Tall, Dark And Temporary

He looked at her and smiled. “We did a little dancing. Do you remember?”

“That was such a long time ago.”

“Really?” Rebecca asked. “It seems like yesterday to me.”

At the sound of her friend’s voice, the sparklers gave a sputtering hiss, then died Lord, was she losing it or what? The man had simply brushed against her and she had been imagining spontaneous combustion under her skin.

Turning away from Nick, she lifted the program from her lap. If she kept her hands busy, she would have a harder time strangling her friend for starting this conversation.

“When I got home last night,” Rebecca continued, “I pulled out my yearbook. Raleigh and I spent the rest of the evening looking through it. Nick, did you know that you’re in one of the prom photos?”

“No. I’d like to see that.”

“I’m going to New York tomorrow morning, but I’m stopping by Megan’s café first. If you want to meet me there, I’ll bring it with me.”

“Sounds great. Seven okay?”

“Perfect.” Rebecca closed her hands over Megan’s wrists. “Meggie, stop thumbing through that program and listen.”

Listen? Her ears were burning! They were coming to the café tomorrow morning and there was nothing she could do about it. And why hadn’t anyone started the meeting yet?

“Do you remember your line from the Girls Most Likely to... list?”

“No,” she said, giving Rebecca a warning look. “But whatever it was, I’m sure it was way off the mark.”

“Not necessarily. You were voted the Girl Most Likely to Surprise Us with Her Secret Fantasies.”

Megan managed to stop herself, just before giving in to a full cringe. Everyone, including her, had laughed at that line ten years ago. But she wasn’t laughing anymore. Rolling the program into a tight cylinder she tapped the edge on her knee.

“Your point, Reb?” she asked, turning a weak smile toward Nick before glowering at Rebecca again. “And I’m sure you have one.”

“Well, who knows?” Rebecca gave an overly dramatic shrug and widened her eyes. “With all this dancing I’m hearing about, maybe you secretly wanted to be a showgirl.”

Looking over at Nick, Rebecca kinked a brow. “What do you think, Nick? You’ve seen her dancing a few times. Has she missed her calling?”

Smiling to himself, Nick checked his watch, then stood up. Bracing his hand on the back of Megan’s chair, he leaned in, giving her the momentary illusion that he was going to kiss her. He wasn’t. At least, not tonight.

“Could be, Reb,” he said, looking directly into Megan’s eyes. “Then again, I’ve eaten one of her cream puffs. That was a mighty tasty experience, too.” Before Megan could close her mouth, he went on. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have a speech to make.” Stepping into the aisle, he headed for the podium.

Those stolen glances she’d sent his way, the way she’d fidgeted, and that one long look that connected deep in his gut were all answers to his prayers. Whether Megan Sloan looked ready to admit it or not, she was as strongly attracted to him as he was to her.

Taking the steps to the stage, he walked across it to the lectern. The crowded room suddenly grew quiet. He knew what most of them were probably thinking. The same thing Megan was. Follett River’s notorious motorcycle bad boy, who once enjoyed the dubious distinction of scaring the hell out of every parent of a teenage daughter in the county, was back in town. But what was he doing there?

Picking up the gavel, he twirled the head against the palm of his hand as he looked out at his audience. “Since I already appear to have your attention, I don’t think I’ll need this.” During the light laughter that followed, he set the gavel aside.

“Good evening. Most of you know me. For those of you who don’t, I’m Nick Buchanan.” Murmurs started again, and he wondered how many different escapades of his teen years were being recounted around the room.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “That Nick Buchanan.”

Again the crowd laughed, a little louder this time and a little longer. Even Megan couldn’t help herself.

He let the good-natured response continue for a few more seconds before holding up his hands to quiet the group.

From the corner of his eye he could see Rebecca whispering to Megan. Whatever Follett River’s resident rebel spirit was saying was turning Megan’s ears an impressive shade of red. Holding back a smile, Nick lowered his hands to close them over the sides of the lectern.

“Back to business. The good people of the Murano Group have asked me to welcome all of you to our program this evening. Before I tell you why they asked me and before I introduce our speakers, I have a few personal remarks.

“First,” he said, allowing his drifting gaze to settle on Megan, “let me say that it’s a pleasure being back in Follett River. I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted with old friends.”

Megan still appeared to be in a mild state of shock that he was the one leading the meeting. Ten years back he would have found that hard to believe, too. Smiling at her, he waited until her green-eyed stare was locked with his. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Megan’s lips parted the tiniest bit.

That’s right, sweet girl, I’m talking about you and me.

As if she’d read his thoughts, she nervously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, then looked down at her program. Her thick blond hair formed a layered curtain around either side of her face, but it was too late. He’d already seen the blush he’d caused. He had no desire to publicly embarrass her with unwanted attention; he’d suffered enough of that in his childhood. Enduring the humiliation of being known as a member of the neediest family in Follett River had nearly destroyed him. It had also, in the end, given him the impetus to move on to better things.

With the finesse of a seasoned politician, he turned his head for a polite cough before continuing. “I’m also looking forward to being job-site foreman on the River Walk project as well as the general liaison between you and the Murano Group.” The room hummed again. He arched a brow. “Unless the Murano Group tells me I’m desperately needed elsewhere, I’m here for the duration of this project.”

As another ripple of good-natured laughter filled the room, Nick’s hand made an involuntary pass over the pager at his hip. What appeared to be a casual gesture had become a second-nature response whenever thoughts about the promotion filtered through. If and when the home office decided to put him in charge of the company’s western division, he wanted to be the first to know. He’d worked hard for the position, proving to himself and his boss that he was capable of the challenge. He smiled at his next thought. The strangest irony was that he would probably find out about the promotion while he was here in Follett River, the very place where he once craved recognition and respect.

“If at any time you have a problem, a comment or a question about anything,” he said as he scanned the room again, “and I’m sensing by all that whispering out there that you do, feel free to come to me. I want what you want for the River Walk project. A good start to a new beginning for Follett River. So don’t be afraid to speak up. I’m here to listen. I’m here to help. Any time.” Playfully shaking his finger at the audience, he let his gaze move back to Megan. “But just remember, turnabout is fair play on any of those questions.”

Three

Early morning sunlight was streaming through the bay window of the Chocolate Chip Café as Megan tamped the ground espresso beans into the portafilter. “So far, so good,” she said to herself as she gave the cappuccino machine a warning glance. Wiping her palm against the front of her apron, she went to the machine, slipped the portafilter into place and attempted to secure it with a solid yank. The handle didn’t budge.

Pulling it out, she tried again, beginning with a few faint jiggles, progressing to one firm pull and ending with a series of solid jerks. Still no secure connection. Of all times for the gasket to slip! Megan glanced back at Nick. He was sitting nearby with Rebecca and Raleigh, happily poring over Rebecca’s yearbook while he waited for his drink.

Megan turned back to jerking the handle. It might have been the Rock of Gibraltar for all it moved. Closing her fingers in a choke hold around the smooth plastic, she leaned her forehead against her wrist and stifled a scream of frustration.

Last night Nick had talked about new beginnings, but how was she going to get to hers if she had to write another check to the restaurant supply company? Gritting her teeth, she returned to jerking as she pictured the two rent checks she had to write out tonight. Rent checks that included the new increases on both her apartment and the café. “Ouch!”

Staring at the tender flesh on the heel of her hand, she swore under her breath, then applied a soothing lick against the reddened indentations. Why was nothing ever easy? she wondered as she shifted her stance and began again from a different angle.

Nick’s voice sounded from the end of the counter. “Can I help you with that?”

Her gaze slid toward him. He was casually resting his forearms on the counter, his brows raised in expectation of her response.

Help!

But hadn’t she sworn she wasn’t going to involve Nick in any aspect of her life? Looking back at the brass-and-copper monstrosity dominating the back wall, she quietly groaned. Any minute now, the morning crowd would be coming through the door and demanding their favorite coffee drinks from the list on the wall. Preparing all of them started with an easy pull on the handle of the portafilter. A handle that remained stubbornly immovable.

If this wasn’t her busiest time of day, she would have politely declined Nick’s offer. But this was the busiest time of day and there was nothing more unpleasant than trying to pacify a mob of caffeine-challenged customers with a penchant for exotic coffees when there were none available.

Squinching her lips, she glared at the machine. What choice did she have? Desperate situations called for desperate measures.

With an odd mixture of defeat and gratitude, she wiped her sore hand on her apron and turned back to Nick. “Do you know anything about cranky cappuccino machines?”

“No, but I doubt beating the hell out of it is going to help,” he said, walking behind the counter with a reassuring grin. “Let’s have a look.”

If she felt closed in by his presence in her kitchen that first night, she felt positively trapped behind the counter this morning. Though lean and well muscled, he was also tall and broad shouldered. And she was having a slight case of hysterical paralysis, all because of a flashback to her prom, when he had brazenly approached her for a dance.

True, his black T-shirt was about as far from a tuxedo as one could go in the world of fashion, but when it came to sex appeal Nick still ruled. Killer grin, faded jeans and all. His masculine presence was as unnerving as it was invigorating. Or maybe that was just the two espressos she’d had this morning before the machine rejected the portafilter.

As he approached, she could think of only one thing. Sharing the small space behind the counter with Nick was going to be more challenging than sharing it with two of her waitresses and little Paige, all at the same time. Quickly checking behind her, she backed herself into the corner next to the machine just before he reached her.

“Okay, Megan,” he said, pinning her in place with those big brown bedroom eyes. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I don’t—I don’t have a problem.”

“I’m sure you don’t, beautiful. I meant with your cappuccino machine.”

“Oh, right. Let me show you,” she said, attempting to sound nonchalant while she untangled her fingers from the apron strings tied around her waist She waited for him to take a step backward before she took a small one forward. Carefully positioning herself in front of the machine, she made certain Nick was behind and to the side of her before she reached for the portafilter and promptly jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. His surprise exhalation both warmed the back of her neck and made her shiver. Wrestling herself into a tight turn, she didn’t stop until she was facing him. “Nick, I’m sorry,” she said, running her fingertips over the spot she’d connected with..

He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “No damage done.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, not wanting to take her hand away from the solid wall of sculpted muscle. “I gave you a good one.”

“Believe me, this body has survived worse.”

Taking a step away from her, he gave her the room she needed to make an uneventful turn back around to the machine. She’d just started breathing a little easier when he came in close again and lowered his head next to hers.

“This is a tricky position,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “but if you relax, I can promise you that neither of us will do anything we’ll be sorry for later.”

There was a double entendre in there someplace, but she wasn’t going to dwell on it now. Using her other hand, she closed her fingers around the handle and tugged.

“See? When I do this, it doesn’t budge. The gasket slipped and it’s totally locked up.”

Before she could step aside, he reached around her with both arms, caging her in a parody of an embrace.

“Like this?” he asked, as he began tugging the handle.

“Exactly like that,” she said, closing her eyes as his jarring moves became a masculine force field surrounding her. It would be so easy to melt back against his body and lose herself in the enticing vibrations.

“Nick, I hope you know what you’re doing.” Because being this close to you, I don’t.

“Trust me.”

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