Like Honey (22 page)

“S
o the underground tunnel was key in moving the honey and the drugs out,” Maeve said. “Genius.”

“It's also how Liam and his mother would get in and out of Jennifer's place undetected,” Jackson said.

“Back in the day, when the tunnel was first built, it was used for the families to hide during times of war,” Jennifer said. “Kasey did a lot of research on the D'Amicos and their royal heritage, along with all of the clan politics. Turns out they weren't Italian at all, but Brits who took on the name and fabricated the whole Italian link because they were in hiding from the royals. The first mention of them here is in 1510.”

“Try this.” Maeve handed Jennifer a honey-smoked sausage, encased in a hard roll, with just a drizzle of mustard.

Jennifer took a huge bite and nearly squealed from the flavor. “Delicious! I knew you two would come with some good eats!”

They were having a picnic and cookout on Jen's patio. Sanj was grilling the sausages that Maeve and Jackson had made the night before. Smoked with honey from Jennifer's bees.

“I'm not sure we want to get into the meat business, though,” Jennifer said, looking at Gray. “I think gourmet honey perfection is the number one goal. Then we might move into jellies. We're planting blueberries in the spring. The bees will love it and then we'll get some blueberry honey, along with the blueberries to make jelly.”

“After we're really going, Jen wants to explore honey in cosmetics. I think it's a great market,” Gray said.

“It's a great idea,” Maeve said. “And I have to tell you that old cookbook you found, handwritten—it's gold. I might just consider a honey cookbook. Why not?” she said, holding her water glass up and mock-toasting herself.

“Here's to honey!” Gray said.

Cheering all around.

While the others were finishing their meals, and drinking, chatting, listening to music piped outside from her place, Jen slipped away for a moment. She walked up the ridge and looked out over the horizon. Still light, she thought, and she was finally okay with that. She walked down the hill to the mausoleum and sat on the bench where she'd always chatted with Ren.

The remnants of the last bouquet she'd left him were fading. An old ribbon. Dried roses and leaves. She made a mental note to pick up some flowers for him tomorrow. She was always going to love him. She learned how to live without him—and how to open her heart to love someone else, too. A year ago, she'd have thought that impossible.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the quiet.

“Hey!” Maeve said as she came up over the hill, followed by Sasha. “What are you doing?”

The next thing she knew Sasha and Maeve were sitting next to her talking about what a great guy Ren was.

“But ya know,” Sasha said, “Gray's pretty awesome, too.”

Jennifer felt as if she were on the edge of a new life, and it felt good. She hoped it would work out between them. But she knew she'd be fine if it didn't. She was strong as stone.

“Let's go eat some dessert,” Maeve said. “Jackson made honey cake.”

“Jackson? Why not Sanj?”

Maeve shrugged. “Some bet they made.”

Sasha moaned. “Not another bet. Sanj always loses.”

The three of them laughed as they came over the hillside and looked down on Jennifer's house with the men scattering around on the deck.

 

When Jennifer appeared over the top of the hillside, she took his breath away. He remembered the first time he saw her on that same spot. He knew then she was no ordinary woman, with the way she was devoted to her dead husband. He knew that the next man to capture her heart would be one lucky sonofabitch. What he didn't know is if that man would be him. Oh, yes, she fucked him silly. But did she have feelings for him? Most women would have told him by now. The way she fucked him was wild and vulnerable. Most women would have whispered the words of love by now.

But Gray McGhilly was used to a challenge; what he wasn't used to, however, was this feeling that he would absolutely lay down and die if he didn't see her face every day, sleep next to her every night. Take care of her and her bees—if she let him.

Sanj caught him looking at her and said, “You're in trouble, my friend.”

“I am,” he said, and smiled.

Later that night, she came to him as he was lying in bed already. He was reading a book about honey. She had just showered and smelled like flowers of some kind. She curled up next to him.

“Good book?”

He nodded. “As long as I'm here, I thought I could help out.”

“You can stay as long as you want, Gray,” she said, looking straight in his eyes. “Will you be taking that job?”

“Aye,” he said. Sometimes he sounded more Scottish than he wanted to. It just bubbled out of him. “I'll be taking that position in Edinburgh.”

“You're a hero,” she said. “You saved this place. HS should be kissing your ass.”

“They pretty much are. They've offered a great salary and a home base. I'm sort of tired of the traveling,” he said, putting the book on the nightstand.

“Will you move to Edinburgh, then?”

“I'd like to have a place there because there may be long nights and times I don't want to bother you, but I'd like to stay here. Would you mind?” he asked.

“Mind?” She jumped on top of him. “Hell no!”

She wore a sweet, pink lacey nightgown that begged to be torn off of her. So that's what he did—ripped it down the center.

“Gray!”

“Hush, woman, I'll buy ye another so I can keep doing it,” he said, his hands exploring her breasts, fingering her nipples.

“Are you sure about that?” She leaned down on him and kissed him with a slow lingering lip lock that sent his pulse racing.

“I'll buy the woman I love a million of these,” he said, only thinking of the delicious sinking feeling she was giving him—her kiss—her heat on his heat. He wasn't thinking; the words tumbled out of him.

She sat up. “What?”

“Jennifer,” he said. “Calm down. I just said . . .”

“You love me?”

He felt like a deer in the headlights. Would it scare her to know? He didn't want to frighten her. She was so fragile.

“Gray?” She looked at him and he melted further.

“Um,” he said. “Jennifer, I do. I love you. Is that okay?”

“Okay?” she said, and gave a wide happy grin. “It's fabulous. Now, give me what you're good for, Master Beekeeper.” She squirmed around on him for a few minutes, then slid his cock in her easily and sat a moment with him deep inside of her.

“What am I good for?” he said, and growled, smacking her behind.

“You know what . . .”

He laid her down on the bed without disconnecting and lifted her legs to his shoulders. Aye, if she only wanted him for sex, he could and would oblige. But as he listened to her sighs, felt her silky-smooth self wrap around him, and looked into her eyes, he knew there was more.

After, amidst the sweat and the stickiness, Jennifer kissed him sweetly on his mouth. “As for love, I think I've loved you from the moment I saw you. I'm yours, beekeeper. Now, what will you do with me?”

He grinned and proceeded to show her.

 

Stormy skies. Wind ripping through the trees. Gray listened to the old house creak and moan. He pulled Jennifer in closer to him—her body warm, soft, silky—and kissed the nape of her neck, ran his tongue along the rim of the bone. She stirred, smiling.

“Good morning,” she said, blinking, then pressing her full body against his. He wrapped her in his arms.

“I love you,” he said, sliding his hands down to her ass.

“I know,” she said. “And I love you, too.”

She reached for the length of him, already hard and willing, and sighed.

They tangled in the blankets to get to one another. His finger found the center of her, moist with want. He groaned. She pushed him back on the bed and sat on top of him, taking his cock in her hand, then slowly sliding herself onto him. He watched as they became one. She felt like silk, like a pulsing heart wrapped around him, like home. She sat without moving and looked down on him, squeezing around him.

“Can you feel me?” she asked.

He growled and lifted himself from the bed, watching her breasts flop around as his fingers reached for her nipples. She leaned forward, allowing him to take her ruby red nipple between his teeth. Just a little bite.

She gasped, then said, “Yes, baby,” and started to move hard against him. He felt her nub of a clit rubbing against him, and he could feel her wrap around him. Hot. Slick. Pulsing. He was trying not to explode, but as he watched her face, felt her jerking, he knew it was okay to let go, and they came together in a rush of moan and groans and giggles.

Later, at the breakfast table, with Sanj and Sasha, Maeve and Jackson, they went over their plans for the business.

“So you've decided to give up Homeland Security?” Maeve asked.

“No,” he said. “I'll be working with Jennifer as a consultant. But I've accepted a position in Edinburgh. I'll be director of our operations here.”

“And he'll be living here,” Jennifer said.

“As a husband?” Sanj said.

“Sanj!” Maeve chided.

“It's okay,” Jennifer said. “You never know, we may marry. But for now, we're pretty happy with the way things are. It's a new chapter for both of us. We need a chance to get used to our new lives.”

“You're in a good place and good business for that,” Sanj said. “Sacred writings of India associate bees and honey with deities. The Vedas explain that the gods Vishnu Krishna and Inra were known to be Madhava, meaning honey-born ones, and their symbol and incarnation is a bee. Madhu coming from the clouds and the belief that bees were sweet liaison between heaven and earth. So cheers and best of luck on your new journey!”

“Well said,” Jackson chimed in. “Speaking of new lives . . . we have an announcement of our own.” His arm wrapped around Maeve.

“We're pregnant!” Maeve said.

Jennifer squealed and fussed over her and the rest of the morning the conversation centered on baby names, clothes, and birthing options.

 

Later that day, Jennifer and Gray walked the property to check on the bees. It was almost time to start wintering them. The bees had given them so much this year. Unfortunately, some of them had given their lives to the poison. Jennifer vowed better security systems.

“Bees,” Gray said. “I have an announcement to make.”

They stood overlooking the rough and rocky earth with clumps of patches of green. The Scottish sky displaying oranges and purples.

Jennifer laughed. “What's that?”

“You know you have to keep the bees informed,” he said.

“I've heard,” Jennifer said.

“We have some important changes coming up,” he said over the valley. “Get ready, bees, for a whole new and better life.”

“Hear, hear!” Jennifer said.

“Funny that your friends brought up marriage today,” he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small box. His heart thudded and spun. Did she really not care about marriage like she said this morning? Or would she marry him? He wanted to do things the right way. He'd gotten his Nanny's ring. He wanted to see it on Jen's finger. He wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. He dropped to the ground on one knee.

Her hand clutched her chest, eyes lit.

He stayed there on his knee on ancient ground. Ground that had belonged to a very old family and whose history stretched back eons. It belonged to her now—as did his heart.

“What are you doing?” she said. “Get up off the ground.”

“Wait,” he said. “I want to do this right.”

“Do what?”

“Ask you to marry me.”

“Is that it? Is that your proposal?” she said, and crossed her arms.

“No,” he said. “I'm getting ready to ask you.”

“Well?”

“Jennifer, I love you with my whole self and want to spend the rest of my days and nights with you. Will you marry me?”

A wind kicked up. Her hair blew all around her face. She reached up and tucked it behind her ears. She looked at the skies, around at the land, then finally at him.

“Of course, I'll marry you. Now get up off the cold ground, you daft man.”

He opened the box and slid the ring on her finger. “It's Nanny's ring.”

“It's just lovely,” she said. He noted that her hand was trembling. A tear sparkled in the corner of her eye. But she wasn't the emotional wreck he thought she'd be.

“You okay? Excited? Scared?” he said.

She hesitated, finally reaching for his hand. “No, I'm not scared. On some level, I've always known it would be us. You and me. It just feels . . . right.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to Aaron Young, head beekeeper at Heather Hills Farm, for answering my questions about beekeeping in Scotland. Thanks to my dear friend India Drummond for answering my questions about life in Scotland. As ever, I owe a great debt of gratitude to my beta readers—Jennifer Feller, Christy Majors, Madeline Iva, and Chrissy Lantz.

Sending big hugs of gratitude to my agent, Sharon Bowers; my editor, Martin Biro; and Kensington's digital goddess, Alexandra Nicolajsen.

 

Sanj has come to Ecuador ready to enjoy food and fun with his
good friends Maeve and Jackson—only his friends are nowhere to
be found. Instead, he meets a stunningly beautiful woman who
asks him for help. A man of discriminating tastes, Sanj can't wait
to enjoy her luscious lips, savor her sultry curves, and indulge in
his desire for sexual ecstasy . . .

 

On the run from a troubled past, Sasha will do whatever is
necessary to survive. That includes cozying up to the enigmatic
Sanj, a darkly handsome man who seduces her like the richest
chocolate. Hungry for more, she gives in to the sweetest
temptation, craving the feel of his hard body and longing for
exquisite carnal pleasure . . .

 

 

 

An eKensington e-book original on sale now!

 

“W
hat do you mean he's not here?” Sanj said to the hotel

Wclerk.

“I'm sorry, sir. He's checked in to his room. But he is not here,” she said. “I'm sure he will be along.”

He was supposed to meet Jackson here. Jackson was a reliable kinda guy. The hair on Sanj's neck pricked at him. Was Jackson okay? And where was Maeve? What mischief could they possibly stir up in Ecuador? Sanj shook it off.

Jackson and Maeve were here working on a cookbook together. Sometimes the two of them lost themselves in their work. The only time Jackson had ever stood him up was work-related, when he couldn't pull himself away. He'd never even stood Sanj up for a woman. And Jackson had been quite the womanizer. Had been.

“Sir, might I suggest you refresh yourself in Sparkles,” the clerk said. “I will leave a message for your friend.”

“Thank you,” he said. A hotel bar and restaurant named Sparkles? In Guayaquil, the largest port city in this country? Nah, he needed to get outside and walk around a bit to find a decent meal. Maybe some good seafood.

But as he walked outside, a wall of sauna-like heat hit him. He glanced around at the busy street, hoping to find a place not far from the hotel. He passed a pristine fountain, its pool clear and cool. He resisted the urge to disrobe and make a spectacle of himself in the public fountain. His linen clothing clung to him. As an Indian man, he knew heat—but this heat hit him hard.

He sighed—tomorrow, the beach—with or without Jackson and Maeve. He walked until he spotted a yellow building that looked like an eatery.

When he walked into the tiny dark, smoke-filled establishment, Cocina de Sol, he blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness. Was it a restaurant? A bar? He didn't know. It was blessedly cool and he smelled seafood.

“English?” A host approached him.

Sanj nodded, pleased to find the menu had translations on it. His Spanish sucked, even after all the years he studied it.

After he found a seat and ordered a beer and lemon-spiced shrimp, he spotted a white woman in the dark-skinned crowd. She stood at the bar, her alabaster face an absorbing beacon, emerging through the curls of smoke.

She towered over the other women and most of the men in the place. And, although her hair was dark, it was not her natural color. Pale, with the skin of a goddess, she almost shimmered. Where had he seen her before? Her large but heavy-lidded eyes met his gaze and she nodded, with a sultry smile. He smiled back at her. Two foreigners in this place? Traveling frequently gave one the nose to sniff another out.

The waiter brought his beer.

“Gracias,”
Sanj said.

He sat back in his chair. Not wanting to think about the last time he'd been with a woman, he shifted his weight and tried to think of something else. Just one look at the woman made his balls tighten—what, was he eighteen again? For a man of his age, his reaction to the woman was, well, unseemly. And she headed his way. He drew in a breath.

She walked with the bearing of a dancer, tall, slinky, confident. “May I join you?” she asked. British. Londoner. East Side?

“Please do,” Sanj said.

She caught the attention of the server, who brought her a drink.

“I'm Mary,” she said, with lips shaped like an old-fashioned doll's lips, turned up and thick. He imagined sliding himself right into them.
Calm down, Sanj.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.

Her deep brown eyes scanned him in a delightful, smoldering sweep.
Message received.

Sanj's mouth curled into his polite nice-to-meet-you smile. “Sanj. I've just gotten into town.”

“Indian?” she asked, after sipping her cocktail.

He bit his lip and looked away for a moment. This woman oozed sex. He was quite unsure what to do with himself.

He nodded. “You?”

“American, but I grew up in London, of course,” she said. “But I've been here awhile. What brings you here?”

“Business,” Sanj said. Not true, but she didn't need to know that.

She didn't need to know that his friends were the famous American husband-and-wife cookbook team here investigating cacao plantations to write a cookbook centered on chocolate. They'd invited him here because they were ready for a break.

“You know we always need a little Sanj during our vacations,” Maeve had said to him on the phone a few weeks back.

But he suspected another reason for the invitation. He didn't need their pity—and he was here to prove it. Fuck Jennifer. As he watched the stunning woman sitting here sipping her drink, he knew he was going to be just fine.

“Cacao?” Mary asked him.

He nodded. “Sort of.”

“I get it. You don't want to tell me too much. Okay. It's kind of tricky in these parts,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he said, trying not to stare at her breasts. But they poked out of the red sundress she wore. A Vera Wang dress, he noted. His sister owned the exact dress. His eyes wanted to rest there, but he resisted. He'd developed a breast weakness. Jackson had teased him that he should get some help.

An indecent fantasy flash of Mary's naked breasts played in his mind. What did they look like underneath that expensive dress? Did they have big nipples? Were they as round as they appeared?

He crossed his legs.
Get a grip, man
.

Her jaw tensed as if she were keeping a delightful secret. Those full lips, one dimple on the left side, and tiny scar across her cheek. Sexy.

“I mean you don't want people to know you've got money. But I can smell it on you,” she said, leaning forward, pressing her breasts together to reveal more cleavage.

He laughed. And tried not to watch the white orbs poking out. Prostitute, he thought. That has to be it. He cleared his throat. “Well, I've never paid for companionship. And I never will.”

She sat back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “You underestimate me, sir.”

“Are you saying you're not a prostitute? C'mon,” he said, as the server brought a plate of hot steaming shrimp. The smell made him salivate. Hunger moved through his body. Then he took a bite of the shrimp, so fresh and tender it almost brought him to tears. Remembering his manners, he gestured for her to have some. The plate was piled high.

“No, thanks, and I'm not a prostitute,” she said. She gave an odd, beleaguered smile, one that faded before fully realized. “Why would you assume that?”

Sanj shrugged and swallowed his bite of shrimp. “So what do you want with me?”

“Company,” she said. “It can be lonely here. Not many people even speak English, you know?”

She lifted the glass to those lips and sipped her drink.

“What brings you here?” he asked, trying to keep his eyes from her breasts—and her turned-up, mischievous mouth. Focus on the shrimp, he told himself, or you'll be so hard you won't be able to walk out of here.

“I'm looking for an old friend,” she said. “I heard she was in town.”

Sanj finished his beer, suddenly exhausted, overcome by jet lag.

“Another one, sir?” The server appeared as if on cue.

“No thanks,” Sanj said, turning back to the last of his juicy shrimp. He'd eaten too quickly, like a starving man. The shrimp was so good—and he'd eaten too much horrible airplane and airport food. He could go for dessert, but suddenly thought of bed. He needed it. What time would it be in India? What time zone was he in now? Oh bother, between the exhaustion and the beautiful woman, he could not think clearly at all. He gestured for the check.

“Well, good luck with that,” he said. “Look, maybe we will see you around.”

“We?”

“I'm here meeting some friends, too,” Sanj said. “I've gotta tell you I need to get going. Jet lag and all that.”

“Please,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Don't go.”