Tropical Leopard's Longing (Shifting Sands Resort 8)

“Crazier than that, it’s little colonies of living yeast that we carefully cultivate and then murder,” Breck added. “Delicious, delicious murder.”

Darla giggled, her eyes crinkling perfectly. “I never would have thought of that,” she said in chagrin. “How will I ever eat bread again without thinking of those millions of little extinguished potentials. One of them might have written the yeast equivalent of Shakespeare’s plays if it hadn’t been baked.”

“You might also have eaten a little yeast Jack the Ripper,” Breck suggested. “So it probably balances out.”

Darla’s laugh was the most beautiful sound Breck had ever heard, an unreserved moment of joy that he wanted to bottle.

As it faded, he realized he was staring at her, all the yearning in his heart undoubtedly on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Is your leopard driving you as crazy as mine is?” Darla asked softly.

Breck dared to look back, and Darla’s face was a mirror of desire and despair. “So crazy,” he admitted.

“I’m so sorry I can’t…” she trailed off in embarrassment.

Breck dredged down for a way to lighten the situation, to lift some of the weight of misery from her shoulders. Humor was always the first thing in his toolbox. “You should be sorry,” he teased, gesturing to himself. “All this, and you don’t even get to touch it! I’ll have you know that I’m the greatest lover that has ever set foot on this island.”

Darla’s eyes got very big indeed, and for a moment Break feared that he’d overshot his attempt at flippancy and horrified her instead. Then she burst out laughing, and the delighted smile that bloomed over her face was everything Breck had hoped for.

“Seriously,” he continued flippantly, “if they gave out trophies for sex, I’d run out of display space for them. I’d have to choose between keeping the ‘best beach sex’ trophy and the ‘greatest floss’. You know, I’d probably keep that one in the bathroom. Keep my toothbrush in it.”

Darla laughed so hard that she had to lean on the counter. “You’re impossible!” she said.

“Just highly improbable,” Breck joked. “Now I’ll need to chop up some fruit for the breakfast service, or Chef will can me the rest of the way.”

He did a considerably better job chopping the fruit than he had the day before, despite Darla’s distracting observation from across the counter.

She was fascinated by the process, and admitted that she hadn’t spent any time at all in a kitchen. “I had no idea a mango started out looking like that,” she said. “And I didn’t know a pineapple had a core.”

“Want to help me wash up some of these dishes?” Breck asked impulsively, when he had laid out all of the fruit dishes and added the mint garnish.

Darla looked shocked. “I’ve… never washed dishes before,” she said hesitantly. “Do you think I could?”

“Darla, my love,” Breck said expansively. “I can teach anyone anything. Since I have no chance to teach you all the things I really want to, I can settle for showing you how to scrub plates.”

She smiled shyly. “I probably shouldn’t ask what you really want to teach me,” she said mischievously.

“Not unless you want anatomic diagrams,” Breck teased. “And those are classes best taught with a hands-on lab.” Her blush was everything he could have hoped for.

He managed to tie an apron on her without actually touching her, a feat he took considerable pride in. He showed her how to wash the dishes, aching to press up behind her to demonstrate over her shoulders, and took them to rinse and dry. He was careful not to brush against her and watched her from the corner of his eyes as they worked.

Her look of studious concentration was as alluring as her laughter had been, and her strawberry-blonde hair was lightly curled around her face in the steam. She nibbled on her lower lip as she worked, and her triumph when Breck approved her work was like a wash of joy.

She got invested in the work, and when Breck handed back a plate, pointing out an imaginary fleck, she was at first chagrined, then realized he was teasing her. “There’s nothing there,” she protested.

She splashed him with the soapy water, laughing, and Breck started to automatically gather her into his arms, only stopping at the last moment, standing very close to her with his hands on either side of her arms… not quite touching her, but desperately wanting to.

They were frozen there a long moment before Breck could wrestle his hands back to his sides. He wanted to apologize, but sorry was the hated theme of their whole relationship.

“I should go,” Darla said breathlessly.

He was close enough to kiss her with the slightest lean forward, and his leopard was doing angry, pacing circles over the fact that they hadn’t yet.

“You should,” Breck whispered.

“The sun will be up soon,” Darla said, not moving. She was gazing up at him, her pupils large with desire.

“If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop,” Breck warned her for a second time.