by Elle James
Before she could change her mind again, she hurried into the adjoining bathroom, turned on the water, stripped and studied her body, looking for any other bruises.
She had one on her hip and one on her right knee, as well as a bruise on her left upper arm.
Considering she had survived what could have been the last day of her life, she was okay with the war wounds.
Ivy stepped into the shower and let the warm water run over her head and body, letting it relax her and wash away the smell of the trunk she’d been locked in.
Lathering her hair, she released her worries and let them be sucked down the drain. At least she hoped the fear would go with the suds.
Never in her life had she been accosted and forced into a trunk. As the daughter of a governor and a senator, she’d never had anyone try to take her. Even working as a criminal lawyer, she’d never been threatened or stalked. Yes, she’d been yelled at in court, but she’d never felt like she had to watch her back.
She lived in a gated community, had a security system on her home and locked her car doors when she got in. How had she let herself become subdued so quickly and easily?
Shivering beneath the warm spray, she rinsed quickly, applied conditioner to her hair and rinsed again. When she turned off the water and reached for a towel, she thought again about the man in the other part of the house.
The kiss had been so good, how would it feel to have his mouth on other parts of her body?
The shiver of fear was replaced by a shiver of something else. Something warmer than the shower. The heat radiated from deep in her core, to swell in her chest and rise up her neck into her cheeks.
Ivy rubbed the towel over her skin, wondering how it would feel to have Duff dry her from head to toe.
What am I thinking? The man had run out of the bar like his hair was on fire.
Then he’d kissed her.
The man blew hot then cold then hot again.
What was his problem? Had he been in a bad relationship? Was that what made him run?
Ivy sighed. It didn’t matter. He was only there for the night. And only to make sure she didn’t die of an aneurism or swelling on the brain. After that, they wouldn’t see each other again.
Unless he asked her out on a date. The likelihood of that was pretty slim.
Ivy brushed the tangles out of her hair and dressed in the panties and minuscule nightgown, loving the way the silky material slid across her naked skin. Again, all thoughts went to the man lying on the couch in her living room. Would he like the way she dressed?
She crawled between her sheets and lay her head down on her pillow. Never had her bed felt so empty before.
She thought of the pillow she’d given to Duff. Was he using it? Her gaze went to the empty pillow beside her.
If he really wanted to make sure she was okay all night, wouldn’t it be better if he slept in the same room with her?
How would he feel if she asked him to sleep in her room? In her bed? With her?
Butterflies fluttered inside her belly and her core heated all over again.
Sleep, you idiot. He’s not that into you.
Ivy closed her eyes and willed her pulse to slow, her breathing to deepen and sleep to claim her.
After twenty minutes of deep breathing, she still wasn’t sleepy.
She hadn’t had dinner. A snack and a drink might help. For that matter, maybe Duff was hungry, too.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she rose, wrapped the robe that matched her nightgown around her, and stepped out into the hallway. The cool draft of the air conditioner reminded her of just how short the nightgown and robe were.
She shrugged. Her legs were her best asset. What would it hurt to show them off?
Ivy tiptoed barefoot down the hallway and across the living room.
Duff lay on the sofa, his eyes closed, starlight bathing him in a deep blue glow.
Ivy’s breath caught in her throat and she stopped mid-stride.
The man was ruggedly gorgeous, his broad shoulders wider than the cushions on the couch. He’d slipped off his boots. His socked feet hung over the arm of the sofa. With his arms crossed over his chest, he appeared to be sound asleep.
Ivy turned to complete her trek to the kitchen.
“Are you feeling all right?” His voice stopped her in place.
She spun to face him, drawing the edges of her robe closer around her. “Y-yes.”
“Not thinking about the bastard who attacked you?” He opened one eye and then the other.
Her pulse kicked up a notch. “Some.”
“He won’t get to you here.”
“Are you sure?”
He sat up and swung his legs to the ground. “Positive.” He tipped his chin toward the kitchen. “Hungry?”
“I am. I don’t think I had dinner.”
“Me either. Want to go out for something?”
She grinned and drew her robe around herself even tighter. “Not dressed for that.”
His gaze swept over her attire, lingering on the hem and the long expanse of legs beneath. “No. You’re not. What have you got here? Do you want me to cook something?”
She cocked a brow. “You can cook?”
“I’m a bachelor. It’s cook, eat out or starve. “I get tired of eating out and you can tell I don’t starve.”
Oh, she could tell he didn’t starve. He was built, muscular and strong, his arms and chest stretching the T-shirt he wore…deliciously.
Duff looked past her to the kitchen. “What have you got?”
“I have a rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator,” she said. “We can slice it up and make sandwiches.”
“Tortillas?” he asked.
“Flour,” she responded. “Why?”
“Cheese and salsa?”
Ivy nodded.
“I make a mean chicken quesadilla,” Duff said.
“Mmm. I’ll get out the pan,” Ivy said. “The ingredients are in the fridge.”
They worked together to debone the chicken, cut up a salad, and cook the quesadillas. When all was ready, they carried their plates to the bar.
They slathered the quesadillas in salsa and consumed them with little talking between them.
When her plate was clean, Ivy sat back and rubbed her tummy. “Wow, that was really good.”
“Told you,” he said, gathering her plate. “Cook or starve.”
“I usually settle for a salad,” Ivy said. “This was so much better.”
“Glad you liked it.”
She hopped up and went to her stash of alcohol, selecting a bottle of her favorite wine. “Care to join me?”
After setting their plates in the sink, Duff turned. “Sure.” He returned to the bar and sat beside her.
Ivy set a bottle of wine between them with a corkscrew.
Duff opened the bottle, poured two glasses, and handed one to her. The other, he lifted. “To narrow escapes.”
She touched her glass to his. “To narrow escapes.”
They each drank.
Ivy held up her glass. “To perfect timing.” She smiled. “If you had taken off as soon as you’d left the bar, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
His lips pressed together. “I’m glad I was still there.”
“Why didn’t you leave right away? Did you have trouble with your motorcycle?”
His mouth twisted. “I was having second thoughts about leaving the bar.” He looked across his glass of wine, his gaze capturing hers. “And you.”
Her eyes widened. “Why did you leave the bar so fast? Did I say something stupid? I thought we were getting along pretty well.”
“We were getting along great.”
Her brow sank. “Then why did you leave?”
“I wasn’t ready for us to get along so well.”
“Not ready?” She set her glass on the bar and touched his arm. “I don’t mean to be nosy. I just want to understand.”
“I liked dancing with you,” he said.<
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“So, you ran out of the bar?”
“I liked it too much.” He stared at his glass of wine.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“And I liked our kiss in the bookstore.” Still staring in the glass.
“Then why did you leave?” she asked.
He looked up into her eyes. “I felt guilty.”
Guilty?” her frown deepened. “For what?”
“That I was enjoying my time with you. And you weren’t Katie.”
Her heart sank to her knees. “Katie?” she whispered.
He nodded. “My wife.”
Ivy leaned back in her chair. “You’re married?” Her gut knotted around the food she’d just consumed.
His face seemed to darken. “I was.”
The knot loosened a little. “Divorced?”
“Widowed.”
“Oh.” Ivy shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“We’d been married three days when she died.”
Ivy’s heart sank again. This time for Duff. “On your honeymoon?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Duff.” She laid her hand on his arm.
“It’s been eight years,” he said. “You’d think I’d have moved on.”
“You must have loved her so very much.”
He nodded. “We were so young. Thought we were invincible. Until the chartered fishing boat capsized. I lost my hold on her when the boat flipped. There was a lot of confusion, and debris floating in the water. Everyone came up but Katie.”
“I’m so sorry. What a nightmare.” Ivy didn’t know what else to say. She poured more wine and lifted her glass. “To Katie,” she said.
He touched his glass to hers. “Katie.”
No wonder he’d left the bar in such a hurry.
Ivy drank her glass of wine. Resigned.
Duff would never be interested in her. Not like Katie. Ivy wouldn’t even compete with her ghost.
Duff was still in love with his dead wife.
Chapter 6
Duff downed his glass of wine and stood. “We should get some rest.”
“Yes. We should,” Ivy responded, her tone flat, her lips pressed together. “Thank you for cooking dinner.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll clean up in the morning.”
He nodded and set their wine glasses on the counter beside the sink. “Good night, Ivy,” he said.
“Good night, Magnus.” She turned and padded down the hall in her bare feet.
Duff swallowed a groan.
The woman had legs. Long, shapely legs that could wrap around a man’s waist and hold him close as he pumped his seed into her.
The nightgown and robe combination wasn’t helping his focus.
He was there to make sure she didn’t have a concussion, not to make love to her.
His groin tightened. Oh, but he wanted her. So much so, his body ached.
In the living room, he stood in the dark, staring out the huge picture windows into the starlit Texas sky.
Was he ready to start dating? Would Ivy go out with him, if he asked? After he’d ditched her in the Ugly Mug would she trust him to show up at her door to take her to a nice dinner or on a picnic? Or should he cut his losses and go back to his motorcycles and cooking meals for himself?
Yes, Ivy had awakened something in him. Her kisses made him want more.
Knowing she was lying in a bed down the hallway, in her sexy nightgown, her naked legs sliding across the sheets…
If she showed any signs of interest in the morning, he would apologize for running out of the bar. Then he’d ask her to take a chance on him and go out with him.
He liked her. She was smart, beautiful, and strong. It took that kind of woman to be with a Delta Force soldier.
His mind made up, he stretched out on the couch, tucked his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling.
And stared. And stared.
He must have fallen asleep because he woke to the sound of a muffled scream.
Duff rolled off the couch and onto his feet. It took a split second for him to remember where he was and which direction he needed to run.
He ran down the hallway to the master bedroom and burst through the door, slapping on the light.
Ivy sat up in her bed, her eyes wide, her cheeks wet from tears. “Magnus?”
His gaze swept the room, searching for the danger. When he realized it was empty but for her, he relaxed and crossed to the bed. “Are you all right? No pain or dizziness?”
She nodded. “I’m okay. Why are you here?”
“I thought I heard a scream.” He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She nodded. “I was having a dream.”
“More like a nightmare.” He brushed another tear from her other cheek.
Ivy leaned into his hand. “He caught me and carried me away from the bar. I fought, but I couldn’t get away.”
Duff lowered himself to sit on the side of her bed. “Do you want me to stay until you go back to sleep?”
Ivy bit her bottom lip. “I’m not usually so clingy.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
“Then, yes.” Ivy scooted over to the other side of the bed. “Please, stay.”
“Until you go to sleep.” He laid on the bed beside her, wondering if he was about to make a very big mistake.
As soon as he was settled, she reached for his hand. “I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning. She raised his hand and tucked it between her cheek and the pillow. “Thank you.”
For a long time, he lay holding his breath, willing his pulse to slow, his body to relax and sleep.
It wasn’t happening.
Ivy’s eyes closed and her breathing grew deep and regular. She rolled toward him and draped her other arm over his chest and her calf over his.
Duff muffled his groan and held onto his desire by a thread. After a while, he couldn’t take it anymore. He either had to get the hell out of her bedroom or make love to her.
He eased one leg over the side of the bed and then lifted her wrist and positioned her arm over the curve of her waist and hip. His knuckles brushed across the silky fabric of her nightgown and he nearly came undone.
Steeling himself against his natural instincts, he scooted to the edge of the bed intending to roll off onto the floor.
Ivy drew in a deep breath and reached for him again, laying her arm over his chest, her hand circling the back of his neck. “Don’t go,” she whispered into his ear.
“Sweetheart, if I don’t go, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“Please,” she said. “I want you.”
His breath caught and held as he looked down to find that her eyes were open, and she was staring up into his. “Are you awake?”
She nodded and stretched. The leg that had been slung across his returned to slide over his shin and up to his thigh. “Stay.”
He hesitated. “Do you know what you’re asking?”
She nodded. “Do you have protection?”
His heartbeat sped up. “Yes.”
“Hold me?” she said, her tone a question. “If you want to, that is.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I want to. I just don’t want you to regret it in the morning.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, careful not to bump the knot at her temple.
“I’ll regret it if we don’t.”
She lifted her chin, offering her mouth to him.
He took it, gently at first, his lips moving over hers, feeling his way.
When she opened to him, he dove deeper, sliding his tongue across hers.
She wove her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest.
Duff’s groin tightened, his erection hardening against her soft belly. He leaned back. “We barely know each other.”
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�Doesn’t that make it even more exciting?” she whispered and brushed her lips against the base of his neck where his pulse pounded. “Don’t worry. I have no expectations for the morning. I won’t demand to see you again. I just want tonight.”
What if he wanted more?
She leaned up and brushed her lips across his. “You feel it, don’t you? Or is it only me?”
He crushed his lips to hers in a kiss that rocked him to his very soul. When he came up for air, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I feel it, too.”
She sighed, a smile parting her lips. Her auburn hair fanned out across the white pillowcase, creating a beautiful backdrop for her pale skin and green eyes.
“You are beautiful,” he said and kissed her lightly, his lips trailing across her cheek and down over her chin and the long line of her graceful neck. He didn’t stop until he came to where the strap of her nightgown crossed her collarbone.
He looked up to capture her gaze.
She nodded at his unspoken question.
Duff slipped the strap off her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her collarbone. He blazed a path down to the swell of her right breast beneath the silky fabric.
Ivy touched a finger beneath his chin and brought him back to her lips for a brief kiss. Then she sat up, hooked the hem of her gown in her fingers and whipped it up over her head, letting it drop silently to the floor.
Duff leaned up on an elbow and swept her body with his gaze, his heart hammering in his chest, his blood burning in his veins.
She reached for his T-shirt and tugged it free of his jeans.
He brushed her hands aside and ripped his shirt off, tossing it to the corner. Then he leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”
“Are you insane? There’s no stopping now.” She wound her arms around his neck and dragged his head down to her, pressing her mouth to his.
He plundered and ravaged her lips, nibbling at their fullness and sucking her tongue between his teeth. Duff quickly shifted lower, anxious to taste all of her. He captured one of her rosy-tipped breasts between his lips and sucked it in, pulling hard.
She arched her back, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth.
He took it, laving and nipping at the beaded tip until Ivy moaned and writhed beneath him.
