Fragrance Free: a small town romance (Sensations Collection Book 3) Read online

  www.lbdunbar.com

  Fragrance Free © 2014 Laura Dunbar

  L.B. Dunbar Writes, Ltd.

  www.lbdunbar.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  2018 Cover Design: Shannon Passmore/Shanoff Designs

  Original Editor: Jaimie Rivale

  Table of Contents

  Other books by L.B. Dunbar

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  More books from L.B. Dunbar

  Keep in touch with L.B. Dunbar

  Little Nibble of Touch Screen

  (L)ittle (B)lessings of Gratitude

  Playlist

  About the Author

  Other books by L.B. Dunbar

  Silver Fox Former Rock Stars

  After Care

  Midlife Crisis

  Restored Dreams

  Rom-com for the over 40

  The Sex Education of M.E.

  The Sensations Collection

  Sound Advice

  Taste Test

  Fragrance Free

  Touch Screen

  Sight Words

  Spin-off Standalone

  The History in Us

  The Legendary Rock Star Series

  The Legend of Arturo King

  The Story of Lansing Lotte

  The Quest of Perkins Vale

  The Truth of Tristan Lyons

  The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance

  Paradise Duet

  Abel

  Cain

  The Island Duet

  Redemption Island

  Return to the Island

  Modern Descendants – writing as elda lore

  Hades

  Solis

  Heph

  Dedication

  To my father, whose words of advice have always stuck with me.

  “He says, ‘When you gonna make up your mind,

  When you gonna love you as much as I do

  When you gonna make up your mind,

  ‘Cause things are gonna change so fast…”

  ©Tori Amos, “Winter” from Little Earthquakes

  Chapter 1

  I cursed Valentine’s Day in my head. I’d worked a double shift this year to avoid the day altogether since my annual ritual of going out with my best friend had fallen through. I hated to think about love, hearts, and roses. Well, not really, but it was painful to think about all the heartbreak I didn’t have on this Valentine’s Day. There was no one special in my life, or at least no one who knew he was special to me.

  Furthermore, I cursed Jacob Vincent, bestselling author of horror novels and absentee owner of this home, as I stumbled to his front door to let the house cleaner into his home. My big toe collided with the metal base of the couch as I rounded it and I swore out loud.

  “Dammit.”

  I continued to limp to the door in my plaid pajama pants and oversized sweatshirt. I was sure I frightened Mikaela and her grandmother, Mrs. Kuladin, with my pale, sweaty face and loosely knotted hair. The young Native American beauty and her elder grandmother stared at me as I held the door open, or rather as the door held me.

  I knew I looked unwell. I had never, ever worn my pajamas or anything remotely casual to Jacob’s home. I prided myself on my professionalism in our working relationship. I even called him Mr. Vincent for heaven sakes, although he was only three years older than me.

  But today it took all my strength to drive up the highway to this hidden trail and enter his cold house to let the cleaners inside. This had been my ritual every other Wednesday since his departure in late November with his niece, Ella Vincentia. They’d moved to New York City where Jacob had a second home. I was only up-keeping the house, and I hadn’t foreseen a return anytime soon to this private oasis in the woods along Lake Michigan until yesterday when the call came through as I drove home after my double shift. I was an Emergency Medical Technician, or EMT, for my small home town and all I longed for was my warm, quiet bed. Not Jacob’s cold, foreboding space.

  “You look unwell, Miss Pam,” the elder woman spoke in her Native American accent.

  “I’m not feeling well, no,” I replied. I closed the door after the two women and walked back to one of the couches in the large living room.

  “I’m just going to lie down while you do what you need to do, okay?” I was already climbing onto the cold black leather and curling up on my side. I brought my favorite homemade blue and red quilt with me and I wrapped it around myself. I knew I would have to wait until they finished and then lock the house before I left. I had already grocery shopped for him, minimally, until I had a full list of his needs. It took everything I had to make it down the aisle for milk, cola, coffee, and frozen pizza. At thirty years old, he still ate like a college kid. I ignored the stares I received as I stood in my pajamas at 7:30 in the morning in the Food Market. Mrs. Bloomquist, the checker, seemed to sympathize with me.

  “Rough night, Pammie?”

  It was easier to just agree and let her believe in my waywardness.

  My eyes were closed before I finished my comments to the housecleaners about fresh sheets and towels. I shivered under the blanket and wished I had taken some Tylenol before I came here. At this point I didn’t even have the energy to reach for my purse at the foot of the couch, which probably had some pills inside.

  My mind drifted as I cursed Jacob Vincent again. I had worked for him for eighteen months. The quiet author of horror stories remained a mystery to me after all this time, but I had learned quite a bit last November when his niece came to stay with me at my mother’s home. Ella had needed women and I felt sympathy for her and her situation. How little I had understood the desperation for female support until she came to stay with us. The Queendom was a nickname for our home. A house of women: my mother, Mary Carter; my sister, Tricia, and me. The nickname was designed after my older brother Jess moved out wit
h his daughter, Katie, to live with his now fiancée, Emily Post.

  Through Ella’s stay, I learned about the violence of her father, Jacob’s older brother. It was disturbing and upsetting on many levels and I was awed at Ella’s ability to survive such a trauma. I had been particularly close to my own father, compared to my siblings, and I could never imagine such horror happening to me. To learn that Jacob witnessed it shed light on Jacob’s quiet reserve and steady drinking, but these were thoughts too deep for me in my currently foggy, fevered brain.

  I vaguely heard the vacuum cleaner and muffled voices between the two women as they passed through the large sitting room. Jacob’s home was a cold house - not in temperature but in décor. The outside of the building looked like a giant cinder block with its cement gray exterior. The inside was similar with its light gray walls and glass panels on the back of the house looking out onto Lake Michigan. The furniture was minimal, but black. Black leather couches, glass coffee table, black dining table with a dark wood finish, and black, high-backed dining chairs covered in leather. I almost laughed at my personal contrast to it all as I snuggled further into the plaid combination quilt my grandmother had made me before I went to college eight years ago.

  At twenty-six years old, I still lived at home with my mother. I knew that sounded pathetic, and I worked three jobs which seemed even more pathetic. I was a local EMT, working two days on, two days off. In addition, I worked for my best friend, Damira Stefan, owner of Persephone’s Garden, the local garden shop. And I worked as Jacob Vincent’s personal assistant. Was that the right title? I hardly thought so. I was like a slave to him, buying his groceries, opening his home, and answering to his every beck and call.

  Damn him, I thought wearily.

  Too bad he was adorable. At almost thirty years old, I found him irresistible, but resist him I did. He had black hair, longer on his face, and it was unruly. It wasn’t like the messy styled, wavy hair of Ethan Scott, Ella’s boyfriend. No, Jacob’s hair looked like he continually wore a baseball cap and had just taken it off, or like he’d had an argument with scissors, leaving the ends of his curls blunt and sticking out in all directions. His face was chiseled though, and he looked more like a college co-ed than a young professional. He also dressed like one, mostly wearing plaid shirts open over white or gray t-shirts with jeans or khaki pants. He occasionally wore black-rimmed glasses that made him look all the more sexy and smart in my opinion. I let out what I thought was a silent sigh, but then heard his nickname for me.

  “Lilac?” His voice was sensual to me, raspy and low, and I moaned again as I heard it in my head. I knew my fever must be high if I imagined his voice so clearly.

  “Jacob,” I purred his name, and the responding voice garbled in my mind. He was so delicious to see and hear and smell, and I drifted into a daydream of being enveloped in his arms. I was so relaxed and delusional I actually thought I felt his arms around me, and I nestled into the feel of his chest against my side.

  “You smell delicious,” I moaned softly into his imaginary neck, and I inhaled deeply before I placed a light kiss on his stubbly jaw. I let my mind go blank as I drifted into the abyss of his imaginary warmth.

  Chapter 2

  I sensed light behind my eyelids and cautiously opened them to see Jacob Vincent sitting next to me. I was vaguely aware that I was on my side and he was rather close, considering I should have been on the couch. It slowly occurred to me that I was not on the hard leather couch, but rather a soft, comfortable area that had more space than a sofa. I was in a bed. Jacob’s bed.

  I tried to push myself up, but my arms were shaking and my elbows gave way. I face planted into the soft pillow, deeply inhaling the fresh scent of newly washed sheets. My head was pounding and I wasn’t sure I could lift it again.

  Please tell me I’m dreaming, I told myself.

  “That’s some hangover you’re nursing there,” a low, raspy voice said next to me.

  Oh God, kill me now. Please, I moaned internally.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not hung-over,” I growled unintentionally.

  “I know. I’m just teasing.”

  I collapsed back onto my side. My eyes opened wide, but the bright light hurting my head forced me to close them again.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice was unrecognizable to me.

  “Well, this is my house. And I do still own it. Occasionally live here, too,” he teased.

  I knew he was smiling.

  “I mean, what are you doing here now? You weren’t due until tomorrow.”

  “I came back early. Although, technically, it is tomorrow.”

  I tried to sit up again. What? I screamed inwardly. I had to get to Persephone’s Garden today.

  “Relax. I think you’re all set today. You aren’t going anywhere.”

  I didn’t question him further on this subject.

  “Why am I in your bed? How did I get here?”

  Please don’t tell me I walked up here in my dazed frame of mind, I pleaded with myself.

  “I might be a bit offended at the way you phrased that question or the tone you used, but considering how sick you are, I’ll let it go. I carried you up here and…”

  “What?” I moaned. Oh God, really, I’m not joking, kill me. Now.

  I thought briefly of my body. I was short at only five-two, but curvy. I had large breasts for a smaller woman and had rounded hips. I was solid from working out, but I was not thin by most standards, at least not my own. While my sister, Tricia, who was three years younger, was tall and lean, I considered myself short and stocky. As a matter of fact, when it was a popular fashion to label jeans long and lean, I would always demand the short and stocky selection. Most sales people didn’t appreciate my humor. Additionally, I had been the one Carter cursed with my mother’s genes. Tom, Jess, and Tricia were all tall and lanky while I took after our mother who was more full-figured at her mature age. I groaned again to think that Jacob had picked me up.

  “Here, I think you need to take these.” He handed me two tablets and a glass of water that he grabbed off the nightstand next to his side of the bed. I sat up slightly and took the pills, swallowing the cool water as he held the glass to my lips. I closed my eyes as I drank. I couldn’t look at him.

  “Thank you,” I purred, as I shakily balanced on my arms.

  “Lie down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re sick. And your mom says you need rest.”

  “You called my mother?” I was further mortified.

  “Well, she is a nurse.” Jacob looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  “Why am I in here?”

  “Again, I think I’ll ignore the tone. I can look after you better if you’re in my room. Ella’s room is too far away.”

  I knew that was partially true. The house was like a giant u-shape. A landing across the eastern wall attached the upper two sections of the home. Ella had the southern side and Jacob’s mirrored hers on the north. Both rooms included a bathroom and walk in closet along the one wall, but the western facing wall was solid glass panel giving a spectacular view of the Grand Traverse Bay, a portion of Lake Michigan that cut into this area.

  One interesting thing about the layout of Jacob’s room was the position of the bed. It was centered in the room, so it was closer to the window, a nightstand stood to one side, and a low chest of drawers was behind the headboard. A large overstuffed chair with a tall floor lamp faced the dresser, giving the space the feel of a sitting area. I only knew this layout from wandering the home during Jacob’s absence. I had never been in his room under other more intimate conditions.

  I squinted at Jacob.

  “Is the light bothering you?”

  “I need to go home.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere. It’s four a.m. You can’t drive. You need to stay here.”

  I lay back down on my side and melted into the warm, soft pillows. My body ached everywhere as Jacob leaned over
and pulled the covers awkwardly up to my shoulder. I shuddered.

  “Are you cold?” he whispered as he looked at me. He had caramel colored eyes that were full of concern, and I suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape my lips.

  “Yes,” I said as my teeth began to chatter.

  I looked at him. He was dressed in just a gray t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt alone was unusual and I noticed a tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve. He had his legs outstretched and crossed at his bare ankles. His computer was on his lap as he rested his back against two pillows and his glasses were framing those sparkling eyes. Jacob smiled slowly at me, crooking up one side of his mouth.

  “See something you like, Lilac?” he teased.

  He was constantly trying to flirt with me. I turned red and hoped Jacob took it as the fever. I tucked the covers up under my chin to ignore him. Despite being freshly laundered, they smelled of Jacob: manly, something strong and slightly piney, maybe? I inhaled softly before thinking again how frightful I must look. My face was pale, I was sure, and my blonde hair was greasy. I had on my favorite comfy sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants reserved for sickness, hangovers, or temporary depression. I pulled my knees up to make myself smaller and hoped to curl into the mattress, wishing it could just swallow me up whole. I closed my eyes slowly, drifting off to sleep again.

  “I can go downstairs if the light is too much,” Jacob said. This time his voice was full of concern instead of teasing.

  I could only shake my head in response. My hands were folded in front of me with my knees pulled into my chest. I could feel the ache all over my body and the muscles in my thighs and back felt sore.

  “Lilac?” Jacob whispered my name.

  “Don’t go,” I mouthed and drifted back into an achy, dazed slumber.

  Chapter 3

  I woke in a layer of sweat. The nightstand lamp was off and a dull light from outside shone into the room. I looked around, foggy at first about my surroundings. My whereabouts came rushing back to me. I was at Jacob’s. Sick. In his bed. I sat upright and immediately grabbed my head.