The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

She held up one arm and watched as his gaze focused on her skin, spraying a cool layer of mist over the surface.

“Now the other one.”

She should insist on doing this herself. But it was too tempting to let Tom take care of her just now. No one had ever really taken care of her in years—except maybe Gram, before she got sick.

He stood back and met her gaze. “What about your … neck?”

“It’s fine. I think my hair protected it from the worst of the sun,” she answered.

But instead he only stepped closer, aiming the nozzle at her collarbone where the slightly pink skin was visible above the collar of her linen shirt. “You silly, silly girl,” he said quietly. And he aimed the can and hit her square in the chest with the cold spray.

“Ah!” she cried out at the sharp contrast in temperature. “Hey!”

A wicked grin curled up his cheek. “Did I get it all? How low does it go, Abs?”

Her face and limbs weren’t all that was hot. Tom’s concern was moving toward teasing now. And his gaze had dropped to the neckline of her top, where the thin linen touched skin. Her breasts tightened under the thin fabric.

“Not that low,” she managed, trying to sound stern but knowing she was a damned liar. The suggestive tone in his voice was all it took to make her body react.

She wanted to stay angry. Wanted to be sensible about the fact that he came with even more baggage than she did and she shouldn’t be looking in his direction. But he made it impossible. He was just too Tom for that to happen. It was pointless to deny it.

He laughed, a deep, sexy rumble inside his chest, and sprayed some of the antiseptic into his palm. He rubbed his hands together and then came close, so close that she was forced to back up against the wall where her cupboards used to be.

He held up his hands and smoothed the palms, his fingers, over the tender skin of her face.

The medicinal smell of the liquid should have killed anything arousing between them. It certainly wasn’t some sweet-smelling massage oil or chocolate-flavored body butter … good God, where were those ideas coming from? And yet, despite the sharp scent it was his hands, his fingers, which sent her into a slow melt. The way his palms ran from her cheekbones over her jaw, how the tips of his fingers trailed down the curve of her neck.

Like a caress.

A strange look passed over his face, one Abby couldn’t decipher, but it was so serious, so conflicted, that her heart did a bump in response.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said quietly, his fingers hesitating but remaining lightly on her skin.

She knew he wasn’t talking about her sunburn or anything else. He was apologizing for the party, and this time she knew he truly meant it. This time she understood why he’d done it.

“You should have told me,” she whispered. “I would have understood, Tom. You let me believe that you’d…”

“I know,” he said, but still his fingers traced the curve between her neck and shoulder.

“Why?”

His dark gaze met hers. “Because I’m an ass. Because I wanted to forget about Erin and Josh and just pretend to be a guy inviting a girl to a picnic and not feel guilty about it.”

“But you didn’t deserve what he said. Jess and Sarah told me…”

“Jess and Sarah don’t know everything, Abby.”

Of course they didn’t. How could they? Tom kept his cards close to his chest, didn’t he? He wasn’t the kind to spill his guts, even to family. She understood that—probably better than he could imagine.

Abby squeezed his arm. “Of course no one knows everything. Everybody has their secrets. But you never say what you really mean. It’s like you’re afraid for people to get too close. Like with the house. Like the party. Why is it so hard to be honest?” In the back of her mind the words “pot calling kettle” echoed, but she ignored them. With Tom she’d always made her wishes crystal clear. Whatever else she’d kept to herself didn’t signify.

“I don’t know.” He swallowed and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to be honest with you.”

Her heart stuttered. Only with her? “Maybe it makes you feel vulnerable.”

“Maybe it does.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “What do you want to know?”

They hovered in the moment, a pause that felt like once this moment was over things wouldn’t be the same between them. She desperately wanted him to kiss her again. To kiss her, not some ghost from his past. And he was waiting for her to say something.