The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane

To her surprise, the inside of the house looked good, with photographs of mountain scenery on cream-colored walls, area rugs scattered over hardwood floors and expensive leather furniture. Funky ceramic art topped the mantelpiece—a raccoon holding a beer bottle and a biker elephant and his lady wearing Harley jackets, sitting astride a motorcycle with two flat tires.

“This is nice,” she said, taking it all in.

“I can guess what you were expecting,” he said. “I’ll get to the outside of the place this summer. How about another Coke?”

“Sure.”

He walked around the corner into the kitchen, then reappeared carrying a couple of glasses and a can of pop. “The big-girl version this time?” He went to a liquor cabinet in the small dining area and pulled out a bottle of rum and held it up, the expression on his face a dare.

“Okay,” she agreed. “But if you’re thinking it’ll help you seduce me, you’re wrong.”

He poured their drinks and returned to where she stood checking out one of the photographs. “You really think I need help?” he asked, his voice a purr as he handed her a glass.

He was standing so close she could smell his aftershave, feel the heat coming off his body. Her heart rate picked up.

Part of her wanted to grab him and wrap her legs around him, but caution made her step away and position herself in front of another picture. Like the one she’d just been studying, it was a masterpiece of camera special effects, this one showing a mountain flower in sharp full bloom with Sleeping Lady Mountain a soft blur in the background. “Did you take all these?”

Now there he was, right next to her again. “Yeah.”

“They’re really good.”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I have other interests besides my business.”

She cocked her head. “Yeah?”

He went to the couch, sat down and patted the cushion beside his. “Yeah.”

She joined him—at the other end, simply to prove she wasn’t going to be some easy lay. “You have quite an eye.”

He shrugged. “I was an art major in college.”

“How could an art major...” She stopped midsentence, realizing it would be insulting to ask how someone with real talent could end up owning a seedy tavern.

He’d seen where she was going, though, and finished the sentence for her. “...wind up owning a tavern? It’s a sound business investment. Anyway, I get a kick out of the place. And I still dabble in photography and painting.”

“The Neanderthal in lederhosen on the side of the building,” she said.

“Self-portrait,” he joked.

“An art major,” she mused. “I never would have guessed.”

“You probably never would have guessed a lot of things about me. But then, that’s because you’ve been too busy running away from me.”

“So, if a woman doesn’t fall all over you, she’s running away from you?”

“We’re not talking about a woman. We’re talking about one woman. You.” He set his drink on the coffee table and scooted over, closing the distance between them.

She cast her gaze around the room, looking for something else to comment on. Of course, that would only postpone the inevitable. What was she doing here?

He rested an arm on the back of the couch and began playing with her hair, stirring up her nerve endings.

She took a long drink of her rum and Coke to settle them down. It didn’t work.

He removed the glass from her hand and gently nudged her chin in his direction. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I first saw you. Are you gonna let me?”

And then, assuming the answer would be yes, he did just that, and her nerve endings went from stirred to shaken. Oh, she was in trouble. Against her better judgment, she was falling hard for this man. She felt his hand drifting along her midriff, moving upward, and her nerve endings went into delirium. If she didn’t stop this right now, she never would. And she wasn’t ready to make that leap yet. She had to be sure.

She pulled away. “That was quite a kiss.”

“You’re quite a woman,” he said and started to move in for more.

She placed a hand on his chest. “I think I’ve had enough fun for one night.”

“Don’t like to kiss on the first date?” he teased.

“I’m not sure playing pinball at your tavern and then coming over here for a grope fest counts as a date.”

“Who groped? You never let me get that far.”

“It’s time for me to go home,” she said and stood.

He stood, too. Now they were just a breath away from each other. He reached up and began playing with her hair again. “Have I mentioned that I’m a sucker for blondes?”

And she was a sucker for having someone play with her hair. But she wasn’t about to be suckered by Todd Black—at least not tonight. “Thanks for sharing,” she said and removed his fingers from her hair.

“And you are truly the most beautiful blonde I’ve ever seen.”

Men had been telling her she was beautiful since puberty, and she wanted more than someone who was turned on by her appearance. She wasn’t interested in a relationship where sex was the driving force. Although, if that kiss was any indication, sex with Todd Black would be amazing.

Stop it! she scolded herself. To him she said, “I’ve heard that before.” And it didn’t move her. She needed to be with a man who wanted more.

“I bet you have. I bet men have been telling you you’re beautiful since the day you got your first training bra.”

She frowned at him. “That was poetic.”

“I try.”

“Try harder. I’m not looking for someone to sleep with.”

“Aw, and I put clean sheets on the bed and everything.”

Cecily frowned at him again. “Can’t you ever be serious?”

“Yeah, actually, I can. You’ll have to go out with me, so I can show you my serious side.”

“It’s a little hard to date when I work days and you work nights, doncha think?”

“I own the place. I can take a night off. I can take tomorrow night off. Let’s go out to dinner. Zelda’s, and a movie after.”