Oh, God, Carrie! I scream in my head. Do not lick him! Not on camera!

A small crowd has formed around us. Instinct makes me put my arm around his waist, too, finding slick, marble-like muscle. I accidentally brush against his ass.

It is hot, tight, and some part of my mind just melts as I turn into a throbbing hormone. A 5’9” live-streaming podcast of want.

He’s wearing lightweight soccer shorts, and when I look down, I see the inside of his thigh. Short socks and running shoes complete the look. As I look up, I realize every other woman is checking him out, too.

Of course they are.

I tighten my hold on him and stand on tiptoes. He plants a light kiss on my cheek, then turns to the camera and says, “But finding a Grind It Fresh! right here is a fantastic surprise. We’ll probably come back to the Inn again just knowing we can have our favorite coffee. Home away from home.”

He flashes a blindingly handsome smile, gives my shoulders a squeeze, and then kisses me on the lips, all in full view of the camera.

News Woman visibly melts a bit.

“I think I need to change my panties,” some anonymous woman in the crowd whispers.

“I think I need to change my husband,” says another.

Titters fill the air, but they’re like static, a kind of white noise machine that I vaguely sense as Ryan’s hot, sweaty skin connects with as much of my body as he possibly can touch, his one hand at my neck, the other on my ass.

On camera.

He’s smiling as he kisses me, my tongue engaged in a light-hearted battle with his, the messy, primal maleness of his body after a long run making me turn into one big wordless, boneless woman who can only make little moans in the back of her throat. On live television.

With a stage presence that is so persuasive I almost think he really is attracted to me, he ends the kiss and gives me a convincing grope, making my hips shiver, abs tightening.

“And we here on the Cape certainly hope you do,” the reporter says a little too warmly, ignoring me now, focused entirely on Ryan, who has me in a lover’s hold. “Please come back very soon.” She moves off, but Ryan’s arm stays firmly around me.

All the O guys have incredible bodies. I’ve spent years in the enviable position of being able to look all I want, all day long. It’s part of their job, and I admire them from a distance every day. But now my arm is pressed tightly against his abs, and I’m starting to sweat, too.

Look? Sure.

Touch? Never.

But never say never now...

“Well, hi, Ryan,” Chloe says in an amused voice. “Excellent timing.”

“What can we get you?” the barista asks. We have finally arrived at the head of the line. Not that I noticed. All I can see is Ryan’s chest, going up and down like a hot pec buffet of rollercoaster.

I know that makes no sense, but I can’t put two words together right now. Ryan’s arm is still around me. He can stop now. The cameras aren’t rolling.

“Declan?” Chloe’s voice rises with incredulity, staring at the tight-shirted barista with her jaw open. Dark, wavy hair. Thick eyebrows with green eyes the color of emeralds in a cup of tea. A square jaw and a serious look that makes you stop breathing. Declan McCormick is famous in Boston for being a hot billionaire, but in the flesh, he’s even more breathtaking than I’d ever imagined.

Now I understand the local news camera crew.

“Chloe!” he says with a dazzling smile, wiping his hands on a towel and reaching for her hand. “I’d kiss you, too, but the counter’s too wide.”

“I didn’t recognize you without a jacket and tie,” Chloe marvels. “I assumed you were born wearing a suit.” She regains her composure and gives him the kind of smooth smile I can only deliver after three drinks.

“Apparently you don’t take sculpting classes at the Westside Center for the Arts,” the other barista says drily.

“Shannon!”

Things are moving a little too fast for me here. Shannon and Declan McCormick? The former vice president of Anterdec and his wife? The new owners of Grind It Fresh! are here?

“What are you doing making coffee?” Chloe asks. “You own the chain.”

“Shannon’s years working as a mystery shopper taught her that there’s nothing like first-hand experience when it comes to customer satisfaction,” Declan says with a rueful smile. “So here we are at 8:45 on a beautiful Saturday morning, grinding it fresh first-hand.”

He holds up his right hand for emphasis, then places it squarely on Shannon’s ass. She swats it away, but their eyes meet for a hot second.

Jealousy blinds me. I blame it on caffeine deprivation. I wish someone would grab me like that.

Wait a minute. Ryan just did grab me like that.

But I want the real thing.

“You’d be working anyway,” Shannon chides him. “Might as well be here on the Cape as at home.”

“Well, since I’m supposed to be working, what would you like, Chloe?” Declan asks.

“A medium latte for me, a macchiato for Nick, a life-support latte for Carrie, and Ryan...?”

“Large black coffee, please.” He puts down his Grind It Fresh! card. “My treat, though.”

We move along to the pick-up counter to wait. “Thanks for coming, you guys,” Shannon says as she delivers four steaming cups. “Call me, Chloe!” She waves and turns to the next order.

“What are you two planning till the wedding?” Chloe inquires. Ryan sips his coffee and uses his t-shirt to wipe sweat off his abs.

“Wedding?” I gasp. “We’re not really thinking in those terms — we’re just dating!”

They both look at me, nonplussed.

“I think she means Jenny’s wedding. You know, tomorrow at four?” Ryan offers, mouth doing that sexy lip-biting thing where he’s trying not to laugh.

I can feel my face turn scarlet. Red is an actual facial expression for me.

“Right, of course! Ha ha. Of course. Well, I have some time till I have to show up for the rehearsal and the bachelorette party. And then there’s hair and makeup tomorrow after brunch.” The wedding is at 4 p.m., so plenty of time for Jenny and her mother to have their hair catch fire over and over — metaphorically, of course.

“It’s a great morning — want to take this coffee down to the beach?” Ryan asks.