Chapter Thirty-Four
“That should do it.” Doug snapped his big metal toolbox shut with a bang.
Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “Really well done, man. I’m impressed.” It took tremendous self-control, but he managed to unclench his teeth before saying it.
Doug raised one pale eyebrow, but his half-smile had lost its barbs.
The tension of working beside his rival for ten hours wore Nick’s nerves to a frayed, fuzzy mess. Even though it was her only day off, Clara stayed the whole time, leaving them only to pick up sandwiches and cold drinks at lunchtime. Nick’s pride smarted from being relegated to apprentice status beside Doug’s easy mastery of tools, especially the wicked-looking reciprocating saw he used to cut through the drywall. It crossed Nick’s mind more than once how easily Doug could’ve “slipped” and removed him from the competition for Clara’s hand.
But the two men managed, speaking as little as possible. It was almost fun prying away the plaster with a crowbar, and hauling the broken pieces out to the rented pickup gave Nick’s muscles a good workout. It almost took his mind off the tension nibbling at his gut.
All the while, Clara’s sea green gaze followed him, testing his patience. That’s what this was, a test of his loyalty, his flexibility. He’d done well.
So had Doug, damn it.
No insults, no squabbles, no shoving, just hours of near-silent, begrudging cooperation.
And now, a wide doorway stood open between Arnie’s coffee shop and Clara’s place, lined with pale wooden trim. Tomorrow, Doug would install the glass doors. Were it not for the sheets of heavy plastic protecting the two shops from construction debris, you’d never know the opening hadn’t been there all along.
Clara stepped up between them, wound her arm through each man’s elbow. Her soft, warm touch was reward enough for now, until he could get her alone. But since their last private moment at the hospital, she hadn’t given him the chance. Of course, she hadn’t been alone with Doug either, as far as he knew. Doug wasn’t there on Sunday when he reported for cashier duty. Margot brought two college friends to help, and Clara sent him on his way with a kiss on the cheek. Nice, but not nearly enough to satisfy his galloping impatience.
And now, the job was done. On the other side of the plastic barrier, Arnie tapped his foot. “Are we ready for the grand unveiling? Closing up all day cost me a bundle, you know. Let’s rip this shit down.”
Nick caught Doug’s eye and sighed. Arnie’s contribution to the construction project was limited to coffee refills and admiration of their muscles.
Clara stepped forward and grasped the plastic sheeting. Arnie grabbed a handful from his end and counted, “Three, two, one.” They both yanked, and the barrier fluttered down around their feet.
Clara waded through, wrapped her arms around Arnie, and the two of them danced in a circle like giddy teens.
“Oh, my Gawd,” Arnie crowed, “this is gonna be awesome.” He tugged Clara over to the wall where Margot and her friends had arranged the romance section to encourage cross traffic.
Doug muttered, “We do the work, he gets the hugs.”
“Right?” Nick bent to gather the plastic.
“Hey, Nick.”
The little hairs on his nape rose as he stood to face his adversary.
Doug passed a big, bony hand over his long, bony face. “Look, this was hard on both of us. I just want to say, however it turns out, you’re all right.” He extended his hand.
Nick took it. There was no macho squeeze between them, no more testing their strength. It wasn’t up to them, anyhow. It was up to Clara.
“You’re a good guy, Doug. If she chooses you, she’ll have chosen well.”
Doug arched one eyebrow but said nothing further—to Nick, anyway. He followed Clara into the coffee shop and wrapped his long, gangly arms around her. Nick winced and looked away. No point in torturing himself.
Finally making himself useful, Arnie grabbed a broom and shooed Clara and Doug out of the café. “I’ll get this. Y’all have earned a rest. Go on now, scoot.”
Nick helped load the last of Doug’s tools into the truck and watched, with gritted teeth, as he kissed Clara good-night.
“We’ll go see Harry tomorrow, okay?” Doug said into her hair.
She nodded, her arms around him, her chin on his chest. They fit well together, Nick realized with a pang, their easy manner like a long-married couple’s. Even though Doug hadn’t been on the scene any longer than he had, Nick felt like an intruder.
“Good night.” She waved from the sidewalk until the truck’s tail lights disappeared around the corner.
“Well, I guess I should get going too.” If he was lucky, he’d get an even warmer good-night kiss.
Clara turned, pushed her hair back from her green, green eyes, and gazed up at him, a mysterious half-smile on her lips. She moved closer, opened her arms. He stepped into her embrace, and she nuzzled his neck. A shiver of pleasure danced down his spine when her soft mouth touched his skin.
“What’s your hurry?” she purred.
He pulled back, cupped her face in both hands. “Believe me, Clara, I’m in no hurry to leave you.”
“Then stay.” She stepped backward toward the shop, tugging him with her. “I’m hungry. You hungry, Nick?”
Her eyes sparkled, and he suspected she wasn’t talking about food. “Starving.” He tugged his T-shirt collar away from his sticky neck. “I’m a mess, though.”
She inclined her head toward the restroom. “Go clean up, then. I’ll meet you in back.”
She’d stocked her shop’s cramped restroom with a fluffy cotton towel and herbal-scented hand soap. He washed his face, ran a comb through his hair. From outside the door, he heard the familiar pop of a wine cork. He grinned at his reflection, then hurriedly stripped off his T-shirt and unbuckled his belt. His impromptu bath left the floor soaked, so he mopped up with paper towels, said a silent prayer for luck, then opened the door.
****
When the restroom door closed, Lulu emerged from her hiding place beneath the cookbooks, stretched, and trotted over to Clara.
She rubbed the cat her behind her silky ears. “This is it, Lulu-puss. Make or break, do or die—what did Dad always say? Shit or get off the pot.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not a very apt metaphor, in this case.”
She made a final check of the scene she’d been surreptitiously setting up all day.
Plush blankets atop cushy yoga mats—check.
Picnic basket filled with cheese, bread, grapes, prosciutto, olives—check.
Wine chilling in a dented ice bucket—check.
A few extra towels, in case things got messy—check.
Battery-powered candles scattered among the bookshelves—check.
Brazilian jazz on the speaker—check.
And a pile of books she’d pulled from the special collection: exotic, erotic images to inspire them, not that Nick would need much inspiration.
The restroom door clicked open. She looked up and chuckled at Lulu’s plaintive mew. That cat really loved Nick.
“Hello, Puss. Where’s Clara, hmm?”
Soft footsteps approached. Nervous to the point of vibrating, Clara fluffed her hair and perched on the edge of the velvet settee. Slowly, the red door opened. And there he stood, his dark curls damp, his eyes sparkling in the ersatz candlelight, his lips soft and open.
“Wow.” His gazed traveled around the room, then lasered in on her. He crossed to her in three swift steps, pulled her to her feet, clasped her hard against his strong, delicious body. His lips pressed her throat, her temples, and then he took her mouth, kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.
At last, he pulled back, cupped her jaw with both hands, his thumbs stroking her temples. The amber fire in his irises danced as he searched her eyes. “Clara, is this real? You chose me?”
She nodded, slid her fingers where they’d longed to go for the past two days: through his hair, along his jaw, over the firm curve of his shoulders, his chest, around his neck to pull him closer and taste him again. She moaned softly, all the things she’d wanted to say forgotten.
He buried his face against her throat as his fingers worked the buttons of her blouse. It fell to the floor. He moaned and grasped the lacy strap of her bra in his teeth, tugged it off her shoulder.
While his lips feathered kisses over her collarbone and between her breasts, she pulled his T-shirt free from his belt, slid it up toward his shoulders, stroked her hands over the smooth planes of his back. His muscles softened like butter beneath her caressing fingers. When he pulled his shirt off and tossed it away, she trailed her fingertips, and then the tip of her tongue, around each dark nipple. He growled deep in his throat and pulled her toward the settee. “Your turn.” He eased her onto the seat and knelt before her.
Her bra fell to the floor, and Nick’s dark curls brushed beneath her chin. Weak-kneed with desire, she grasped his shoulders as he cupped each breast, his lips whisper-soft, sliding across and around and between. He swirled his silky tongue over each sensitive peak and sucked softly, then more urgently, until she cried out with pleasure and just a touch of pain.
He kissed his way down her belly, unfastened her jeans, and slid his tongue down, down, down.
Clara tangled her hands in his soft hair and moaned as he slid her jeans over her hips. He teased her, sliding just one fingertip inside her panties while his thumb stroked her slowly through the fabric. A hot, sweet ache was building there, and she was afraid she’d come too soon, before she even finished undressing him.
“Stop.” She grasped both his hands and pulled him to his feet. “My turn.” She took his mouth for another searing kiss, then sat before him to unfasten his belt. She pressed her lips against the bulge in his jeans, warmed the fabric with her hot breath, then nibbled the hard length of him. He groaned and stroked her hair, his head thrown back.
He whispered her name as she tugged his jeans over his hips. His thin black briefs barely contained his straining erection. She teased and stroked him through the fabric, pausing only to dig her eager fingers into the smooth warm muscle of his ass.
“So good,” she murmured against his warm, flat belly. “So hard, so ready.” Impatient for her prize, she slid her finger inside the elastic and pulled his shorts off. He stepped out of them and took a wider stance, allowing her to caress his silky balls, which tightened at her touch. And then, just to tease him, she trailed just the very tip of her tongue up his long, swollen shaft. She wrapped both hands around him and stroked upward, then down, and swirled her tongue around the plump, purple head of his cock, drawing a salty tear of pleasure.
With a groan, he lifted her beneath her arms and lowered her onto the blankets she’d arranged on the floor. He crouched over her, straddled her body, stroked his fingertips through her hair. His sigh warmed her skin. “You are so beautiful.”
Words were beyond her now, so she gave him her smile, caressed him with her eyes, ran her fingertips over his temples, his throat, his broad chest, his tightly muscled belly. She tightened her grip on his waist and pulled him down to where her slick folds pulsed, hungry for him. His glorious, thick shaft bobbed as he lowered his hips to hers.
Eagerly she grasped him, felt his pulse thrumming beneath the silky skin of his cock. Her hand closed on his hardness, stroked it, pulled it toward her throbbing center. His eyes half-closed, Nick groaned and slid oh so slowly between her tingling folds, deep, deep inside until he pushed against her very center, then oh so slowly withdrew until he was barely touching her. Her senses swam with delicious pleasure, every nerve singing.
And then he hissed and quickly withdrew. “Damn. Condom.” He reached for his jeans, crumpled beside them on the floor.
Her whole body pulsed, aching for his return, and something inside her slid into place, something she’d been struggling against ever since she’d first laid eyes on this beautiful, kind man. She grasped his wrist, kissed his palm. “How will we make those babies if you do that?”
His breath came out in a rush, and he pressed his body against hers from chest to toe. His cock still throbbing with need but his eyes soft with emotion, he slid his hand around her nape, gently squeezed. His dark irises glimmered, their fire opening her heart like a late-blooming rose.
“Clara, do you mean it? Are you sure?”
The answer welled up from deep inside, from a place she’d kept carefully guarded for too long. Yes. Now. Always. I’m yours.
“I’m sure, Nick.”
With a cry somewhere between a sob and a laugh, he pressed his lips to hers, nudged her thighs wider with his knee, and slid home.
The sensation of his bare skin so deep inside her licked her throbbing inner flesh like sweet flame. She arched her back, clutched his tight, hard ass to drive him in deeper. He captured both her wrists, grasped them above her head, making her his prisoner. Slowly, slowly he drove his heated flesh into her. Slowly, so achingly slowly, he slid out, his breath ragged, his eyes never leaving hers. Each delicious thrust tugged hard on her clit, igniting sharp sparks of ecstasy.
The warm, rosy room around them faded. Driven by their shared hunger, his tempo increased. Her whole world became his heat, his magical, delicious touch, his breath on her cheek, his eyes pinning hers. Her climax came from far away, advancing steadily with each fierce thrust he rammed into her. Like a speeding train shakes the ground with its approach, her pleasure rocked her, knocked her over with its blinding force, carried her away from doubt, from fear. She cried out and gasped for air, only dimly aware of Nick’s hands digging into her hips, his hoarse voice moaning her name again and again as he filled her in a hot, wet rush. Clara clasped him to her, cradled him while he shuddered into her. “Yes,” she whispered into his shoulder, her fingertips stroking his back. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Warm and soft, she held him to her heart, their pulse beating in unison. Gradually, their breathing slowed, and they relaxed on their bed of blankets, Nick half on top of her. After a moment, she squirmed to escape his weight. “Heavy.”
“Sorry.” He chuckled and rolled off, landing beside her. He pulled her head against his, forehead to forehead. “There you are.”
“Here I am.” And somehow, that struck her as funny, staring into his dark eyes from so close he seemed to have three or four of them. She giggled and kissed his lips, damp and limp. He chuckled. “That was…astounding.”
“Phenomenal.”
“Ferocious.”
“Luscious.”
He laced his fingers into her hair and rained kisses all over her face.
She giggled and squirmed. “That tickles.”
“You’re delicious. I want you again.”
“Already?”
“Okay, maybe we sleep first, but then again, first thing.” He gently pulled her head onto his chest. She nestled into the lovely spot where his shoulder met the swelling of his pectoral muscle and watched the rise and fall of his flesh. Her hand seemed so pale against his burnished bronze skin. She traced little circles with her fingertips, stroked the soft hairs of his chest.
He was fading fast, his breathing becoming deeper, his words fading into a sleepy mutter.
“Mmmuhh mmm?”
“What’s that?”
But he was out, flat on his back, snoring softly. She nestled against him and surrendered to sleep.
****
Lulu woke them, her rumbling purr loud in Clara’s ear. She opened one eye and found herself face to furry face with the cat, who head-butted her cheek, then resumed her kneading dance on Nick’s bare chest.
“Huh?” He blinked, stretched, sighed. “Hello, Puss.”
Lulu stretched luxuriously under his caress, then hopped off to sniff their picnic basket. She’d already clawed her way into the plastic bag of cheese cubes. With dainty precision, she helped herself to a bit of smoked Gouda and trotted away.
Nick chuckled into Clara’s hair. “Hello, my love.”
“Hey there…” She hesitated, tasted the words on her tongue before releasing them. “My love.”
“Wow.” He kissed her tenderly. “It feels so good to hear you say those words.”
“I thought it would be hard to do. But it’s so easy.” She kissed his eyelids, his nose. “It feels right.”
He slid his hand between her shoulder blades, pressed her against him. His hairy chest tickled her nipples. “More?” he murmured into her hair.
“Food first. Aren’t you starving, after all that work?”
“When you’re naked, I forget petty concerns like hunger.” He sat up, reached for the picnic basket. “But if my lady is hungry, she shall be fed. If the cat’s left us anything.”
While Clara spread out their delayed picnic, he poured them each a glass of wine. “Let’s see,” he said, “what shall we drink to?”
“To…a fruitful partnership.”
They clinked, and he scooted over closer, slid his arm around her waist, stroked her belly. “Fruitful?”
She laughed. “I was actually thinking of the bookshop, but that too.”
Nick held her gaze for a long, heavy moment. His grin relaxed into a solemn expression. He set down his glass, rose to his knees, and cupped her face in both his hands. “Clara, had I known, I would have planned something worthy of the occasion.” He cocked one eyebrow. “But it’s hard to beat a naked candlelit picnic in a room full of sexy books.”
A shiver seized Clara as she realized what was about to happen. Her pulse thundered in her ears, so loud she could barely hear his words.
“I love you, Clara. You make me happier than I ever thought possible. I want to share the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
She held her breath and closed her eyes, listening for Jared. His words rang in her memory, filling her chest with a warm glow. Follow your heart.
Happy tears spilled down her cheeks. She slid her fingers through Nick’s soft curls, pulled him to her, and brushed a whisper-soft kiss across his lips.
“Yes, Nick. I will.”