Divine Ambrosia Page 3

“Yes, of course. The fifteenth Annual Winter Gala and Fundraiser is coming up next month, and I was hoping to speak with Mr. Smith about donating a piece. All proceeds from the auction benefit the Ashfall Memorial Hospital’s pediatric floor.”

  “While the cause sounds like a worthy one, Mr. Smith does not give away his work, nor does he have any to spare.”

  “Please. If I could just speak with him for, like, a quick minute, I’d really appreciate it. I understand the value of his work, I really do, and I’m not asking for anything huge. Even a small sculpture would be a great addition to our charity fundraiser. All the local businesses get involved.”

  “I am sorry, Miss Caro, he does not take callers.”

  “Please, I—”

  “Good day, Miss Caro.”

  Click. The line went dead.

  Esme frowned at her cell phone and set it aside. “Dude, I think he has a butler. I mean, the guy sounded like I imagine a butler would.”

  “Like Tim Curry in Clue?”

  “Yeah, pretty much like that. Very Alfred Pennyworth. I’m sure he calls him Master Alexander while delivering the morning paper and his coffee.”

  “Sorry you didn’t get anything from him.”

  Esme shrugged. “Like I said, at least I asked. It was worth trying.” Still, it stung a little. She’d long admired Smith’s work, and meeting him would have been a thrill.

  “Well, why don’t you say we split up this list and tackle the soft hearts we know will donate?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  A healthy dose of skepticism and too many prior disappointments led Esme to expect Luke would be a no-show. Then she stepped into the cafe and found him waiting at a table with another pair of hot peppermint cocoas and a big smile before sweeping her away from the building for a real date.

  Esme warmed her hands on the cup as they embarked on their journey into the student lot. His arm fit around her waist like it belonged there, introducing her to the heat of his body and an expensive cologne she recognized from cruising the mall counters and staring at designer items she couldn’t afford with her part-time wages.

  Marie always teased her about having a nose like a bloodhound, good at picking apart individual notes, like the cedar, bergamot, and hints of vetiver clinging to his red hoodie. He wore his varsity jacket, white sleeves against a blue and silver body, too thin to provide real protection in the frigid mountain weather. But he didn’t shiver.

  Even his car was a real thing of beauty, an old classic restored to mint condition like he’d driven it off a showroom floor yesterday. She didn’t know much about old cars except to appreciate how pretty they were. Luke’s car had a metallic teal finish with silver racing stripes. She slid onto the glossy gray leather bench seat and buckled in. Then the seat warmers beneath her promptly chased away the remnants of the winter chill.

  Esme sank down and sipped her hot drink. Heaven. “I don’t know why bench seats like this went out of fashion. This is so comfortable. Especially the seat warmers.”

  Luke chuckled and pulled out onto the road. “Heh. Yeah. As soon as I was accepted here, I made sure to install those,” he said. The streets appeared freshly plowed, but he cruised the car five miles below the speed limit, a prudent driver with vigilant eyes on the road. When he paused at a stop sign, tourists rushed ahead of them down the pedestrian crossing.

  “So, what made you come to Ashfall anyway?”

  “Eh. A change in scenery I guess. It was something new.”

  “But didn’t you have to sit out an entire track season just to change schools?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. Besides, a, uh… I guess you could call him a family friend, lives in the area. We hang out sometimes.”

  Esme twisted in the seat to study his expression as he maneuvered around a corner and pulled into the lot of the only theater in town. It was a small building, recently renovated with fresh carpets the previous year, and they never showed more than four movies at a time. “So, you moved here for a friend? That’s really sweet of you.”

  He gave her a bashful grin, the kind of boyish smile that would have sent a pink flush across his face if he wasn’t the golden shade of brown suede. “Since I’m so sweet, I’ll let you pick the movie. We got four choices, superheroes, horror, comedy, or romance.”

  “Superheroes. I’m not in the mood for nightmares, and I won’t make you sit through a romance. Um… speaking of romance. I have one tiny question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Aren’t you dating a supermodel?”

  His brows shot up. Then he laughed so hard there were tears in the corners of his eyes. “Dito? No. Dito and I are like family. I haven’t dated anyone in a long time. Feels like centuries.”

  “Oh.”

  Luke covered everything, including their overpriced popcorn, soda, and candies. He must have had a major sweet tooth, because he bought licorice, sour gummies, and chocolates for himself while she settled for a single king-sized Snickers.

  They stepped into a semi-deserted theater room to watch their magical flick, the bulk of the evening movie-goers occupied by the recent new comedy release starring some popular Hollywood starlet and a sexy male antagonist. Luke guided her past a dozen scattered viewers to the middle of the back row.

  At some point in the movie, he yawned and stretched out his arms, pulling off a classic move by lowering one around her shoulders. Since she couldn’t decide if it was a legitimate attempt or her date’s sense of humor, she let it slide and leaned against his shoulder, breathing in that scent of cologne and spice clinging to his jacket and neck.

  They were among the last to leave the dimly lit room after waiting for the final after-credits scene.

  Luke yawned after standing. “That was better than the reviews made it seem. So, wanna go grab a bite to eat?”

  Esme shrugged into her coat again and fastened it. “After all that popcorn and candy? No thanks, I’m stuffed. Maybe next time we can just do dinner.”

  His eyes lit up, grin widening across a face made for magazines. “You asking me out on a date, or should I check for cameras?”

  When she smacked his chest, his good-natured laugh wrapped around her like a warm hug inviting her into his embrace long before he pulled her close by one wrist. She melted into him, surrounded by strong arms and pressed against a hard, masculine chest chiseled by hours of training for his team.

  Luke dipped his head for a kiss Esme had no hope of resisting. She’d never kissed anyone on the first date before. Some stubborn part of her psyche had always been resistant to the threat of being labeled easy. Loose.

  But Luke’s kiss sent sparks dancing along her spine and drove her pulse to a frenzied rhythm. Her skin was hot and electric, like a live wire sizzling each of her nerve endings and connecting in a tight ball between her thighs. Like she’d kissed this man a thousand times before and her body was amped up for more.

  All of it came from one kiss. One moment. She dragged her mouth away and spent the next few seconds breathing against his cheek. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  When Luke twisted to pick up where they left off, Esme lifted a hand to his lips. “Maybe we should head back. You know, keep things ending on a good note.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Luke held the doors for her on the way out and again at his car. It didn’t take more than a few minutes to reach her driveway. The living room lights shone a golden glow beyond the drawn curtains, and the porch light was on.

  “I had a nice time tonight, so thanks.”

  “Me too, Esme. I’m gonna hold you to that dinner.”

  She chuckled and ducked her head. Luke reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear. When the same spark zinged against her cheek, she leaned in and skimmed her lips over his, drawn in by the overwhelming compulsion to kiss him again—an urgent, overpowering need to have one more taste of his lips.

  His kisses were like a drug, smothering her senses beneath a flourishing, heady desire to touch hi
m and trace the lines defining his abs. When her palm slid over the hard layer of muscle beneath his shirt, Luke took it as encouragement. He tugged her sweater up and slipped a hand beneath the soft cashmere, caressing her with fingers like warm silk against her ribs. She shivered under the touch, on the brink of telling him to stop, but eager to experience one second more.

  She slid closer across the bench seat and leaned into him. Luke stroked up and glided his fingers across her bra. Her nipples tightened.

  Wanting to touch him in return, Esme ran her hands down his chest, delighting in the muscled contours. His slim frame and clothing style created a deceptive picture, because the body beneath his track jacket and shirt wasn’t scrawny at all. She discovered only tight, lean muscle. He guided her hand from beneath his shirt to his lap.

  Her hand closed around something hot and rigid, the throbbing length of bared skin beneath her fingertips. Startled, Esme jerked her head away and stared down at his lap, the open fly, and the hard cock wrapped in her hand. The same hand flew of its own volition, the sound of her palm clapping against Luke’s cheek like a thunder strike in the car.

  “The hell was that for!”

  “You’re a fucking dick. I knew it.” She pushed away and slid back. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Was I not supposed to whip it out? I thought we were about to get busy.”

  “Um, at what point did I do anything to imply I was going to sleep with you tonight? Or do anything involving that?” she asked, waving her hand toward his crotch, and the hard length of him that was still proudly spearing up from his open fly.

  To his credit, he did appear to be genuinely stunned, his perfect mouth forming a small circle of surprise. “You went out with me. I mean, hell, you kissed me.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want your cock in my hand, asshole.”

  He fumbled his dick away as she threw open the car door and stepped out onto the gritty driveway. Before she could step away from the vehicle, he was at her side, reaching for her elbow, so damned fast she wondered how he didn’t break his neck.

  Esme jerked her arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “I don’t know what kind of girls you’ve been going out with, or how desperate you thought I was, but I’m not jumping on your dick in a car in my driveway on the first date.”

  “I know, I know, and I’m really, truly sorry about that. I misread you and where things were going. Like, baby, there are no words to express how sorry I am. I assumed. I’m an asshole—”

  “Damned right you’re an asshole.”

  She yanked her arm out from under his touch and rushed onto the porch, nearly losing her balance in the process. Her heel slipped against the frost, but Luke—damn the man for being so fast and light on his feet even with patches of ice on the concrete—was somehow there to steady her.

  Esme punched in the code on the doorknob and shoved her way inside while he babbled out another apology. She didn’t even care that he’d probably seen the access code. She’d change it after he was gone.

  “Shove off!” She banged the door shut in his face and stomped into the living room.

  “Whoa! Why are we slamming doors?” Marie jumped up and ran over to peer out the peephole. “And why is Luke Tempest standing on our porch looking like he just got hit with a post-date final exam he didn’t study for?”

  “He’s still there?”

  “Um, yeah. Wait, nope, he’s walking to his car, but he still looks like a little boy who just found out his puppy died. What happened?”

  “He… he…”

  “What, girl? Did he make you pay? I hate when guys do that.”

  “No, worse. He paid then expected payment back in the car. The sexual kind.”

  “What?”

  “He whipped out his dick while we were kissing.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “He did! And it was—”

  “Gross? Malformed? Wait, no, let me guess. It was tiny, wasn’t it? Tiny like Randy.”

  “Well, no, it was fine. I mean, it was, you know, like big.”

  “Bigger than Daniel?”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s not the point! We were kissing in his car and, yeah, all of a sudden his dick was out.”

  “What a jerk.”

  “I know, right?”

  Esme dropped down onto the couch and kicked off her boots. Marie grabbed beers and vanilla ice cream from the fridge before rejoining her friend.

  “Seriously though, on a scale from one to ten, how was it?”

  “He was a definite nine. I mean, if I’d wanted to jump his bones, I’m pretty sure it would have been amazing.” Luke had been hard as marble in her hands, and long after he was gone, she couldn’t clear the memory of him from her thoughts. She sighed, both irritated and melancholy.

  Why couldn’t he have pulled that move a few weeks down the road when she knew more about him aside from his name and how fast he ran a hundred-meter dash? After an afternoon cocoa and evening at the movies, what did she really know about Luke Tempest?

  I know he’s packing at least eight inches. She chastised herself mentally and focused on the horror movie Marie put on the television.

  No one had worse luck than Esme when it came to dating, her ability to choose the wrong guys practically supernatural by design. With a wry smile, she stabbed her spoon into the pint of French vanilla ice cream and resigned herself to watching a creepy movie about clowns.

  3

  On Wednesdays, Esme had a single, three-hour-long evening class to attend, and when it released, it was always past dark and beyond frigid. It was also the one class she and Marie didn’t share since her friend wasn’t an overachiever with a minor in Architectural History requiring an additional eighteen credit hours. For the briefest of moments, she almost wished she would run into Luke, if only for the ride and warm seats.

  God, for a ride home, she’d have volunteered the hand job.

  In the week since their dating disaster, she’d managed to avoid him without even a brief sighting. She’d half expected to run into him Monday between classes or at lunch, but he hadn’t popped up once to bother her, nor had he appeared the next day during her usual study session between classes.

  Was it possible she’d overreacted, or had he lost interest because she didn’t plan to bone him in his car?

  Snow crunched behind her, and a familiar tingle raced up her spine, raising the hairs on her nape. Her pulse thundered behind her ribs at a staccato beat, ferocious as a galloping herd.

  She glanced back over her shoulder but saw no one. Several shops remained open, but everyone was wisely inside where it was warm. Waving it off as snow falling from a roof, she continued on her way, until another crunch drew her attention. This time, she swore she caught sight of a shadow further back down the way. As the panic attack subsided, she looked back again after several more feet, and this time she made out a hulking figure in a dark coat.

  Esme tugged her purse around to her front and slipped her cell phone out. She thumbed the recent call log and phoned her friend. “Marie,” she hissed when the line picked up. “I think there’s some strange dude following me.”

  “What? Why are you calling me? Call the police.”

  “But what if I’m wrong? I’ll look like an idiot.”

  “Better to look like an idiot than end up in some bad man’s sex dungeon.”

  “What the fuck? Sex dungeon? How does your mind jump to—you know what? Nevermind.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Edge of Spruce and Main by the university library.”

  “Come to the cafe. Do you want me to tell Frank some guy was hassling you and send him out?”

  Esme sagged in relief. Officer Frank would do anything for Marie, especially if it scored him a shot at getting into her panties. “Yes, please.”

  “All right, I’ll—shit. He’s already in his cruiser and driving away.”

  At this hour, few tourists wan
dered the streets and most of the souvenir shops had long ago closed for the day. Nothing stirred on her corner of the street save a stray cat merrily prancing across a dirty mountain of snow created by the plows. The shadowed figure was gone.

  “I am losing my damned mind. I’m freaking out over nothing. It’s well lit, and if I can’t bumble my way a couple blocks to the cafe in the safest, most open part of town, maybe I deserve to be snatched.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay. Love you, girl. I’ll have a bowl of chili waiting when you get here.”

  “Make it a bread bowl. With extra cheese. I want more than a damn pinch this time.”

  “Extra cheese,” Marie agreed.

  Esme ended the call and continued down the road, shivering inside her coat. The wind cut through her gloves and numbed her fingers to the bone.

  The growl of a rumbling engine echoed up the street. Esme peered over her shoulder and caught sight of a motorcycle coming around the corner a few blocks down. In this weather, she couldn't imagine how anyone could enjoy driving without a heater or walls to block out the wind.

  Speaking of which, she was ready to be out of the cold herself. With hands tucked in her pockets, she continued up the sidewalk at a quick pace.

  “Hey there,” a deep, husky voice called out.

  She darted her gaze to the left. The biker coasted at her speed, a big man in a leather jacket and black-visored headgear designed to resemble an old Grecian helmet, complete with a scarlet brush comb on top. Despite the temptation to ask him about it, she picked up the pace and pushed on through the bitter cold.

  “Oh, come on, can’t you at least say hello?”

  “Hello.”

  “Great, so she does speak. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking alone at this hour.”

  She grunted. He sounded like her dad, his tone oddly paternal… No, not paternal, warm and protective but not paternal. Marie was always telling her about street harassment and creepy old guys hitting on her when she visited her family in Sacramento, but Esme had never experienced it herself.

  He paused the bike at the street corner while she waited for a long car to pass through the intersection. “I hear the recent influx of tourists have brought all kinds of shit to town. There’s perverts out,” he persisted.