“No, you’re the kind of guy my mother warned me against.” She lifted her face and smiled. “But thanks for making me feel better and for calling him an asshole and for hanging up on him. This is why people like you and me don’t commit. Heartbreak is awful....”
He gazed at her lips, her watery green eyes and he couldn’t stop himself—he kissed her again.
Michael closed her eyes, limply consenting. Hudson felt his blood rising, heat building in his core that seemed to warm her to life. She lifted her arms and clung to his neck, pulling him down. He followed her back until they were lying on the bed. She parted her mouth and he explored her depths, deepening the kiss. Michael moaned, clutching his tee-shirt when he broke away, lifting up on one elbow.
Hudson bent over her, stroking her cheek tenderly, and then he kissed her ears and neck. Michael was still dressed in the white turtleneck and jeans and he was wearing boxer shorts. He slid his hand under the silky weave of her sweater and fastened his mouth to hers again. The kiss ebbed and grew, tender to fierce to exploratory. It seemed to Hudson that it would never end and he never wanted it to. She was vulnerable, responsive, needing to be desired. The right combination of comfort and come-one in this moment would have Michael Shannon out of her clothes and in his bed in no time. She would be gone in the morning and he’d still be the good guy, no harm done, great memories all around.
Hudson lurched off her. His shin connected painfully with the edge of the bed. “Ow!”
“Good grief, are you okay?”
He winced. “Yep, yeah, I’m fine. Fine, fine.” He puffed out air through the pain.
“What happened?”
“I changed my mind about ... ah ... taking this further.”
Michael squinted at him. “And you couldn’t just say so?”
“No because I wanted it to happen and in another few minutes, we would have been—”
“—enjoying ourselves instead of needing medical attention?” Michael sat up and met his eyes. Her hair was tousled and stuck up in the back. “Please tell me you stopped because technically you are still my supervisor and not because you lost interest.”
“I’m a long way from losing interest in you, Miss Shannon.” Hudson reached his hand around to smooth her hair. “But yes, I’m still your supervisor and I’d be taking advantage of the situation. Another reason is that you’ll be going back to New York. Sex is a lot less fun when you know there’s no chance for an encore. You are not a one-night stand.”
She smiled. “That’s nice. That’s very flattering and I totally get it, which is strange. I’ve never met a man who is so like me in every way. What is wrong with us? Why did I have to wreck the one relationship I had? I honestly thought I finally had it all figured it out. I had a guy I could spend the rest of my life with. Why did I have to sabotage it by asking him to marry me?”
Hudson sat beside her. “I’ve been that guy more times than I care to admit and I think he just wanted out. Your boyfriend was looking for an excuse and you gave him one.”
“No, no, no—he was upset because my arrest led to the wrong attention on his organization. The protest was wasted and he was being hassled by the press for answers since I basically dropped out of sight. And then I added to his stress by talking about marriage. It was too much.”
“How often did you and Greg have sex?”
Michael tossed her head. “That’s none of your business.”
“Okay, not very often.”
“We were both very busy and we didn’t live together because I like my freedom. And Gregory always said our bond was almost a spiritual one.”
Hudson laughed. “Oh wow. I haven’t heard that one for a long time. Are women still falling for it? I used to use it in my twenties when I was seeing more than one woman. Gregory wasn’t having sex with you because he was having it with someone else.”
Michael’s stomach lurched. “No, that’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
She jumped to her feet to escape him. Pacing the room, Michael tried to think, to remember what she had with Gregory that she would notice if it all of a sudden it wasn’t there anymore.
“Because...?” Hudson’s voice held a challenge.
Michael opened her mouth to deny—to defend—to list point-by-point the reasons Hudson was totally off-base and as soon as she tried, little hints and signs came rushing in to indicate that he was absolutely right. “That bastard,” she hissed.
“To be fair, you can’t honestly expect a guy to commit when you haven’t.”
His voice was gentle but Hudson’s words put Michael on the defensive. “I don’t lie and I don’t cheat.” She felt sick. How could she have been so stupid? The last minute dinner date cancellations, the mysterious phone calls, the hours he couldn’t say where he had been. “Why would he cheat on me? It doesn’t make sense. He could have just told me he wanted to see someone else. I wouldn’t have prevented him from breaking it off.”
“No, but you wouldn’t have agreed to chain yourself to a tree to publicize the Green Guerrillas either.”
Michael slumped, moaning. Of course. Michael liked trees as much as the next girl, but she would never have considered chaining herself to one if she knew Greg had a lover. The arrest—Mandrake Falls—none of this would have happened if Gregory had been honest with her. She wouldn’t be in this cabin right now, in this room, with this man. Michael slanted her eyes in Hudson’s direction. If it weren’t for Gregory she never would have met Hudson Grace.
“How long have you and Greg been seeing each other?”
“Eight months.” Michael moved to the bed and sat down beside him. “I was a front-burner actress on the show and then six months ago the producers threw my character into a coma. It was Greg’s idea to keep my name in the press by backing his cause. He really seemed to care about my career.”
“I’m sure he did,” Hudson said dryly. “He didn’t have one of his own. Look at it this way—another few months of Gregory Shaw and you’d have been dumping him. He wasn’t much of a man. You know that. Deep down, you knew he was second-rate.” Hudson looked at her, his brow creasing with concern. “Are you going to be okay?”
He was trying to be consoling and she loved him for trying. “Oh sure, sure, don’t worry about me. I am as tough as nails. I’ll buy a new pair of shoes when I get back to New York and forget that I even knew the guy.”
He grinned and got to his feet. “Whatever it takes. You’re no good to the town of Mandrake Falls if you’re crying all the time. I better hit the sack. Good night, Miss Shannon.” He held out his hand. “It has been a pleasure knowing you.”
Michael stood up, swaying slightly on the balls of her feet as she took his hand to shake it. “Good night, Mr. Grace. It has been a pleasure knowing you too.”
They stood in the middle of the room for a long tense moment, holding each other’s hand. Then Hudson broke the spell. He nodded and turned, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. The winter storm rose and howled over the cabin like a great beast. Michael moved to the window to watch the swirling snow. It had been a pleasure knowing him. Really nice. The best.
Her eyes filled with unexpected tears. Michael was stricken with sadness at the thought of never seeing Hudson Grace again.
THE STORM crashed against her window like a train going through a tunnel. Deep in sleep, Michael was in Los Angeles for the Daytime Emmy Awards. Loud clapping was breaking out all around her ... her fans applauding as she followed the red carpet to the stage to accept her award ... photographers were snapping her picture….
A flash of blue light blinded her out of her dream. Her eyes flew open when the thunder cracked and shook through her consciousness. The applause was transformed to hail pummeling the roof. Michael leaped out of bed as lightning flashed white in her room. She met Hudson in the hall, colliding with his bare chest. “What’s going on?”
A mighty crack sounded outside. The wind had felled a tree nearby.
“Winter stor
m,” Hudson said tersely and moved down the hall to Simon’s room. “They freak Simon out.”
“Do you hear that hail? It sounds like golf balls raining on the roof!”
The power was out. Michael raced down the hall on Hudson’s heels, anxious to reach Simon. They almost fell into his room. She heard the whimpers first but when her eyes darted to the bed where Simon should have been, she could see nothing but a rumpled bedspread. Hudson dropped to the floor and poked his head under the bed.
“You’re okay, Simon. I’m here. You can come out now.”
The three-year-old squirmed out from under the bed and was instantly caught up in his uncle’s arms. “You tookded too long,” Simon sobbed. “I heard de monster getting in.”
“I told you before, there is no monster. It’s just wind and rain and a big noise. It’s a storm, Simon. We talked about this.”
Simon buried his face in his uncle’s neck and shook his head vigorously. “Dat monster trying to break my window!”
“For the last time, it’s not a monster.”
Michael held out her arms and raised her voice to be heard over the wind and hail. “Let me.”
Hudson handed the boy over. “Nothing works. He’s terrified of storms.”
“So am I.” Michael sat down on the bed and cuddled the boy on her lap. “Lots of people are afraid of storms but when you have your uncle and me with you it’s not so scary, right? We’re all together, safe and sound.” Simon looked at her wide-eyed and nodded. Tears stained his face. “A monster wouldn’t dare come in with Uncle Hudson and Michael here because he knows what would happen if he tried. We’re not going to let anything hurt you, okay?” The three-year-old nodded again, his thumb already drifting to his mouth.
“Good,” Michael said with satisfaction. She tried to keep the smugness out of her voice, but honestly, Hudson obviously did not have a clue about child psychology. It amazed her that Vickie’s work as a psychologist actually proved useful for something. She lifted Simon to his bed and tucked the sheet about his chin. “There, you see, everything is fine. Now, go to sleep.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. She straightened and flashed Hudson a triumphant smile over the quieted boy. “Nothing to it.”
A hideous crack boomed over the cabin and hard white light filled the room. Simon let out a scream, a pitched ear-splitting wail that shot through Michael like an electric bolt. She shrieked and clapped her hands over her ears. Simon grabbed his uncle’s arm when he bent over to comfort the boy and wouldn’t let go. “You and Kikel sleep with me. Kikel make dat monster go way!”
Michael winced, realizing her mistake. She couldn’t possibly be held accountable for every little thing she said in the moment of crisis.
“Get into bed.”
“Oh good,” Michael sighed, relieved, and took a step to the door.
“Where are you going?”
Michael looked at him, confused. “To bed.”
“I meant Simon’s bed. I won’t be able to settle him down now. He’s too frightened to leave him alone. You put the idea in his head that there’s an actual monster out there—so get in.” He flipped the sheet back and climbed in beside Simon.
“There’s not much room,” Michael said feebly.
“I know.” He patted the space on the other side of Simon, his eyes sending her a challenge. “Looks like neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight.”
Michael lifted her chin proudly but hopped into bed. Simon immediately snuggled his small warmth against her. He stuffed his thumb in his mouth and dropped off to sleep instantly. Michael shifted against the little boy’s weight, her glance darting uneasily to Hudson. “Well, at least he’s stopped crying.”
Hudson propped his elbow up and rested his head in his hand. His mouth made a slow lazy path to a smile. “I thought you slept in the nude.”
Michael glanced down at her oversized white silk pajamas. “I don’t when there’s a child in the house.” Her eyes lingered over his bare chest. “What happened to the tee-shirt you were wearing?”
“I actually do sleep in the nude. I only threw the boxers on for your sake.”
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and rested her head against the pillow. “Oh. Well. I appreciate it, Mr. Grace.”
“This is not how I imagined a night in bed with you, Miss Shannon.”
The storm raged and whistled over the roof. “Oh?” She cleared her throat. “What did you imagine?”
“Wild. Unrestrained. Passion.”
Michael swallowed. His eyes were dark and haunting in the half-light. Sexual tension sparked between them seemingly out of nowhere. Michael thought she had Hudson Grace all figured out. A handsome small town bachelor, cashing in on his looks and limited charm—a diversion, nothing more. Maybe it was being in bed together and unable to touch that made her imagine what he would be like as a lover. The attraction between them was almost unbearable.
“Well, good night, Miss Shannon.” Hudson yawned and rolled over.
Michael blinked. “Uh ... good night, Mr. Grace.”
She waited, staring in the darkness at the glowing shape that was his back. The storm had died down leaving only the sound of snow pellets clattering against the window. It wasn’t enough to drown out the sounds of Hudson’s snoring though. Was he kidding? Michael reached over and poked Hudson lightly. Nothing. He was asleep. Unbelievable.
She laid her head down on the pillow, eyeing the sleeping man with puzzled awe, like he was a science experiment gone haywire. She’d never shared a bed with a man who just wanted to sleep before.
Well, good. This was good. Obviously, there was more to Hudson Grace than she originally thought. The fact that he had fallen asleep so quickly had nothing whatsoever to do with her desirability. Because—seriously—if this is what her life had come down to—blown off by a small town hunk after being rejected by a sandal-wearing tree hugger—she was going to pack it in. Grow leg hair and start dining at Krispy Kreme. Honest to god—what was wrong with men these days!
She shifted to a more comfortable position, irritated by the light snoring coming now from both of the Grace men. Michael rolled over and punched her pillow. She snapped her eyes shut, grimly determined to sleep as soundly as Hudson was.
A warm rush of fluid soaked the sheet under her back followed by the pungent smell of urine.
Simon had wet the bed. Her sexual frustration vanished as the damp warmth turned wet and clammy. Hudson slept on, oblivious. Musing on her recent spate of bad luck, bad choices and general misfortune, it was awhile before Michael was able to drop off to sleep.
SOMETIME BEFORE morning, Hudson woke. The room was almost light when he rolled over to face the sleeping woman. He reached out to stroke her cheek, amazed by her beauty. For some reason he thought with her green eyes closed he wouldn’t find her as beautiful. He was wrong. Hudson watched the child and woman nestled together in sleep and experienced a tug in his chest both unfamiliar and frightening. Heart attack?
He should be so lucky.
Hudson abruptly turned his back on them. Don’t even think it. This is not what he wanted and more importantly, it’s not what she wanted either. In a few hours she’ll be gone. He doubted her would see much of her today and tonight she was working with the theater company. And then she was gone for good. Back to New York.
He could do this. He could get through a few hours with Michael Shannon and not ... and not—
What? And not what?
Hudson broke into a cold sweat.
And not fall in love with her.
Chapter VII: Seven Swans a-Swimming
DARK GREEN tree tops poked through the glittering snow that hung in gauzy sheets over the hills.
Michael breathed in the fresh winter air and thought she had never smelled anything so pure. She had opened Simon’s bedroom window to air the room out while she changed his sheets and the smell of Christmas came rushing in. Her last hour with Hudson and Simon. At least the child got a Christmas tree and some presents out of
the bureaucratic mix-up.
“Are you almost ready, Miss Shannon?” Hudson called from the kitchen where he was giving Simon breakfast. “We’ve got to hit the road.”
Michael stuffed the bundle of wet sheets in the laundry hamper in the bathroom and checked her reflection in the mirror. The smart red knitted toque covered her ears and matched her lipstick. The effect was very pleasing.
There was no full length mirrors anywhere in the cabin. She was dying to get a look at her outfit purchased especially for this trip so she hopped up on the toilet seat. It wasn’t full length but at least she was able to see her torso in the bathroom mirror. The tight stove pipe leggings were perfect. She had chosen a gorgeous fire engine red sweater to wear under the black parka and a pristine white cashmere scarf at her neck. A pair of tall black leather boots finished the look. When Michael slung the water flask she had bought on impulse over her shoulder and fixed the red ski sunglasses around her eyes, she was entranced. She looked very hip—a sort of gorgeous environmental activist. Exactly the look she was going for when she went shopping last week.
“Where, oh where is TMZ when you need them?” she sighed.
“Are you still in the bathroom?” From the tone of his voice, Hudson was obviously out of patience. Michael shot her reflection a last satisfied glance and hopped off the toilet.
“Is there any coffee left?” she asked, entering the kitchen.
Hudson glanced at her boots and burst out laughing. She looked down at her feet. “What’s wrong with them?”
“When did you buy them?”
“Friday. The salesman told me they’re very good boots. The best.”
“I’m sure they are but they’re brand-spanking new.”
“That’s the point. New—as in better than old and worn. What’s the problem?”
The Way Home: Winter (Mandrake Falls Series Romance Book 3) Page 8
