All My Tomorrows by Rochelle Alers

Author:Rochelle Alers [Alers, Rochelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488098192
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lydia stepped out onto the porch, unable to meet Kennedy’s gaze. He knew she had no control over her traitorous body, knew that all he had to do was touch her and she’d melt like a pat of butter on a heated surface.

She, Lydia Charlene Lord, who’d prided herself on being in total control at all times, had surrendered the will of her flesh to a man whom she had fallen for and did not want to love.

She had accepted the position as chef for Camp Six Nations to test her culinary creativity, to prepare nutritious meals for what she considered the world’s toughest critics: children.

She’d planned to spend eight weeks in western Maryland’s unspoiled wilderness perfecting her craft, not preparing to spend the night with a man who made her forget her vow never to become involved with an athlete, or in Kennedy’s case a former athlete.

They were four weeks into the camp season with another four before it ended, and Lydia told herself over and over that she could engage in a summer romance and then walk away with her emotions intact. That she would enjoy whatever she and Kennedy shared, then relegate it to her past, because her sole focus was setting up her restaurant.

Smiling, she pointed to the bag decorated in a needlepoint design resting near the recliner. “Light enough?” She’d packed underwear, a nightgown, T-shirt, shorts, a pair of sandals, and her grooming products.

Bending down, Kennedy picked up the bag, testing its weight. It was very light. Straightening up, he turned and stared at Lydia, his eyes making love to her face. Her hair, parted off-center, framed her face—a face that bore the slightest trace of makeup that subtly enhanced her natural feminine beauty. She’d tilted her chin slightly, staring up at him through a fringe of long, full black lashes that framed her incredible sherry-colored eyes.

His eyes moved lower, caressing the graceful column of her bared neck, the soft swell of breasts rising and falling above the décolletage of her form-fitting dress that outlined every line of her slender, curvy body. He stared at her long bare legs in the heels that put her over the six-foot mark.

“You look incredible, darling.” His voice was low, reverent, and blatantly seductive.

Lydia stared at the strong brown throat above the starched collar of a white shirt. “So do you.” Taking a step closer, she took a deep breath and whispered, “What are you wearing?”

Kennedy lifted his eyebrows. “You want to know who designed my suit?”

She shook her head. “Not your clothes, Kennedy. What fragrance are you wearing? You always smell so delicious.”

“Is that what you’d asked me last night?”

“No. Last night I wanted to know literally what you were wearing.”

“I’m wearing Burberry Brit, and when I called last night I was in my birthday suit.”

Curving her arms around his neck, she brushed her mouth over his. “Happy birthday.”

Kennedy did not move, not even his eyes. “Who told you today’s my birthday?”

“You just did.”

His free arm curved around her waist.

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