Melting Into You (Due South Book 2) Page 5

  “Mamma, what’s for dinner?” Zoe skipped into the kitchen on a wave of exuberance.

  “Lasagna,” Kezia said. “And Ben and Jade will stay to share it with us.”

  Jade hovered by the door, twisting her pigtail around a finger and clutching the toy dog Ben bought her close to her chest. Her pleading gaze flicked to Ben, but she kept her mouth shut, as if she expected her father to disagree and drag her away from her friend.

  “Do you like lasagna, Jade?” said Kezia.

  The girl shuffled her feet. “I don’t know what it is.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it. It’s meat sauce, cheese sauce, and pasta all baked together. It’s sooo yummy, and my mamma makes the best lasagna in the world.” Zoe gave her friend a quick, one-arm hug. “Not just on the island but in the whole world.”

  “Ah, Zoe, that’s very sweet. But tonight we’re not having my lasagna. Tonight, we’re having Ben’s lasagna.”

  “What?” Ben dropped the carrot and it rolled under the kitchen table.

  “Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day—”

  Kezia bit back a giggle as he clapped a palm to his forehead.

  “Show him how to catch fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” She finished the old Chinese proverb.

  He dragged his hand down his sagging jaw, stubble rasping as his fingertips reached his chin. “You want me to make lasagna?”

  “Ben can’t cook.” Jade’s brow scrunched.

  “The kid’s right—I ruined two packets of instant noodles the other day. Burned the pot black.”

  “Today’s as good as any to learn,” Kezia said firmly. “Zoe, grab another apron for Ben.”

  Zoe ran to the clothes hooks by the back door and grabbed the Kiss the Cook apron Kezia had bought Shaye for Christmas. She held it out to Ben.

  “He can’t wear that!” Jade’s eyes popped.

  Ben read the slogan and rakishly wiggled his eyebrows. “I can too.”

  He tugged the apron over his head and puckered his lips at Jade. “Give us a kiss, Jade?”

  “No. You look funny!” But a giggle slipped out from behind the hand Jade clasped to her mouth.

  Ben struggled to knot the ties around his waist, so Kezia stepped forward.

  “Here, let me.”

  She brushed away his hands and looped the ties into a bow, her knuckles grazing the warmth of his tee shirt. The heat tickling her knuckles transferred to her cheeks. Somebody turn on the air-conditioning! Kezia turned away and selected a knife from the block.

  “How about we start with something easy? Like dicing onions.”

  “Surely I can’t screw that up.”

  “Just don’t chop off a finger.”

  The girls disappeared into Zoe’s room again, and Kezia retrieved a pot from a cabinet and placed it on the stove.

  Ben picked up the knife and sliced off the shoot and root. Predictably, his eyes teared-up while he sliced through the first onion half. Mamma would’ve wept in despair at the chunky, uneven cuts. Luckily, Kezia wasn’t a purist and even luckier, after years of cutting onions, she remained virtually immune to the fumes.

  Squinting against the onion’s onslaught, Ben arched away from the chopping board and sighted down his nose to line up the next slice.

  “Wait—” Kezia tore off a paper towel from the roll and with one hand on his forearm for balance, rose on tip-toes to dab his cheek. “You’ll cut yourself.”

  Wiry muscle flexed under her fingertips as she pressed closer to blot his streaming eyes. The hairs on Ben’s forearm tickled her palm, as if they’d risen to attention.

  Oh. Her left boob squished against his biceps. Oh, merda.

  The knife clunked on the chopping board and she tried to pull away. Ben’s hand clamped over hers. He took the paper towel from her numb fingers and wiped it across his reddened eyes.

  “Better?” She aimed for a light tone as she tugged to get her hand back.

  No such luck. His grip tightened. Well, she could at least keep her nipple from poking a hole in his arm.

  Kezia arched her upper body away, but made the mistake of looking into Ben’s face.

  His eyes, while red-rimmed and shiny, glittered with more than onion tears. A spark, fierce and explosive, flared out from his gaze and sizzled through her system. She froze, every nerve ending on high alert, caught between the urge to retreat further but locked in a timeless dance of wills.

  “I’m not one of your brothers, Kezia.”

  “No.” Her pulse fluttered as his thumb swept over her knuckles.

  Ben shifted, and somehow she found herself trapped between him and the counter, the hard edge of it pressed into her spine. A trace of fear must’ve shown on her face, because he stepped back, leaving her plenty of room to escape. Maybe he wasn’t a teddy bear, but he didn’t use his size and strength to intimidate, even though he’d kept hold of her hand. He didn’t force her to stay, yet Kezia couldn’t get her slipper-covered feet to move out of his compelling orbit.

  “You keep touching me as if I were.”

  Heat pinpricked her cheeks, and she resisted the urge to take offense. Because he was right. Naturally a touchy-huggy person, she had reigned in that part of her personality around men after the parking lot incident. Except with Ben. Somehow he’d slipped under her guard, and she’d encouraged what she’d never meant to encourage.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not complaining. Just understand things have changed.”

  She shook her head, willing the burn from her cheeks, the tremble from her hands. “No. They can’t change.”

  “Too late.”

  He inched closer, and the flutter of her pulse exploded into a gallop. How had she written him off as her friends’ harmless older brother? Harm etched every line of Ben’s hard body—harm to a libido that had dried out to a lifeless husk when Callum died nearly five years ago.

  “I’ve stopped seeing you as the pretty school teacher or a newcomer to the island.”

  Kezia swayed toward him, his gravity too strong to resist. His fingers still stroked her knuckles, distracting her from the close bulk of his body.

  “How do you see me now?” she asked.

  If his legs weren’t in her way, she would’ve kicked herself for the breathy, flirty words falling from her mouth. Her toes curled inside her slippers. She wasn’t a flirt—well, she hadn’t been a flirt for many, many years. Had assumed she’d forgotten how in the midst of rebuilding her and Zoe’s lives.

  “As a woman. A beautiful woman.” His low voice twined around her, as rich and luxurious as the most expensive silk.

  “You shouldn’t. You have to stop.” She tugged her hand from the sweet torture of his fingers and pushed against his chest. His broad, muscled, warm-to-the-touch chest.

  Big mistake.

  Fine lines around his eyes crinkled. “What I’ve seen can’t be unseen.”

  Kezia’s gaze dropped to his lips, outlined with the dark growth of five o’clock shadow. Soft and rough and oh-so-bad for her. “Ben—”

  He dipped his head, and like a flicked switch, her eyelids slipped down and her lips parted. If her mind had forgotten those exquisite moments before a kiss, her body hadn’t. Breathless anticipation squeezed low in her belly at Ben’s salty, smoky scent. His soft breath feathered her skin. One large, calloused hand covered her fingers, which clutched fistfuls of his tee shirt.

  “Easy.” He followed the word with the pressure of his lips to hers, the impact of his touch like a zap of static electricity.

  Her eyes popped open, a shiver skating down her spine. Ben stared, his eyes narrowed, lashes masking his expression. Had he felt the spark of intense connection too? Or was it the overactive imagination of a woman who hadn’t had sex in almost half a decade? Sexually frustrated widow over-reacts to a simple kiss. Like a newspaper headline running through her mind. Mortifying.

  Then Ben’s mouth descended again and her thoughts, as fickle as tiny fish, swam out of her head. Gentle brushe
s of his lips turned into more insistent strokes of his mouth. Sexually frustrated widow or not, there was little doubt the man could kiss her into a melted puddle of goo. He deepened their connection with tantalizing caresses, teasing dances of his tongue. She sagged as liquid heat replaced the strength of her knees. Reflex kicked in, and she grabbed his shoulder, hauling her body flush to his.

  A bigger mistake than merely touching his chest.

  Her breasts smooshed against hard-packed muscle, and those same electric-like jolts returned, shooting straight to her core. Evidence that this kiss affected him too jutted boldly into her upper belly.

  Well, hello, reality check. She was kissing the stuffing out of Shaye’s brother in her kitchen. With Zoe and Jade in the next room. She squeezed her thighs together and peeled her fingers off Ben’s shoulders. Before she could push him away he pulled his mouth from hers.

  Someone moaned low and lustfully in protest, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t Ben.

  Speaking of mortification…

  Chapter 5

  Ben wanted to wrap around Kezia like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. Though his motivations weren’t as noble as survival, they were just as primal.

  He’d like to scoop her back into his arms, plant her shapely ass on the counter, and kiss her again until she let loose another symphony of sexy little moans. Kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe. Until the luscious secrets her mouth held didn’t drive him crazy.

  But she slipped away from him, her face flushed and her dark chocolate eyes wide and shiny. Oh, shit—was she gonna cry?

  Now look what you’ve done, you big dolt.

  Ben reached to adjust his hard-on in his suddenly too-tight jeans, only to grab a handful of fabric. Damn apron! And kiss the cook? Well, he’d kissed her all right, but he’d managed to screw it up somehow.

  Kezia crossed to the fridge and examined the contents as if memorizing them for a spot quiz.

  The taste of her still slicked his lips, which didn’t help the bulge in his jeans. He hadn’t meant to take it further than a quick kiss to let her know the awareness between them had teeth. He hadn’t expected to be the one bitten—and bitten hard.

  Ben reined the runaway lust back to a slow burn and cleared his throat. “Ah, Kezia? Do you want to talk ab—?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  Hang on. Didn’t women get orgasmic pleasure going on and on about this kind of stuff? Examining, dissecting, chewing over how she felt, how he felt, how the whole universe felt? He hunched over, aiming for unthreatening and easy to talk to. Like one of his sisters. The girly ass apron sure helped. “Because you look kinda steamed.”

  “I’m not steamed,” she said. “And we have dinner to make. Can you peel those carrots, please? The peeler’s in the top drawer.”

  Un-frickin-believable. The most mind-altering kiss he’d had in…well, in too damn long—and the woman was talking about vegetables? Had he misread the heat combusting between them? Hell, he’d thought she’d enjoyed herself. “Right, carrots.”

  He yanked open the drawer and found the peeler. Carrots, his ass. Ben raked the blades down the carrot’s length and nearly sliced a strip off his thumb.

  “Finish the onions, then chop the carrots finely,” she said.

  Cooking 101 for dummies. Maybe he should take a class on kissing hot Italian women, since apparently he sucked at it. Hah—women bitched about his inability to open up, but none had complained about the skill of his mouth. Or his hands. Or his dick.

  And listening to the voice whine in his head like a little girl pissed him off.

  Ben chopped the onions and carrots as if they had personally insulted his sexual stamina.

  Kezia lit the gas ring under the pot and returned to the counter. Leaning forward, she clucked her tongue at the slices of carrot he’d dropped into a bowl.

  “I said finely. That’s too chunky.”

  Too chunky? He’d give her too chunky, he’d— “What the hell was wrong with our kiss?” The tips of his ears burned, but the words were out there, and he couldn’t stop running his mouth off. “Do I have bad breath? Did I drool on you or something?”

  Kezia hot-footed over to the stove and swirled a stream of oil into the pot. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I’m in the mood for talking.”

  She ignored him and picked up the chopping board, scraping off the onions into the hot oil.

  “The kiss?” he prodded. “Didn’t you like it?”

  Stirring with short, jerky strokes, Kezia speared him with her dark, cool gaze. A patented teacher-stare guaranteed to intimidate even the most rebellious student.

  “It was a nice kiss.”

  “Nice?” Nice, as in boring, mediocre, and I’ve kissed men way more exciting?

  “Yes, nice.” That pretty shade of pink popped onto her cheeks again, and the wooden spoon became a rattling blur.

  Well, now.

  Call him an arrogant SOB, but that blush probably meant she was lying. He was tempted to out Ms. Murphy’s dishonesty by showing her just how un-nice-like he could kiss.

  He folded his arms. “That was more than nice, and you know it.”

  Kezia gestured for the bowl. “Carrots next.”

  When he refused to pass them, she huffed out a sigh. “That kiss was a mistake, and it can’t happen again.”

  Yeah, yeah, yadda, yadda. Beautiful, passionate woman plays hard to get. Been there, done that, got the woman ‘cause they never really tried too hard. Kezia had her “teacher stare,” well, he had the secret weapon of the verbally challenged male—a killer smile.

  He used it. “We have chemistry.”

  The results were unexpected. Instead of melting into a lustful puddle and instructing him in her sexy-strict-teacher voice to “Kiss me again, big boy,” Kezia brandished her wooden spoon at his nose.

  “We have nothing. Nothing and no possible future.”

  Ben’s stomach contracted into a cold, tennis-ball-sized lump, and he held up a hand. “Whoa, sweetheart. I wasn’t talking about us having a future.” He manfully avoided a full-body shudder. “I kissed you, not proposed a lifetime commitment.”

  One dark eyebrow winged up, and incredibly, she flashed him a wry smile. “Because you don’t do commitment.”

  The onion sizzled and spat as she lowered the spoon into the pot and stirred.

  “Nope.”

  Not the romantic kind of commitment, anyway. That was for dreamers like West. He hoped his best mate and his sister would make a go of it, but in his heart? He figured he’d be caught between blood and friendship at, oh…about the seven-year-itch mark.

  He had enough commitments. Including a bloody-big unexpected one in the next room. He wasn’t offering to take on another two. Even if Kezia did happen to stir up stuff in him that had previously lain dormant.

  He sucked in onion-tainted air, prayed his voice would come out steady. “Is that what you’re looking for? A wedding ring and a white picket fence?”

  She barked out a laugh and muttered in Italian, shaking her head. “I had a wedding ring and a white picket fence. I don’t want them again.”

  The knot in his gut loosened. Yes! Maybe they could explore this attraction casually...

  Kezia interrupted his mental victory punch.

  “But I have a commitment—Zoe. I’ll do nothing to jeopardize my relationship with her and the relationship I have with your family.”

  Shit. Shot down in flames.

  Or…he could look at Kez’s rejection as a temporary setback. A very temporary setback.

  “All that jeopardy from one kiss?”

  “Yes.” She tossed her hair and waved an imperious hand. “Now fetch me the jar of sauce from the pantry or we’ll never get this Ragú done.”

  He bared his teeth in a grin. “I’m yours to command, mistress.”

  ***

  The look on Jade’s face as she tasted lasagna for the first time made every uncomfortable second Kezia had sp
ent stuck in the kitchen with Ben worth the effort. She beamed as the girl held up her plate for more.

  “It’s really good,” Jade said. “Can we have this at home?”

  Ben forked up another mouthful and raised an eyebrow. “Kiddo, didn’t you hear the smoke alarm go off when I burned my first attempt at cheese sauce?”

  Jade giggled. The sound triggered a dull ache behind Kezia’s breastbone. Ben and his daughter still weren’t comfortable with each other, but after the girls insisted the four of them play Junior Monopoly while the lasagna baked, some of spikiness smoothed out a little.

  The front door slammed as they finished washing up the dishes. Shaye swept into the kitchen, long brown hair flying every which way out of her trademark ponytail, her nose and cheeks glowing.

  She hurried to the wood burner. “Cinnamon sticks, it’s cold outside! Aw, my favorite niece is here. Hi, sweetie.”

  “Hello, Aunty Shaye. Ben made lasagna for dinner.”

  Shaye shrugged out of her jacket, dropping her jaw in exaggerated surprise. “Get out! Your dad cooked? And you’re still alive?”

  Jade hugged the plate she was drying to her chest. “Yep. He only set off the smoke alarm once.”

  “Hey, that was a great lasagna—smoke alarm or not.” Ben draped his damp dishtowel over a thin wire spanning the wood burner to dry.

  He tugged Shaye’s ponytail, and she grinned up at him.

  “Thanks to Kez’s lasagna resuscitation skills, I imagine.” Shaye gently elbowed him in the ribs.

  Another chest twinge. Maledizione! What was with that?

  “We’d better take off, Jade.” Ben walked to the couch and picked up their jackets. “Kezia’s already told me off once for letting you stay up too late.”

  Jade crossed her arms and jutted out her bottom lip. “But I wanna stay.”

  “Jade—”

  “It’s not fair—you said we could play snakes n’ ladders!”

  Ben shot Kezia a wild-eyed plea for help.

  Ah…the girl had found her courage—brava. Standing up to Ben instead of exhibiting her usual sullen, sometimes withdrawn behavior, meant progress. But an overtired meltdown from both parties could damage the tiny forward steps they’d taken today.