Holding You Read online

  An unseasonably warm spring had given my skin an early tan, so I patted my cheeks just to perk up some extra pink, and then I added some rose lip gloss. I straightened out and retied my knee length wrap skirt, which showed just enough leg to be sexy yet conservative. My apron successfully protected my fitted Sage Leaf Café T-shirt so no stains stood out; my 34 B cup didn’t stand out either. Years of yoga and healthy eating had given me a trim and fit body.

  Mac found me on my way back to the kitchen. “Addy, they’re serving dessert. Lizzy said Mr. Jamison is ready for you.”

  Deep breath … I am peaceful, I am strong. I made my way to the double doors of the conference room. Deep breath … I am peaceful, I am strong. I pulled on the door to the right but it didn’t budge, so I pulled the door to the left. No luck.

  What is this, a top secret meeting? What’s with the locked doors?

  Deciding I didn’t care if I received any recognition for the catering, I turned and leaned back on the doors. Before my body had time to react, I found myself falling into the conference room and landing flat on my ass. I closed my eyes. Push, Addy, not pull, you idiot … Deep breath … I am peaceful, I am strong. Just when I thought my seven years of bad luck were over, the proverbial black cat crossed my path again.

  “Well, well, you are just an accident waiting to happen, Pippy,” an all too familiar deep voice filled my ears.

  Breathe dammit … peaceful … strong … peaceful … strong.

  It was such an unwelcome moment of déjà vu, as my eyes made the journey up Michelangelo’s sculpture for the second time that day. My flushed face and ocean blues met his sexy smirk, but this time his large, strong hand was being offered to me.

  These feet have pounded too many miles of pavement and these arms have held countless inversion poses. I will NOT be needing help up, thank you very much!

  “Addy? Are you all right?” Lizzy whispered, almost sharing my nervous embarrassment. “Mr. Jamison is ready for you.”

  After adjusting my clothing and pulling the stray hair away from my face, I once again threw my shoulders back, tilted my chin up, and walked toward the front of the room and away from David.

  Mr. Jamison started his introduction. “I’d like to introduce the chef and owner of Sage Leaf Café, Ms. Adler Brecken.”

  I let the warm response calm my nerves while I told myself that most people were, in all likelihood, too busy chatting to have noticed my grand entrance.

  “Ms. Brecken, you’ve outdone yourself with this superb lunch. I hope to visit your restaurant the next time I’m in Milwaukee,” Mr. Jamison boasted with the cheesiest fake smile I’d ever seen. It matched his fake tan and complimented his weak handshake, stiff comb-over, and, in general, large overfed figure. He had perhaps been a football linebacker in high school or maybe even college. However, money, lack of exercise, and a taste of the “finer” things had given him the classic indulgent lifestyle appearance. I wasn’t betting a single penny on ever seeing him in my café.

  While the photographers finished, I fixed my gaze to the back of the room and noticed Mr. Smug Ass leaning against the back doors with his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest and one leg casually crossed over the other at his ankle. Was he undressing me with his eyes? Jesus, Addy, where did that come from? Or was he just bored with the whole giving credit where credit is due spiel? Why did he rub me the wrong way?

  Maybe because I’m frustrated with my mind for imagining him rubbing me in another way. ADDY, get a grip!

  Trying desperately to exude confidence in my stride, I carefully navigated to the exit of the conference room. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing there anyway. Cocky arrogance oozed from him as he stood by two other guys who looked like some form of security or bodyguards. They were dressed in black suits, but Mr. Smirky Face was wearing the same semi-casual attire he had on that morning. The absence of a camera or notepad suggested he was not part of the press, and everything about him screamed money. And sex.

  He was blocking my exit, and with each approaching step I prayed he would move, but he didn’t. His expression was indifferent and his self-assured posture said he owned the place, and worse than that, his look said he owned me.

  Deep breath … I am peaceful, I am strong.

  “Excuse me, please,” I whispered, disappointed in myself for not mustering more of a voice.

  Refusing to meet his gaze, I kept my head down with a stoic face.

  “By all means, let me get the door for you, Miss Brecken, although I think odds are you’ve figured it out by now.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Once I made it through the door and past the parameter of his panty-dropping aura, I sucked in a deep breath, attempting to cool my inflamed body.

  “Oh, Miss Brecken?”

  All vocal abilities failed me, which was very uncharacteristic. I looked up at him with raised eyebrows and simply gave a barely detectable nod.

  “I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot this morning, however, I’ve come to find your presence very … stimulating.” The corners of his mouth slowly turned up into a devilish smile.

  “Good God … uh I mean, good day, Mr. um?”

  Shit shit, double shit!

  “Cohen, Quinten Cohen.” A smile that reached his eyes graced his perfect face and I had to get the hell out of there.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.”

  ~Katharine Hepburn

  EARLY MAY IN Milwaukee that year was a gift as the unseasonably warm spring weather continued. The sun and the sounds of seagulls rained peace all around me. My “off day” three weeks earlier with the dark and dangerous Mr. Cohen had sent my nerves into a tailspin, shaking my well-rehearsed carefree persona. Mac was onto me when I tried to brush it off as nerves from nearly being crushed by an SUV. It was absurd to even try that excuse with Mac. She was the one person who knew there was not a cell in my body that feared death.

  Rounding the last curve of the path, I had decided to accept Mother Nature’s invitation to spend more time outside that morning. A mature maple tree skirted with lush green grass felt like the perfect spot to do my own private yoga in the park. Quenching my thirst with a big swig of water, I removed my runners and socks. The cool touch of the shaded grass under my feet grounded me. My limbered body easily flowed through several Sun Salutations. On my last Down Dog I spotted an upside down figure a few feet away. Casually leaning against the massive maple trunk with one arm crossing a well defined chest and the other resting at a ninety degree angle, holding a Starbucks cup inches from full rosy lips, was Mr. Cohen. I closed my eyes with an inhale and finished my sequence ending in Mountain Pose. Turning toward the tree, my lips curled up into a smile. “Mr. Cohen.”

  In the most calculated and sexy motion, he stood straight and closed the distance between us. So much so that I had to lift my head to meet his eyes, vanilla coffee aroma filled my nose. His free hand tugged one of my pigtails. “Pippy.”

  Thank God I was already flushed, sweating, and out of breath because his proximity had my thermostat stuck in the red. His eyes trailed up my body, pausing at my lips. He delivered a lopsided smirk as I caught myself chewing my bottom lip so hard I just about drew blood.

  Breaking the trance¸ I stepped back and bent down to grab my water. I took an extra long swig before stopping to catch my breath. “You live near here, or is this just your new stalking ground?”

  “You think I look like a stalker?” He tilted his head to the side.

  “I think you act like a stalker.”

  “I was just observing the yoga class.” He shrugged, his shoulders feigning innocence.

  “I’m the only one doing yoga. It’s not a class, which means you were not observing but rather stalking. I have to say it’s a little creepy.” I grabbed my socks and shoved my bare feet into my runners.

  “What if I told you I was just admiring t
he scenery?”

  “Even more creepy,” I called over my shoulder while crossing the street to my building.

  I refrained using the more direct entrance to my loft, which was behind the building, and opted to go through my café. We weren’t open yet, but I knew Jake, who’d worked for me almost three years, was in the kitchen cleaning and slicing food for the day. Banging on the door, I hoped he would hear me. I didn’t have my keys since my other loft entrance required a security code, but I wasn’t going to lead Mr. Stalker to my loft.

  “Most women would insist on a shower after exercising and before going to work, but just as I suspected, you are not like most women.” He was inches behind me and so close to my ear for that last part I could feel the heat of his breath down my neck.

  Deep breath … I am peaceful, I am strong.

  I opened my eyes when I heard the sound of the door latch. Saved by Jake!

  “Hey, Addy, having your green smoothie before your shower this morning, huh? Must have been an intense workout.”

  “Uh, yes … smoothie first,” I mumbled while hurrying in past Jake.

  “Great, I’ll juice you a shot of wheatgrass that’s ready to go in the back. Is your friend having anything?”

  My friend?

  In the rush of anxiety that propelled me through the door, I failed to notice Mr. Cohen follow me in and Jake lock the door behind us. He had already taken the liberty of seating himself on a barstool at the juice bar. He was wearing a tight fitting charcoal T-shirt that hugged every one of his sculpted muscles and white cargo shorts that hung low on his hips and accentuated his backside. His feet, clad in flip flops were propped up on the lower bar of the stool. As he bounced his legs, I caught myself taking in the flexing motion of his calf muscles for a little too long.

  “Oh, Jake, um, this is Mr. Cohen and he’s not my friend, in fact, I don’t think he noticed our hours. I’m sure if he wants something he can come back once we’re open.”

  “Jake, please, call me Quinn, and Addy is being a little modest about us. We’re definitely friends so I’ll have what she’s having please.”

  Jake started to smile then second guessed whether it was an appropriate response when he glanced at the scowl on my face. Jake was twenty-two and did some underground fighting. He looked like the Hulk ready to bust out of his café T-shirt, and the tats up and down both arms were a little intimidating. After coming to the conclusion that I was safe with Jake there, I gave him the nod to go ahead and get the wheatgrass shots.

  “Wow, Mr. Cohen—”

  “Quinn.”

  “Quinn, I’m trying to figure out the definitely friends part,” I kept my eyes on him as I tossed fresh fruit and pitted dates into the blender. With raised eyebrows and a soft close-lipped smile, I waited for an explanation.

  “I’ve seen your eyes peruse my body, more than once, and I’d say what’s going on in your pretty little head crosses the line of friends by a few lengths of a football field. But since I have no wish to embarrass you in front of your employee, I thought I’d downplay it.”

  Cocky ass …

  Completely flustered, I flipped on the switch to the blender and before I had time to react, the fruity concoction started flying everywhere. It took me a moment to gather my senses enough to switch it off because I was paralyzed with shock. The first thing I spied was the lid still on the counter. Then I wiped my face and surveyed the mess. Not only was I covered in smoothie, Quinn took his fair share of the collateral damage too. The look on his smoothie-covered face was complete consternation as he sat stiff as a board, holding his fruit splatted arms out to the side.

  “Oops, I assumed you wanted your smoothie to-go.” I smiled before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

  Wetting my pants was a real possibility if I didn’t rein it in a little. Quinn gave me a curious look, indubitably questioning my sanity, but then something resembling a smile started to pull at the corners of his mouth.

  “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, but you should see the look on your face,” I busted out, still in a fit of laughter.

  “Shit,” Quinn whispered, trying to hold back his full pearly white grin, as he wiped his face and arms with napkins. “Goddamn, woman, you are truly a walking disaster.”

  “That she is,” Jake agreed as he walked out with a tray of wheatgrass shots and orange wedges, shaking his head and sporting his own shit-eating grin. “I got this. Bottoms up with your shots and then go get yourselves cleaned up.”

  Still dripping with smoothie, I held up my shot glass in salute, downed it, sucked the juice of the orange wedge, and flashed Quinn my first genuine smile. He pressed his lips together and raised a skeptical brow. Maybe it was his first time doing wheatgrass shots, but he hesitated for a moment not moving his eyes from mine. I couldn’t ease his apprehension by telling him it would taste like nectar from the gods. Wheatgrass can range from tart to sweet, but there’s no other way to describe it’s taste other than grassy.

  A moment later his face softened. “Cheers.” He saluted then downed his shot with a grimace, and I quickly shoved the orange wedge in his mouth. My fingers grazed his lips as my tongue traced my own.

  “Jake, I’m going to take Quinn upstairs to clean up.” My eyes didn’t leave Quinn’s.

  “Got it, Addy.”

  The door to my loft was back near the kitchen. I entered the lock security code and turned to see Quinn a few steps behind. He crept along, being careful not to let any more of the smoothie drip. Taking complete inventory of the damage I did to him, I was relieved to see that his shorts were unscathed and a clean shirt would do the trick.

  When we reached my loft I marched straight to the linen closet to get two bath towels.

  “I have one bathroom and it’s through there, so you can go ahead and get cleaned up while I grab you a new shirt.”

  Quinn sauntered closer to me, and while I struggled to keep my breathing steady, he traced his finger from my cheek bone to the corner of my mouth. He placed his finger in his mouth and rolled his tongue over it lapping up the fruiting liquid. “There’s not a part of your body that isn’t dripping with smoothie. I do believe you should clean up first. I’ll just take my shirt off and wait.”

  I forced an awkward swallow. In one swift motion he removed his shirt and set it in the kitchen sink. The defined muscles in his shoulders and back had me frozen in place, then he turned back toward me and the wind was knocked out of my lungs. He was a perfect anatomy model with every muscle being well-defined but not too bulky. His six pack abs and abdominal V had my mouth agape. My muscles had definition, but maintaining a body like his had to be a full-time job.

  He raised his eyebrows in silent questioning of why I hadn’t gone to shower.

  “Wo—wow,” I stuttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing,” I breathlessly whispered.

  Before he had a chance to respond, gravity brought me back to Earth and I made a dash for the bathroom.

  After making it to safety, my back collapsed against the door and I struggled to keep myself from sliding to the floor. Blood rushed from my head, engorging my breasts and swelling my sex. Unrecognizable was that blubbering googly-eyed idiot that had taken over my body.

  Deep breath … I am peaceful I am strong.

  Allowing Quinn to wander my loft unattended for too long was not a good idea, so I took a shower in record breaking time, even with a quick shave of my armpits and legs. Wrapped up in my towel, I went through the back sliding door of the bathroom that connected to my walk-in closet. I quickly grabbed the essentials: panties, bra, green capris, and a white café tank. A fast comb through my long locks, I was done.

  Stopped in my tracks, I took in the sight of Quinn’s glorious back as he stood by my large windows overlooking the lake. His hands were shoved in his pockets, tugging down his cargos and exposing the grey waistband of his briefs.

  “Jaw-dropping view, huh?” his deep gritty voice echoed.

  How did he know I was
in the room and staring at him?

  “Um, I was just …”

  “The lake, you have a beautiful view of the lake.” A fine smirk played across his face as he turned to witness my blushing skin.

  “Yes, the lake, it’s amazing. I’m done, the bathroom is all yours and there’s a towel on the shelf by the sink. I’ll get you a shirt while you clean up.”

  “Thanks, Addy.” He took his turn, letting his eyes peruse my body before heading to the bathroom.

  As soon as I heard the water running I scrambled to my bedroom and dug out a plain navy T-shirt that seemed large enough to fit Quinn. I had a whole drawer dedicated to freebie tees I had received at different expos; most of the time I used them as back-up nightshirts.

  I waited on my deck for Quinn, letting the warm breeze dry my damp hair. When I sensed his presence I took a moment to wonder if he was looking at me the way I had at him. My body hoped so, but my brain didn’t. I turned to him and audibly gasped at the sight of him in nothing but his cargos and messy black hair, a few drips of water still melting down his torso. Adonis may have been the Greek god of beauty and desire, but Quinn was unmistakably a Latin sex god. Refusing to feed his oversized ego with any more panting and drooling, I tossed him the shirt and cleared my throat.

  “This should fit.”

  He caught it and without even looking at it slipped it over his head, easing it the rest of the way down, no doubt putting on a show for me.

  “How long have you been a vegan?”

  His question was typical and in the realm of answers I was willing to share.

  “Twelve years. I saw a documentary on slaughter houses and I could no longer physically or mentally handle consuming meat. I was a bit of a tree hugger anyway and veganism is great for the environment so it was a no-brainer. The literature over the past decade or more that gives insight and studies about the benefits of a plant based diet is incredible. I used recipes at first but then started creating my own vegan concoctions and voila, here I am. Adler Brecken, the tree-hugging vegan chef.”