The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

“Of course.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll get what I need from the hardware store and put it in right away. It won’t take long to do.” Not like there wasn’t already lots of work, but it was a small job. He could bump it up the priority list.

Silence fell between them, while something else seemed to fill the space that their words had occupied. Tom put his hands in his jeans pockets. “I should go…” And yet he made no move to leave.

She shook her head, making a wave of hair slide across her shoulder. “Yes, you have an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” The word came out strangely husky, and his gaze fixated on the way a solitary curl kissed the hollow of her neck.

“Tom?”

“Hmm?”

She ran her tongue over her lips. “You really have to stop looking at me like that now.”

“Like what?” How had she gotten so close to him? All he’d have to do is reach out and his hand would be on the soft curve of her waist. His gaze dropped to her lips, her lipstick long gone, but the natural color didn’t need it. They looked soft and pink and as he stared at them she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

She was nervous.

She was artless.

He took one step closer, so close he was enveloped in that citrusy-floral scent again, close enough he felt the silky whisper of her blouse against his fingers. When had he reached for her? When had she tilted her face up to his, her chest rising and falling as her breath quickened? Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time began to burn inside him. Not just curiosity. Not just desire. But satisfaction. A longing for it, a taste of it, as her pupils widened and the air around them stilled, waiting.

Abby Foster turned him on in a way he hadn’t been turned on in months. He didn’t want to dissect how long exactly. He wanted to be in the moment too badly, to stop thinking about everything that had gone wrong and simply feel what it was like to hold a woman again. A woman who had no knowledge of Erin or his past. Someone who took him at face value, rather than the way the women of Jewell Cove saw him. Pathetic and tragic, hung up on a dead woman …

He shoved the thought out of his brain as Abby’s top teeth released her lip, making the soft flesh slide into fullness once more. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he closed the gap between them, until their breath mingled and her lips were only a fraction of an inch away from his.

“Tom,” she whispered. He heard the tremor in it. It was as much a plea as a protest. He moved the final half-inch and touched his lips to hers.

Her mouth was slightly parted, soft and warm, with the tart bite of the wine still on her lips. He spread his hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer until their bodies brushed.

But it wasn’t until she sighed and melted against him that he realized he’d made a big miscalculation.

Abigail Foster was far more than he’d bargained for.

CHAPTER 10

Abby’s body trembled as Tom stepped closer. She watched, fascinated, as his gaze dropped to her lips. Like a man who was about to kiss her. And God help her, every nerve ending in her body was electrified, watching his black eyes settle on her mouth with delicious intent.

“Tom,” she whispered, longing to taste him, terrified at the same time. The wine was making everything fuzzy, it had to be. But even Abby was aware of the wistful sound of his name as it brushed the quiet air in the hall.

And Tom answered by closing the final distance.

He touched her mouth with his—gently, softly, lightly exploring as his arm came around her and pulled her closer to his body. But then his mouth opened more, deepening the kiss, and she caught the flavor of him as their tongues touched. Nothing had ever felt this good. Tom was a world away from the pain of her past, a brand-new page

and she could write upon it whatever she wanted.

And what she wanted was a sweet, hot, magnificent kiss. And she wanted it from Tom Arseneault.

So she slid her hand behind his head, into the soft, dark strands of his hair, and pulled him down to meet the kiss equally while her body pressed against the hard planes of his.

Every square inch where their bodies touched came alive and the kiss took on a life of its own, a hot, demanding energy that felt glorious. A moan of pleasure sounded in the back of her throat and Tom’s hands tightened in response. With pressure on her arms, he turned them around and she found herself against the wall, pinned between it and his gorgeous body. Willingly trapped as his hips pressed persuasively against her pelvis.

Any time now common sense would kick in, wouldn’t it? He was getting too close, too … She couldn’t think straight. As his jeans brushed against hers, all she could feel was need. Want.

His fingers ran up her arm, twisting in the broad strap of her blouse, shifting it off her shoulder to reveal the skin beneath. She should stop him. Stop this before it went too far, but it felt too good, was too unexpected to say good-bye to it yet. But it wasn’t until that same hand grazed her ribs and slid up over the hard, pebbled tip of her breast that she caught her breath and felt the electric tingle of desire dart to her core, like a thread pulled tight.