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Authors: Lori Copeland

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BOOK: Fudgeballs And Other Sweets
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He pulled her into his arms and held her close as she sobbed. Long minutes passed while she allowed her grief to show. He wanted to tell her how glad he was she had come to him to share this moment, to find solace with him. It made him feel good to know she'd come to him first.
When the tears subsided, he led her into the small den at the back of the house.
Jenny sighed, drained of emotion. He thoughtfully poured her a glass of wine and allowed her a few moments to compose herself. She should be embarrassed for bawling like a baby, but he seemed to understand. He left the cozy den to get something from his bedroom, and she wondered what was taking him so long.
She glanced at the staircase and wiped her nose when he appeared at the top, making his way toward her. He had something in his hand, something too small to see. A shiver ran down her spine when he sat next to her on the couch, his leg touching hers.
He picked up her hand and laid a small, black velvet box in her palm. “For you.”
Her stomach turned to warm mush. Why did she feel as though this was prom night and he was the first date of her life? Because he excited her in a way no man ever had, and she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to conceal her feelings from him, especially when she was hurting like this.
“Open it.”
The twinkle in his eyes reminded her of a little boy on Christmas morning. She smiled and opened the box. Her breath caught when she saw the diamond heart necklace sparkle against the dark background. “It's beautiful, but...”
“No buts, just promise me you'll wear it.”
“Why, Dave? It's far too expensive a gift for...”
He took the box from her, removed the necklace, eased it around her neck and hooked it in back. “I like to see a beautiful woman wear diamonds, especially a woman who deserves them.”
“Deserves them?” Before she could protest, his mouth covered hers and his arms drew her close. His hands roamed her back in small circles, every movement soothing and erotic. He deepened the kiss and tightened the embrace, and she knew she was lost. She could no longer deny she needed him, wanted him.
Ever so slowly, he ended the kiss. The look in his eyes said he understood her uncertainty but didn't share it.
He gently stroked her hair. “Do I scare you?”
“Scared isn't exactly what I'm feeling.” She smiled, aware her voice was unsteady. She hadn't been this nervous since she wore her first strapless gown. He didn't frighten her, but what she was feeling toward him alarmed her. Love was a scary word, one she didn't dare utter.
“I'd never do anything to hurt you.” He kissed her cheek, then the tip of her nose. “Do you believe me?”
“I don't know what I believe.” She gently traced his hairline with the tips of her fingers. “If I'm afraid, it's because I question our judgment right now. Are we lovesick fools about to make the mistake of our lives?”
Dave laughed. “I wouldn't call us fools.”
Her fingertips stilled over his lips. “Is it possible then that our perspectives are clouded by hurt and anger?”
“It's possible, but it's also possible that I find you desirable, Jenny, and I hope you feel the same about me.” His hand slipped to her shoulder and pushed fabric aside to reveal bare skin. “If you're not ready for this, say the word and I'll stop.”
“Dave, I can't promise...”
“I'm not asking for promises. I want you, Jenny, because of who you are and how you make me feel.”
She closed her eyes to stop tears that threatened to start again. She wasn't sure what to make of his words, but she was sure of what she wanted from him.
He smoothed her hair from her face, then gently kissed her forehead. As she opened her mouth to speak she found his lips lowering to hers again. This time it was as if he was asking permission to love her, permission she granted with all her heart. She was tired of being alone, facing life by herself. He gave her a reason to go on, a will to succeed and overcome, a light in the face of darkness.
His lips tasted and invited as he stood up, pulling her with him. He lifted her into his arms and carried her up the long stairway. Propriety said stop, but her heart said hold on to him for as long as possible.
He kicked the door to his room open, carried her in and laid her on a soft mattress surrounded by an antique four-poster bed with a delicate lilac comforter and pillows.
He smiled apologetically. “This isn't my taste—it's my aunt's house.”
“It's lovely.”
“No, you're lovely.”
With gentle finesse, he removed her T-shirt, then her bra. Her heart beat so fast she was afraid he'd hear it. As he lowered his head and his mouth closed over her breast, she had misgivings. She wanted him, every fiber in her body screamed for him, but was it right? Tomorrow, would she fervently wish she'd left before it was too late? She'd never been one for one-night stands. It was just emotions driving her, making her lose all control. They were both grieving for Dory. At this moment she needed what only he could give her.
Lowering his head, he deepened the kiss to a hungry urgency. The kiss wasn't the action of a man hellbent on having his way. It was the action of a man who wanted her, a saddened man who couldn't bear to spend another night alone. Her hands found the bottom of his Polo shirt, and she pulled it free from his pants, forcing him to stop his delicious assault while she eased the fabric over his head. Her hands roamed the bare expanse of his back and shoulders, and she felt his muscles tighten beneath her fingers.
He lifted his head to meet her eyes, silently questioning her, but she had no answers. Not tonight, certainly not in the morning.
“Are you sure?” He watched her nod. “One more kiss and you'll have no choice.”
“I've made my choice,” she whispered.
His hands slipped to her waist, unbuttoned her shorts, then inched them down her legs until they fell to the floor.
She shivered when his eyes devoured her. “Disappointed?”
“Not at all.”
There was an unmistakable tingle in her abdomen as she reached for his belt. It wasn't the first time she'd been with a man, but her body was responding as if it was.
She heard a low groan deep in his throat as she freed him of his clothes. The desire in his eyes told her all she needed to know for now. He kissed her again, his fingers toying with the lace band of her panties, slipping under, then along the edge. He was torturing her with deliberate, masterful touches, his hand exploring every inch of the lacy fabric, inside and out.
Her breathing quickened as his tongue delved with an expertise far beyond her experience. Part of her wanted him to hurry, yet a deeper, darker part of her wanted the night to last forever. But bodies betrayed them. It had been too long, far too long.
A soft moan escaped her when he entered her. Time stopped, and he filled her, mind and body, his energy pouring into her, causing tremors of delight. The erotic scent of his skin filled her senses, the taste and feel of his kiss on her lips.
No foolish pride, no separate goals, only the need to erase the hurt.
Words were unnecessary. Bodies melded, satisfying each other to the limits of human endurance, seeking only the immediacy one could give to the other.
 
AFTERWARD, Jenny lay replete in the darkness, trying to make sense of their lovemaking. She had never been as uninhibited or as needy. What must he think of her?
Rolling to his side, Dave lifted a strand of her hair and kissed her neck. “Let's take a bubble bath.”
“I don't know about that,” she murmured “You in bubbles?”
“Come on, it'll be fun. I haven't taken a bath with a beautiful woman in days.”
“This should persuade me? You're crazy.”
His eyes softened. “Crazy about you.”
He scooped her up in his arms, carried her into the bathroom and playfully deposited her in the Jacuzzi. The warm water sloshed over her, and bubbles rose around her throat, lulling her into an erotic stupor.
Suddenly, candles along the rim of the tub flickered to life, their aromatic scent permeating the small room. He slid in beside her, and bubbles floated through the air. Her breath caught when his hands found her breasts, then smoothed over her stomach and below. When he pulled her to him, her legs circled his waist, and she clung to him, passion igniting. His lips were warm against hers, and in the small, steamy room, she floated to worlds she never knew existed.
“I want to make love to you again, only slower this time.”
She moaned. “You must think—”
His mouth rested against hers. He whispered, “That you're terrific.” His face sobered. “Stay here with me, Jenny.”
She couldn't deny that she wanted to stay just as badly as he wanted her to.
Candlelight bathed the heated room. “And do what?” she parried.
“Oh, we'll think of something.”
His mouth found hers, and she savored his tenderness, inhaling the fresh scent of bubbles and the feel of his arms around her. Of course, she would stay. How could she refuse?
Drops of water trickled from his hair and tickled her face. She pushed him away, laughing. “This is the first time I have ever seen your hair wet! You look so...cute.”
Her giggle died to a smile. Was this really love she was feeling? Was it possible he was beginning to feel the same about her? She didn't dare ask, it was much too soon. They needed time to explore their new, erotic feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him away. No, she'd take it slow and easy, one step at a time.
He tugged a lock of her wet hair. “Cute. You think I'm cute. What else do you think I am?”
She thought he was the most wonderful, caring man she had ever known. “Just cute, Kite Man. Don't push your luck.”
“Kite Man, is it?” He pulled her into his arms and playfully dunked her under the water. When she emerged, spitting, he pinned her arms over her head and gave her a loud, smacking kiss.
“Ooh, that's bad—and not fair, either!”
His gaze adored her. “I'll show you fair.”
She forgot fairness, and all else but the glorious sensations he caused inside her. Tomorrow was soon enough to think about her actions. For now, she wasn't going to think at all.
8
“S
TOP LOOKING AT ME.” Princess got up and turned her backside to Jake.
He stared, head on paws, his eyes following the way her hips swayed as she strutted. “I'm still mad at you for landing me in the slammer.”
“I had
nothing
to do with your incarceration.” She sniffed and batted her eyes. “We have not talked since the incident. Was it horrible, monsieur?”
Jake snorted. “It weren't no picnic, honey.”
“Did they...hurt you?”
“Naw, still just a little sore around the collar.” Hell, he could stand anything they doled out—he'd only been in an hour.
She stared straight ahead. “Please, monsieur, stop looking at me.”
Yawning and smacking his chops, he shifted positions. “I'm just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Tryin' to figure out what goes through women's minds. You're either all over me or you won't let me look at you. What gives?”
She flipped her ears prettily, her tail wagging so fast it resembled a propeller. “Oh, you actually think? I thought all you did was dig.”
There it is again. The bone. Why doesn't she come right out and say it? Confront me! Hell, honey, confrontation is my middle name. Come on. Fight. Show me your stuff.
She stuck her nose in the air, ignoring his aggressive glare.
“Don't act so hoity-toity, sister. You may as well get used to me being around.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, Frenchie. My human and your human are gettin' pretty cozy. I tell ya, the way they looked at each other this morning, I got the impression that you and I may be eating out of the same dish soon.”
She tossed her head. “Never!”
Twist that little fanny all you want, sugar. Mark my words—we're gonna be roomies.
“Believe me, monsieur, my human is much too busy to have time for such nonsense.”
“Nonsense?”
“You know—romance.”
Jake rose, walked over and sniffed her. “Listen, Frenchie, where I come from, if you're too busy for romance, cover yourself with dirt, 'cause you're dead.”
Princess swatted him with her paw. “I would expect such foolishness from a lowly bouledogue.” She daintily settled herself on her cushion. “Personally, I don't think our humans even like each other. They're always spatting over the baby.”
Jake laid down opposite her. “Yeah, but the baby's gone now, heh, heh, heh.” He wiggled his brows suggestively. “Or as you say in France, ooh, la, la.”
“Ooh, la, garbage.” She jumped up and pounced on him, then walked to the end of her chain. “Take your dirty mind to your side of the tree.”
Jake raised himself to a sitting position when he heard the kite shop door open. He settled down, head on paws.
Like I said sugar, as sure as there's fleas, we're gone be roomies.
 
LEANING CLOSER to the mirror, Jenny rubbed the dark circles under her eyes. For a smart woman, she was acting like an imbecile. Mooning over a man with whom she should only be friends. She couldn't believe she'd fallen into bed with Dave Kasada. Did he think she was easy? Apparently. Every time she started to bring up that night, he changed the subject. He came around the store less now that Dory was gone, but she figured he was busy organizing his move. It was hard to put their relationship in perspective. She'd discovered the cliché that the earth moved was true, but Dave refused to discuss it. She couldn't understand her behavior. She didn't go to bed with every man she met Why Dave?
Why now?
She groaned.
Why me?
The telephone rang as she walked into the kitchen. “Hello?”
“Hi, it's Mark.”
“Hi, Mark. Everything okay with the financial report?” She'd finally faxed it late yesterday afternoon.
“It's a go. The committee met this morning, and you're approved for the loan.”
Jenny sank against the counter. She'd been hoping, but nothing had gone the way she'd planned lately.
“Sign the papers and the money is yours.”
“Fantastic. I'll have Mrs. Wilcox come in early Thursday so I can get away.” She hung up, relieved. Now all she had to do was contract the carpenters, knock out a wall and order the new counters.
A clap of thunder shook the house as she buttered a bagel and poured coffee into an insulated cup. Rain. All she needed. Lathering blackberry jam on the bagel, she wondered why Dave hadn't mentioned the date he'd be moving. Soon, she hoped, but she would miss not having him next door. She missed him not popping in to play with Dory.
Picking up a rattle of Dory's that had been left behind, she bit her lower lip. She hadn't heard a word from Rob and Teensy. Had they arrived in New York safely? It had been over three weeks. You would think they could drop a note and let her know everything was okay. Labor Day was right around the corner, and she still didn't have permanent help. Mrs. Wilcox was complaining she'd gained ten pounds and desperately needed to find another line of work.
“Come on, Princess, we're running late.” Jenny stuck the bagel in her mouth and scooped the dog up with her other arm. “Gee, girl. You putting on weight?”
MRS. WILCOX was just hanging up the phone when Jenny walked into the shop. She shook out her raincoat and hung it up to dry.
“There you are.”
“Hi, been busy?”
Mrs. Wilcox ripped a page off the order pad and handed it to Jenny as she breezed past on her way to the back room. “Not bad yet. I think the rain has kept it down. Oh, a large phone order just came in.”
“Oh?” Jenny's muffled voice came from the storeroom.
“The White House, no less. They want twenty-two dozen fudgeballs for a formal dinner at the end of the week.” Mrs. Wilcox wasn't able to hide the excitement in her voice as she smoothed her burgeoning hips. “God have mercy.”
“Twenty-two dozen?”
“Some ambassador's comin' to town. Didn't say who. A congressman named Nelson visited the island in June and fell in love with the candy. The White House wanted to know if we could fill the order on short notice, and I said yes. Hope you don't mind, but I knew you wouldn't want to lose the business.”
“I can't afford to lose it.” Jenny dropped a sack of sugar on the counter.
“I told them twenty-two dozen wouldn't be a problem. They want the candy tied in red, white and blue ribbons. We're instructed to overnight them.”
“We'll get right to work on it.”
Jenny's stomach rolled as she dumped sugar, corn syrup and cream into the copper vat. For a moment she felt light-headed. Moreover, the sight of the gooey mixture turned her stomach. Maybe she'd made one too many fudgeballs, or she was coming down with a bug. Her breath caught, and she suddenly felt faint. She frantically counted the days since her last period. Thirty-six—it couldn't be. She was still on the pill. There was no way she could... Impossible! One night, that was all!
Dave came into the store, empty coffee cup in hand. “I'm out of coffee again. I hope you have some.”
Jenny nodded toward the back room, avoiding eye contact. He'd been so scarce lately she was surprised to see him. Fate?
One crummy night!
She couldn't be pregnant. It was much too soon to suffer morning sickness. Her mind rebelled. She couldn't be. It was that two o'clock refrigerator raid this morning—cold lasagna—
Dave emerged from the back room stirring powdered creamer into his coffee. He came up behind her and he watched over her shoulder as she stirred candy. The scent of his after-shave heightened her queasiness. “You haven't said anything about the movers—you want me to call them?”
She glanced up. “You haven't
done
that?” He took a sip of coffee, his eyes grazing her lightly. She felt warm, then hot under his close scrutiny.
“No—I thought you'd take care of it.”
Geez
, her expression said.
Damn
, his implied.
He shrugged. “Well, one of us needs to do it. What's good? The first of the month?”
“Or sooner,” she agreed. The first was a week away. The sooner he was out, the sooner she could get the carpenters in there. She dumped a pound of butter into the vat. Should she tell him she was taking over his space or just do it and then tell him? He would be so busy with the move he wouldn't notice for awhile, then she would break it to him gently. Not that he'd care, but barging in on his former space seemed insensitive, as if she'd planned it—which she
had,
but she didn't want him to know. Mackinac City wasn't the end of the earth. Just because he wouldn't be next door didn't mean they wouldn't bump into each other. She fought the sudden urge to cry, knowing it wasn't going to be the same without him next door.
She made a conscious effort to steer her thoughts in another direction. “Heard any more from Megan?”
“Not a thing.” His response was curt and to the point. She got the hint.
Lifting a large tray, she said softly, “Well, the waiting's almost over. Labor Day's right around the corner.”
It was after lunch before she got around to calling the carpenters. When they asked for measurements, she realized she didn't have any. How was she going to measure without alerting Dave to her plans? What possible excuse could she use to measure his walls? Promising to call right back, she located a tape measure and ducked next door. Dave was on the phone when she walked in the kite shop. She glanced around the store, dismayed to see he hadn't packed a single box yet.
She waved to him, silently mouthing, “Got a pair of scissors?” A pretty lame excuse, but it should suffice.
He nodded, going on with his conversation as he reached into the drawer for the scissors.
While he was distracted, she measured from front to back, then sideways. Starting at the back of the counter, she carefully stepped off the feet, allowing for at least eight additional feet up front, near the large plate glass window. Customers liked to watch the candy being made, plus the chocolaty smells drew them to the shop like a magnet. The new counters would be near the back, so that would mean she'd need to knock out the east wall—maybe even two walls.
She snapped the tape closed and wrote down the figures.
Dave looked up, frowning.
She lifted her brows, grinning. “Got any glue?”
He rummaged around in the drawer as he automatically answered the person on the other end of the line.
She stepped to the far wall and studied it. The walls were painted white. A nice paisley paper would brighten up the space, or maybe one of those large floral prints that were so popular. Spreading both arms flat against the surface, she inched her way slowly down the length of the wall. It was a lot bigger than it looked. It would take ten to twelve double rolls, maybe thirteen.
She paused and wrote it down, then glanced up to see Dave staring at her.
Covering the receiver with his hand, he asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, don't let me bother you. I'll only be a minute. Do you know how many gallons of paint it took to paint the back wall?”
His frown deepened. “Aren't the walls in your shop the same size?”
“No.” She studied the partition. “I think these might be a little bigger.”
His eyes measured the area. “I don't know—couple gallons, I guess.”
“Thanks.” She wrote it down.
“Something wrong with the walls on your side? Do they need painting?”
“No, they're in pretty good shape.”
Scissors and glue in hand, she went out the door, still figuring on the notepad.
 
WHEN SHE GOT HOME that night, she threw open the front door of her cottage, headed straight to the bathroom and threw up. Fumbling for a wet cloth, she leaned weakly on the side of the stool, praying. “Please, please, please, let it be bad lasagna.”
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine telling Dave he was about to be a father again. Oh, he'd
want
the child. She didn't doubt that But what about her? Would he want
her?
She was past telling herself she hadn't fallen in love with him.
That night
burned in her mind like an acetylene torch, forcing her to admit she wanted more out of life than a display case full of fudgeballs.
She hurled the cloth across the room. It was so unfair! She hadn't been irresponsible. She'd been on the pill for years. Had the pill failed? Leaning back, she closed her eyes as horror stories of women getting pregnant while on the pill flooded her mind. All those years with Brian... Her eyes widened. Thank God it wasn't Brian's baby.
BOOK: Fudgeballs And Other Sweets
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