Cypress Corners Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Read online

  Harmony nodded. She took both their bottles and set them aside. “You miss her.”

  He did. Her and Jake. “Yeah. There’s not a lot of time to get together.”

  “Just holidays, then,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No. Not even holidays.”

  She touched his hand and he realized his fist was clenched tight against his leg. He pulled back and shrugged. “Bill Chapman’s not a warm and fuzzy kind of guy. We don’t have a lot of family get-togethers.”

  “What about your mother?”

  The question shouldn’t have surprised him. She’d talked freely about her parents. But he must have revealed something of the hurt he still felt when he thought of his mother because Harmony leaned toward him, compassion in her hazel eyes. Damn it, he didn’t want her pity. He sure as hell didn’t want to talk about his parents.

  The way Bill had left them, the sad woman his mother had become. But it was there, questions clear on Harmony’s face, her lips parted to ask something else about him he wouldn’t reveal. He stared at those lips. Then he kissed her.

  She was as delicious as he’d expected, tasting of beer and mint and fresh air. Her skin felt moist as he gently grasped her arms. Pressing forward, he gave her his tongue and let her taste him. She sighed and didn’t pull away. His hands were on her back, up under her tiny shirt to touch her skin, as she touched his shoulders. Her fingers played over him, light and tentative and man, he wanted her.

  His goal had been no more questions. No more thinking about his screwed-up family. In this instant that changed, shifted. The one thing he’d wanted when he first saw her pounded through him again. To taste her.

  His mouth left hers and he kissed the hollow of her throat. Her pulse was as wild as his heartbeat. He could feel it against the tip of his tongue.

  “Rick.”

  Her voice was soft, rich in the thick night air. It reached into him as her hands worked the buttons of his shirt. Turning, he pulled the shirt out of his pants and pulled her to him. Her breasts pressed against him and he groaned softly.

  “Harmony.” His voice was muffled through her hair. Man, he smelled that citrus scent again. He breathed in deeply.

  In an instant she was beneath him, her fingers in his hair as he kissed her throat again. He closed his hands on her perfect breasts, stroking, kneading. She arched and he pushed her tank top up out of the way.

  A quick glance at her face showed she wanted this contact, this connection. Kissing one breast, he braced his arms on the dock and pressed himself against her. One shapely leg curved around his waist, her skin hot and smooth against his. He could feel her heat through her shorts. Was she wearing panties? He trembled at the thought of just slipping a finger up under the hem and finding her wet. Finding her ready for him. Did he have a condom? The thought whispered to him.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  Yes! He had condoms in his wallet. She moved against him, close and tight until they moved together. Her boot struck softly against his butt as she began a rhythm that nearly sent him over the edge. Sweet Jesus she was just like he imagined. She wanted him.

  Pulling back, he eased a hand beneath the waistband of her shorts.

  In the next instant she sat up and edged away from him. “Stop,” she whispered.

  He shook his head and tried to catch his breath. There was no blood in his head but he was damned if it didn’t sound like she’d said, “stop.”

  “What?” he rasped.

  She tried to cover her breasts with the tiny top and he fisted his hands to keep from tearing it off of her. He could see the fabric clinging damply, her breasts begging for more of his touch. She stared at him, clenching her hands in her lap. “No. I… No.”

  A second ago she was hot for him, wet and ready and so sweet. “I don’t get it,” he murmured, as much to himself as to her.

  She turned away, her shoulders set. “I’m sorry.”

  He sat up as his mind began to focus. She wasn’t a tease. She hadn’t lured him out to her camp to get him all hot and bothered. That had been his bright idea. Then why did he feel cheated?

  “Sorry,” he bit out. “You’re sorry. We almost make love and—”

  She whipped her head around to face him. “Make love?”

  He welcomed the anger cutting through his sexual frustration. “What did you think, Harmony? I just wanted sex? That I came out here to screw you?”

  She flinched, but her eyes flashed at him. “Didn’t you? Drinking beer and asking about my job. Cozying up to me by getting me to talk about my family.” She gave a little snort. “I almost fell for it.”

  He blew out a breath. “Don’t deny you wanted me. Just ten seconds ago you almost came. I felt it.”

  She stood and grabbed up the beer bottles. For a second he thought she’d crack him over the head for that last bit of genius. But instead she turned and stalked away from him.

  “Good night, Rick,” she said.

  He watched as she entered her cabin and slammed the door.

  “You wanted me, Harmony,” he called. “As much as I wanted you!”

  He heard a muttered something, most likely a curse, but the door remained shut. He looked down at himself, his body still eager for something it wouldn’t get tonight. It wouldn’t be a curse that made sleep difficult tonight.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Well, damn.”

  Chapter 7

  Harmony wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes. Every nerve tingled as she sought control. It was bad enough Rick had intruded on her centering exercise. Her space. Her thoughts, if she were completely honest. She’d been fantasizing about him just a moment before he’d shown up.

  He was right, darn it. She wanted him. She wanted his kisses. His touch. Oh, and his body. She shivered as one last tremor racked her. Her whole body felt swollen and tight. True, she wasn’t a virgin. But nothing she’d felt before had hinted at what she guessed Rick could give her. If she hurried she could get him right back where she wanted him.

  “No way,” she said. “Never gonna happen, my friend.”

  He was still out there. She could smell him, believe it or not. What the heck happened? One minute they were talking about family and the next he looked so lost and hurt she wanted nothing more than to hold him. To comfort him against whatever made him look so forlorn. The moment after that…

  She hadn’t expected that kiss. Or the hunger it awoke inside her. There hadn’t been anyone since Adam and that had suited her just fine. Until now.

  “Don’t kid yourself,” she grumbled. She poured some water from a pitcher onto a towel and patted her face. “One kiss from Rick and you were in heat.”

  She’d expected him to be practiced, skilled and distant as he tried to seduce her. But she hadn’t thought he’d be so hot, so fierce. It called to something inside her. Something that frightened her more than giving her trust to a man. She feared she’d surrender her heart to feel that closeness again.

  Her response shouldn’t embarrass her. Rick was hot and a wonderful kisser. His smell, his taste, did things to her she’d only imagined. Oh, it was just an organic reaction. Surely it had nothing to do with the compassion she’d felt when she’d asked about his mother. There was a story there, one he guarded closely. Who was she to press him on the subject?

  A sound came from a distance, tires spinning on gravel as Rick’s SUV barreled away from her lake. Good. She’d keep to herself like she’d vowed before. Passion wouldn’t cloud her mind. Oh, even she didn’t buy that. Rick made her hotter than Adam could have hoped to all those years ago. And just look what a fool she’d been for him! She wouldn’t risk everything for passion. Not again. She wouldn’t risk her heart on a man who could keep his focus as she lost hers.

  Rick’s vulgarity should have shocked her but he was right. She’d accused him of coming out here expressly to get in her pants. It was obvious he’d come out seeking information on the Institute’s progress.

  He was right about her
response, too. It wouldn’t have taken but a touch for him to send her flying up to the starry sky. Ooh, those strong fingers…

  She changed into her nightshirt and grabbed one of the bottles of essential oils she kept on the ledge beside her bed. Touching a drop to each wrist, she breathed in deeply, closing her eyes once more. The calming scent of lavender filled her senses as she climbed into bed. But her skin still felt flush, her pulse still raced. Her hand moved over her belly, to where she ached unfulfilled beneath her cotton panties. Just one touch. She fisted her hand and pounded it on the bed. Oh, but only one person’s touch would do, not that she’d feel it tonight or any other night. Rick’s.

  Turning into her pillow, she let out a moan of frustration.

  ***

  Rick stood inside the Welcome Center three days later, staring at the topographic table display of the sprawling development. He’d stopped by the Institute but the redhead at the desk said Dr. Robbins was busy. He’d told Harmony the guy was vague. Maybe he was sharper than Rick thought. He certainly handled both the developers and the environmentalists easily enough.

  The Center’s interior was painted in greens and decorated with photos of Cypress Corners. It was built like an estate home, plush and inviting with expensive wood trim and light fixtures. He had an eye for that stuff, since he’d been raised with his father’s money in Boston. Again the contrast of pricey real estate surrounded by raw nature struck him.

  He joined the other people standing around the table as the tour guide’s voice droned on from a far corner. He caught bits of the presentation, aimed to draw people to the very contradictions Rick found so perplexing. A championship golf course and five-star restaurants bracketed by pristine lakes and a friggin’ pet park, for Christ’s sake.

  He tuned out the guide and the chattering prospective residents and looked at the miniature layout of Cypress Corners on the table. He found the lakeshore park easily enough, and the street where the house he was staying in was located. But far on the other side of the table was the other large lake. No tiny houses dotted that area. Not even the tent-cabin he knew was there. He pictured the small camp, the narrow dock that jutted out onto the lake. If he set his mind to it he could see the figures tangled on that dock, so close to something he’d only imagined before.

  Maybe he was lucky Harmony had pulled away. Hell, she hadn’t pulled away. She pushed him away with her sudden coldness. Maybe she did him a favor. He doubted one coupling on a smooth wooden dock would ease his need for her. Hadn’t he spent the nights since then wanting her?

  “… many pleasures here at Cypress Corners,” he heard the guide say.

  Rick turned to watch the animated guide. The guy was about twenty-five, one of those fresh-faced people who were excited to be wherever they were. He extolled the place’s many virtues to a group of about eight people who would never guess the pleasures Rick was thinking about right now. Steamy nights spent surrounded by nature, urging you to give in to your baser desires. He laughed to himself. Somehow he didn’t think Tammy ought to put that in the brochure.

  He’d killed enough time. Might as well go back to his comfortable rented house and watch that big screen. Then in a couple of hours he could hit the five-star restaurant for another lonely dinner. At least he wouldn’t have to eat alligator.

  He nodded farewell to the girls working the information desk and stepped outside. That’s when he saw Harmony across the street and looking happier than he’d ever seen. She wasn’t looking in his direction, obviously. He heard her laugh, light and throaty, as she threw her arms around a woman with long curly brown hair streaked with gray. The woman wore clunky shoes and a gauzy purple skirt that had sparkly things on it. He could hear the bells on her wrists and ankles from where he stood. She had to be Harmony’s mother. The balding beanpole who picked Harmony up and twirled her around could only be her father. What an odd pair to produce such a daughter. He was nothing like Bill Chapman, right? At least he hoped not.

  A wildly-painted RV sat parked near the curb, smaller than he’d envisioned. Harmony had shared that with her parents? No wonder her tent-cabin was sparsely furnished. The girl was probably used to doing with the bare minimum. He felt a pang of guilt as he recalled the stuff that had crammed his room growing up. Not from his mother, no. From Bill, in lieu of his time.

  He took a breath and started across the street. Maybe he’d avoided her since that night on the dock. But his mother raised him to show the manners God gave him. What harm was there in a simple “hello?”

  ***

  Harmony hugged her parents, happy as always to see them. She wouldn’t focus on the RV, showing spots of rust beneath the gaily-colored paint job her father refreshed every couple of years. This year it sported a mural, towering cypress trees dripping with Spanish moss surrounding what could be her lake. She smothered the thought of what happened near the lake, the shame she still felt for trying to ignore what she’d done. She’d led Rick on, let him think she was ready. Heck, she’d practically taken the man’s clothes off! If he never spoke to her again she wouldn’t be surprised. But maybe she’d be a little relieved.

  “How are you, dear?” her mother asked. She adjusted the round glasses perched on her nose. “We haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

  She knew to interpret the question at face value. Her mother didn’t use false guilt like the girls at college had complained about. No, there were no games in the Brooks family.

  “I’ve been busy, Mom,” she said. “There’s a species of endangered plant on the property and I have to find more evidence of it.”

  Max Brooks grinned. “That’s my girl. Give ‘em hell.”

  Harmony hid her smile. Max was a radical looking for something to protest—though he’d missed being a conscientious objector to the Vietnam War by a couple of decades. She hugged him again, tugging on the short black ponytail at the nape of his neck.

  “The developers work with us, Dad,” she said.

  Her father shrugged. “Then why do you seem so edgy?”

  “Edgy?” She pulled back, fiddling with the hem of her shorts. “I’ve just been busy.”

  Her mother snorted. She grabbed Harmony’s wrist and brought it to her nose. “Lavender.” She released her. “No, you’re not edgy.”

  Harmony waved her hand. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

  Her mother’s eyes, a blue-green that sometimes seemed out of focus, suddenly sharpened. Harmony knew that look. Her mother missed nothing. Harmony only prayed she didn’t wear her frustration on her face.

  “Something’s going on,” her mother said. She turned to Max. “Max, don’t you think Harmony—?”

  “Harmony!” Rick called.

  Harmony nearly jumped at the sound. Oh, great. Just what she needed when her mother’s radar was in overdrive. A visit from the very “something” that was keeping her up at night.

  She turned as Rick crossed the street toward them. He looked casual today, in a light blue golf shirt and camp shorts that suited him better than the creased clothes he’d been wearing. His hair wasn’t perfect, either. It was curly and mussed. Oh, her stomach did that flip thing again.

  He looked expectantly at her parents as he joined them on the brick walk. She watched him for any condescension as he ran his eyes over the RV. Nothing but mild interest was on his face, so he’d probably gaped his fill before he decided to join them.

  “Hello, Rick,” she said. At least her voice was even if her pulse wasn’t. “Please meet my parents. Ariel and Max Brooks.”

  Rick shook Max’s hand. “Rick Chapman. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brooks.”

  Max shook his head and smiled. “Call me ‘Max.’”

  “Max, then.” He turned to her mother who stared at him with those too-sharp eyes. “Nice to meet you, Ariel.”

  Her mother’s light laughter joined the jingle of the tiny bells encircling her wrist. “Very nice to meet you, Rick.”

  Her mother’s eyes settled on Rick’s face as she gr
ipped his hand. Uh-oh. Harmony silently prayed Ariel wouldn’t offer him a crystal, or something for the indigestion he would get two weeks from now. Her mother had a way of putting people on edge with her little “forecasts.” She didn’t want to guess what Ariel saw in Rick’s future.

  Flames of embarrassment flooded Harmony’s cheeks as she clearly envisioned the future that could happen if she was ever alone with Rick again. She closed her eyes. She prayed her mother wouldn’t picture her and Rick naked together.

  “You’ll join us for dinner, Rick,” Ariel said.

  She remembered to breathe. Whew. That wasn’t so bad.

  “In December, I think,” her mother went on.

  Great.

  Rick looked from one quirky parent to another, his brows drawn together. “Okay…”

  Her mother tilted her head to one side. “A bit cloudy. You could use—”

  “We always get rain storms in the afternoon,” Harmony said quickly. The last thing she needed was Ariel reading Rick’s aura there on the street.

  “What about dinner tonight, then?” Max asked. “We can go to The Boathouse, maybe? Killer fried clams.”

  Her mother still held Rick’s hand, so he gestured with his left. “Oh, I think I’ll pass tonight.” He winked at Harmony. God help her, he winked! “I don’t know if I’ve recovered from the last time I ate there.”

  She smiled. “I don’t think the alligator agreed with him, Dad.”

  Her father looked genuinely confused by that, a look Rick mirrored.

  “Oh!” Her mother released his hand at last and hurried toward the RV. “I have something for you, Rick.”

  Harmony squeezed her eyes shut. Please. Not a charmed wedding ring or a tie clip that once belonged to Ralph Nadar, please. The metal door slammed and Harmony faced Rick, gauging his response. He seemed curious and wary, a condition her parents easily incited in strangers. She wondered at that wink. Was he putting on the charming corporate guy for her parents? Well, his efforts wouldn’t win him the benefits that behavior in Boston might. Her parents had learned as much from Adam as she had. At least she was stronger now, darn it.