“Oh, I asked at the store. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to do some exploring, find my way around and such.”
“You’re more than welcome here, anytime. Everything is pretty much marked, the trails, golf course and all. I’ve been working on the signs and a new map.”
Her lips curved, curiosity lit her eyes. “Yes, the map I have could use a makeover. But I managed.”
“Dinner’s ready. Let me go grab the fish off the grill. I was about to walk out the door to come and get you. Make yourself at home.”
Through the window he watched her looking around the house. It lacked many things the new cabins had as far as modern conveniences, but he’d been making out fine. Still, it didn’t compare to his condo in Austin. There were a lot of options here to build a house. He wasn’t in any hurry, though. Granddad only came home every few months.
When he walked inside she said, “You must not plan to stay here. This place isn’t you.”
He chuckled. She had him. Her ability to read him was eerie.
“It’s my granddad’s house. He doesn’t come home much. I plan to build.”
“Good. I don’t see you living here.”
“At least you don’t think my taste runs the same as a seventy year-old man.”
“Not even close.” She had a beautiful smile. They fell into sync at the kitchen counter. She set the table and poured ice tea while he plated the food.
“It smells wonderful,” she said once they were seated. “I’ve missed the food.” She took a bite.
“How long were you in New York?”
“Almost six years. I was ready to move home.”
He nodded, understanding. “I was in Austin over ten years. It felt like home at times, but Chandler Bayou is where I belong.”
“I’m not sure New Orleans is where I belong, but it’s a start, and my grandmother left me her house when she passed away. I’ll have a place of my own, and my family is there and Callie is close.”
They fell into easy conversation, talking about her family, about the camp they had on the water, and summers she spent there as a child. He told her about the Callie following him like a shadow when they were young.
When they’d met before in Austin, Brock had assumed she lived in New Orleans since that had been her destination when he’d brought her to the airport their last day.
He had no idea what had happened earlier when they were looking at the alligator, but Delaney had gone from soft and willing to distant and cold in a matter of seconds.
He didn’t think the tiny kiss he’d given her could have done it, but he had no idea what had. She’d done a one-eighty.
She seemed relaxed again. And he’d like to keep her that way.
* * * *
Delaney filled the sink with hot water. Being alone with him was dangerous. He made her feel things she didn’t know she still could, stirred emotions she’d held contained for years. Before, he’d only been a brief detour from her normally staid life.
When he stopped beside her at the sink, his heat surrounded her. “Well, what’s the verdict? Good weather?” she asked. He’d watched the weather report, since he had an early morning fishing charter.
He nodded, took the dish from her hand, and dropped it back into the soapy water. “Come here.”
He led her out the back door and onto the broad porch that surrounded the house. Holding her hand, he stroked the back with his thumb. A rush of sensation went to her core.
“Look.” As they walked ahead, on one side of the porch the sunset cast a brilliant haze across the lake.
“It’s breathtaking. Everything seems so real here.”
He let out a low hum. “I know what you mean. Living in the city certainly takes away some of the rawness.”
Bending his head, he brushed his lips across hers. The fire that had been simmering all evening low in her belly erupted. His mouth covered hers in a demanding dance and his tongue pressed for an entrance she couldn’t deny.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through the silky softness of his hair where it met his collar. His hand settled low on her back, and she closed the space between them. His incredible warmth surrounded her. He was heat and hardness against her softness.
A low moan escaped her. Brock took a step forward and she was trapped against the railing. With his other hand, he touched the bare skin of her waist. She wanted more.
His mouth moved from hers, trailing soft kisses along her neck. Leaning back, she gave him better access and sighed, melting under his touch.
This had to stop.
But she didn’t want it to.
She would regret it later. Either way. “Brock…”
“Mmm…” Sliding a hand up her side, he skimmed her breast, and she nearly exploded.
“Brock…I uh. I think...” She sighed at the fiery sensations taking her over, rolling through her.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. The hunger in those dark chocolate depths nearly did her in.
“Don’t think.” He took her mouth again hard and quick, raw.
Lost, she gave in to the kiss, his touch, and dizzy under his tender caresses, melted in his arms.
Heaving a sigh, she pushed herself a little away. He let her go enough to look her in the eye.
“Delaney? What’s wrong?” He brushed a tear away with the pad of his thumb. Hurt and confusion crossed his features before he masked it. His hold loosened.
Emptiness consumed her at the loss of his touch. The overwhelming need for air and space had her stepping to the side. With an unsteady hand, she touched his arm. “I…I’ve got to go. I’ll uh, see you later.”
She was almost to the front door, when he called her name. Using all the willpower she could summon, she didn’t look back, and walked out.
Chapter 3
After a sleepless night, the fishing charter went better than Brock expected. They were back before noon. The old timers were regulars and he’d escorted them into the Gulf several times since his return to Chandler Bayou. They never stayed long on the water and normally came back with a good catch. Today was no different.
After a quick shower, he headed to the office. There were a dozen calls to return, but one from Dirk had caught his attention.
He hadn’t talked to him in weeks. Since the new cabins were completed and the paths re-asphalted, he might have time to take Dirk up on a game of pool or a night out. Spending time stewing over Delaney’s mixed messages wasn’t helping him at all.
“Hello, Jump Shots,” Dirk barked into the phone.
“Hey, buddy, is it that bad?”
“What are you, the happy police?”
“Hell no. What’s going on?” Brock asked.
“Not much. Dead around here right now. Catching up on paper work.”
“That explains your mood.”
“I guess.”
“You plan on being there this afternoon?” He finally had a break in his schedule. Slowly, but surely he was bringing Chandler Bayou into this century.
“Chained