“I got the bulletin.” He got up, hefted the pie. “I’m going for a beer.”

“I got that bulletin.” She stepped out, and since it seemed polite, waited for him to lock up. “What color are you going to paint this place?”

“Something else.”

“Already an improvement. Your mother’s talking about a slatey blue, chrome accents, white trim, gray stonework along the base.”

“That’s her deal.”

“She’s good at it. Have you seen Avery’s logo for the new place?”

“The pug pulling the tap. Funny.”

“And charming. She and Owen are getting one this weekend—a pug, and apparently a Lab since they couldn’t come to a full agreement.”

He’d heard that, too. Owen had lists. “They’re going to chew shoes, boots, furniture, and pee on the floor, and make Owen crazy. I’m all for it.”

He put the dog in the cab, windows half down and—knowing D.A.—set the pie in the bed of the truck.

“Well,” she began, “have a—”

She didn’t manage more as he yanked her against him, lifted her up to her toes, and swooped in for a kiss that shot the rest of the words out of the top of her head. She managed to grab his waist for balance though she couldn’t have fallen if the earth had quaked, not with his hands fisted—one in her hair, one on the back of her shirt.

Heat rocketed down her arms, up her legs, into her center, sharp as lightning bolts. Then her hands slid up his back, gripped his shirt in turn as she rode that lightning.

She didn’t pull back, didn’t gasp in shock or protest. He’d have released her if she had. But he was tired of looking the other way, or trying to. Ignoring her—or trying to. She’d stirred it up. He could give himself that excuse. In The Penthouse, then again here in the damn parking lot.

He’d had samples. Now he wanted a good, healthy bite.

She smelled of summer. Warm breezes, sun-drenched flowers with exotic names. She tasted like the pie, the perfect meeting of tart and sweet. And she met the demands of the kiss without hesitation. Need for need.

When he let her go she rocked a little. Those sultry eyes of hers were heavy and aware. She rubbed her lips together lightly, as if to hold the flavor—and stirred him again.

“What was that for?” she asked him.

“I just wanted it to be my idea this time.” He cocked his head. “You want a pie now?”

He surprised a laugh out of her. “That’s all right. I made two. One question. Do you consider yourself my boss?”

“Hell no.” He looked not only stunned but irritated. “My mother’s your boss. I don’t have time to boss you. I’ve got enough to do.”

“All right.”

“Listen, if you think that was anything like that asshole you were tangled with—”

“Not in the least.” She saw irritation edge up toward fury, laid a calming hand on his arm. “Not in the least. It’s just a detail I wanted to confirm, for both of us. Then we’re clear on that detail in case either of us get any more ideas. Enjoy your pie,” she told him, and walked back to the inn.

“She’s going to take some more figuring out,” he muttered, then turned to the dog. “Take a nap. I’ll be back.”

He left his truck where it was and walked over to meet his brothers.


HOPE SET UP wine and cheese, herbed crackers, and some summer berries—along with a pitcher of fresh lemonade for the expectant mother. She was fussing with little details when she heard Clare come in. “In here!” she called out.

She poured lemonade in a tall glass over ice, offered it when Clare came in. “Welcome to Inn BoonsBoro and our first official Girls’ Night.”

“It got me through the day. Are you all right?”

“Oh, I am, but have much to tell. Where’s Avery?”

“She’s finishing up something at Vesta. Hope, you should’ve called the minute Jonathan stepped his stupid Gucci loafers in this place.”

“Actually, they were Ferragamos. And it caught me off guard, I admit, but I was handling it.”

“Avery told me he actually suggested you move back to Georgetown and start up with him again.” Clare, her hair spread around her shoulders like sunlight, dropped down on the couch, snarled. “I never liked him, then I hated him. But now? I want to hurt him. I want to beat him unconscious with a shovel, then tattoo I’m a cheating dickhead on his ass.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Have a snack.”

“All I do is snack.” Clare heaved a sigh. “I eat all day long. I can’t seem to stop.”

“You’re eating for three.”

“At this rate I’m going to weigh three hundred pounds. I don’t care. Sit down, and you eat something, too, so I don’t feel like a big pregnant pig.”

“I can’t sit yet.” Not when she was still carrying the sexual buzz from that kiss. But she spread some cheese on a cracker, poured herself a glass of wine.

And hearing Avery, poured a second.

“God! It’s always something.” Avery grabbed the wine, slugged some down. “Okay, let’s get this ball-roasting started. Oooh, raspberries.” She popped two, plopped beside Clare on the butter yellow leather sofa, pulled the clip from her hair, shook it out. “Tell us all.”

Hope did just that, starting with Jonathan’s appearance at the door.

“He’s wrong, and he’s stupid,” Clare interrupted. “Saying you can’t be happy here. You are happy here.”

“I am, but you know what? Having him say that made me understand just how happy. I’m exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to do. And bonus. I have both of you.”

“Smarmy sleaze,” Avery muttered. “He’s a smeaze.”

“He’s a smeaze,” Hope agreed, then continued. When she got to Jonathan’s “offer,” Avery sprang up, shook her fists. “He thinks he can call you a whore—because that’s just what he did. He needs to be punished. He needs to pay.”

“He needs to be ignored,” Hope corrected. “He’ll suffer more. But I gave him what Ryder called a kick in the balls.”

“I wish you meant literally,” Clare murmured.

“Pregnancy makes her violent,” Hope told Avery. “I was telling him what I thought of his offer—as in ‘stuff it’—when I saw Ryder coming across the lot. I just went with impulse. I called him and went over and laid a hot one on him.”

“On Ryder?” Clare qualified. “You kissed Ryder?”

“In front of Jonathan—I get it.” Folding her arms, Avery nodded in approval. “It’s ‘up yours, asshole. Look at this sexy bite of man candy I’ve got now.’”

“Exactly. I asked Ryder to go along, and he got it, and he did. Jonathan looked like he’d swallowed a whole lemon—a whole rotten lemon. It was very satisfying. Then.” She flicked her fingers. “He left. Done.”

“Are you sure?” Clare gripped her hands in her lap. “He could come back. He could try something. I thought Sam was just a nuisance, but—”

“Honey. Honey,” Hope repeated and moved to the couch to flank Clare, take her hand. “It’s not like that. Sam’s a sick, obsessed man. He stalked you, and you were never involved with him. You never gave him reason. I was involved with Jonathan. He’s arrogant, his morals are skewed, and he’s a major asshole, but it’s not like that at all. He’s too full of pride and vanity to come back. He’ll assume I’ll change my mind, and when I don’t, he’ll move on to someone else.”

“You need to be careful. You have to promise me.”

“I will, I do. I know him. He thought I’d jump at the offer to come back to work, come back to him. He’d see it as legitimate, no problem. I made my opinion clear. I don’t mean enough to him for him to try anything. I know now I never really did.”

“I’m sorry. I’m glad, but I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. My pride’s still a little tender, but I’m not sorry. He showed me I’d wasted myself on him, and what he did ended up bringing me here. Exactly where I want to be.”

“I’d’ve liked it better if Ryder had pounded on him,” Avery said. “I’m not pregnant, just naturally violent.”

“Speaking of Ryder, he was very considerate, and he listened to me rant about it after Jonathan left. He waited until I’d calmed down. Actually,” she corrected, “he helped me calm down.”

“He can do that,” Avery confirmed. “It’s not his usual mode, but he’s patted my head—metaphorically—a few times over the years.”

“I didn’t expect that from him. I didn’t expect him to listen, much less say the right things. Say things I needed to hear. I guess I’ve made a habit of misjudging certain men. I told him I owed him, and you know what he wanted in payment?”

“Hot damn, this is getting good.” Avery poured more wine.

“A pie.”

“Is that code?”

“No, it’s a pie.”

“He’s sweeter than you know, under it,” Clare told her.

“I don’t know about sweet, but he was kind, and levelheaded, and funny. I made him a pie, which brings us to the latest. We had another actual conversation. We’ve broken records here. We walked out of the fitness center together, and when we got to his truck, he grabbed me. And he laid a hot one on me.”

“It is getting good.” Delighted, Avery tapped her glass to Hope’s. “What happened then?”

“Then I came back here, and he went over to Vesta.”

“Come on!”

“No, it was exactly right. Enough.” Content, Hope lifted her glass, sipped. “I don’t know if I want to take it anywhere else or not. Tempting, but as I explained before, the desert is dry. Not as dry with all these hot ones, but still … It’s an interesting possibility. Complicated, but interesting.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Clare protested.

“I think he’s a complicated man to begin with, and our situation is complicated. I work for his mother.”

“So?” Avery demanded.

“The so is what I need to work out and resolve. I thought the two of you could tell me a little more about him, just give me a clearer picture.”

“We can, but can we do that while we eat dinner?” Clare rubbed her swollen belly. “I could eat a side of beef.”