Page 2 of Craving

He turned back to his wine and scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Ever since Leo asked you to open your home to me, you’ve looked unhappy. I don’t want you to feel put out by me, Marlon. Really. I’m just between places right now, but it’ll all be sorted out soon. You don’t have to feel obligated to house me just because your brother presented it like a done deal. I’m happy to sleep on an air mattress at the bakery. It’ll just be extra motivation to get my life together.”

“It is a done deal.” He drained half his glass and put it down a little too violently. An air mattress? In her place of business? Where would she shower? Would she even be safe there? Scowling, he turned to Camilla. “You’ll stay in the master bedroom.”

Big blue eyes opened wide. Her red hair was curled around her face in loose, romantic ringlets. She looked like she’d walked out of an old renaissance painting, all soft hair and softer curves. He wanted to see her reclining on a chaise with swags of loose fabric draped artfully over her body, a secret smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Or watch her rise from the sea on a giant scallop shell like the goddess Venus, hair fluttering in a breeze blown from a god’s lips.

Her mouth was small and pink, topped with a dramatic cupid’s bow. Marlon wanted to lick it, which irritated him. She had to be perfect, didn’t she? She had to be so feminine, so sensual, so soft all over. She had to make him want.

He didn’t want to want. He wanted to go home, exhale, and be at peace. Alone.

Camilla shook her head, and the ringlets bounced. “I’m not taking the master bedroom!”

“It has the biggest closet.” And it had the added benefit of being down the hall from Marlon’s room instead of directly beside it. The more distance he put between them, the better.

“Be that as it may,” she exclaimed primly, “I won’t have you move out of your room for me. I just won’t, Marlon.”

“It’s not my room,” Marlon told her. “No one’s using it. Plus, do you really want to sleep in Leo’s teenage bedroom? God only knows what he did in there.”

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. The expression looked good on her, and it felt even better to know that Marlon was the one to amuse her.

No. No, it didn’t. Who cared if he made her laugh?

“We can talk about this later,” she said, but Marlon knew he’d won.

Despite his grumpiness, he realized it was extremely gratifying to give her the big room. Tomorrow, he’d get her some new sheets and towels so she didn’t have to use the ancient linens he hadn’t bothered to replace in the years since he inherited the house. He didn’t want Camilla sleeping on twenty-year-old sheets that were so threadbare they were nearly transparent.

It wasn’t because he cared about her; he was simply being a good host.

“I’ll stay out of your hair,” she promised. “I work weird hours because of the bakery, so you’ll hardly see me. And it’s only temporary.”

“No problem,” he grated. Torn in two, Marlon played with the stem of his wineglass. Half of him wanted to welcome Camilla into his home and make sure she had everything she needed. The other half wanted to go back to the way things were before, when his home was his refuge and no one relied on him anymore.

He’d been the protector and the caretaker for his family for most of his youth. Those days, thankfully, were long over. The last thing he wanted to do was open that old chest of memories and release all the feelings he tried so hard to bury.

Then, for the second time in a few minutes, a small hand landed on his shoulder. Camilla leaned over and kissed his cheek, those beautiful lips pressing into the scruff of his beard. Her breasts brushed against his arm, soft flesh meeting hard bicep. She smelled like heaven. Marlon curled his hands into fists to stop himself from hauling her onto his lap where she belonged.

Because she didn’t belong there. No one did. Life was better when he was on his own; he’d learned that lesson time and time again.

“Thank you, Marlon,” Camilla whispered, then she straightened and rejoined her friends on the dance floor.

No matter how hard he tried to resist, Marlon’s gaze kept finding its way to those red curls, to that small, pink mouth, to the movement of her body as she danced to the beat.

Marlon stalked out of the room a moment later, checking his watch. The department store was still open. He’d get the new sheets tonight and make sure her room was ready. He needed a few minutes to himself, and buying new linens for his temporary roommate was as good an excuse as any.

TWO

Camilla danced until her feet hurt, then collapsed in a chair to suck down half a bottle of water. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders earlier, and now that she’d spoken to Marlon, she’d have a bed to sleep in tonight as well. That was a relief.

She hadn’t been lying when she said it was temporary. A few days. Maybe a week. Two, max. Just enough time to scrounge up a security deposit and the money needed to secure a new place to live. The bakery’s coffers would be pilfered once more, but she’d make it work. She always had.

This morning, she’d paid off the last of her bad debt, and now she could finally move on. The yoke around her neck had split and fallen off when she’d pressed “Confirm” on the last loan payment, and now Camilla was finally free.

For the next little while, Camilla would hustle a little bit harder to get some more wedding cake orders, run a few promotions to drum up daily business, work longer hours, do anything she could to get back on her feet. It would be difficult now that the wedding season was slowing down, but Stirling, New Hampshire was a place that made weddings its business. The slow months were still good if you knew how to make sales.

She’d had a good couple of months. In the fall, with leaves shivering in a thousand shades of red, orange, yellow, and green, people had been tying the knot in droves. Now in early November, the trees were mostly bare and the weather was starting to turn, but she’d get last-minute orders for courthouse weddings; she was sure of it.

Everything would be okay. Finally.

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