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A Little Harmless Addiction(20)

By:Melissa Schroeder


After a few long moments, he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. “We’ll have to get you to a real luau.”

“I can’t wait,” she said digging into her food again reminding herself to tread lightly with him.



Kai pulled into her driveway a few hours later and tried his best not to smile. Granted, he wasn’t truly counting this as a real date, but if he had been, it would have been one of the best he had on record. He glanced at Jocelyn. Her head was back against the headrest, a smile curving her lips, her eyes closed.

“You’re home.”

She opened her eyes slowly and he felt the punch all the way to his gut. If she had been a pain in the ass or self-centered, he could have handled it. Knowing Chris the way he did, Kai had known she would be decent. In the small time they had spent together, he had found her to be absolutely beautiful on the inside as well as on the outside.

“Would you like to come in for a drink? I don’t have much, but I do have some cookies.”

He knew it was an invitation to thank him with only cookies. No matter how much his body was begging for it to be more. Still, he wasn’t ready to let the day end.

“Sure.”

He slipped out of his seat and walked around the front of May’s car and opened the door. Slowly, in that unconscious sensuality that filled her every move, she rose. He knew it was just something that was innate in her, something that she couldn’t help. It drew him to her. He always liked a woman who had no problem with her sensuality.

He followed her up the steps, cursing himself. He should have gone home and taken a cold shower. But instead, he was following her up the steps, her full ass swaying at eye-level. God, he could just imagine bending her over in bed, slipping into her from behind.

She stopped and he almost ran into her. That wouldn’t have been a good thing, because he really didn’t want her to know he was half-aroused. Again, the heat of her hit him, then the decadently enticing scent that he now associated with her. Before meeting Jocelyn, he would have never thought sugar and vanilla would be a turn on.

She unlocked the door and held it open for him as she stepped inside.

“Make yourself at home. I need to freshen up.”

“Sure.”

He toed off his shoes in the Hawaiian custom and started to look around the living room. Cynthia hadn’t done much to change the small house since she’d moved in with Chris, but he could already see some of Jocelyn’s things here. On the shelves there were pictures of her with her family, her brothers and what looked to be a younger sister. Then there was a picture of her, white coat, hat, her arms crossed over her chest, and a whisk in her hand. The smile she offered the camera said she was ready to take on the world.

“That was when I graduated with my masters.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Masters?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to be one up on everyone else.”

He laughed and turned to face her fully. “Chris always did say you were a little competitive.”

“That’s what he says because he knows he couldn’t make it through culinary school.”

He frowned. “Really? I thought he had a college degree.”

“He does, in business though. He would have never made it in a school where you are berated and belittled every day. Chris has a slow temper, but when it lights up, someone gets a nose broken.”

He laughed. “But not you.”

She shook her head, a small smile curving her lips. Damn, it struck him right there how much he wanted her.

“Oh, I got pissed, that’s for sure. But for me, I wanted to prove that they didn’t get to me, and I would succeed, despite what they do to you. It was a matter of pride and proving every one of the bastards wrong.”

“Is it like Hell’s Kitchen?”

She rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms beneath her chest. Luscious flesh rose above the neckline of her sundress. “Pfft, that’s a cake walk.”

He laughed at her dismissal.

“Why don’t you have a seat at the bar here and I’ll get us some cookies. What would you like to drink?”

He slipped into a seat and watched her move about the kitchen. He liked it. He wasn’t some Neanderthal who thought women should be tied to the stove. In his family, if anyone thought that would happen, May made sure they understood she wasn’t their maid or cook. He had been handling the kitchen duties even before his mother had been killed.

This was more. This was hers. She was in her element. She wasn’t even doing anything big like decorating a cake, but it was the way she moved around that told him that no matter what, this was where she belonged.

“I’ll just take some milk.”