Chain of Title (2 page)

“Apparently
behind
the
scenes,” she teased, as she squeezed fresh lime into her sparkling water.  “I
imagine that’s one of the perks of being the owner.  You can
say
you’re
working even when no one knows where you are or what you’re doing.”  She narrowed
her eyes playfully and sipped her drink.

“You’ve got everything
figured out, don’t you, Shayna Montgomery?”  He raised his brow and waited.

His gravelly voice made
everything inside her vibrate and tingle.

Shayna huffed and laughed. 
“Why on earth did you call me that?”  She shook her head at him.  “I don’t even
remember telling you my maiden name.”

“Oh, you did.”  He smiled
slyly.  “I just assumed you’d be changing it back, now that you’re a free woman
and all.”  He leaned casually back against the richly textured leather booth, and,
resting one arm on the cloth-covered tabletop in front of him, tapped his
fingers deliberately.

Shayna regarded Sean for a
few moments.  Something seemed different about him, but she couldn’t quite name
it.  She shook it off and cleared her throat.

“I suppose I could’ve taken
care of it along with the divorce, but I never really thought about it.”

“Why?  Don’t you want a fresh
start?”

Shayna gauged her friend with
piqued curiosity.  “Changing my last name back to my
maiden
name, which
by the way is just a
different man’s
last name, doesn’t change anything
of consequence, except my signature.”  She took a lingering drink and eyed Sean
carefully. He licked what she imagined to be addicting, soft lips, while he
continued the intentional drum of his fingers.

“Oh.  You’re not a man-hater,
now, are you?”  He chewed at the inside of his cheek to quell a growing grin.

Now Shayna laughed aloud. 
“No.  Hardly.  I’ve always loved men.  They’re so much easier to figure out
than women.”

“Well, what do you know?  We
finally agree on something!” Sean chuckled, reaching for Shayna’s tumbler; he
took a long, slow drink.

He had never done anything that
bold before, and he eyed her the entire time.  What was he up to?  Or, more to
the point, what did he think
she
was up to tonight?

Placing the glass on the
table, he said matter-of-factly, “So, what do you say?  Are you ready to get
out of here, or what?”  He watched her, and grinned as if her answer was a
foregone conclusion.

Shayna crossed her arms under
her ample breasts and cocked her head.  “Or what,” she stated plainly.

Sean’s brows squeezed
together, and she could tell he was carefully considering his next move.

“I’ve been eating here four
and sometimes five times a week for the past year and half.  Why would I
suddenly want to do anything different?” she said, her expression challenging.

Sean shook his head.  A warm,
slow smile inched across his face, highlighting his dazzling smile and square
jaw.  For the first time she noticed the early shading of his five o’clock
shadow.  Did he always have that?  She couldn’t remember.  All she knew for
certain at the moment was that his hard, heated stare had caused a heavy warmth
to pool squarely between her legs.  There was no mistaking his signals.

What an about-face.

Had he really waited all this
time for her divorce to be final?  Did he think he would reap the rewards of
some slutty post-divorce phase of her life?  She had never had a slutty phase
and wasn’t about to start this late in the game.  She decided to let him know
that he wasn’t the only adult at the table.

“Cat got your tongue, Sean? 
Sounds to me like you have something planned for tonight.  Why don’t you cue me
in so we’re both on the same page?” she said, in a seductive tone laced with the
hint of an unmistakable warning.

He shifted a bit and narrowed
his gaze.  Ambient, sexy, smooth saxophones and jazz guitars wrapped their warm,
full-bodied textures around them while she awaited his answer.

Lowering his gaze, he responded,
“There’s a new French bistro not far from here that opened a few nights ago. 
Thought we’d try it out.  Celebrate new beginnings.  We have a reservation.” 
He tilted his chin up in an obvious counter-challenge, still drumming his
fingers on the table.

So, this was him asking her
out for a date without
actually
asking
.  To say she felt turned
on right now would be an understatement.  She had always appreciated men of
action rather than words.  Actions were tangible; she could feel them, see them. 
Words, well?  Blah, blah, blah.

“I can’t believe this French bistro
will be nearly as entertaining as your ethnic eatery.  Do they have an Asian
chef?  A Russian bartender?  An owner with a
conspicuously
non-Italian
surname?”  She bit back a giggle and could tell he caught the subtle act of
restraint.  The expression on his face oozed carnal finesse.  He looked like a
predator that had selected its prey, but was choosing instead to savor, and
play with it first.

Oh, boy, she was going to
have to be careful tonight.  She hadn’t had sex with another person in three years. 
That’s when she had discovered that Frank was cheating on her.

Sean deftly angled toward her,
grinned lustily, and teased, “Don’t worry, Shay, I’ll make sure you’re
entertained.”

She felt her insides start to
melt and knew she had to gain the upper hand, quickly.  Grabbing her handbag
and sliding smoothly to within inches of her hunky friend’s rugged face, she drew
and held his stare.  His breath hitched, his eyes dilated, and his nostrils
flared slightly.

“Move,” she ordered in a
soft, husky tone, her expression determined.

Sean swallowed, clearly
cataloguing her features.  They had never been
this
close.  They were awash
in comingling scents, feeling each others’ hot breath on hypersensitive skin,
almost
touching, relishing the dance.

Sean skillfully backed out of
the booth to stand and gesture the exit to Shayna without taking his eyes from hers. 
She glanced at his outstretched hand and rose without accepting it.  As they strode
away from the booth, she felt his broad, strong hand at her lower back.  She
warmed immediately and smiled inwardly.  Hands were one of her favorite
features on a man.  It didn’t matter how good looking a man was, if he didn’t
have large, strong
hands, well, just forget about it, because she
couldn’t even bring herself to fantasize about a man like that.  No, there was
nothing better in this world than a man’s hands on her body.  Shayna bit at her
lower lip.  Well, there might be a few other things in conjunction with his
hands.  She closed her eyes slowly, inhaling deeply, and unintentionally loosed
a barely audible groan.

Sean leaned in next to her
ear, feathering her neck with his sultry breath.  “Did you say something?”

Shayna shook her head languidly,
wishing at that moment that prayer really worked, because it was going to take
a miracle not to unleash the sexual tension from her three-year dry spell on
this unsuspecting man.  Not that he would complain.  She was fairly certain he
could handle it, and then some.

Exiting the restaurant, Sean
clasped Shayna’s hand and began leading her across the street.  She pulled
away.

“What’re you doing?” she
asked.

“My car’s over there.” He
gestured to the other side of the road.  “There’s no sense in us both driving
to the bistro.”

Oh, no, Shayna warned
herself.  It made abundant sense to take two cars.

“I’ll just meet you there. 
Give me the address.”  She took a couple of steps away from him and waited for
the location.

Sean had a peculiar
expression; after a moment he dropped his chin slightly.  Locking his amorous
gaze on her, he casually tucked his glorious hands in the pockets of his black
dress pants.  His royal blue dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled just below
his elbows, highlighted his corded forearms and his silver Breitling sports
watch.

He claimed to work out as
much as she did.  She could only imagine the hard, well-defined playground
shrouded under his tailor-fitted clothing.  Everything about Sean Parker
screamed prime, grade-A, full-grown
man.
  The broad shoulders and narrow
hips, his easy stance and the well-deserved confidence on display in the early
evening moonlight.

She released a stuttered
exhalation. 
Holy hell, Shayna, what are you doing?
  He moved lazily into
her space until they were
almost
touching.  In her high-heels, she was still
a few inches shorter than he was.  She raised her tentative eyes up to his
smiling green ones.

“Are you afraid of something,
Shay?” he baited, sexily, wetting his lips.

Her heavy lids dropped slowly,
and fluttered a couple of times.  She inhaled deeply as she attempted to get
her head on straight and wake from the hazy dream that had enveloped her.  “No,”
she said breathily.  “But you should be.”

The Pour
Mes Amis bistro was swarming with people outside, laughing and chatting,
waiting for tables to become available inside the newly opened bistro.  Sean grasped
Shayna’s hand and led her through the bodies and up the narrow steps.  The aromatic
flower boxes under the windows, the red and white striped fabric overhangs and the
sheer, lacy window coverings gave it an authentic feel.  Upon entering, Sean
spoke to the host, who immediately guided them to their table.  It wasn’t as
intimate as Gaetano’s, but was cozy and warm, nonetheless.

The drive over had been fun. 
Shayna had noticed Sean watching her intently in his rearview mirror at every
stop light.  Did he really think she would ditch him?  At one point, she raised
her hand and air-drummed her fingers in hello at him just to let him know that
she knew he was watching her.  His eyes had creased in a smile, and so had
hers.  He was slow out of the gate on a green light a time or two, provoking
her to lay on her horn, loud and proud.  She had seen him shake his head and
quake in laughter.

The couple scanned their
menus and quickly decided on appetizers and entrees.  It never took Shayna long
to order.  She knew what she liked.  Before the server could turn to leave with
their selections, she asked innocently, “By any chance do you know the name of
the chef?”  She heard Sean sigh next to her.

“Oh, yes.  His name is Pierre
Boudreaux.”

“Wow that sounds really French.” 
The server nodded and smiled.  “Is this bistro locally owned?”  Out of the
corner of her eye, she noticed Sean pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, it is.  Guy and
Claudette Leroux are the owners.”

Shayna raised her brows.  “Really,
that sounds even...
Frenchier
,” she commented, biting back a giggle.  The
young man pivoted with a peculiar expression and headed for the kitchen.

“Christ, are you ever going
to let that go?” Sean lamented.

“Probably not.  It’s one of
the things I love about your restaurant, the quirks.  They make it special, not
cookie cutter,” she said as she lifted her glass of water for a drink.

“Oh, yeah?  Anything else you
love about it?” he asked, flashing a crooked grin.

Shayna assessed the handsome
man next to her for a moment.  Boy, things had changed so quickly.  The banter
between them had been fun and spirited from the beginning, but he had clearly been
waiting for her divorce to become final. For what?  Why hadn’t he just made a
move earlier?  She wondered what was behind the wait.  She glanced away at the
warm, fresh demi-baguette just placed on the table with a small saucer of
creamy whipped herb butter.

“I think you know, Sean,” she
teased with a sideways glance while spreading butter on her slice of warm sourdough.

“I want to hear you say it,”
he pestered her, with a roguish grin.

“Oh, do you, now?  Well, I
definitely don’t want to disappoint you,” she purred.

His eyes dilated, and he
leaned closer.  “There’s only one way you could do that, Shay,” he murmured
roughly, staring hard and hungrily into her eyes.

What he meant by that
couldn’t have been clearer if he had tattooed it on his forehead.  She was
really going to do this, wasn’t she?  Would it be a one-night stand?  Did
someone you had taken the time to get to know over a year and a half even
qualify as a one-night stand?  Or would it be more like a friends-with-benefits
arrangement?  Her head swirled.  She had been out of circulation a long time.

Shayna had always been a
one-man kind of woman.  She never gave it up for a man she didn’t care about
and
who didn’t
clearly
care about her.  She had been fortunate.  Both
times that that had happened in her life previously, she married the men.

But things were different
now.  She was so much older than Sean that marriage wasn’t even a remote
possibility, and besides, she had learned to enjoy being on her own over the
past three years. She wasn’t really interested in changing that right now...or maybe
ever.

However, at times it felt
like the party train was pulling out of the station, taking with it her last
chance to hop on and enjoy the ride before the AARP buzzards swooped in to gorge
on her twitching carcass.

Shayna giggled, and chastised
herself inwardly.  She really needed to get out of the funk she had been in all
day...or more like the last three years.  She knew she didn’t have much time
before a man like Sean Parker would never even think to give her a second
glance, let alone a first one.

Oh, hell, she’d earned this. 
If it ended in the walk of shame, so be it.  She would just hold her head high
and smile.  No regrets.

Easing in to meet Sean’s
sexy, soft-green eyes, Shayna smiled faintly, deciding talk was cheap.  She skimmed
her hand along his square, shadowed jaw.  Then she pressed her lips to his.  She
felt everything in her bloom and swell as they tasted each other.  Sean pulled
her chair closer to his, and then his hands were on her.  Oh, God, those
perfect, strong, man hands.  One large hand smoothed up and down her arm while
the other mapped her bare back.  Oh, thank the stars that she had chosen a
sleeveless, skin-baring dress tonight.

Just as they broke from their
sultry kiss, the calamari and crab cake appetizers they had ordered arrived.  As
Shayna backed away, Sean brushed the side of her face with the back of his
fingers, before smoothing his thumb softly across her plump lower lip then
gently tugged it down.  He grinned carnally and released her lip, watching it
pop back in place.  It suddenly felt as if they were in some hot, humid,
tropical climate with far too many clothes on.

“Well, now that we have that
out of the way...let’s eat,” she said, doing her best to sound composed.

A wicked grin drew across his
lips; the pointed pressure mounting between her legs screamed for attention
—his
attention.  Sean leaned in closer, just barely skimming his stubble against her
cheek before nuzzling at her ear and inhaling deeply.

In a low, gravelly tone he
whispered, “We’re going to have fun tonight, Shayna Montgomery, and a
lot
of it.  I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Holy hell.  Sizzling goose
bumps rose up everywhere, blanketing her in balmy heat.  Did she whimper in her
head or out loud?

Collecting her thoughts as best
she could, she playfully challenged, “I’d better not be.  I just hope you can
keep up.”  She felt him smile against her skin; then he pulled back to meet her
gaze.

“Oh, Shay,” he whispered
roughly, rubbing his nose against hers.  “I accept that dare.”

Just then, a concerned voice
burst the foggy bubble of ratcheting desire that had been wrapping tightly
around Shayna and Sean.  “Is everything all right with the appetizers?”

Shayna shook her head and
cleared her throat in an attempt to push away the heavy heat that had settled
all around her.  “Oh, yes, we just got a little sidetracked.”  She heard Sean laugh
throatily next to her.  Scooting her seat back to where it had been, Shayna began
popping delicious, lightly breaded calamari into her mouth while Sean cut into
the crab cake and skimmed it across the fresh remoulade next to it.  She could
feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t dare look up or she would only embarrass
herself further.  Shayna had never been big on public displays of affection, so
she felt a little flustered by her recent show.  Very much out of character,
she scolded herself.  It had just been too long since she’d been with a man, that
was the problem...

“So, do you feel any
different?” Sean asked, as he dipped a large piece of calamari in the remoulade.

Shayna’s brows knitted
together.  Was he really that arrogant?  Yeah, right, his kiss changed her
whole world, shifted it on its axis.  She shook her head a snorted softly.

“What?” he asked, in a
perplexed tone.  He licked his lips and brushed his hands together, removing
breading residue.

“Are you kidding?”

“No.”  He looked at her
peculiarly.  “I know it’s been going on for a while, but I thought maybe when
the divorce was actually final, I don’t know, maybe it would be a relief or
maybe you’d be sad or something.”  He looked at her, brows raised, and shrugged
slightly, gesturing with open hands.

Oh, brother.  She felt like
such an idiot.  “Oh, that.  Right, right.”  She cut into the crab cake, the
hazy cloud of seduction evaporating suddenly from the cold blast of reality.  Bringing
the napkin to her lips and dabbing, she swallowed the tasty shellfish meat. 
“Well, it’s certainly never fun to wonder if you’ve wasted twenty-five years of
your life.”  Crap!  Her eyes slammed shut.

They had both been dancing
around their ages—she, definitely older, and he, oh-so-much younger.  Then she
quickly assuaged her vanity with the realization that he had probably Googled
her a long time ago and already knew, although she had fought the temptation to
do the same about him.  Not knowing how much younger he was made it much easier
for her to contemplate, to fantasize.

When she opened her eyes, she
saw the answer written on his chiseled, handsome features:  he hadn’t checked.

“No, Sean.  Frank didn’t
marry me when I was
ten
,” she quipped, sarcastically.  “I was
twenty-three.”

A sly grin spread slowly
across his square-shadowed jaw.

“What?  You think it’s
funny?” she challenged, with her chin tilted down and her eyes creased at the
corners.

 An attendant cleared away
the appetizer dishes.  Their eyes remained locked on one another.

“No.  I think it’s great. 
I’m relieved actually.”  He settled back in his seat and assessed her with a
dreamy expression.  She found it all very maddening, and disconcerting.

“How old do you think I am,
Shay?” he asked, with a lopsided grin.  She could see him chewing at the inside
of his cheek as he drummed his fingers methodically on the table.

Shayna gauged him carefully. 
Guessing a man’s age didn’t present the same minefield that it did for a
woman.  She couldn’t really embarrass herself that much, or insult Sean, if she
was off the mark.  Men could be tricky, though, too.  Oh, they tended to age better
than women, but not without their own problems.  Baldness could age a man a
good ten to fifteen years, while a thick, full head of hair, even if it was
graying, could keep a man looking more youthful than he deserved.

With a cautious tone, she
replied, “Thirty-eight?  Thirty-seven?” 
Please
don’t let him be younger
than that she pleaded silently in her head.

Sean’s grin widened to a
broad smile, and he leaned forward onto the table with a gleam in his eyes.

“I’m forty-three.”  He pivoted
his elbow on the table, bringing his hand up, resting his chin and square jaw
in it.  His sexy-as-hell smile seemed permanent now.  “I think we’ve learned
something about each other tonight, Shay.”

She swallowed hard, as she
attempted to regain her bearings.  Had life really just, so unexpectedly,
looked the other way and granted her mercy?  Her forty-eight.  Him forty-three. 
Sean Parker just, unimaginably, became immeasurably more attractive.

“We’d make terrible carnies. 
We both suck at guessing someone’s age.”  Her lips parted and she exhaled
softly before raising her hand to cover her escaping laughter.  Sean took her
hand in his, interlacing their fingers, and softly kissed the back of her hand.

“How old did you think I
was?” she asked, not able to look away from his intense stare.  He gently
brushed his stubble against her hand and she could’ve sworn she felt it between
her legs.

He assessed her for a
moment.  “Best guess, late thirties.  I thought you might even be a little
younger.”  She viewed him skeptically.  “Come on, Shay.  You have to know
Mother Nature handed you the jackpot when it comes to defying the march of
time.”  The arrival of their entrees interrupted the repartee.

Yeah, she knew that time had
been kind to her, but she had started to notice fissures that were probably
unnoticeable to others.  She tended to blame that on Frank.  Catching her much
older husband banging a girl just a year older than his own daughter had
definitely shaken her once steely self-confidence.

“Let’s have some wine
tonight, Shay.  What do you say?”

“No.  I’ve told you before, I
don’t drink.”  She hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in twenty-eight years, with
good reason.

“I know, but you’ve never
told me why.”

She watched as he dug into
his bouillabaisse.  She really didn’t want to drag
that
out of the back
of the closet tonight.  Forget the cliché; time just couldn’t heal some wounds...not
the permanent ones.

“Shay?”

Her breathing restarted and
her eyes fluttered.  She had zoned out for a moment.  Skillfully reading his
expression, she responded, “No, Sean.  I am
not
an alcoholic.”  Then she
picked up her utensils and portioned some lobster risotto on her fork.  They
ate in silence for a bit and enjoyed the candle-lit ambience of Pour Mes Amis.