Page 112 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Scott hadn’t planned this, not at all. His plan had been to take her to dinner, approach her about the candy, ask some probing questions about where they were made, and try to find the underlying cause of his suspicions. It wasn’t necessarily that he wanted to prove her a fake—quite the opposite. He desperately wanted to prove otherwise.

There had to be a reasonable explanation why she would wrap up someone else’s candy as her own.

But on the off chance that she was a fake, he had to know for any number of reasons. For one, he hated to see the wool pulled over his friend’s eyes, and for two, there was enough scandal in the chocolate business, he hated to see negative attention drawn to the industry.

There was one thing he knew for certain—Jillian Bass had no more made those chocolates than his mother had. And his mother hated to cook, bake, or anything. His mother simply “prepared”

to quote her, which was very strange since he and his brother were both in the food business.

But that was neither here nor there. If Jillian Bass was tricking the whole town of Harbor Falls, there had to be a reason, and he wanted to know what it was. Why? Because she was befriending his family, plus he liked this town—surprisingly—and they all deserved to know the truth.

If there was one thing he knew and knew well, it was chocolate. He’d not spent the past ten years working as a taster for Bianchi, the world’s largest and most renowned chocolate maker, for nothing. If there was a second thing he knew, it was his competition. It was his job to keep up with it.

Or, he should rephrase, it used to be his job to keep up with the competition.

Because yes, he knew Bianchi Chocolates, and he also knew the chocolate company that annually gave them a run for their money—Chocolates by Jeaneva.

And the chocolate that he had spit out? That would have been one of Jeaneva’s signature brands: Hazelnut Crème de la Crème.

He had to figure this out because looking at Jillian now, snuggled into his chest, a small and slightly insecure look on her face, he felt nothing but caring and sympathy for her. Not to mention that his jeans were growing tight in the crotch as he held her.

Forget that, he told himself. Sex is not the answer to this problem. For once, don’t go thinking with your body parts and not your brain.

But somehow, something had twisted inside of him when she had looked up at him earlier with those tear-filled eyes. His heart had melted like butter in the pan then and was still melting now—because all he wanted to do at that very moment was kiss the hell out of those sexy, pouty, trembling lips of hers.

****

Jillian wasn’t certain what came over her. Maybe she was exhausted. Unused to spilling her guts like that, she figured she owed Scott some sort of explanation. As she lifted her face to say something to him, the second she opened her mouth to speak, he placed one firm finger on her lips and whispered.

“Shush. Not now, Jillian.”

And before she knew it, his warm and inviting mouth had replaced that finger.

Sighing against her lips, and his, she melted and, for some very strange reason, she let him simply take over and possess her mouth.

Oh. That was very nice.

Out of nowhere, the words gallivanting player tripped through the back of her mind. Playboy! No attachments! Tabloid articles!

He pressed against her and dragged his lips across hers, coaxing a steady stream of emotion and passion from her tummy up to her chest. My goodness, the man was a kisser! But the words nagged….

Forget the words, Jillian! You know none of that for fact. And you know that tabloid articles are never true.

Besides, right now, did she care? Maybe tonight she would be spontaneous. Right? She had promised herself that. She had to balance out the obsessive planning and detail with the unplanned and unprompted and maybe even impulsiveness of just letting things happen.

She pushed the words away. She didn’t care about them at this moment. She didn’t care about her broken foot or her monster splinter, either. All she cared about was that Scott kept on doing what he was doing to her mouth.

Damn. His lips were better than chocolate.

And in her book that was saying something.

Leaning into her, they slowly drifted into a laying position on the couch, while Scott’s lips nipped and tasted hers, savoring over them like they were a raspberry cream truffle. Moaning, and ready to just let go, Jillian threaded her fingers in his hair, grasping him from behind the neck, and drew him closer into her.

Heaven.

Their bodies aligned, his heat radiating through her, Jillian felt like the most wanton and wicked woman around.

And she liked it.

Liked it way too much. This spontaneous thing might just work for her occasionally….

But after a moment, she pushed at his chest and broke the kiss. “Scott,”

she whispered. “We, um…”

His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. He nuzzled his nose against hers.

“Jillian, sorry,”

he quietly said back.

“I’m not sure what...”

“Your kisses are wonderful.”

She couldn’t help it. The words just came out of her mouth.

Then he looked at her. “Really?”

She nodded and smiled back. “Yeah...”

“I don’t mean to be taking advantage of you here. I mean, you’re hurt and everything.”

“Not my lips.”

He grinned then and traced her lower lip with a finger.

“No. No, your lips are definitely not broken. And frankly, perfect.”

“Then kiss me more?”

Wanton. Wicked.

Scott groaned and shifted, his elbows propping him on either side of her shoulders, his hands in her hair. Diving in for another kiss, Jillian met him eagerly, and she wondered if her lips would explode from the currents running through that one place on her body.

Well, maybe not just that one place, because his kisses were making her want to wrap her legs around him and draw him about as close into her as she could muster. What was that all about?

Hussy! Suzie and Sydney had jokingly called her that. They were right. Hussy.

But oh...

She wanted him to take her right here on her couch, splintered foot, lovely boot and all.

The shock of that thought pushed up into her chest like molten lava. She shouldn’t. But she wanted. After all, he’d be gone in a week anyway, he was a documented player, and then her life would simply go back to normal.

Whatever that was.

Or maybe her new normal. That was better.

Scott’s lips trailed to that sweet spot right above her collarbone. The one that if men found on her and lingered, she would be like putty in their hands. He toyed, tickled, licked, lingered... Oh hell. He left tender hot kisses right there. His fingers dragged down her neckline to the edge of her lavender lacy bra cup, and his mouth followed.

“Oh, Scott...”

she whispered.

****

My God, she’s so tiny and delicate and tastes way too damn good.

A few days ago, Scott had escaped from an impossible situation in Italy and had plunged himself smack in the middle of Podunk. He’d not wanted anything but sleep and nothing to do with women or chocolate. But now, lying draped over this sexy woman’s body, he wanted nothing more than to sink into her and plant himself in Harbor Falls for the rest of his life.

Shit.

He wanted this woman whose business was chocolate. Maybe for forever.

Whoa. A sliver of something scary shot up through him. Did he think that? For the rest of his life?

Back off, buddy, his brain said. This will get complicated. You live in Italy. Harbor Falls is not your lifestyle. Don’t get sucked in by pretty lips and sweet kisses.

She is sucking me in. She lives in the freakin’ mountains of North Carolina. She pulled his lip inside her mouth and tugged. Hell. He groaned and grew harder by the second.

Shit.

Breaking away, Scott pushed back from Jillian and sat up off the edge of the sofa. He stood, looking down at her, and raked a handful of fingers through his hair. He took in her soft, questioning face.

Pouty, kiss-swollen lips. Half-closed, sexy eyes. And her small, warm, come-hither body.

What he wanted to do was slowly hike that black dress up her thighs, run his palms over every inch of her body, suckle her breasts—and lower—and then sink into her with everything that was in him.

What he did, however, was none of that.

“Um, Jillian. I think I should go. I think that...”

With an awkward twist, she sat up, fixing her clothes around her.

“Scott, what’s going on?”

What’s going on? I have no clue what’s going on.

“I just think I should go. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to move this fast. This is inconsiderate. I think that...”

He paused, watching her expectant expression.

“I think I need a raincheck on dinner.”

He hadn’t intended to put the moves on her at all but something stronger than his intent was taking over his head and his heart and his favorite body part in his pants.

“I just need to go.”

So, he didn’t waste any more time and left.