Bayside Passions, Page 4

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” Desiree said.

  Emery’s cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. “Me either!”

  “We’re going to have so much fun!” Desiree stepped back, holding Emery’s hands. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me too. We need to have a slumber party and stay up all night catching up.”

  “A slumber party?” Violet asked. She was the antithesis of Desiree, with long raven hair and colorful tattoos snaking down her shoulder and arm from beneath a black tank top. Her gray miniskirt revealed more tattoos on the side of her thigh. “Are you going to do each other’s hair and nails, too?”

  Emery launched into Violet’s arms, squeezing her tight.

  Violet wasn’t a hugger, but beneath the harsh exterior and verbal slaughter she’d dole out to anyone she pleased, she was a good, kind, and creative person who, Emery and Desiree believed, just needed love to soften her up. They were determined to break Violet of what they called her Wall of Warning.

  “If you don’t hug me back, I’ll keep hugging you,” Emery threatened. “And it’s ‘we’ as in you, too, Vi.”

  Violet sighed, her arms briefly circling Emery. “I thought we were going out tonight, getting our groove on, and all that shit.”

  “We are! I can’t wait.” Emery went back for her bags. “Do you mind if I stay with you, Vi? Just until Wednesday, when the room in the big house is free?”

  “Nope. Desiree already dropped that bomb on me. I just hope you brought your earplugs, because I plan to work off some stress tonight.” It was no secret that when it came to guys, Violet was of the opinion that less was definitely not more.

  Emery followed them into Violet’s cottage. “Do you have a steady boyfriend?”

  “God, no.” Violet headed for the kitchen. “You two better get moving. That bar is packed on the weekends.”

  “I promise to be fast, Vi,” Desiree said.

  Emery followed her into the guest bedroom and dropped her bags. “Is Rick coming tonight?”

  “Yes,” Desiree said. “Drake and Serena, too, but Mira and Matt are taking Hagen to the children’s theater, so you’ll have to meet them another time. And since they’re trying to get pregnant, I think they have better things to do at night anyway.” Mira was Rick and Drake’s younger sister. She and her husband, Matt, and their little boy, Hagen, lived in a cottage on the Bayside Resort property.

  “I’ll have to remember to show Mira some fertility-boosting yoga poses.”

  “She’d probably love that.” Desiree hugged Emery again. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here for good and you’re going to be working at the inn. Thank you!”

  “Are you kidding? More like thank you for letting me crash your life.” Emery had missed her so much, she had to hug her again.

  “Okay, Sappy Sues,” Violet called into the bedroom. “Move your pretty little asses or you’ll never get into Undercover.”

  UNDERCOVER WAS ONE of the few happening night spots on the outer Cape, and as expected, it was jam-packed. Dean sat at a table with Rick and Desiree, while—like most of the guys in the bar—watching Emery and Violet dance like they were lovers: arms over their heads, breasts thrusting, hips gyrating, and sexy smirks challenging every man who tried to cut in. Emery looked like she might set the dance floor on fire in a skintight dress that showed every sinful curve. She’d done something with her makeup that made her eyes look too damn smoky and seductive. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Look at them,” Desiree said a little breathlessly. “Violet with her cutoffs and fringed belly shirt and Emery in that tight yellow dress. They look like they were put on this earth with the sole purpose to drive men crazy. I would give my left arm to be able to dance like that.”

  Rick gave her an over-my-dead-body look. “If you danced like that I’d have to lock you up.”

  Which is exactly what I’d like to do to little Miss Shake Her Booty over there.

  Desiree leaned closer to Rick and said, “Careful.” Then, quieter, “I might like that.”

  Dean slid his gaze back to Emery and ground his teeth together as another guy approached her. He was tall, built, and about to get his ass kicked if he brushed against her breasts again.

  “Damn, Dean,” Serena said as she arrived at the table with a pitcher of beer and Drake on her heels. Drake’s six-plus feet dwarfed her petite frame. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear and said, “You look like you’re about ready to kill someone.”

  Dean’s fingers curled around his glass, mentally driving daggers into the asshole who was now deep in conversation with Emery.

  “Why don’t you go out there and stake your claim instead of drooling from here?” Serena suggested.

  Dean was glad Desiree was too busy with Rick to have heard the comment. The last thing he needed was to have the girls pushing him or Emery, when he knew it might only cause Emery to run like the wind.

  Drake grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her away from Dean. “Causing trouble again?”

  “Nope. Come on.” Serena grabbed Drake’s hand and tried to pull him toward the dance floor. As one of Mira’s best friends, Serena had grown up with Drake and Rick, too. When they’d bought the resort, she’d been between interior design jobs and had agreed to temporarily help them get the resort under control and manage the office. That was three years ago.

  Drake plunked himself down in a chair and poured a glass of beer. “Thanks, but I think I’ll hang with the guys.”

  “You suck.” Serena turned pleading eyes to Desiree. “Dance with me?”

  Rick gave Desiree a quick kiss and swatted her ass as she pushed to her feet. “Go, have fun.”

  “She’s right,” Drake said to Dean, eyes tracking Serena, who had stopped to talk to a guy by the edge of the dance floor. “You should dance with Emery. You know you’re into her.”

  “Look who’s talking.” Dean chugged his beer. He wasn’t sure if Drake was bluffing or if he was as transparent as his friends made him seem, but he’d never admitted his feelings for Emery to either of them. And if he was that transparent, then Emery must be the only one wearing blinders.

  Drake scoffed. “Not even close. Besides, I don’t dip the pen in the company ink.”

  “Neither do I,” Dean said, silently reminding Drake that next week Emery was on their payroll. “I just don’t want her getting hurt by some asshole.”

  He watched the girls dance to a few more songs, every minute more painful than the last, as Emery amped up her dirty dancing, catching the eyes of the few men who hadn’t already been leering at her. Maybe he should fire her before she started working for them and make a move after all.

  Shit. The whole friendship thing would still be a problem.

  Drake and Rick began planning the group’s next tubing adventure. They’d enjoyed just about every water sport available on and off the Cape since they were kids. The three of them were always planning one adventure or another, but Dean could no more concentrate on their conversation than take his eyes off Emery.

  “Dean?” Drake said sometime later. “Can you make it? Tubing a week from Thursday?”

  He was only half listening. “Yeah, count me in. Are the girls coming?” If the girls were going to be there, chances were, Emery would be there, too.

  “Yes. That’s why we’re going in the afternoon. Des has to be at the inn in the morning.”

  “Perfect.” Dean’s phone vibrated, and he took it out of his pocket, saw his father’s name on the screen, and sent it to voicemail. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his overbearing father’s bullshit about getting serious and going to medical school. Not today. Not ever. It was bad enough that he’d have to spend the night of the benefit dinner pretending to have a pleasant relationship with his father.

  Dean gazed out at the dance floor, struggling to push those harsh feelings aside. By the time the girls made their way back to the table, hanging on to each other and giggling, he’d come out from under h
is father’s shadow.

  Emery sat down beside him and took a drink of his beer. He struggled to resist the urge to drape an arm around her and send the message to the rest of the assholes in the bar that she was taken.

  But she wasn’t taken.

  And if he made a move, she’d probably give him hell for putting a damper on their friendship.

  In other words, he was fucked.

  “Emery has a date tomorrow night,” Violet announced while pouring herself a drink.

  Dean felt Rick’s and Drake’s eyes on him, but he was too busy grinding his back teeth to react. “A date?”

  Emery pointed across the dance floor to the guy he’d mentally slaughtered. “I’m going out with him. He’s pretty hot, right?”

  Dean wanted to wipe the floor with the guy’s arrogant grin. “You just met the guy.”

  “So what?” Emery said. “He’s a pretty good dancer, and it’s not like I have anything better to do at the moment.”

  “Don’t you mean anyone better to do?” Violet waggled her brows. Then her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Emery. “I had to move out of the big house because Desiree and Rick kept that headboard banging at all hours of the night. If you’re staying with me, just keep that kind of shit to a minimum.”

  “I’m not a skank, Vi.” Emery reached for Dean’s beer again. “Besides, you’re the one who told me to bring earplugs.”

  “I was kidding,” she said unconvincingly.

  “Sounds like mixed messages to me,” Serena said.

  Emery took another sip of Dean’s beer. He filled a glass and set it in front of her.

  She wrinkled her nose, looking cuter than hell. “I hate beer.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  She put her hands around his glass and flashed the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. “It tastes better because it’s yours. It’s like eating a salad you make yourself and taking care to use all the same ingredients that they use at your favorite restaurant. No matter how you cut the lettuce and veggies, it’s never as good as the salad you get at the restaurant, because someone else made the other one.”

  Why did her ridiculous rationalizations make him smile? “I didn’t make the beer,” he pointed out. Not that he minded sharing with her. Hell, the first time he’d met her she’d sucked down his entire drink and that weekend she’d eaten half of nearly everything he had on his plate.

  Emery rolled her beautiful eyes. “Same idea.”

  “Dean, what’s going on over there? Are you trying to steal my best friend?” Desiree asked. “She used to drink my drinks.”

  Stealing doesn’t come close to what I’d like to do to her. “Hardly.”

  “First you keep her at your place all day,” Desiree said. “Now she’s sharing your drinks. I think you’re definitely trying to move into the number one BFF spot.”

  “I told you I couldn’t get to the inn because of the traffic,” Emery reminded her.

  “Dean lives on Bayside Resort property,” Desiree pointed out. “It’s about a five-minute walk from his place to my front door. Why were you able to get there—” Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. Are you two…?”

  “What? No.” Emery sat up straighter, putting distance between her and Dean. “Wait. You live on the resort grounds? I didn’t see the resort.”

  Fuck. Dean scrubbed a hand down his face to try to hide his smile.

  Rick belted out a laugh. “If you had followed the path through the tall bushes at the back of his yard, you would have come out near the far end of our property, near Matt and Mira’s cottage.”

  Emery swatted Dean’s arm. “What the heck, Dean? You said you’d have to take me on the Jet Ski!”

  “Oh shit,” Drake said with a laugh.

  “What?” Dean tried to play it off casually, as if it were no big deal. “I had no idea where the keys to the golf cart were, and it’s a long walk with all your stuff. I was only thinking of you.”

  “Thinking of me, my butt,” Emery said.

  “Damn right he was thinking about your butt,” Violet said.

  “Jesus, Vi.” Dean met Emery’s angry gaze. “Is there something wrong with wanting to spend time with my friend? You said Des was busy anyway.”

  “She was, but you could have been honest with me.” Hurt replaced the anger in Emery’s eyes. “Besides, why did you give me directions all the way back to Route 6 if you’re on the same property?”

  Drake and Rick cracked up again, but the hurt in Emery’s eyes cut him to his core.

  Before he could answer, Desiree said, “You gave her the long way? Em, all you had to do was go out his driveway and turn left. It’s literally a three-minute drive.”

  Dean shrugged. “I thought it might be best if she learned how to get there from the main road.”

  “You get more girls with truth than lies, Dean,” Serena added.

  “It wasn’t a lie, and I wasn’t trying to get Emery.” He put an arm around Emery and pulled her closer. When she resisted, he tugged harder, unwilling to let this come between them. “I’m really sorry for wasting your time, doll, but is it a crime to want to spend time with the woman who texts me at two in the morning?”

  “She texts you at two in the morning?” Serena slid Desiree a curious look.

  “I can’t very well text Desiree anymore, can I?” Emery answered. “Rick would have my head on a platter.” She leaned back, giving Dean an eyeful of her girls, as she said, “Besides, Dean doesn’t mind. He texts me all the time, too.”

  Mind? He waited with bated breath for those damn texts.

  “Sounds like the cold winter nights were warmed with sexting fuckery to me.” Violet pushed to her feet and headed for the bar. “Speaking of fuckery, I see an old friend. Catch y’all later.”

  “We were not sexting!” Emery grabbed Dean’s beer and took another drink.

  “In any case”—Serena waved toward the dance floor—“I think Dean owes you a dance.”

  The last thing he needed was to dirty dance with Emery. He’d be hard in seconds and Drake and Rick would have a blast teasing him about it. “I don’t want to dance,” he said sharply.

  “Tough toenails. You owe me.” Emery hauled him out of his seat and toward the dance floor.

  Who the hell was he kidding? He’d let her lead him around by the nose if she wanted to.

  The song “Hands to Myself” began playing, and Emery fell into a hip-swaying, shoulders-rolling dance, singing about wanting him all to herself. Her voice—and those words—were as intoxicating as tequila. Her arms moved like graceful snakes over her head as she turned in a circle, her ass brushing against his hips. Holy fuck, the girl could make an impotent man hard. She glanced over her shoulder, her long hair curtaining one eye. A sultry smile curved her lips as she sang about not being able to keep her hands to herself and wanting his all.

  I’ll give you my all, all right—and then some.

  She turned, her hips brushing against his very-interested cock, and he hauled her against him, matching her every move with a bump and grind of his own. He wedged his thigh between hers and guided her arms around his neck, bringing her soft, pliable body against him.

  “Thought you couldn’t dance,” she said as he settled his hands on her hips, never missing a beat.

  “I said I didn’t want to dance. There’s a difference.” Now that he was deliciously wrapped up in her, he wasn’t about to let go. “Hold tight, baby doll.”

  He dipped her over his arm and she followed his lead, arching and swaying, her hips pressed tightly against his. When she rose upright again, she held his gaze. Her hands played over his pecs and then wound around his neck, driving him out of his mind one touch at a time. She dragged her fingernails along the back of his neck, and he imagined dozens of dirty ways he could get those sexy nails to dig deeper.

  “You’re a hell of a dancer, big guy.”

  Her voice jarred him from his fantasies, but it was like swimming to the surface of a volcano. Every touch, every glanc
e, brought more wicked desires. His hands slid down her hips, up her back, and into her hair. He fucking loved her silky hair. Their eyes connected, holding for a long, sizzling moment. He was vaguely aware of the song ending, the beat changing, but he continued dancing, unwilling to break their spell. She licked her lips, and he was sure she was right there with him. She arched back again, holding on to his arms, her hair fanning out behind her as she swayed in an arc. He struggled to keep himself in check, but as she rose, her breasts grazed his chest and his restraint snapped. He couldn’t keep from lowering his mouth toward hers, to finally claim the kiss he’d dreamed about for so long. Her eyes closed, her shoulders rocked, and just as his lips hovered over hers, she dipped back again, headbutting him in the chin.

  “Mother fu—” He swallowed a string of curses.

  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I was so lost in dancing, I didn’t see your face there.” She reached for his cheeks, stroking his beard. “Wow, that’s so soft. That beard stuff really works, huh?”

  He groaned. How could their bodies be so close, the heat be so intense, and their thoughts be that far apart? “I didn’t know I needed a chin guard.”

  “How many times have I told you that I can be oblivious to things? I’m buying you a football helmet to wear around me. I’m so sorry. I just got carried away.” She fluttered her too-damn-sexy lashes and said, “Take it as a compliment. It means we connected.”

  Not exactly the connection I was hoping for.

  Chapter Three

  THE NEXT MORNING Emery woke with the sun, lying in Violet’s guest bedroom planning the first day of her new life. She couldn’t wait to check out her studios at the inn and at the resort. She planned to hold most of her yoga classes outdoors, but Desiree and Violet had renovated the den as a studio for when it rained. The guys at Bayside Resort had created a wonderful community center last summer, where she could hold classes in bad weather, and they were allowing her to use one of the offices there, too. She was excited to put up some of her decorations and make each of those spaces her own.