The Heart of a Hero

by Janet Chapman

  Nicholas looked out at Bottomless. “What does Reggie believe I did to them?”

  “He thinks you scared them so badly they won’t dare return to the resort, and that they’re going to spend several cold nights lost in the woods trying to . . . get home.”

  He looked at her again. “And what do you believe I did to them?”

  She hesitated, lifting her bottle to take another drink, then lowering it and resting her head against the window. “That’s the story I’m also going with.”

  She fell silent at that, and Nicholas was content to also drop the subject and simply sit with her, the two of them watching the shadows stretching across Bottomless finally fade to nothing as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, blending the world below into varying hues of gray.

  “I believe your French-Canadian neighbors to the west have a saying for this time between daylight and dark,” he said quietly into the deep silence. “Entre le loup et le chien; between the wolf and the dog.”

  “Don’t you mean our neighbors, or are you just . . . passing through?”

  “Yes, our neighbors.”

  “I also came here tonight to apologize for last night.”

  Nicholas stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth and lowered it back to his lap.

  “First for turning into a madwoman and attack—”

  He captured her hand worrying the bottle label again and gave it a squeeze. “Do not finish that sentence, Julia.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “And also for running away after. And then for threatening to bludgeon you with my tote.” She looked up. “But I don’t want you to think . . . because I’m not . . .” She blew out a heavy sigh. “We can’t ever do that again, Nicholas,” she said, shaking her head. “Not ever.”

  “Why?”

  She stilled except to blink in surprise, her cheeks suddenly darkening. “Because we can’t,” she snapped. “Because I don’t sleep around.”

  “I don’t remember either of us sleeping,” he said, stifling a grin when her jaw slackened. “In fact,” he continued, taking the bottle out of her hand and setting it on the other side of her as he leaned closer. “I haven’t been able to sleep since.”

  Her response was a startled squeak when he lifted her around to sit straddling his thighs, at which point she threw herself against him. “We’re dangling over a cliff!”

  “You’ll always be safe in my arms, Julia,” he growled, capturing her braid to tilt her head back to look at him. “Now, would you care to come up with another answer as to why we can’t make love again, other than because you ‘don’t sleep around’?”

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “You have a bad habit of using your size to control people, you know that?”

  He nodded. And grinned at her glower, unable to remember the last time he’d been so turned on. Well, except for last night. “It works well, too—on most people.”

  “You admit to intentionally using your size to get your way?”

  He arched a brow. “You prefer I should use my strength?”

  “You mean like you are right now?”

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, letting go and holding his arms out to show she was free.

  “Hey!” she yelped, throwing herself against him again. “We’re dangling over a cliff and you don’t have a railing.”

  She clasped his face and leaned back just enough to look him in the eyes, and Nicholas knew the game was up when she saw the laughter in them. So, considering his success the last time he’d full-out stormed the castle, he kissed her.

  And just like last night, the lovely lady initially resisted, then accepted, then began fully participating with all the fire and heat of an erupting volcano.

  “Okay, one last time,” she muttered after breaking the kiss, but only so she could trail kisses along his jaw as she provocatively slid her hips forward. “And then we’re never doing it again.”

  And that was when Nicholas realized the price of victory might very well be his heart—not that the prospect worried him nearly as much as he suspected it would Julia.

  * * *

  Damn, she wished the guy would stop pulling her into his big strong arms and kissing her. Safe in them, he’d said. Yeah, well, she felt more like a deer caught in headlights. How was any woman—slut or saint—supposed to resist magnetic muscles, laughing sky-blue eyes, and warm and really talented lips that made a girl feel sexy and desired and . . . and . . . God, he smelled good.

  Yeah, they could have sex one more time.

  “Ohmigod, you smell good,” Julia whispered as she pulled his shirt collar away to kiss the heated skin of his neck—only to pop a couple of his buttons when his big broad hands slipped under her jacket and fleece and blouse, blazing a trail of fire up her back. Popping another of his buttons when she felt her bra unhook, Julia leaned away just enough to reach down and pull all her tops off over her head in one fell swoop. And then she thoughtfully unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, tugged its tails out of his pants, and pushed it down over his shoulders—which he then cooperatively finished shedding before pulling her back into his warm embrace and kissing her again.

  Forget breaking last night’s speed-sex record—Whisper Mountain was about to experience another sonic boom when they broke the sound barrier. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but the next thing Julia knew, her sneakers and jeans were gone, his jeans had also disappeared, and just that quickly he was easing up inside her and she was making that strange but now familiar little noise of wild, passionate pleasure.

  Oh yeah, she needed this one last time.

  “Wait, don’t move,” she whispered once he was fully inside her and she melted against him in utter contentment, feeling really quite powerful when he turned as still as a stone. “I want to savor this a moment.”

  Well, his body stilled, but his talented lips started kissing her face, completely ruining her contentment by creating an urgent need to do something.

  “Okay, you can move now,” she softly growled, flexing her fingers into his big strong shoulders and arching forward to rub her nipples across the soft hair on his big broad chest—only to have him duck and capture first one of those nipples in his mouth and then the other. And there was that sound again, only it kept escaping on ragged pants as Julia felt that madwoman inside her suddenly . . . well, explode.

  “Ohmigod, that feels good. Don’t stop,” she moaned when he pressed upward even as he guided her hips forward and back along the length of his shaft. Except he was doing it so maddeningly slowly, her moans grew more frustrated than salacious. So taking advantage of the fact that she was on top, Julia simply increased the rhythm while varying the depth and angle of her movements—giving only a fleeting thought that she hoped the window she was driving him against didn’t crack under the strain.

  She was also peripherally aware a breeze had come up, although Nicholas—who she was pleased to note was also making salacious but very manly groans—was radiating enough heat to cause her to break into a sweat. And his big broad hands felt like molten embers against her skin as one of them splayed across her back with its fingers threaded through her hair and the other one cupped her thrusting backside—she assumed to keep her from flying off the deck.

  And that, Julia realized in some distant corner of her sex-fogged brain, left her completely free to further explore her newfound passionate nature. And since this was their last one-night stand, she wanted to make it really memorable; for her because she probably wasn’t ever going to find another guy who could make her feel this wild and alive and completely free, and for Nicholas because . . . well, because she really was starting to like him. Really a lot.

  Oh yeah, they definitely couldn’t ever do this again.

  The hand on her backside suddenly put a stop to her thrusts, and the hand on her back suddenly came around to her front and copped a feel of first one breast and then the other, its thumb worrying each of her dampened nipples before it continued down to where her pelvis was pressed into his. And
then that fire-hot thumb found its way between them and started rubbing her intimately.

  “Come for me, Julia,” he whispered thickly, the edge in his voice sounding more urgent than dangerous.

  Julia closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to his chest with a shudder even as she reached down and stilled his hand. Well, she guessed nothing lasted forever, but she’d been enjoying herself so much. The question now, however, was did she simply fake it or try to . . . redirect his focus?

  Considering she really didn’t know him all that well, Julia straightened and gave him a smile that she hoped looked sultry in the waning light, opting for the latter because she wasn’t quite brave enough to outright lie to him—not even with her body. “How about,” she whispered, hoping she sounded sultry as she pressed two of her fingers past his thumb into her slickness. She lifted her hand and then slowly ran those fingers over his lips, even as she just as slowly moved her hips against him. “If we let it build awhile longer?” she continued, slipping her fingers in his mouth. She gave a hum of pleasure when he suckled them, then leaned down and replaced the fingers with her lips. “Damn, Nicholas, you turn me on. I didn’t sleep last night, either, remembering your hands on me, everywhere, making me hot and shivery at the same time.” She brushed her lips over his jaw. “Make me feel that way again.”

  Both his hands went to her backside with a definite male growl, and Julia had a moment’s worry that she may have just tugged a tiger’s tail when he twisted enough to lay on his back, then started directing her movements. As fast as she’d left, that sex-starved madwoman returned, and Julia braced her hands on his chest and threw her head back on a moan. “Oh God, yes,” she cried out. “That’s the spot. Don’t stop.”

  His answering grunt was accompanied by a slight bucking, and Julia cried out again as she slid one hand down between them, moistened her fingers, then locked her eyes on his. “Come for me, Nicholas,” she pleaded raggedly, lifting her fingers to her own mouth and suckling. She closed her eyes on another moan of pleasure as she straightened, running her hand down her throat as she brought her other hand up and cupped her breasts, even as she took over the rhythm again. “Damn, that feels good.”

  She felt the tension humming through his straining muscles as he suddenly stilled, his hands on her hips holding her tightly against him as he gave a groan of pleasure. Julia locked her eyes on his, feeling his release in every cell in her body before she collapsed forward, trembling against the rise and fall of his chest as they both gulped in ragged breaths.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God,” she said in a panting shiver. “That was wonderful. Am . . . am I too heavy for you?” she asked, although she didn’t make any effort to move despite feeling more alive than she had in forever—even as she wondered if she couldn’t get away with one more one-night stand in the near future.

  His answer was a half grunt, half snort as he stirred, just before Julia felt his shirt settle over her. He had to tuck her arms in its sleeves because she really wasn’t up to doing it herself, then smooth it down over her backside before folding his arms around her and releasing what she hoped was a sigh of contentment.

  Because she certainly was content to simply lie here feeling safe and cherished and desirable in his big strong arms as his heart pounded against hers. That is, until the breeze blew up her sweat-dampened legs and made her shiver again, which made Nicholas sigh again. He slowly sat up, lifting her as effortlessly as if she weighed no more than one of his cats, then turned her so she was sitting across his thighs. “I’ll light a fire in the hearth,” he said, ducking to look her in the eyes as he threaded his fingers through her hair to brush it off her face. There was just barely enough light for Julia to see his smile. “You go on inside, and I’ll bring your clothes,” he added, nodding toward . . . something.

  Julia looked in the direction of his nod to see her jeans lying on the glass deck just a few feet away—one of her socks peeking out of one of the legs dangling over the edge—the breeze every so often causing them to slide closer to falling off. She looked around and saw one of her sneakers near the window and one about ten feet down the deck toward the side porch, her balled-up jacket and fleece and blouse also only inches away from taking flight. She saw her panties but not her bra, and hoped it was inside her balled-up jacket and fleece.

  She was wearing Nicholas’s shirt and, remembering he’d been barefoot, she wasn’t expecting to see his boots, but . . . “Um, where are your pants?” she asked, leaning over slightly to peer down through the glass deck, only to quickly lean back into the safety of his embrace.

  He chuckled. “Probably halfway to the fiord.”

  Julia blinked up at him, caught him running his tongue over his lower lip, and immediately felt her cheeks heat up. Had she really stuck her sex-dampened fingers in his mouth? Really?

  No, it had been that madwoman inhabiting her body; the one who exploded the moment she got kissed and who cussed like the town slut all through sex.

  Yeah, that woman.

  “Okay then,” Julia said, gathering his shirt closed and standing up and pressing against the window while holding down its shirttails against the breeze. She started to bend over to pick up her nearest sneaker—being careful not to look at Nicholas because he was still naked and she really didn’t want that madwoman to attack him again—but straightened when he snatched it away before she could reach it.

  “I’ll get your clothes,” he said, a bit of a dangerous edge back in his voice.

  “Thank you,” Julia said brightly, making sure not to look down as she walked to the set of sliding doors in the middle of the wall of windows, slid one open, and stepped inside. She continued walking through the darkened living room, past the kitchen area, then down the hall to the bathroom. She softly closed the door and locked it—which was a tad difficult because for some reason her hands were shaking—then felt for the light switch and turned it on.

  She didn’t gasp because she was expecting the wild woman in the mirror, but she did frown as she gathered up her tangled hair. Was her alter ego pulling the elastic off her braid every time she had wild passionate sex, or was Nicholas the culprit? She looked up at the ceiling when she heard footsteps overhead, then dropped her gaze back to the mirror as she held the huge shirt closed—only to pull the collar away from her neck with a gasp. Holy Hades, he’d left his mark on her.

  And now he was holding her clothes hostage, Julia realized with a steadying breath as she slowly looked around the bathroom. Well, except for the one really sexy wool sock she was still wearing. She opened the double doors to find a linen closet with a sum total of one towel and facecloth—only to realize they were identical to the towels she restocked in the resort cottages. She opened the door on the washer-dryer combo stacked beside the shelves, hoping he might have left clothes in the dryer, only to find more towels and a plush bathrobe that was also identical to the ones in her cottages.

  She closed the dryer with a snort and turned to the window, wishing she could disappear into the woods again—in the opposite direction he’d expect her to go this time—but she really wasn’t up to explaining to Trisha why she was returning from her walk wearing only a really oversize men’s shirt and one sock.

  Julia stilled when the window she was quietly opening stopped after only a few inches, and lifted her gaze to the top of the sash with another frown. She reached up to touch the narrow piece of scrap wood to find it nailed into the track just above the sash, then looked over and saw an identical slat on the other side. She backed away, staring at the sticks that allowed the window to open only six inches, undecided if she was very disturbed or really quite amazed that Nicholas had—Wait; did nailing his sash closed mean he’d been expecting her to crawl out his bathroom window again?

  Because that would mean he’d been expecting them to have sex again.

  Julia plopped down on the toilet and hid her face in her hands. She’d certainly lived up to his expectations, hadn’t she? Heck, she had sought him out this time
; not to thank him for what he’d done for Reggie today, apparently, but to have wild passionate sex with him again.

  “Everything okay in there?” the devil himself said from the other side of the door.

  Julia bolted upright. “Just peachy,” she snapped.

  He hesitated, and she wasn’t sure but she thought she heard him softly chuckle as he walked away. She hid her face in her hands again with a groan. Now what was she supposed to do? Go out there and sit in front of the fire in his hearth and . . . chat?

  About what? When they were going to have sex again?

  Or about the sex they’d had tonight—specifically why she hadn’t come for him?

  Julia stood up and glared at the window. She might be skinny, but she wasn’t that skinny. She grabbed the washcloth out of the linen closet, filled the vanity sink with hot water, and plucked what was left of the obviously once tree-shaped balsam soap out of the china dish embossed with the Nova Mare emblem.

  Okay then, maybe now would be a good time to let Mr. Magnet know she was wise to his little habit of helping himself to anything that caught his eye—including the new director of special events, apparently.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nicholas set out two unopened bottles of beer, then rearranged the large pillows on the fourth-century Persian rug he’d rolled out only this afternoon—fortuitously, it now seemed—in front of the hearth. He added a log to the crackling fire, walked over and flipped on the wall switch that gently flooded the granite ledge under the floor with light, then looked around to see if there was anything else he needed to enhance the scene.