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“I straightened out once I met you. Nikki and I used to hitch to Tucson or Phoenix, go to art shows and underground dances. Some drinking and carousing. Meredith thought she needed to crack down.”
Chained to the factory, she’d grown to hate the place and the way its false promise of sweet fun hid the sticky grip of duty and routine.
“You were a kid. Kids rebel. I’m sure your mother was just doing what she thought was best.”
“She pay you to say that?”
“I just know Abe and Meredith love you.”
“Yeah. They do. Too much. That’s what makes it hard. I’ve always disappointed them.” Just being who she was seemed to hurt them. Sometimes her uniqueness felt like a badge of honor. Other times, it felt like a scarlet W of weirdness.
“Maybe if you talked to them you’d find out they feel differently.”
“I’m fine, Nathan. My parents are fine. You’re the one on the self-improvement kick, remember?”
“Right,” he said, but he held her gaze, cupped gently, the way you’d hold a fuzzy dandelion. I’m here for you. You’re okay just as you are. There it was—that look of acceptance that had made her say yes to him when he’d proposed. She’d just melted into that look, heart and all.
But she’d grown up and accepted herself now. She didn’t need Nathan or that look. She broke the gaze. “How about the rest of the tour?” she said and shot ahead of him so that he had to gallop to catch up with her.
He showed her where they squirted the jelly into jars, where they stretched the saguaro blossom taffy—its pale orange and green strands looped by the industrial-sized stretcher as if it were skeins of thick, silky yarn—and where they extruded the mesquite-honey meringue buttons, and slow-cooked the syrup that went into the hard candy and novelty lollipops shaped like saguaro cactus, coyotes and cowboy boots.
In the processing room, she watched the sheets of cooled jelly get cut into shapes. As a kid, she’d loved the magical way the designs appeared and the unused jelly paste peeled away to be remolded again. She loved the assembly line with its jerky machinery and geared conveyor belt that had seemed almost alive. “This place looks exactly like when I left.”
“Unfortunately, it is the same as when you left. We need new equipment, but your father doesn’t think the capital investment’s worth it. Luckily, Benny Lopez, our mechanic, has a way with a steam valve you wouldn’t believe. I think he puts a spell on the boilers. They practically purr when he goes by.”
They glanced into the formulation and tasting kitchen, where her father experimented with new creations or brought clients to impress them. It was empty. “Abe hasn’t tried anything new in a while,” Nathan said.
That fact struck her as sad. On the other hand, he was about to retire, so maybe it made sense. Who would come up with new formulas after her father was gone?
“I think there was a jalapeño jelly he was working on, though,” Nathan said and went to the refrigerator. He pulled out a sample jar. “Want to try it?”
“Why not?”
Nathan spread a bit of the bright jelly on a tasting biscuit. Mariah opened her mouth and he held the cracker for her to taste. The air grew tense with the intimacy of the moment. She extended her tongue to accept the cracker. Her lips closed, brushing his finger and he made a sound.
She could almost see the electricity pass through him. Then it hit her, jolting her to her toes. The jelly’s tartness and the chili’s burn seeped into her mouth, which filled with saliva. She wanted to taste Nathan, too.
She could see he wanted to kiss her, was about to move forward. She remembered those lips—they knew when to be rough and demanding, and when to be soft and teasing. She licked her lips, waited…
“There you two are!” Her father’s deep voice bellowed out.
They jerked apart as if stung.
“Mariah, I want you to meet Dave Wood. He’s the floor manager and my chief cook. He’s the wizard who keeps things rolling around here.”
“Miss Monroe,” Wood said, bending slightly in greeting. “You should be wearing gloves and a hair net in this room. As should you, Mr. Goodman.” He looked at them the way a disapproving valet would look at the profligate playboy he served.
“Dave runs a tight ship,” Nathan said.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” she said, saluting him as she clicked her heels together. Woods nailed her with a look. The boss’s airhead daughter. Even though it was what she wanted him to think, she felt wounded. He hadn’t even given her a chance to prove it.
“Dave could take over this place if he wanted to,” Nathan said to her.
“My job is fine as is,” Dave said.
“You’ll want to shadow Dave,” Nathan said. The idea seemed to annoy Dave, so she knew getting on his wrong side would be an easy way to make herself unwelcome around here. Hair nets, huh?
Their last stop was the packaging room, where Nathan described the shipping process. She could hear pride in his every word. Her task was to reinforce that pride, while helping him work through this strange spell of dissatisfaction.
“It’s obvious you love this place,” she said. “Maybe all that’s wrong is you’ve been taking it for granted.”
“You think that’s what’s wrong?”
“Maybe. I just don’t think Cactus Confections is what’s bugging you.” And a man who couldn’t stand a decorative rock being moved didn’t seem a likely candidate for running off to find himself. There was a sadness in his face, a disappointment almost, that she couldn’t figure out. “We’ll know more once we’ve tried a few more exercises.”
“Exercises? That sounds scary.” She could see he was trying to lighten the moment. “Will there be a rack involved? ‘You vill work in ze vactory and you vill like it.”’
“I was thinking some counselling,” she said.
“Counselling?” He pretended to shudder. “I’d rather have the rack.”
“Relax. I’ll go easy on you. We won’t get to the primal screaming until the third day.”
His eyebrows lifted. “What will the neighbors think?”
“That you’re finally getting laid right.”
“What makes you think I need that?”
“Look at you.” She gripped the muscles below his neck, trying to ignore how terrific he felt. “You’re tight as a coiled spring. If you were getting what you need, you’d be more loose.”
“Sounds good. Maybe you could help me, um, loosen up?”
Her mouth went dry. “Sex isn’t the only way, you know.”
He stepped toward her, close enough to kiss. “Just the best,” he murmured. Was he serious or teasing? Why on earth had she brought up sex again? It was her traitorous subconscious that wouldn’t let her forget how much better Nathan had been at making out than the frantic high school boys she’d gone all the way with. He knew how to take his time, how to give her pleasure….
“Where’s the harm?” Nathan whispered. “We can start with just a kiss.” His lips met hers.
The word just didn’t belong anywhere near that kiss. She felt lit up inside. His lips were firm against hers. His tongue pushed its way in, and he shifted his mouth to reach more of her. She made a sound and her knees gave a little. His arms went around her, tight and secure.
She remembered him holding her this way all those years ago—making her feel safe, protected and so desired. But this was even better because this Nathan was more mature, more sure of what he wanted than the Nathan of eight years ago.
She just wanted to let go in his arms, keep kissing him and being kissed by him. She knew Nathan would never let her fall.
A fist of rational thought muscled into her dazed brain. She was letting one kiss turn her back into the needy teenager she had been once. This was absolutely not part of the plan. She broke off the kiss and shoved at his chest. “Enough!”
“But I don’t feel loose yet,” Nathan said, reaching for her.
“Then take a hot bath,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I came here to work, so let’s work. Show me a spreadsheet or something.”
What in the world was she saying? She made a wobbly turn toward the corridor that led to the offices, gratified at the shocked look on Nathan’s face. Good. He had no idea what she’d do next.
The problem was neither did she.
THAT KISS HAD BEEN a mistake, Nathan told himself in the shower the next morning—lighter fluid on the embers still glowing in his heart for Mariah. He was an idiot to tempt himself with the impossible. Mariah had moved on. He should, too.
He’d heard that men sometimes locked onto their first loves and stayed stuck. That was obviously his problem. Eight years was too long to hold on to someone who’d flown away.
He shoved his face in the pounding stream and promised himself no more flirting or kissing or touching. Period.
There was good news, though. There was a chance he could get Mariah hooked on the factory. She’d loved seeing the place, he could tell, and she’d stared, hardly breathing, at the spreadsheet while he’d explained it. Fascination was probably what accounted for the odd trembling he’d felt her doing. He, on the other hand, could hardly keep from grabbing her and kissing her.
She definitely liked being back at Cactus Confections. Hell, she even loved how it smelled—something he was no more aware of than the air he breathed.
She’d always been a sensitive person. That was one of the things he’d loved about her. She’d made him more aware of things—sunsets and cricket rhythms, the textures of things. Like skin and mouth…His mind locked on the kiss in the tasting kitchen.
Talk about tasting. He’d wanted to swallow her whole. Forget it, he told himself, toweling down roughly. If he kept himself in check and played it right, he could get Mariah to take his job. Then he could leave with a clear conscience, knowing Meredith and Abe would be fine and Mariah would have found her place in the world.
She’d be here any minute for more self-discovery baloney. She’d said therapy was the plan for today. He could only hope she wasn’t as good at psychology as she was at kissing. He did not intend to confess the real reason he wanted to leave Copper Corners.
He sighed, heading into the bedroom for clothes. He had to have some coffee. Screw the body’s natural wake-up mechanism. For this, he’d need fortification.
5
“I SMELL COFFEE,” Mariah declared, frowning at Nathan in the entryway of his house. It was only day two of the Mariah Monroe Institute of Self-Discovery and he’d already broken a rule.
“I needed coffee. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“If you don’t follow my instructions, we won’t get anywhere.” She was actually grateful for the irritation because it distracted her from how fabulous he looked in a white T-shirt and soft gray shorts.
“Want a cup?”
“Absolutely.”
He turned to go and she watched the way the fabric clung to the curve of his butt like a cotton hand. She wished desperately she hadn’t told him to dress comfortably. His comfort gave her considerable dis comfort.
Walking farther into the room, she saw that he’d set up the yoga mats, dimmed the lights, and lit candles and incense. She turned to him as he arrived with a steaming mug. “You set everything up.”
“Like I said, I’m your willing disciple.”
“You promised not to make fun.”
He shrugged and went to sit cross-legged on his mat, looking unbearably sexy in the dimly lit room.
Mariah took a deep gulp of coffee—the last thing she needed, since looking at Nathan already made her jittery—and took her place across from him.
“Relax your mind. Think peaceful thoughts,” she said, closing her own eyes so as to avoid looking into his and thinking about yesterday’s kiss. “Visualize the sun kissing your—” Kissing? What was she saying? “Um, the breeze caressing your—never mind.” She broke out in a sweat. “Just do what you did yesterday.”
“Yesterday? If you say so,” he said with a sigh, lifting a pillow off the sofa and tucking it into his lap. For comfort, she guessed.
While they meditated, Mariah tried to focus on the upcoming counselling session, but she kept feeling this energy between them shimmering like heat above a summer sidewalk. Finally, when Nathan’s gorgeous butt floated one too many times before her mind’s eye, she said, “Whenever you’re ready, open your eyes.”
“Mmm.” He slowly opened his eyes. Their gazes locked. “That was nice,” he said. “Very real.”
“Good. We want to make meditation real for you.”
“If that were any more real, we’d both be sorry.”
Her stomach flipped. Nathan was having the same kinds of thoughts she was. That was good. No, bad. Oh, hell. She didn’t want to think about it.
They worked through the yoga postures avoiding each other’s eyes the entire time, and when they were finished, Nathan sat up. “So, now you counsel me?”
“Right.” Except she’d never be able to do it with him looking like that—his face flushed from exercise, his sweat-damp T-shirt clinging to his chest, and his shorts outlining bumps she didn’t want to be aware of. “Why don’t you shower and dress for work, so we can concentrate better?”
“I can concentrate just fine like this.”
“It will feel more like a real appointment, okay?”
“Suit yourself.”
By the time he came out, she’d opened the shutters and turned on the lights and was seated on the edge of the leather chair kitty-corner to the sofa, which she patted. “Have a seat.”
He sat straight up on the edge of the sofa, then tugged at the collar of his shirt.
“Don’t be nervous. This won’t hurt a bit. We won’t discuss anything you don’t feel comfortable with, but if you’re truly interested in working through what you’re conflicted about, I advise you to be as open as possible.”
“I am open,” he said, folding his arms.
Impatience rose in her. You’re blocked. Defensive. In denial. But she couldn’t say that. The Gestalt therapist’s job was to carefully guide the client into a deeper awareness of his feelings and thoughts, all while keeping him grounded in the here and now. The key word for the Gestalt therapist was patience.
Which was exactly why two months of training hadn’t been enough to turn Mariah into one. She was too quick to draw conclusions, too eager to tell people what to do. Alarmingly like her mother, she’d been sorry to realize.
She took a breath and blew it out, trying to center herself. To do this correctly, she should focus on Nathan’s face, watch his eyes, his breathing patterns, become aware of his energy, notice where in his body he carried his distress, and share that with him. The body told the story of the mind if you paid attention. Except she couldn’t bear to look so closely at him. “So talk to me about what’s happened to lead you to want to change your life.”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Since I came to Copper Corners, I’ve had my nose to the grindstone, I guess, and I think it’s time to smell the roses, explore the world, do something different.”
“Hmm,” she said, putting on her most therapist-like expression. “Why don’t you tell me more about wanting to leave Cactus Confections?”
“I need a challenge, I guess. You should know the answer to that. Why do you leave jobs?”
“Our focus is on you, Nathan.”
“Yeah, but maybe your insights can help me.” He looked at her steadily. You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.
She sighed. “Okay. I change jobs when I get bored, or when it’s obvious I don’t belong there any more, or something more interesting comes up, or I feel finished.”
“Exactly. I feel just like you do. Finished.”
