More and more of her.
He slanted his mouth to the side, taking their kiss deeper with one swift slide of his tongue.
His fingers still entwined with hers, Caleb let his hands drop, then wrapped both their arms around her waist to pull her tighter, effectively trapping her soft curves against the hard, craving planes of his body.
Why the hell was she wearing this bulky coat? All he wanted, now and for as long as it lasted, was to get her naked.
Lost in the pleasure of her mouth, Caleb didn’t hear the key in the door until a loud clatter of the chimes hit a discordant note. Pulling her lips from his, Pandora jumped, blinking the sexual glow out of her eyes as she looked over his shoulder toward whoever had come in.
Her jaw dropped and her face turned bright red even as embarrassment filled her eyes.
“Hello, Mother.”
10
“WELL, DARLING?” Cassiopeia said as she settled comfortably on Pandora’s couch and sipped chamomile tea. “It looks like you have a lot to share. When did you get involved with the likes of Caleb Black? And more important, why didn’t you ever mention him in your emails? I’d have stayed away a few extra days if I’d known you had that kind of entertainment on tap.”
That entertainment, as Cassiopeia called him, had barely stuck around long enough for introductions before he’d high-tailed it out of the store for his father’s party.
Now, twenty minutes after Cassiopeia’s shocking arrival, she was soothing her travel woes with tea while Pandora resisted the urge to pace.
“I’ve got so much to tell you. I shared the basics in our emails, but things are really going great at the store,” she said, even as a part of her wondered if she hurried her mother along, could she catch Caleb at the party. The other part of her, the one that bwawked like a chicken, was glad her mother’s arrival had given her an excuse to keep their relationship quiet for a little longer. Sort of. Nothing was ever hidden from Cassiopeia.
As if reading her mind, her mother gestured with her teacup.
“I’d rather talk about the man,” Cassiopeia said with a smile too wicked for someone’s mother.
“I’d rather not,” Pandora decided. Not while she was so mixed up over the issue. “Let’s focus on the store instead, okay? Before we left, I printed out the financial statements. Do you want to see them? I saved the store, Mom.”
She felt a little giddy saying that. As if she was tempting fate. But she was so excited she had to share. And hoped, like crazy, that her mom would be proud.
“I mean, it’s obviously too early to tell for sure, but I’m betting the cafe and the aphrodisiacs stay solid, long- term.”
“Most likely,” Cassiopeia agreed with a shrug that seemed more disinterested than dismissive.
“Don’t you care?” Pandora frowned, trying to read her mother. Calm and centered, as always. A little worn-out, which wasn’t surprising since it was a long trip from Sedona. But shouldn’t there be some relief? Some joy at the prospect of keeping the store a success? Some pride in her only child?
“Darling, of course I care. The cafe is a brilliant idea and you’ve done a wonderful job. I knew if left to your own devices, you’d come up with something.”
Her mother’s smile widened, a self-satisfied look just this side of gloating in her eyes.
“You left to force my hand?” Pandora realized, almost breathless from the shock.
“Well, the store
“That was a huge risk to take if you didn’t have to,” Pandora pointed out, trying to calm her sudden jitters. “I could have ruined the store. What if I’d failed?”
“Then you’d fail,” Cassiopeia said with a shrug.
“You’d risk the family legacy to teach me a lesson?”
“The family legacy is talent, dear. It’s intuition. It’s not a building and a bunch of candles and crystals.”
Pandora choked down the urge to scream. She knew what the hell to do with the shop, dammit. But she didn’t have any talent. So where did that leave her? She’d thought she’d finally contributed to the family name. That she’d done something worthy of the women who’d come before her.
“Darling, you make it so hard on yourself. Instead of embracing hope, which will help you realize your gift, you spend all your time chasing the Furies, trying to corral misery before it causes hurt,” Cassiopeia said, launching into one of her favorite stories. In the Easton family, they didn’t believe in choosing a name until they’d discovered the newborn’s personality. Pandora had been Baby Girl for eight months until the gods, fate and the tarot cards had revealed her destiny to Cassiopeia. “You need to quit worrying about those miseries, darling. Instead, focus on joy. That’s the only way you’ll find the right path.”
With that, Cassiopeia rose and glided to the kitchen to set her teacup in the sink, returned to kiss the top of her silently fuming daughter’s head and left.
An hour later, frustrated tears still trickled down Pandora’s cheeks. She didn’t even answer when someone knocked tentatively on her door. Eleven o’clock on a Sunday night, it could only be one person. And she was too worked up to deal with her mother twice in one day.
The knock sounded again, a little louder this time.
Who the hell needed to chase misery when it was always right there, tapping her on the shoulder and reminding her that she didn’t measure up. That she was a waste of her family name. Ungifted and unworthy.
The urge to run away-again-made her body quiver. But unlike her escape when she’d been eighteen, this time she didn’t have anywhere to go. Nor did she still have that cocky faith that she could prove to her mother, her grandmother and everyone else in Black Oak that she could be a success without the family gift.
Pounding replaced the tentative knock.
“Fine,” she huffed, jumping to her feet.
Her mother wouldn’t give up. She had probably headed home to gather some crystals and cards, determined to help her daughter find that damned path she always harped on.
“What?” Pandora snapped as she threw open the door.
The bitter cold from the icy rain swept over her bare toes as she stared.
“Oh.”
It wasn’t Cassiopeia on her doorstep.
It was a delicious looking chocolate eclair with what looked like a tub of ice cream and, if she wasn’t mistaken, hot-fudge sauce.
Her eyes met Caleb’s golden gaze.
“I thought you could use a sugar rush,” he said, lifting the dessert a little higher. “It comes with, or without, a second spoon.”
She hesitated. Attention was a good thing, but attention while she was having a tantrum? Hardly something she wanted Caleb to remember her for.
“I’m not very good company right now,” she demurred, rubbing her hands over the velvet of her skirt and wishing she were wearing sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. Something innocuous to hide behind. Although, if she was going to do some wishing, she should put all her falling stars and birthday candles toward having washed her tear-stained face instead of answering the door looking like a sad raccoon.
“I’m not looking for entertainment,” Caleb said, shrugging before leaning one broad shoulder against the door frame. Catching the arch look she shot him, he grinned. “I’m not looking for that, either.”
“Oh, really?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no if you decided to strip naked and paint my name across your body in this fudge sauce
