every single one of her buttons, including a few she hadn’t known she possessed.

He grumbled, “Mine.” Before reaching down to cup her through her jeans. The heat of his hand—a strong, big hand—brought a shudder of pleasure and a thrust of her hips seeking more.

* * *

HE’D GIVE IT to her, but on his own schedule. He wanted to be sure she remembered this any time she thought of him. Wanted to burn himself into her skin, into her memory.

Cora never ceased to surprise him though. She reared up enough to get rid of her sweater and yanked at his until he got her meaning and tossed his off and to the side with hers.

Skin to skin, though she wore a pretty purple bra, still, the sensation was nearly overwhelming, bringing a hiss from his lips before he shifted down to kiss along her breastbone. He inhaled the soft, sensitive skin between her breasts, and then she dug her nails into his shoulders.

Urging him on.

“More,” she said, underlining it.

The wave overtook them both once more, sucking him back to that place where there was only sensation and the relentless need to touch her, taste her, make her moan.

When she dragged those nails down the front of his pants, over his cock, he was the one who moaned, was the one who let go and gave over to whatever she wanted. In whatever way she wanted it.

He snarled a curse when she unzipped his jeans and slid her hand inside. First cupping him through his shorts and then—sweet Christ—she slipped inside, down the front and grabbed his cock at the root, sliding her grip upward before swirling her thumb over the slick of precome on the slit.

It was her snarl he wanted, and got when he slid the cup of her bra down and bent to lick and then graze the edge of his teeth over her nipple, delighting in the way it stood up.

She rewarded him with that desired snarl, and then adjusted to fist him from balls to the head a few more times.

Beau gripped his control as best he could, drowning in the feel of her against him, of the scent of sex in the air, the raw desire arcing between them.

Cora’s rhythm dug roots into his balls, dragging him toward climax. No matter that it was her living room floor and they were both still clothed. Perhaps it was even hotter that it was so urgent and raw and necessary to do right then.

He moved so that he could slide a hand down her belly and then into her panties, the heat and then the wet of her against his fingers and palm.

He’d been so cocksure when he’d started this, sure he’d finish her first, but it wasn’t so certain as he tumbled even closer to coming when she reared up and dug her teeth into his biceps. Not enough to truly harm, but more than enough to turn him on past bearing.

He wanted her climax. Needed it. She wasn’t holding back with his either. So it was a tangle of arms and legs, of mouths on skin and arching backs.

She made a sound then, a sucked-in surprise and then a moan so carnal he couldn’t have stopped his orgasm no matter what. She came in a rush against his skin, a clasp of her inner muscles around his fingers that seemed to fit around his cock as he hit his own climax in a blinding rush.

* * *

SHE BURST OUT with a satisfied sigh, and then started to giggle. “I’m sorry,” she told him, indicating the mess on her hand and his belly before rolling to her knees. “Let me get a towel.”

He snorted, reaching out quickly to catch the dish towel she tossed his way.

She washed up before joining him again. “I can’t remember the last time I did that on a date. I hope you liked it as much as I did. Because, wow.”

It was his turn to clean up and hers to watch as he prowled to her kitchen to wash his hands and toss the towel in the laundry basket.

He’d just fed her a gourmet dinner, made her come and cleaned up after. As first dates went, it was pretty much the all-time winner.

The grin he flashed as he flopped down on the couch next to her eased the knot of anxiety in her gut. “I totally enjoyed it. Though I do hope you understand I have more than just handjobs in my tool kit.”

“Your tool kit is pretty impressive so far.” She raised a shoulder and grabbed her wineglass, clinking it to his.

Once they both got everything zipped up and tucked back in, Cora brought out the dessert. They settled back on the cushions, tucked under a blanket, a fire going to keep the room warm.

“So tell me about your cookbook idea. If it’s not a secret, I mean,” she said.

He started to give her details about audience numbers and she waved a hand. “No. I mean, congratulations for those great numbers and it’s very awesome you’re using them to guide your next choices. But my real question is what drives this idea? Your face sells pots and pans and some very good pot holders and aprons. Naturally you’re a brand. But I’ve eaten your food twice now and both times it’s read and tasted like art to me. You’re not just cooking, which takes skill obviously. You’re creating. You approach the plate like a canvas.”

Which was totally hot.

“Thank you. That’s a very nice compliment. I’ve been fortunate in my career. I’ve had three shows on cable that have all been successful. My cookbooks do well. I have more than enough fame and money and success. So I’m grateful. But I was at a creative crossroads and I have the option to try something new. I’ve spent more and more time up here visiting Seattle and my friends. More time getting to know the ingredients, the seasons, what was available where. It ended up dovetailing with the fact that I needed to get out of Southern California.”

“So what’s the process? With a cookbook do you have the recipes already or do you develop them? How do they get tested?”

His surprised yet undeniably pleased smile warmed Cora’s belly.

“Right now I’m in the development stage. I have a general idea of the theme and now it’s organization. I’m thinking of doing whole meals with swap-out side dishes. I coordinate with my recipes so it has some direction. And then I cook a lot. Make people eat my food and give me their opinions.”

Cora raised her hand. “I volunteer as taster. I mean, if you need anyone else in your focus group.”

It was only at that moment that she realized she might be pushing him into a place he wasn’t ready to go. Or a level of relationship he didn’t care for.

She genuinely liked him, aside from the sexual and romantic attraction, and she hoped they could hang out more while he was in Seattle.

But he nodded, smile genuine. “We’ll see how you feel when you get sick of my cooking.”

She just looked at him, scoffing. “Yeah, it’s such a bore to have a gorgeous man cook a gourmet meal for me. You must run up against that all the time.”

He shrugged. “You know as well as I do, sometimes people aren’t around you for you. They want your money or your fame or what you can do for them.”

“I see it with my mom. But I’m the chick in the background. Which is good. The people I need to know who I am, know who I am.”

“It feels like I’m constantly under a microscope in LA and NYC. Here I can be left alone for the most part. It’s nice, you know? To just shop for produce or get toilet paper without people coming up to me.”

“I imagine it weighs on you. Having to constantly be on like that.”

He stared at her carefully before responding. “You do, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You do think about what it would be like for me. Most people, they just focus about all the perks, and I get it. But you realize there are costs for those perks.”

Cora shrugged. “I probably wouldn’t if I didn’t grow up the way I have.”

“That’s a good way to look at it. So what are you doing Friday? Want to have dinner?”

Oh. He asked her out. It delighted her with the simple joy of it. “I’m going to the pumpkin patch so I can start all my Halloween decorating and there’s an event at the gallery so I’ll be there until about eleven. But I’m free after. Or before if you want to come to the pumpkin patch with me.”

“Well, that’s... I’ve never been to a pumpkin patch.”

“Really?” she asked, incredulous. “I’m not sure... I mean, are you averse to Halloween entirely or are you indifferent?”

He gave her a raised brow. “You seem passionate on this point. It’s terrifying and also sort of sexy and mysterious.”

“Terrifying? Me? Ha! The truth is, I love Halloween. It’s my jam. And I love decorating for it and for fall in general.”

He cocked his head, looking fucking gorgeous doing it. Jeez. “I can believe it. I’m not averse to Halloween. Or pumpkins. In fact, I’m mulling over a few different fall soups so if they have cooking pumpkins there, I might go just for that. We didn’t celebrate Halloween when I was growing up. And then when I wasn’t with the group anymore, I was already an adult and sure, I went to parties at Halloween, mainly to ogle women in sexy costumes and drink too much.”

“Mom is an immigrant so she never really got into Halloween because she didn’t grow up with it. But my dad, being a first generation American, absolutely loves it. When we were kids, we’d go to the Halloween store the day after Halloween and buy all the stuff on sale. Our house is on a lot of land, but most of it is behind and to one side so we’d decorate the front yard with gravestones, giant fake spiders in the trees. Cauldrons and vampire bats. Spooky stuff in the windows. We were sort of in the country a little, at the edges of what’s now a much larger city, so you had to drive to trick-or-treat in our neighborhood. But people did! If you came to our door you got scared, but it was all so fun. My dad dresses up every single year as Dracula. I’m not joking. It’s adorable. So. Pumpkin patch? Do you have rain boots? It’ll be muddy probably. I mean, it’s just a big field.”

“You seem excessively excited about the chance of mud.”

Cora giggled. “It’s a damned mess. So I don’t take my lovely car but rather borrow a truck. It’s a work truck so it won’t be a crime if we get mud in the bed. Of the truck, I mean. I don’t want mud in my sleeping bed. Because that would suck.”

She was being way more random than usual. He made her nervous but more in a giddy way than a scared way.

Instead of panicked or annoyed, Beau appeared to at the very least be amused by her. His body language was easy, relaxed.

“Agreed on the mud in the truck versus the sheets distinction. I’m in. This sounds like an adventure.”

She wasn’t sure if that was purely a compliment, but it made her happy anyway.

CHAPTER SIX

A star seared its way through the icy black

of space as if it were fabric.

Becoming something else.

“DO YOU HAVE rain boots? Or know where I can get some?” Beau asked Ian the following day when he came over.

His friend, who stood at the counter in his wet dream of a kitchen, gave him a wary look. “Should I ask why?”

“Cora tells me I might want them at the pumpkin patch because it could be muddy.” Beau grabbed a slice of mango from the cutting board.

Ian gave Beau all his attention then, one of his eyebrows rising a moment. “Oh, Cora does. Well then.”

“She’s apparently wild about Halloween. I’m apparently wild about her. I’ll make her a meal when we get back.”

And then he needed to find a way to be invited to the gallery event. She’d brought it up to him in the first place, which he had decided to take as an invitation. Of a sort. He just needed to get that firmed up.

“That’s a lot of togetherness in a short period of time for you. This is the woman you knew back in the day in LA? The composer’s kid?”

“She’s only five years younger than I am.” Beau rolled his eyes. “It’s easy to be with her. God knows that’s not always a thing. She’s weird and thoughtful and funny and sexy as fuck.” Beau leaned against the kitchen counter and looked out the windows over Elliott Bay, thinking about her laugh and the way she sounded when she came.

Need for her, to be around her more, made him greedy. It confused him but not enough to make him so wary he didn’t pursue her.

“You’re breaking your rule about not getting involved with people in your friend group. So does that mean she’s not in your friend group so I keep my distance? Or, you’re breaking your rule because she’s different? In which case I really want to meet her.”

Beau said, “She’s unlike anyone else I’ve been attracted to. Like I said, it’s easy to be with her and we have wild sexual chemistry. Off the fucking charts, for real.” He shoved a hand through his hair as the remembered heat between them brushed against his skin.

“So you’re up for the pumpkin patch because you want to get some? That’s the tale as old as time there, dude.” Ian snorted and indicated the cabinet near Beau’s head as a way to invite him for a cup of coffee.

Beau grabbed himself a mug and after getting the coffee sugared up, he eased into a chair at Ian’s breakfast nook just off the kitchen. “Like I said, mad chemistry. But there’s something else about her. Like she’s going on an adventure even if she’s just going to get her mail. I can’t say I ever really wanted to, but I find myself thinking maybe going to a pumpkin patch with Cora would be fun.”

“You came up here to start a new chapter in your life. So it’s not that strange really that you’re attracted to someone who is also a new sort of chapter. And you know her, which alleviates all that suspicion that she might want something from you. Her mom is famous in the music and art communities. She gets the celebrity thing.”

They shared a look, both of them having experienced people trying to use them for something. To get an endorsement, investment in this or that business, wanting to be on TV as a date at some big event. Ian had a divorce under his belt because of it.

As a result, Beau had a policy about not getting involved with anyone in his social group because if it was going to go wrong he could walk away unscathed and still protecting the strength of his private life. His closest friends were family. They’d seen him through some pretty dark times and no one was worth threatening that.

“I totally think the fact that she’s familiar with the weirdness of our world is a big part of why I’m so comfortable around her. She doesn’t want me for anything but my dick and maybe my cooking. I’m good with that.”

At least while he tried to figure out just what it was about her that fascinated him so much. She was unexpected, but not an engine of chaos. Another thing he found interesting.

Ian shrugged. “Okay then. Yes, I have some mud boots you can use. I wear them when we go digging for clams and when I head out to the fields of any of the produce farms that supply my restaurants. They’ll do.”

“Thanks.”

“Bring her around one of these nights to meet us all.”

Cora and a bunch of foulmouthed chefs drinking and eating at one in the morning? Yeah, he could see her fitting in just fine.

* * *

JUST TWO DAYS later and the sky was blue-gray, the clouds dark with the rain threatening to fall on them any minute, and yet Cora nearly shone with her excitement when he showed up at her place Friday morning.

“Hi!” she told him with a huge grin, right before she launched herself into his arms for a hug.

Delight warmed him. No one greeted him like this, with such raw happiness.

She seemed to exude it. Give it off in waves. The more he experienced it, the more he craved it.

“Hi yourself.” He squeezed her, smiling into her hair a moment before releasing her. “Do you treat everyone like this when you see them or am I just that lucky?”

“You’re just that lucky. You could be again, later on if you’re extra sweet to me today. Are you ready to go?”

“Hell yes. Let me put this inside before we go though.” He held up a basket of food he’d put down to hug her.

“Oooh! What did you bring me?” Her eyes lit with interest.

“Supplies for a meal after we bring home all the pumpkins.”

“You’re going to feed me too?” She clapped her hands without a bit of sarcasm.

“It’s the least I can do. Think of it as payment for introducing me to something new.” And cooking for people was his way of taking care of them. Showing his love or concern, whatever.

“The least you could do would be fast food. Or a bag of chips or something. A talented chef cooking for me is really nice. Thank you.”

He made quick work of unloading the food, putting things away and before too long, they were headed south in a landscaper’s truck she’d borrowed, on their way to a pumpkin patch.

“How was the rest of your first week back home in Seattle?” he asked.

“I’ve been at the gallery a lot.”

When an asshole cut her off, she smiled, sunny and sweet, enough to disarm the guy, and then she flipped him off before heading her own way.

“So, road rage with a little pizzazz?” he teased of her middle finger salute.

“Well, I’m a work in progress.”

He snickered. “I can dig that. Tell me about the event we’re going to tonight.” He just slid that in there, his assumption they’d be attending together.

She gave him some world-class side-eye though, which had him leaning back with a satisfied smile on his face. In some nearly perverse way, he absolutely got off on the idea that she would be a person who didn’t let him get away with things like pretending they already had a date without doing the work of asking.

“Would you like to come to the gallery tonight?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “Gregori will most likely be there with Wren. A few of the artists showing are friends of hers.”

“I should offer you an out here. Some sort of self-deprecating bit about how you don’t really have to ask me to go tonight. But I won’t. I want to be there. And not because I’m in the market for art.”

“You should always be in the market for art.” She said it like a mantra.

“Clearly I have a lot to learn.”

“Hmm,” was all she said for a moment. “Seems to me you know a lot of useful things. So you’re welcome to make me food, make me come and eat appetizers while looking at evocative artwork. But that’s a lot of Cora in one day. Just an advance warning.”

It would have been a lot of anyone in a day. Aside from a few very close friends, there wasn’t anyone he liked to spend a lot of one-on-one time with.

But he’d already accepted she was different than most other people. His reaction to her most definitely was unusual.

“I like a lot of Cora in my day. Come to think of it, why aren’t you at the gallery now? You strike me as the type who likes to manage closely to be sure things are perfect.”

“That’s the coolest way to be called a control freak ever.” She laughed. “I was there most of yesterday and into the night, and then back first thing this morning. And now it’ll marinate until later. If I hang out too much I start to pick my work apart, second-guess and redo stuff. Then everyone hates me and I do three times the work because, in the end, I go back to how I originally had it.”

She pulled into a patch of dirt that’d been transformed into a lot where people parked their cars to head out into the wide fields of pumpkins just beyond. “This is still early days for this patch. In two weeks or so, there’ll be ruts deep enough to make your teeth hurt when you drive over them.”

“It’s weird how cheerful this makes you.”

“I like knowing I made a good choice when I’m lucky enough to make one. You come early and you get the best pumpkins and avoid the worst of the crowds and traffic. This lot is the one we went to when I was a kid. Family owned. It always smells like mulling spices and kettle corn.”

And on that word salad, she hopped out of the truck, turning back to grab her camera. “It’s a little muddy, but not too bad. You don’t have to wear the boots if you don’t want to.”

* * *

BEING OUT THERE with the brilliant orange of pumpkins against the pale gold of the straw and hay bales all around, Cora let herself fully live in that precise moment. Happiness at being back home. Comfort in the familiar signs leading to the corn maze. The same goofy cutouts she and her siblings had stuck their faces in for the pictures their father had on his desk to that day. Butterflies and giddy delight in the birth of something new and delicious between her and Beau.

“So what’s the process then? Do we just pick one?” He looked dubiously at the big, flat-bottomed wagon she grabbed.

“They’re sold by the pound, so at the end we’ll come back and put them on those big scales over there.” She pointed. “As for one? Pah! I’m no amateur, Beau. I’ll get as many as it pleases me. I have a nice-sized porch so naturally I’ll need several for that. And whatever else that strikes my fancy. And my fancy is easily struck.”

He just shook his head as he looked out over the wide fields beyond, full of pumpkins ready for the grabbing before he took the handle of the wagon. “I’ll pull. Point me the way.”

It was early enough on a weekday that the patch wasn’t crowded at all, which didn’t stop a few people from nearly falling over themselves as they stared at Beau. It wasn’t even that they recognized him—at least not at first—but purely the fact that he was so beautiful.

Because he tried to ignore it, she did, as well. And it wasn’t like she didn’t totally understand everyone who gawked at him. She felt like gawking at him too.

“Is that weird for you?” Cora asked him as she began to think about just exactly what she wanted her porch to look like.

“Is what weird?”

“Being so handsome you literally make people halt in their tracks to stare at you.”

His surprised laughter rang out and made her smile in response.

Seeing the pumpkins for herself, she began to build a theme. She headed toward a group of tall, narrow ones. “Look at these bumps all over. I love that. Then I need squat ones. So they can group together.”

He bumped her aside with a hip and loaded the ones she pointed out onto the wagon. “Getting recognized is nice usually. People are respectful. But sometimes it’s invasive, offensive, scary even.”

“Oh, you mean like stalkers? Or people who don’t like the, uh, group you grew up in?” From everything she understood it was a cult. But it wasn’t relevant what she thought on that point. Not right then.

“Both.” He shrugged. “The people who were either part of my former church or who were wronged or hate groups like Road to Glory pop up less than they used to. New outrages I guess. New self-appointed prophets all too eager to drain people dry and ruin lives.”

“I’m sorry,” she said simply.

“I got away. Mostly. As far as being a celebrity and getting recognized, that’s complicated. It’s nice that people care. That’s why they watch my shows and buy my books. I like that. But some people have messed-up filters. Or they forget I’m a real person.” He turned to face her. “And sometimes it encroaches on my personal time. I want to be all about you right now, so I would be aggravated. Which is why I generally avoid eye contact if I get that buzz that they might think of intruding.”

Damn. “You make my stomach all floaty.”

He smirked. “Is that good?”

Cora nodded.

“All right then. What’s next?” He indicated the area all around them.

Cora considered following up but he clearly wanted to change the subject so she let him. She went to her toes, kissed him quickly and pointed. “Let’s head that way. I see some fat ones. I need fat ones.” Cora danced away, taking in deep gulps of the fresh air, happy with her life and the sight of one pumpkin with super deep grooves on it that she decided she had to have.

Each time she would pause to really examine a pumpkin, and then later the gourds, he patiently waited for her to do whatever she pleased. He never glanced at his phone. Never looked bored. In fact, he began to point out his own pumpkins, even grabbing a few he said he wanted to put in the windows of the apartment he was staying at.

He never complained about the weather, even after a light rain began to fall, or how heavy the wagon got once it was laden down with pumpkins. He didn’t bat an eye at how many she ended up buying and unloaded them all at her side, making her smile the whole time.

“So, what did you think of going to the pumpkin patch?” she asked as they headed back toward Seattle. She held a big bag of kettle corn out for him to grab a handful.

“I liked it. Food, a pretty girl and a huge bag of fresh vegetables to go with a thousand pumpkins make for a pretty enjoyable outing. Thanks for bringing me along.”

“Probably less than a thousand. I’m all about new experiences,” she teased, undeniably pleased that he’d apparently enjoyed their day. “Next up is decoration. I pulled the Halloween boxes out of my crawl space and I’ve got a general idea and some notes.”

“Notes? Crawl space? I feel like such a newbie to the Halloween decoration game.”

“Remember I just told you about how I was all about new experiences? Anyway, you’ll be there making me food, which is like, way more important than stringing lights and helping me create the super spider lair.”

“Super spider lair, huh? Okay, I’m game. I’ll make tacos while you get to super lair creating.”

“Tacos? This day keeps getting better.”

They listened to music all the way back up north to her place, where he then helped her carry all those pumpkins to her porch.

“I’m on call for you if you need anything heavy moved or whatever. Just yell, okay?” he told her.

“Thanks,” she said before he gave her a kiss and allowed her to watch him walk back into her house looking all hot and tasty.

Once he’d gone, she began to set her porch to dark, spooky fun with spiders tucked all around. Some with glowing red eyes. A few with realistic-looking bristles on all eight legs. And at the end, she installed the ones on motion-detected triggers that would have them dropping from the ceiling or jumping across a trick-or-treater’s path.

After that she strung all the lights and draped the fake spiderweb, giggling to herself as she thought about all the scary fun she was creating.

All while she peeked through her front window and watched him in her kitchen. He moved like magic. All to his own rhythm. He cooked like he was totally, utterly sure of himself.

Sexy as fuck.

And he wanted to spend time with her.

If he’d been smooth about it, or calculated, she could have just let it be a fun fling. But he wanted to go to a gallery event. Not to buy art. Not to meet artists. He didn’t need her for that. No, it was about her.

No one could have ever described to her just what it would feel like to have someone focus on her like that. Put all their attention, attraction and ability into her. It was by turns flattering, confusing and thrilling.

He looked up from where he’d been sautéing something at the stove and met her gaze. A startled smile broke over his mouth and holy shit he was just stupid gorgeous.

All points south of her eyes stood at attention.

She smirked at him, letting him see that she was done with the spider lair and was coming inside.

“Damn, you make me sassy,” she said once she’d put away her tools and the boxes were back in the crawl space.

He leaned back, resting his butt on the counter behind him, crossing those fine legs as he looked her up and down. “That so? And how do I make you sassy? Seems to me, you were sassy when I got here.”

Laughing, she swaggered over, pausing just a foot away. “That’s a fair point. You make me sassier. The way you look at me sometimes just revs me up. Makes me feel all sexy and goddess-like and stuff.”

“You are sexy.” He all but growled it.

She let out a shuddering breath.

“Food and then.” He lifted one shoulder and sent her a smoldering leer.

If he weren’t a chef who’d just spent all that time and effort cooking for her, she’d have jumped on him right then.

“Oh, you mean after we carve the pumpkins?” she teased.

He grabbed her, yanking her to him. “The idea of you with a knife is alarmingly arousing.”

Cora would have laughed, but he bent to kiss her before she could, stealing her breath for a moment.

By the time she managed to gather her wits, he’d broken away, again wearing that sexy smile of his.

“Lunch is ready, my spider queen.”

“I’ll set the table,” she told him after clearing her throat.

CHAPTER SEVEN

In my kingdom I will rule

as the ocean foams at my feet

and the birds do my bidding.

“OH MY GOD. How did you manage to make this taste so good?”

Cora hoped she didn’t sound like she was having an orgasm while eating a shrimp taco, but she sort of was. “At first I thought it was the crema. Because the lime and avocado are so perfect together. But now I’m leaning toward the cabbage slaw type thing on top. The sweet hot tang of it is my favorite thing right at this moment.”

“You’re irresistible when you love my food. And you haven’t even had the pork yet.”

The pork had mangos and red onions and had her seriously considering licking the plate at the end. The most unexpectedly delicious was the veggie taco with roasted eggplant and mushrooms with a tomatillo salsa.

She pushed back from the table with a happy sigh. “It’s not even one in the afternoon and I’ve had a great day.”

“When do you need to be at the gallery?” he murmured, taking her plate so he could get closer.

“Are you going to make my day even better?” Cora asked, turning so they were nose to nose.

“Oh yes. Yes I am. I just need a timeline so I can plan accordingly.”

“I really like the sound of that. I need to get down there by three. It’s a ten-minute walk from here so we’ve got some time. We can always carve pumpkins another day.”

“I like your priorities,” he told her, pulling her to her feet.

Three steps toward her room and she found herself pressed against the wall, the full length and hardness of him weighted, holding her in place.

Desire had been simmering in her belly but now, as he licked over her earlobe, and then nibbled down her neck, it burned inferno hot.

She hung on as he continued to feast on her throat, as his hands rucked up her sweater, spreading more heat against her belly where he brushed his fingertips.

Why was she wearing pants? From now on, she needed to wear skirts when she was going to be alone with him. For easy access.

She nearly laughed but that was before he pulled the sweater up and off, leaving her there in her bra, the cool surface of the wall a counter to the heat of him.

All she wanted was him. On her. In her. All around her. That sort of focus was something she only usually had for art. But this? He filled her with so much naked greed it surprised her.

She struggled momentarily with his button and zipper, but then, with a groan, she grabbed his cock. In both hands.

He snarled, spinning them a few times until they burst through the half-open door of her bedroom, nearly taking them both to the floor as she tripped over several pairs of shoes she’d left out.

Laughing, he heaved her up and then onto her bed. She managed to pull her jeans and panties off as he got his jeans and shirt off.

She paused, hands at the hooks of her bra as she took him in. His eyes were glazed slightly, drunk on hormones and sex. His upper body was so much better than any of the pictures she’d seen in magazines or on television.

She hadn’t been able to get a good look when they’d been together a few days prior; it had been rushed and they’d still been totally clothed. But he stood in her room, stealing the oxygen, pumping out fuck-me heat like a furnace.

And that was before she’d really gotten a look at the line-and-dot elephant head across his upper chest. Later... Later she’d ask about all his ink, including the numbers and letters on his left side and the jellyfish on his thigh.

After.

For that moment, however, she tossed her bra to the side after surging to her knees. He didn’t need her to hold a hand out, instead, he looked her up and down with a light in his gaze and then moved, taking her to the mattress, his body against hers, skin to skin, hot.

She hissed, writhing against him as sensation rushed through her system.

* * *

SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL.

Beau looked at her on her knees, tits still jiggling just a little from her movement.

Curves for miles.

Not wanting to wait another second, he joined her on the bed, pulling her underneath him. Before he could kiss her again, she wrapped her legs around him, opening herself up to him so his cock brushed against the scalding heat of her pussy.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbled, sliding his hands over all the skin he could reach.

“Thank you for that,” she replied.

He wanted to laugh and groan and snarl for more.

So he bent to kiss her and let himself fall.

Nothing tasted the way she did. Sweet and tart and totally Cora.

She dug her nails into his shoulders, trying to hold him in place, but there was more of her he wanted to kiss. More of her he wanted to explore.

Always more and never enough it seemed.

He tasted the salt of her skin as he licked over the blade of her collarbone. Drew in the sweetness of her sigh and the shiver that followed.

Kissed her over and over all the way down her body, over her ink, including a lovely bit of lace and gems just underneath her very fine breasts.

After looking his fill, he licked over a nipple until she made a sound—breathy and needy—and then he blew until it stood hard and dark.

He hummed his delight. Wandered over to her other nipple, repeating the lick and blow, and was rewarded with her nails digging into his biceps and a snarled yes.

At the hollow of her hip, he inspected the firefly in full color inked there. She yelped into a fit of giggles when he nipped it.

She was ticklish as he rained kisses over the inside of her thighs.

The laughter stopped as he spread her open and looked his fill.

Yes. Utterly beautiful.

She arched her back on a gasp when he took his first lick. And let himself drown in her. In giving her pleasure and taking his own.

In his hands, she was fire. Lush and sensual. But at the same time there was an edge to her. A vibrant—and in places, dark—energy.

There, between satiny thighs she was slick and totally open to him. There she was more addictive than he’d imagined she could be.

Bone-deep craving seemed to slice through his senses, shredding his control.

The muscles of her thighs trembled as her breath caught. Close. He knew she was close and though he wanted to feast on her for a lot longer, he had to satisfy himself with knowing he’d have another chance, hopefully more than one, to get back to where he was exactly at that moment.

Making Cora Silvera come so hard she pounded the bed at her sides as she brokenly whispered his name.

He had to rest his cheek against her belly, gasping for air the same way she was doing. Not because he was physically tired, though he liked to think his oral skills took some energy. She seemed to yank his emotions free with the way she not only touched his skin, but reached inside him with her reactions. With nothing more than being who she was.

He’d been through a lot of traumatic crap in his life. A lot of highs too. He was generally easygoing with it all by that point. But the way he felt with her, around her, was just shy of overwhelming.

So seductively good he just didn’t have the energy—or the will—to make up reasons to resist.

Cora was an adventure he wanted to experience.

Her smirk when he lifted his head enough to look up her body sent an arc of lust straight to his cock, so he jumped up to dig through his pants to grab a condom before returning to her.

She grabbed the packet from between his teeth before he could bite down and tear it open. “That’s bad for your teeth,” she told him, ripping it by hand and giving it back.

He could flat-out guarantee that he’d never had a lover tell him to be careful of ruining his teeth. Perversely, that only made him harder. So hard that he had to zone out a bit as he got the condom rolled on his dick or else come all over his hand and end this—at least for twenty minutes—before it got started.

Still on her knees from when she’d grabbed the condom, she waited for him, lips slightly parted, pupils large. Her hair was tousled all around her face in a way that screamed, I just had an orgasm.

“On your belly,” he told her.

She rolled over and gave him a look. Inviting more as she thrust herself back toward him.

He swore under his breath as he took in the antique chandelier taking up the entirety of her back. An old-school design. Strong and feminine. Sexy as hell.

“I love this ink,” he said, leaning down to kiss her between her shoulder blades. Settling between her thighs, he pushed one leg up, keeping it bent at the knee.

The sight of his cock disappearing into her body as he slowly entered her short-circuited his brain. His hand at her hip, fingers digging into the muscle there slightly to set the pace he wanted.

Slow. Because he wanted to draw it out.

But that was difficult when she was so snug and hot around him. Still soft and slick from her orgasm, her inner walls stretched, and then tightened around him.

Deep. Even deeper once he’d tipped her hips just a bit. Knew he’d gotten it right when her moan got raspy at the end.

He fucked her with hard, deep digs. Concentrated on how it felt, on how her skin tasted, on the wall holding back his climax.

“Harder,” she said over her shoulder. “More. Please.”

Beau bent himself over her. “I want your hand on your pussy. On your clit.”

He knew she liked it by the way her inner muscles seemed to flutter around his cock. And the surprised moan as she slid her hand between her body and the mattress.

Knew she’d begun when she got even hotter and wetter. Even through the latex it was enough to bring the orgasm he’d been holding back roaring toward him as he stayed where he was, his body caging hers, thrusting deep and hard.

She whimpered into the blankets as she started to explode around him and that was it. He continued to fuck her as it sucked him in and held him under. He came so hard his thigh muscles burned and jumped.

* * *

“SWEET BABY JESUS eating jerky,” she mumbled, rolling over so she could watch him get out of bed to dispose of the condom. She just had some of the hottest sex of her life with a dude who looked like sex on legs.

“Wait. Did you just say sweet baby Jesus eating jerky?” he asked, a wary expression on his face.

“I did. I was just thinking about how you’re just so damned gorgeous and hot and it occurred to me what a delight that was.”

He snorted as he joined her in getting dressed, and then pulled her into a hug, taking a long, leisurely trip around her mouth and throat before letting her go at last.

Leaving her needing to lean against the wall a moment because she was weak in the knees.

“Glad to be of service,” he said. “I like the way you objectify me.”

“That’s a big relief because I gotta tell you, looking at you gets me all warm and tingly. And then you add the cooking and the sense of humor and the way you fuck and it’s just downright impossible not to objectify you.”

Smiling, he walked two steps back to where she leaned against the wall and caged her in with his body. Yum.

“I’m not the irresistible one here,” he murmured before bending his knees to kiss her slow. “I have dreams about your taste,” he said, stepping away from her.

How did one even process a man like Beau saying such things? It made her light-headed in the best way. Made her feel like a gorgeous queen and damn it was really fucking wonderful.

The start of something really fucking wonderful. She hoped, even as she knew it could be a quick thing, she had a very strong feeling it wouldn’t be. There was something compelling about not only Beau, but the energy they had as Beau and Cora.

She shouldn’t think on it overmuch at that point though. Let it be magic. Magic was lovely.

CHAPTER EIGHT

GALLERY SILVERA SAT on a corner, next to a wine bar and across from a café. It was the perfect sort of place to wander after enjoying a glass of wine or a cup of tea. There were several other galleries within a four-block radius, all having a different perspective and emphasis. It created a lovely, artsy atmosphere.

Cora’s town house was close enough that she usually walked during the warmest months. But more, she herself was part of the neighborhood she worked in. When she chose what went on the walls in the gallery, what could be seen through the big windows facing the street, Cora expanded her gallery outside. Connected with those other places, and through Seattle Center, they were part of something vibrant, pulsing with music and art and dance.

It’d been in the current location in the shadow of the Space Needle for thirty years. Most of them had been as a moderate success. Her father had originally bought it as a gift for his wife—and as Cora believed, a way to give Walda roots. To give her a sense of place to build a life and a family. Which she’d done, but in her own way because no one told her mother how to live.

Like any kid who grew up in a family that ran a business, she and her siblings had spent a lot of afternoons and weekends at the gallery. It had brought color and creativity into her life at a very early age. She’d learned her multiplication tables while tucked into a back corner. A young painter who now had an established, successful career had helped her with a book report. Their dining table had always been surrounded by artists, art lovers and all manner of exciting, interesting folk.

The gallery and the people who came through it were what she always thought of as another room of her childhood home.

She would get dressed and in makeup in her office once all the last touches were in place. For the time being she was in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and wore sneakers as she rearranged some of the bouquets and floral baskets while making sure all the descriptions and associated materials with each piece were free of errors.

The caterers and bar staff had arrived and were beginning to get set up when she finished up all she could do for the event.

Maybe knocked on the door of Cora’s office not thirty seconds after she’d gotten her clothes and accessories for the night laid out. “I brought you a coffee,” Maybe told her, kissing her cheek as she handed the travel mug over.

Her friend was not only a fantastic hairdresser and barber, she also did makeup for her friends on special occasions. Maybe had shown up with her case, ready to work.

“You’re my favorite,” Cora said as she got into the chair.

“Naturally. You can tell me about the pumpkin patch and the sex you had afterward while I’m doing your hair.”

“How the hell do you know we had sex?” Cora looked at herself in the mirror, carefully making sure she hadn’t missed a love bite or something embarrassing.

“You have the glow. Your hair is looking fantastic. It’s got sex volume. And you didn’t deny it immediately. Also, you seemed pretty hot for one another and so it was a natural assumption.”

Maybe began to do her magic on Cora’s hair while she sipped her coffee and sighed happily.

“He was cute at the pumpkin patch. He pulled the wagon without complaint. Then he made me three different kinds of tacos while I decorated. Then we had terrific sex. Like stick your finger in a light socket electric sex. And in the afterglow what do you think we did?”

“Ate more tacos?”

Cora sighed. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Hell, eating more tacos totally would have been a wise choice. But no, after he fucked me silly, he helped me with some of my pumpkins. We even carved some before I had to leave to get here. Oh, and he’s coming tonight.”

Cora kept her eyes closed as Maybe worked. Pinning, curling and spraying her hair before moving on to makeup. At some point, Rachel arrived and Cora recounted the same story, catching her up.

“He’ll be more comfortable because he knows everyone already except for Beto and Finley.” It was less pressure that way. If, for whatever reason, he hit his limit on Cora time, or their chemistry cooled or soured, there’d be other people around to make it easier to avoid one another.

“Finley is curious about him. She’s done some internet sleuthing so be ready for all her questions about his, um, more colorful days,” Rachel said of Cora’s sister.

“She runs a tattoo shop. She’s around colorful people all day long. Hell, she is one.”

“Don’t get defensive. She loves you and you’re the baby,” Rachel reminded her.

She didn’t want that feeling lodged in her gut just then. Resentment and maybe a little bitterness. She adored Finley, who’d always been there for her. But if she was so concerned, why not help with their mom?

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s charming. And it’s not like I’m harvesting his organs for dinner or anything. We’re just having fun,” Cora said.

“Hold your breath I’m getting ready to set your hair with spray,” Maybe told Cora.

They helped her get into the dress without smearing makeup, mussing hair or getting deodorant on anything. A bonus was the way the high neck and illusion panel on the front accentuated her boobs without having them in danger of falling out of anything.

It was a grown-up, sexy dress and she couldn’t deny she chose it with Beau in mind.

“Dayum, baby. You lookin’ good,” Maybe said as she circled Cora slowly.

The three friends laughed as they headed out to the main gallery floor where the candles were lit, the wine had been decanted and music played in the background.

It smelled like cinnamon and oranges so she knew her brother was around somewhere, a mug of Market Spice tea in his hand. She followed her nose and found him setting that cup of tea down so he could open the doors for their parents as they approached the gallery.

Before she could head to them, Finley stepped into her path. Her sister wore an amazing jumpsuit that would have looked awful on most other people. Her forearms and chest were mainly bare, all her ink on display. Her dark brown hair was pulled away from her face into a loose knot at the base of her neck.

Finley was unique. She had an edge, but she put makeup on it, winged its eyeliner and used her tattoos like jewelry. Her sister was a badass. Gorgeous. Fierce and deeply thoughtful. Her artistic nature was the closest to control freak of the sisters.

She loved hard, including her family. They weren’t perfect. The Silveras could be total assholes to one another. But their connection was bone deep. Their commitment and loyalty to the family was something Cora never doubted.

“So. Where’s the dude?” Finley looked around before settling back on Cora. “Oh, and you look particularly dishy tonight.”

“I clean up okay,” Cora told her. “Digging that jumpsuit. We need to go shopping soon. As for Beau, I told him not to show up until after eight. I think he’s going to check in with Gregori and Wren since they’ll be here tonight too.”

When Cora took a look around the space, she noticed immediately that her mother had begun to move things around, and at first, Cora stood, furiously stock-still. Walda had nothing to do with the gallery events by that point and hadn’t for several years. She knew nothing about what hung on the walls. But that didn’t stop her from coming in and fucking shit up because why not? Her mom always wanted her way.

Clearly, it was obvious to her friends because Rachel sighed, getting Cora’s attention back. “You’re going to pop a vein,” Rachel said, pushing her toward Walda. “This is your gallery. Your event. You’d never let anyone else do this. I’m not saying you should punch her in the face,” she snorted. “Just be in charge. You got this.”

Finley sighed before linking her arm through Cora’s. “She’s right. If you don’t stop Mom now, she’ll only get worse. You know how she is.”

Maybe cocked her head, saying nothing but lending her support with a smile.

“You stay here,” Cora told her sister. For a long time Finley had worked really hard to get their mother’s attention and affection. She’d been the bridge between the older two kids and Cora and Beto. Their oldest sister’s lieutenant when their mom was focused elsewhere. Cora had watched over and over as their mother took things for granted or her attention wandered. She did say thank you from time to time, but that need for approval had never been filled completely.

The energy between Finley and their mother was often tense because their mom either just didn’t get it, or overreacted to something, launching a passive-aggressive period that blew up into an argument.

And then Cora would have to fix it.

She took a gulp of coffee before handing it off to Maybe, straightened her spine and headed over.

“Hey, you two,” she said as she approached her parents.

Her father kissed her cheek. “Ta bom?” he asked in Portuguese. Are you okay? Are you well? Is everything all right?

The words, his tone, always centered Cora. It was his way of checking in. Something he’d done their whole life.

She smiled in response to his question and began to undo all the stuff her mother had done when Walda was paying attention to something else.

Until she noticed Cora and turned, pointing an accusing finger her youngest daughter’s way. “What are you doing? I just did that.”

“I’m putting it back the way I had it. Better flow, if anyone is wearing long sleeves they won’t drag through the candles and start a fire. The breeze from the doors opening and closing will also be far enough away that they won’t constantly blow out.”

“You don’t need candles.” Walda turned back to undo what Cora had done.

She very nearly gave in and just let her mom have that moment. It wasn’t that big a deal in the larger scheme of things. But she remembered it wasn’t just about a candle right at that moment, but about how she wanted her future to look. She needed to stand up for herself.

“I like them there. So I don’t need them, I want them.” Cora attempted to sound matter-of-fact as she got between Walda and the candles, putting them back to rights.

Her mother narrowed her eyes at her, not very used to being told no. Cora just smiled and gave her mother a hug, leading her, along with her father, toward where the others still waited, pretending they hadn’t watched the whole thing.

“You look nice tonight,” Cora told her. “I didn’t know you were coming. It’s a happy surprise.”

And it would give a bit more attention to the artists whose work was being sold, which was a very positive thing.

Walda meant well. Usually. Cora just had to remember that while she continued to work on ways to find her own place in the next phase of her life.

Even so, Cora’s heart still beat fast in the wake of pushing back against her mother’s interference. It was ridiculous for her to be so anxious about it. She wasn’t weak in other areas of her life.

For a long time, people thought they could tell Walda no and she’d hear it. But her mother wasn’t there for hearing things she didn’t like.

Cora could steer her mother, which is what she did to manage her. To keep her out of trouble. But now, she had to tell her mother no, not as an employee, but as a daughter. A younger woman. And one, Cora saw in Walda’s gaze, who was a potential rival.

Cora now had to step away from her role as Walda-keeper and, as she’d been reminded by several people in the last week alone, into the gallery full-time. She knew more about this gallery from an artistic perspective than anyone other than her father. The time had come. She felt it to her toes.

Both women, mother and daughter, were undergoing a huge change. Cora wanted to deepen her roots professionally and socially.

Beto approached with his suave-ass smile that charmed oh so many men. He handed Cora a glass. “Vodka and soda with extra lime. Drink up, sweetheart.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You did well with her,” he murmured.

That made Cora feel better. “I’m trying. Thanks for the drink.” Cora held it up in salute before she took a healthy gulp.

“The place looks fantastic. You did a great job with everything. Even though most of it was over the phone or internet when you were gone, you still handled it. I do notice. So does Pai.”

One of her goals was to be sure her father had faith in her leadership of the gallery. She’d needed to hear it.

Beto tipped his chin to where their parents stood with Maybe and Rachel, who’d been keeping Walda busy so she couldn’t get back to messing with things. “Those Dolan girls are good friends.”

“They really are. Okay. I need to get circulating. Be nice to Beau when he arrives.”

Her brother’s eyes widened slightly. “Can’t wait. Not going to lie, Finley and I looked him up on the internet and saw all his modeling shots. He’s not hard to look at.”

Cora nodded. “Not at all. Naked, he’s like one of those magical things you’re not supposed to look at directly or you get ensorcelled.”

Beto laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We haven’t had much time to check in since you’ve been back. I can see you have a lot to say.”

“I’ve been mulling. I think I might be ready to share. Let’s all have brunch soon. I want to talk to Finley about it too.”

He nodded and she headed off to do her thing, mask firmly in place.

* * *

THOUGH HE’D PLANNED to play it far more cool and make his way to wherever Cora was in a casual, nonchalant cruise, Beau saw her the moment they walked into the gallery and there was nothing but his desire to get to her.

A dress of midnight blue skimmed from midthigh up over her body in a caress that displayed the curves beneath. The neck was high and it had no sleeves. The combination worked, hinting and showing off equally well.

With her hair pulled back he saw the lines of her face better, noted even in the lower lights the darker lip and the dramatic eyes. He liked it when she was in jeans and T-shirts, but this dressed-up version was hot.

When he drew close, he listened to her speak about the artist of a series of pen-and-ink drawings she stood in front of.

This wasn’t just the boss’s daughter. Cora clearly loved what she was doing, but also had a sound foundation on which to speak about art. She was intelligent and quick-witted. Intuitive.

She was far more complicated than he’d given her credit for at first glance. Every time he saw her, he learned something new. Something more.

After the people she’d been speaking to moved on, she looked up and their gazes locked with a sensual punch.

He cupped her elbow as he leaned down to kiss her. He’d been intending on a cheek kiss but ended up with a brush of his mouth against hers.

“Good evening,” he said, stepping back but not very far. “You look fantastic.”

Her smile seemed to light her from within. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Do you have time to give me a tour?” Beau indicated the gallery’s contents with a wave of his hand.

“Of course.”

She led him through the gallery, pausing here and there to show him something or answer his questions.

All the while, her friends and her mother all watched them with undisguised curiosity.

“You’re aware your friends and I assume more of your family are clearly waiting for you to introduce me to them,” he asked her when she paused in front of a hyperrealistic painting of a scarlet leaf swirling toward a drain.

“Finley’s been playing internet sleuth. She and my brother have been looking at your modeling shots online. They’ve all seen your butt and tasteful shots of your dick.”

He nearly choked on his spit at that but she was amused so he could relax a little. His life had included a period of time when people took pictures of him to sell their products. Clothes, shoes, fragrance, lifestyle based products, he’d done them all. And there were pictures to prove it.

“If it helps, they both think you looked hot in the pictures,” she told him, a smile on her face. Damn. He wanted to kiss her again and then once more.

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.”

“You remember that my mother is a kook, right? I mean, look—” Cora lowered her voice “—she might bring up the, uh, way you grew up. I mean, I’m sure my father coached her not to, but, she does what she wants. So. I apologize in advance.”

Adorable. Good god. This woman was beyond adorable.

“I’ll be fine. Whenever you’re ready.” But it looked as if one of them was going to bolt and come over to them if they didn’t get a move on.

She stood taller and gave him a look. “All right then. You were warned.”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You made up for any potential issues with your family earlier this afternoon if I recall.”

Her blush charmed him.

“We’ll see what you think after you meet them.”

“I’ve met your mother,” he said.

She snorted. “Dude. You met W. Silvera. Another famous person who lived in the same complex. That woman over there? That’s Walda, my mom and also the queen of this space.” Her tone held a bit of bitterness and it tugged at him. “She’s the gatekeeper, or so she thinks. It’s different.”

Cora smiled at some people who passed by before turning back to him. He could see that bitterness had been swept aside.

She was also correct that this time, coming into contact with her parents and siblings was different. Which he’d been in denial about until that moment and now a little anxiety churned in his belly.

Regardless, he understood Cora enough to know her family was important, and if he meant to be around her, he’d have to accept it. And have them accept him.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

With a smile, she took his hand and they walked over to where the Silveras stood, not even pretending they hadn’t been watching him with Cora the whole time he’d been there.

“Everyone, this is Beau Petty. Beau, you already know my mom and some of the others, but this is my father, John.”

Her dad gave Beau a once-over before giving him a firm handshake. Walda gave him a far more imperious look before she held her hand out.

“It’s nice to see you again. You’ve aged well. Why are you in Seattle?” Walda continued her regal look like that was how everyone met new people.

“I’m Finley.” A tall, dark-haired woman who shared the same eyes as her little sister stepped forward, interrupting her mother’s question.

“Nice to meet you. And you’re Alberto?” Beau asked, turning to her brother.

“Yes.” His handshake was firm, his look assessing but not hostile. “Call me Beto—everyone else does.”

“You were going to tell us why you were in Seattle,” Walda repeated.

“I’m in Seattle for work. I’m writing a cookbook, creating my new show around it. And for personal reasons. I have several close friends in Seattle. I find it easy to relax here. There’s a great food culture.” Beau gave Cora a look. “And now I’ve got even more reasons to stick around.”

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