Winter Interlude
Page 11
“What’re you doing?” Laughter was present in her question, as he removed the empty glass from her hand and set it on the table.
“This,” he whispered. He quickly captured her mouth without giving her a chance to withdraw. Having her right where he’d wanted her all evening, he wasn’t about to lose his advantage. Her moan floated up and ignited his passion. He softened his lips and when her tongue darted tentatively inside his mouth, blood rushed past his ears, a freight train of desire hurling inside his brain.
At the same time, her scent rose up to fill his nostrils. More sensation raced to his core. Need and want slammed into him from all sides, swamping him in a sea of emotion. His hands, aching to reach underneath her sweater, found the sides of her breasts and stroked. All day he’d imagined what it would be like to taste her. Now that it was reality, he couldn’t stop.
He immediately rolled over, pulling her underneath him in an effort to bring her closer. She couldn’t miss the extent of his need as his erection settled into that perfect spot. He spent long minutes doing nothing but letting his mouth slowly savor hers, wanting to enflame her senses because his had already spread out of control.
Through his sensual haze, he registered her pushing on his chest. Reality hit him like a bucket of ice water to the head and he froze. Shit! He broke the kiss, released her, and rolled over on his back, even as untamed desire hummed throughout his entire system.
How in the hell had this happened? He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing it with his eyes closed in an effort to clear his mind and gain control. He opened them seconds later only to see her kneeling in front of him with a dismayed look on her face.
What have I done?
He never should have kissed her, but contrition wouldn’t come. Not for something that felt so right.
Paul surged to his feet and shoved a shaky hand through his hair. “I wish I could apologize for my actions, but it wouldn’t be heartfelt,” he said. “So, I think it’s time I said goodnight.” He then pivoted and forced his unwilling feet to carry him to his room.
He didn’t regret kissing her. But guilt weighed a ton more than remorse.
Chapter 8
Kate huddled under a thick blanket, shivering, having spent a miserable night on the lumpy sofa. No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to get warm or comfortable.
Worse, thoughts of Paul and that kiss, one that would give anyone insomnia, wouldn’t budge. She pulled her blanket higher and turned. Her eyes felt gritty. Persistent jackhammers attacked her skull from the inside out. Any minute, they’d break through the surface and her head would explode.
Hours spent obsessing in the dark had only increased her agitation. If only she’d recognized the truth about James earlier, she wouldn’t be in this mess, freezing her tush off and pining over Paul. She’d cursed everyone by this point—James for his lack of consideration, herself for letting him get away for it for so long, and Paul for being so attractive. She even blamed Judith for not caring about such a great guy, and for not making a better effort to please him. If Judith hadn’t had to work, then last night wouldn’t have happened.
Upon realizing how irrational it was to place any blame on her best friend, she swore and hit the pillow. Morrisons! The fault rests on both their shoulders.
As a sliver of light peeked through the window, she cursed the two brothers all over again—especially Paul for kissing her in the first place.
Damn! Why had he done it? From her vantage point, he and Judith were James and her. Only in reverse, with one exception. Time didn’t mean as much to their situation as it did to Kate’s. A few years younger than her, Judith still had to get her company off the ground. But a year from now when work took a backseat, her biological clock would hit the witching hour, and Judith would be ready for what Paul wanted. Then, they’d live happily ever after and Kate would dance at their wedding—knowing that he’d kissed her. And worse. Knowing she’d enjoyed it more than anything she’d ever experienced and hadn’t wanted him to stop.
Groaning at the memory, she closed her eyes and covered them with her arm. She had no excuse other than how wonderful it felt to see warmth in the same gaze where she used to see only ridicule. Plus, he had seemed so into her last night. She couldn’t remember a time when James showed the same type of interest. The idea that it was the setting and not Paul at all added guilt on top of guilt. He was just being himself and, in all truthfulness, she was angrier at herself for falling under his spell, which brought her jumbled thoughts full circle.
She stretched out and stared at the ceiling as more light filtered into the room. Sleep would be all but impossible now. All she wanted was a hot shower followed by a steaming cup of coffee, preferably strong.
Yeah! Fat chance of either happening today.
She glanced over at the wall of windows and saw a deep white wall had built sometime in the night. At least it had stopped snowing.
Kate closed her eyes and brought her knees to her chest in another attempt to warm up, wondering how she’d face the man this morning, much less spend any amount of time with him. She doubted they’d be able to drive to Squaw Valley. The roads had to be impassible. Even if they made it, she wasn’t sure the resort had power.
No, more likely she’d be passing the day in this prison, housebound with Paul, faced with the imminent possibility of making a bigger fool of herself in the process.
How had an innocent weekend of skiing turned into a nightmare?
The only thing that could make the nightmare worse walked out of his room at that moment. Her temper flared when she saw him looking too damned attractive, despite bedhead and a morning beard. “What do you want?” she asked in a voice colder than ice, hoping to prod him into reverting to the jerk she could handle.
~
The accusatory tone drew Paul’s attention. He halted and glanced at the sofa.
“What do you mean, what do I want?” he snapped back, catching Kate’s annoyed frown and stiff posture as she sat up in a huff and crossed her arms. Even her hair looked stiff, adding to her unapproachable expression, which was okay by him. Being jovial this morning required too much effort.
“It was a simple question.” Her chin angled higher. “What part don’t you understand?”
Her snippy words only provoked him further so he tuned her out and continued walking toward the kitchen. He had no desire for a confrontation. Not when his head ached—more from lack of sleep than overindulging in wine. He’d lain awake most of the night wishing he hadn’t kissed her because erasing the taste of her from his mind had been next to impossible. And it was all her fault. If she hadn’t attracted him or acted so damned interested in him, it never would have happened.
“What? Ignoring me now?”
“This isn’t a good time, Kate. I didn’t sleep well.” When he had slept, he’d dreamed. Tormented dreams that had seemed so real. Dreams of Kate in which she beckoned him with her body, mocked him with her smile, and laughed at him when he tried to possess her and failed. They were so erotic and disturbing, he woke up several times in a cold sweat, rock hard, and burning with need. In fact, he was still aroused, and in this foul mood, he was itching for a fight. Not being a total fool, he realized this seemed a good time as any to follow his mother’s advice about saying nothing at all if he couldn’t say something nice.
“So that precludes you from common courtesy?” Judging by her stance, she wasn’t about to back down, a suspicion confirmed when her scowl deepened and her tone became more combative. “You can’t even answer a simple question?”
“To be honest, I don’t even remember the question.”
“Of course you don’t, because you were ignoring me.”
Was she serious? “I wasn’t ignoring you.” The vice on his head tightened. Closing his eyes, he stopped. “Just let me wake up and I’ll answer any question you have,” he said, when he could finally speak without blinding pain. “So, back off. At least until I’ve had coffee.” He continued toward th
e kitchen, saying over his shoulder, “I can’t deal with any shit right now, especially yours.”
“How dare you!” She was off the sofa and after him in a flash. Coming up behind him and poking him in the back. “Don’t you dare try and blame this on me. For your information, bucko, you started it.”
“I’m warning you, Kate.” He spun around and grabbed her hand. “Back off.”
“And what are you going to do to get me to back off?” she taunted, stomping her foot and pulling out of his grasp. “I’m sick to death of you Morrisons having everything your way,” she said, poking him again. “You’re just as bad as James.”
“Oh, yeah?” He hated being compared to his brother and doubly hated the fact she’d bring him up now. “Well, here’s a news flash,” he countered, leaning in closer and fighting his anger. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not James.”
“No, you’re worse. You’re certainly no gentleman.” She hurled the words like a weapon and poked him again, this time harder, while adding, “In fact, I can’t believe you’re related. He’d never treat me like this.”
His patience finally snapped. If she had such a low opinion of him, he’d show her just how low he could go. He caught her wrist, swung her into his arms and, before she knew what hit her, his lips crushed hers in a bruising, punishing kiss fraught with all the frustration, irritation, and desire now burning his insides. Her arms moved higher and, rather than push him away as he expected, she pulled him closer.
In seconds, he had her back against the wall, leaving her no doubt about his arousal.
After what felt like an eternity, he broke the kiss and asked in a ragged voice, “You want to play with fire, Kate? You just keep pushing.” Taking her hand, he moved it lower. “Here—that’s fire and it’s burning for you.”
Then, he moved against her hand, scorching them both with his heat as she moaned. He captured her lips once again, only this time his lips softened. Where they were bruising before, now they were sensual, moving over her mouth, trying to seduce her. Where they were demanding before, now they were begging, asking for completion. He used his tongue, plunging into her mouth, invading her, filling her, working to make her yearn for things neither of them should want.
All coherent thought flew out the window, along with any remaining restraint. His only thought? Subdue her…dominate her…possess her.
He forgot about Judith. He forgot that Kate loved his brother. He forgot that she was the woman he’d derided for years and disdained. He forgot that he shouldn’t be doing this because he was encroaching on his brother’s girl. All he could think about was finishing what he’d started last night. The aching need that began two days ago as a simmering attraction boiled over into a desperate act of desire.
When he tasted her tears, it stopped him cold and yanked him out of the erotic haze that had taken control of his decency and tossed him back to reality faster than a cold shower.
He lifted his mouth from hers, suddenly immersed in self-loathing. How had this happened? How had he lost control like that? All these questions burned in his mind. But the biggest problem? How could he make it up to her? “I’m sorry.” He looked into her tear-rimmed eyes as regret filled his. “You didn’t deserve that.” He kissed the top of her head.
He gathered her up, carried her to the sofa, and sat with her still in his arms. He spotted the blanket she’d used the night before and grabbed it, before he tucked it gently around her shoulders. She cried as he rocked her slightly back and forth, comforting her as if she were a small child instead of a grown woman.
His heart ached as he continued rocking, staring at the flames that danced in the fireplace.
Not once in his twenty-eight years had Paul ever been jealous or envious of his brother. He’d taken great strides to carve out his own identity and be his own person. He never lived in James’ shadow. He’d never wanted to be like him; had never wanted anything he had. Until now. Now, he wanted Kate. He wanted the love she gave to James. He’d give anything he owned to acquire it. This all-consuming, burning desire for it overwhelmed him so much that he wondered about his sanity. Judith had never made him feel this way. He couldn’t possibly love Kate, not after so short a time. But what he did feel was strong enough to dwarf what he felt for Judith, making him question everything in his life.
Finally, he glanced at Kate. She’d stopped crying and was sitting in his lap wrapped like a baby, looking up at him with questioning eyes.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded and smiled in a fragile way that ripped his heart more. She seemed to have no intention of moving, so he held her and stroked her in an effort to ease the hurt he’d caused.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked minutes later, breaking into the silence that had settled upon them.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said softly, as that spunky gleam made a reappearance in her eyes. “We both were uncivilized and mean. I, for one, am not telling Judith about your transgressions, if you don’t breathe a word about mine.”
Her teasing manner and words caused him to scrutinize her more thoughtfully. His admiration of her spirit climbed a notch. It seemed nothing got her down or kept her spirit from bouncing back. Like a ball in deep water, you could push it under but ultimately it rose back to the surface.
When quiet descended again, Paul noticed the chill. “How long has it been this cold in here?” The fireplace, never meant to act as a heater, couldn’t keep up with the falling temperatures outside.
“I don’t know. It seems as if it’s never been warm.”
“Kate, you should’ve come into my room. There’s no sense in freezing.”
“Oh, yeah, after what happened last night, I’m just supposed to go knock on your door and say, ‘Hey, big fellow…how about keeping me warm?’ What kind of fool do I look like?” Then offering another feeble smile, she said, “No! Don’t answer that.”
He chuckled. “I definitely understand your reluctance. I should’ve let you have the bedroom. I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking straight last night.”
“It’s okay. I was fine.”
“Well, it doesn’t make sense to be uncomfortable. Tonight we can share the room.”
“Excuse me?” she countered. “It may make sense, but I’m not sure it’s wise.”
“What? You don’t trust me?” He laughed. “Don’t answer that. Really, Scout’s honor, I’ll be on my best behavior. Even better, I’ll be happy to sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Well, while you’re thinking, I’m getting cold.” He stood and headed for his room with her still in his arms.
When they got to the open door, the warmth hit him. He unceremoniously dropped her on the bed and turned to stoke the fire. The room was about twenty degrees warmer than the one they’d come from.
He felt her gaze on his back before she spoke. “I guess it does make sense. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
He kneeled and tossed a couple more logs on the fire. “Why would I mind?” He gave the fire another poke, before twisting around to see her response.
“Yeah, but—” She hesitated for several long seconds before clearing her throat. “I…umm…mean…umm…only two days ago we were enemies and now I’m going to be sleeping in the same room with you. I…umm, just want to make sure you don’t mind.”
He laughed because the whole situation struck him as funny. She had no clue of the emotions raging through him.
Damn, it is the Twilight Zone and I’m living it.
He looked around the room, half expecting Rod Serling to come out of the woodwork saying, “Imagine if you will…” and he could go back to being normal. The thought of that happening made him laugh even harder.
“I fail to see what’s so funny about all of this,” Kate huffed, crossing her arms and glaring.
Paul straightened and pivoted, still laughing, holding on to his stomach. “I know and that’s what makes it so funny.”
After the laughter died, Paul grabbed a thick sweatshirt from his bag, along with some slippers, and put them on. “I’ll go and see about coffee now. Why don’t you stay here and try to get warm.”
“Sounds good,” Kate murmured to his departing back. “I’m too tired to move.”
Paul rummaged through the kitchen drawers, really craving his morning fix of caffeine. He glanced at the useless electric grinder in front of him and frowned. Whole beans needed grinding. Then, remembering his mom’s love of antiques, he dashed back out to the dining room. Hanging over the hundred-year-old buffet was a shadow box containing a Victorian coffee grinder. Heaving a relieved sigh, he retrieved it.
Short of pounding the beans with a hammer if the old grinder didn’t work, he prayed it was functional and not missing any parts. After figuring out how it worked, he cranked the handle and smiled. Voilà. He had fresh-ground coffee.
“Thank you, Lord,” he said under his breath, as he placed a pan of water to heat over the burner’s flames. He grabbed a filter, set it inside the coffeemaker’s holder along with the ground beans, finally adding the near-boiling water minutes later. The glass pot caught the brewed coffee as it trickled out. Once the pot filled, he poured two large cups, leaving the rest on the burner to reheat later. Not perfect, but better than nothing.
After putting half-and-half in both, he picked up the cups and worked his way back to the bedroom. He opened the door and spied Kate fast asleep on the bed, wrapped in the blanket from the other room. She appeared so peaceful that he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He placed both cups on the nightstand, sat down on the floor next to the bed, and reached for two pillows. He fluffed them behind him before reaching for his coffee. He leaned back and sipped the strong brew, relishing its warmth.
When Kate murmured something in her sleep, he glanced up at the bed to see her curled into a ball, shivering.