PLAYED: A Small Town Billionaire Romance (Reckless Falls Book 5) Read online

  I shivered and stepped backwards. But that only brought me closer to Finn, who was close behind me. Close. So close.

  The rage that had been coursing through my system melted away. All of a sudden I wanted nothing more than to sit down. "Wow," was all I could say. I inhaled sharply, ready to apologize...

  Then I lifted my head in wonder. "Wow," I said again, sniffing some more. "It smells amazing in here."

  Finn brushed his hand lightly over my arm as he moved into my line of sight. My skin prickled, as if reaching for him, and I rubbed my arms briskly to brush away the goosebumps that marched up my arm where he touched it.

  "You should stay for dinner," he said. "It's on the house."

  I gaped at him as he guided me back towards a tall, private booth in the back. It was right near the kitchen and looked like it had been installed that day. "Sit," he directed, then licked his lips, catching himself. "Please," he added.

  "You're awfully bossy," I teased.

  "You have no idea," Jackson sighed with a world-weary eyeroll.

  Finn shot a look over to Jackson. "Jacky-boy here has come up with a menu," he said.

  "And I want you to tell me what you think," Jackson finished, looking me dead in the eye. "Can you do that?"

  "Uh..." I looked at both their faces, watching me so intently. Something had changed, I could feel it though I couldn't put it into words. It was like some door that had been locked was now flung open. Both of them were staring at me with frank, undisguised lust and the effect was dizzying. I collapsed back down on the booth.

  Jackson grinned. "Great," he said when he saw me sit. "I'll bring out the first course."

  Finn slid into the seat across from me. "I want you to tell me what you think as well," he said in a low voice. "Don't worry if you don't like something, you can be honest with me."

  "Uh, okay?" I squeaked.

  Jackson emerged from the kitchen with a small plate in his hand. He gave a sharp look at Finn sitting across from me, and then set the plate down. "Heirloom eggplant," he explained. "Poached in Thai spices and topped with burnt sugar."

  I tapped my fork against the crisp sugar top. "Almost like a crème brûlée?" I ventured.

  He grinned. "Exactly."

  I lifted my fork. It was a small slice, only the size of a Communion wafer, but when it hit my tongue it was anything but that bland piece of carboard. It fairly exploded on my tongue, a sweet and spicy firecracker with the crunchy, sugary crust balancing out the meltingly soft eggplant.

  I widened my eyes. "Is this for real?" I mumbled dumbly

  Jackson nodded, apparently pleased, and headed back into the kitchen. But I sat back in the booth, still dumbstruck.

  This was the kind of cooking I'd never even considered before. This was cooking as art.

  "Wow," I muttered. Was I surprised? Yes. Should I have been?

  I didn't even know any more.

  Jackson reemerged with another small plate. "Second course," he explained, setting it front of me. "Deconstructed sushi. Wild fish roe with flakes of seaweed and cucumber. "

  "That's rice paper it's wrapped it. " Finn explained as I squinted at the little pocket. "Jackson's take on ravioli, I call it."

  "How do I eat it?" I asked, squinting.

  "However you want," Jackson said encouragingly.

  I looked around but there was no one in the empty restaurant to mimic. And there was definitely no mother's voice in my ear hissing at me that I was breaking every rule of etiquette.

  I was free to reach out with my fingers and scoop up the delicate little package.

  After the explosion of the eggplant, this was a gentle little song on my tongue. The flavors were both mild and complex, but not weird. I found myself smiling like I was in on some great joke. "Wow," I grinned.

  Finn nodded. "I know."

  "You need something to drink," Jackson noted.

  Finn nodded. "The Jasper Hill dry Riesling. It's good paired with anything. Really bright on the palate."

  Jackson nodded again and disappeared into the kitchen once more.

  "How long have you two known each other?" I asked Finn.

  Finn grew thoughtful. "We've known of each other for almost ten years, but things sort of... snowballed recently. " He gave a rueful grin. "We were friends until I knew what he was capable of. And then I knew I had to work with him. He kept that part hidden."

  "Why?"

  "Who knows? He holds his cards close to his chest. His real expression is through his cooking, I think. That's where he busts loose."

  I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, eager to sop up any remaining flavor. "I guess so." I looked at him with my head cocked to the side. "What about you?"

  He shrugged. "Not much to say. I spent years at a desk feeling my soul sucked out through my nose. I'm good at numbers and good at turning money into more money. But I was tired of doing that for other people." He grimaced a little. "I know it makes me sound like an asshole when I say this, but I was tired of not being able to fly as high as I knew I could because other people kept my wings clipped." His eyes twinkled. "You know the saying. If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself."

  Boy did I understand that. "So you decided to open a restaurant?" I asked. "That's a switch from working a desk job."

  "There was this disconnect. Jackson and I both felt it. I wanted to build something but I was stuck working with these intangibles. Just numbers on a computer to show for a day's work." He ran his fingers over the top of the wooden booth. You can't get much more real than food."

  I grinned. "Sounds familiar. I know."

  "So when his..." He swallowed and caught himself. "When the opportunity arose, I went to him and said we should build a restaurant together. Whatever he wanted. 'Your vision,' I told him. 'You take care of the menu and I'll get the customers.'" He laughed ruefully. "I really did think it was that easy. I'd worked with money all my life, I made it appear out of thin air. How hard could it be?"

  I couldn't help but laugh and he shot me a wry look. "Yeah," he said. "I know. Turns out it's really fucking hard. And when you're doing this kind of cooking in a small town like this, you need to really sell yourself. And I'm afraid I'm not doing that. He's holding up his end of the bargain, but I'm failing at mine."

  I pursed my lips in thought, about to comment when Jackson came out again, bearing something that looked more like sculpture than food.

  "Oh shit," Finn laughed, rubbing his hands together. "He's giving you the test dish. He must trust you."

  "The what?"

  I looked up at Jackson for explanation, but he only shrugged. "You don't use your hands," he said.

  "That's crazy," I giggled, looking at the strange contraption in front of me.

  "I told you he was a genius," Finn clarified. "But I never claimed he was right in the head." He looked up at Jackson. "Hey where's the wine?"

  "I couldn't find it," Jackson shrugged.

  Finn pursed his lips. "Weird. I just entered it into inventory this morning." He shrugged and turned to me. "Ah well, I'll grab something in a minute. You eat."

  "Bossy," I chided him.

  "Yep," he grinned.

  I looked down at my plate. If you could call it that. It was a skinny rod rising at an angle from a heavy wooden base. Upon it was speared a sliver of salmon topped with foam that smelled like pineapple whipped up to look like the crest of a wave. It bobbed gently in front of me, as if waiting for me to muster up the courage.

  I looked at Finn who could barely contain his laughter.

  Then I looked up at Jackson. He was watching with his arms folded over his broad chest. Almost as if he was holding himself... or holding himself back. I felt a downward rush because I knew why he was watching, and I knew what it looked like I was about to do. I looked back at Finn, and his tongue darted to the corner of his mouth a second. "Bon appétit," he murmured.

  I leaned forward and opened my mouth. There was nothing to do but slide my lips over the strip of
salmon, enveloping the whole bite in my mouth at once.

  Was it my imagination, or did I just hear Jackson's sharp intake of breath as my lips closed? Or was it Finn who was watching me with flashing blue eyes?

  I slid my mouth back up along the skewer, and pressed my fingers to my lips. The pink strip of flesh was every bit as salty, sweet and savory as I expected, but the act of putting it in my mouth like that... as they both watched. It was unsettling and somehow sinful.

  "I want more," I blurted suddenly.

  Jackson nodded. "I'll get you dessert."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Finn

  The way her mouth closed around that slice of salmon, her lips pinker than the sweet flesh that slipped between them as she closed her eyes and let out a little moan of pleasure had me nearly doubled over. The blood rushed to my dick so fast I got dizzy.

  I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. When I opened them again, she was staring at me. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern in her voice.

  How had she gotten even more beautiful in a few passing minutes?

  "Damn," I stammered, sounding like a fucking middle schooler whose voice hadn't changed yet. "I need to get you to be in our commercials."

  She leaned forward with a grin. "Why? You think I'm acting?"

  I licked my lips and leaned forward, suddenly unable to be away from her. "God I hope not," I confessed.

  "I'm not," she repeated.

  I reached out, brushing my hand up her arm, my dancing fingers causing a trail of goosebumps to rise up behind them like sparks. I smiled to see it. She was feeling it too. "Who are you, Bee?" I heard myself ask.

  That was a new one.

  Her lips quivered in a suppressed laugh. "Who am I?"

  I shrugged, smiling. "Yeah. What's your story?"

  I'd never asked that question before. It had never even occurred to me to ask a woman to even just talk to me, much less tell me her story. But suddenly I needed to know everything about her.

  "Not much to tell," she breathed in a long exhale. "I just moved here."

  "Family?" I guessed.

  Her mouth quirked oddly. "Actually? Pretty much the opposite."

  I leaned back a little, still clasping her hand. "Tell me," I urged.

  She took a deep breath. "I was married," she started, then looked up to see my shocked expression and laughed. "Operative word there being was."

  "But you're..." I swallowed. "Forgive me, but you're so fucking young."

  She nodded, looking down at where our fingers were entwined and brushed her thumb over the ring finger of her left hand. "Zach. That was his name. Zachary Nash. His farm was adjacent to my parents' land."

  "Your parents are farmers?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "They own a bed and breakfast." Her eyes darted to the side for a moment and then back to me. "From the time I was five years old onward, my life was devoted to making the guests happy. My parents treated me like an unpaid staff member, teaching me to smile and be polite. I was always doing chores, working in the kitchen and stuff." She shrugged. "That's where I learned to bake."

  "And then you got married?"

  She laughed a little. "Pretty much. Zach started hanging around and... I don't know. I was young, only thirteen when he first decided we'd be boyfriend and girlfriend. And since I'd spent my life up to that point figuring out how to make other people happy..." She pulled her hand back. "And since it made him happy to kiss me, and it made my parents happy that I found myself a good catch," she bit off the words in clipped anger, "I guess I never really considered what I wanted, you know?"

  I nodded but stayed silent, watching the emotions that played across her face.

  "I got married on my eighteenth birthday," she confessed. "At my parents' B&B. That night I moved out of their house and into his."

  "He had a house already?"

  She nodded. "An outbuilding on his parents' land. Basically a converted barn. And he…" She took a deep breath. "He always told me how lucky I was that he found me." Her cheeks were coloring with a furious shade of pink. "Because I needed someone to take care of me, you see. I was hopeless, and not very pretty..." I growled something profane and she looked up at me and smiled a little. "And I was lucky to have landed a husband at all."

  "Fucker," I hissed.

  She nodded. "And since I'd always worked so hard to make other people happy, I wasn't even sure what it was I wanted." She traced her finger across the table. "But what I definitely did not want was a husband who came home from boys' night smelling like some other woman's perfume."

  "Holy fuck."

  "I threw my wedding ring into the gully between our properties," she declared with an evil grin. "Some days I wish I hadn't though. I could have sold that thing and bought myself a nicer delivery truck."

  I was floored. "You just walked away?"

  She nodded, then cocked her head. "You seem surprised."

  "I'm not surprised," I confessed, lifting her fingers to my mouth. "I'm in awe of you. You've got bigger balls than I do."

  Her eyes gleamed. "I'll take your word for it."

  I swallowed hard and she must have caught the look of desire on my face because she lifted her chin. "You okay?" she challenged, licking her lips.

  "I'm okay," I told her, brushing my fingers under her chin and tilting it upward. "As long as you're here."

  She licked her lips again, adding a delicate sheen to the bee stung pinkness. Like a magnet, I felt myself pulled, and suddenly I was leaning across the table and kissing her.

  She melted against me as I drank her sweetness in, long and slow. I stood up, still kissing her as I walked around the table to be closer to her, searching her mouth as I drew nearer.

  Every nerve in my body seemed to be firing at once. I slipped my hand behind her neck, cupping the back of her head to draw her nearer. And Bee, sweet Bee, threw her hands around my neck in a way that made me want to do a victory lap around the building.

  Fuck, she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I couldn't believe my fucking luck. She wanted my body against hers, she didn't hold back, and at that realization, my cock was suddenly pressing hard against my pants, everything tight and uncomfortable, straining towards her.

  All at once I heard a noise. A strange one that made me pull back. I turned to see that Jackson was standing there watching us, his expression unreadable.

  "I thought you might want dessert," Jackson drawled. "But I see you started without me."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jackson

  Finn's lips curled up in a snarl. He looked at me and I lifted my chin in a challenge. No I'm not ready to give up the game, I told him in a glance. Not yet.

  Did it bother me that he was kissing her? That she was kissing him? It should have, I'll tell you that much. I should have felt like now she was off limits, but for some reason, seeing the two of them entwined like that only made me want to try harder with her. Him kissing her wasn't a rejection, no. It was a fucking invitation.

  Because the way she looked at me, with those heavy, sleepy, just-fucked eyelids slitting her shining eyes, well fuck, it only made me want to kiss her myself.

  Finn leaped back from her, banging his knee on the underside of the table. "I'm going to look for that missing bottle of dry Riesling," he muttered in his haste to get away from me, probably to keep me from punching him in the face.

  I got it. I appreciated it.

  "I already checked the wine cellar," I said, as casual as can be. "It's not there.

  "I'm looking anyway," he barked.

  I watched him rush away with some amusement.

  And then slid into the booth and took his place.

  I looked at Bee. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, I liked seeing her like this. Even if I wasn't the one who made her this way, I could still fucking appreciate the effect. "Now," I told her. "I want your opinion on something."

  She eyed me warily. Her cheeks were still pink and each little freckle stood out on
her pale chest. And I'm not going to lie, my dick was as hard as a diamond. If she reacted this way to just Finn kissing her, how over the top would she be once I did?

  And how incredible would she feel squirming against my tongue?

  "About what?" she said again and I realized I'd never finished my sentence.

  I leaned back in the booth. "The dessert menu," I told her.

  Her eyes flashed with interest, but I could see that she was still holding back. "Please, sit down, I'm not going to bite." I told her with a grin. "Unless you want me to."

  "Don't flatter yourself," she said archly.

  "It's not flattery if it's the truth," I told her.

  Her cheeks colored with angry heat, but she sat down anyway and I licked my lips trying not to lean forward and grab her by the face and claim her lips for myself.

  Instead, I leaned back even more, trying to put some distance between us as I spoke. "I'm tweaking the dessert menu too," I told her. "Shall I bring out the tray?"

  She pressed her lips together. I could almost see the mental arithmetic she was doing, calculating the precise mix of pleasure she would allow herself. When she finally nodded, I felt a burst of triumph in my chest.

  I always did think of food as foreplay.

  "I'll go grab it," I told her, standing back up again. Her eyes slid down my body and I could tell that she could see the shape of my cock through my pants. She looked away with an inadvertent squeak.

  I was totally fucked for this girl, there was no escaping it.

  I pulled the dessert tray from the refrigerator and hesitated. Desserts were my weakness, I’d be the first to admit it. Always had been. And there was no denying that I was showing off for Bee right now, trying to impress her, competing with Finn for her attention. So it would be silly of me to bring this out only to have her be disappointed.

  But on the other hand, I really did believe she could teach me something I didn't already know. I trusted her opinion, especially when it came to baking.

  And that was why I was already carrying it out to her before I really had time to think it through.