by Alison Kent
"I have time," she assured him, then held out her hand and held her breath. He slipped out of the shirt and, before she allowed herself more than the briefest glimpse of male belly dusted with black hair, she headed for her workroom.
His moccasins whispered over the hardwood floor behind her, the sound a gentle coaxing of her senses, a sweet song to her ears. She felt his presence like a wildness inside her. His shirt grew warm in her hands.
Shoving back the curtained partition, she tossed the shirt on her sewing table, gestured for Jace to sit in the rattan side chair and headed for the cherry cupboard in the corner.
The top drawer held hundreds of spools of thread and, in her state of klutz and nerves and hormonal melancholy, she nearly toppled the contents to the floor.
Especially when she sensed Jace move to the window behind her. Eyes closed, she took a small backwards step his direction, close enough to indulge herself in the warmth of his bare skin, the scent of naked man and the subtle need to be near another human being.
It was crazy, this weakness shifting through her. Crazy. Insane. A gut awareness she hadn't counted on. She'd never expected to come up against a man who'd make her want this way again.
Be honest, Eden. A man who makes you want in a way you've never wanted before.
"How far away is the rain?" she asked, hating the way her voice shook.
"Storm's coming from the west. It won't hit for another hour."
His voice wrapped around her, safety and security rolled up into one. The intensity of her desire deepened. Oh God, she didn't need this. Taking a deep breath, she slammed the thread drawer in punctuation.
"Great. Give me ten minutes and you're on your way." Ten minutes was no time. Her mood would probably swing again in the next five. She grabbed her glasses from her sewing basket and settled in the chair.
"There's hot tea and more cinnamon rolls in the kitchen if you'd like to wait in there," she offered, hoping he'd accept.
"No, thanks." The window seat cushion rustled beneath his weight. "I like this room."
Rust-colored thread aimed through the eye of the needle, Eden adjusted the machine's tension and reached for her pin cushion. "It's my favorite room in the house." She aligned the edges of the shirt seam. "Well, besides the bathroom. The clawfoot tub upstairs is big enough to swim in."
"There was a room with a window seat like this in the house I grew up in. It was supposed to be a formal sort of living area, but nothing about my family was formal.
"My sister and I had a lot of friends and the room ended up being a hang-out." The latch clicked and Jace up pushed the window. The old wood frame creaked and groaned in protest.
"Problem was, my mother tossed so many pillow onto the window seat that no one could sit there. We ended up sprawled everywhere else, though. Sofa, chairs, floor, coffee table," he said with a laugh.
"Sounds like my kind of room. And my kind of family," Eden ventured, wondering more than she should have--and for no logical reason--about what Jace had been like as a child. If he saw his family often.
And why he'd traded a life teeming with friends for the one he lived alone. "Do you miss that? Having friends around all the time?"
Silence filled the room. Leaves whispered and swished against the window screen. Tires rolled over the joints in the road, a synchronized click to the tick of clock. The window seat groaned beneath Jace's shifting weight. And Eden waited.
"Yeah. I do," he finally said but said no more and his tone left no room for questions.
As curious as she was, Eden knew when to leave well enough alone. She'd pry again another time. Flipping off the machine, she stashed her glasses back in her sewing basket. "Let's see if this is going to hold," she said, then made the mistake of looking his way.
Jace lounged like a man who made a living at it. His moccasin clad feet, crossed at the ankles, extended a foot off the seat. His legs filled his jeans with symmetrical perfection. A braided belt of leather and turquoise circled his waist.
The thumbs he'd hooked through his beltloops tugged at his waistband, drawing her gaze to the whorl of hair growing low on his belly. And to his zipper, and the pure male magic outlined beneath.
She caught her breath.
He turned his head. His glance snagged hers and pulled.
A gust of breeze kicked the clouds across the sky and sunlight bathed the room. Jace rolled to his feet and Eden's gaze searched out what she couldn't get enough of. Corded muscle and skin kissed copper by the sun. The breadth of his chest amazed her, especially as his belly below was sleek and spare. His build was that of a hard-working man.
Soft spring breezes brought wisteria, jasmine and honeysuckle inside. Jace's hair ruffled at his neck. His scent reached her, too. She drowned in the smells and accepted the truth. The man in Jace beckoned the woman in her.
"Here." She handed him the shirt.
"Thanks." He took it from her and pulled it on.
She clenched her hands. The need to touch him sizzled in the tips of her fingers, screamed in the hollow of her heart. His hair caught in the neckline of the tunic. Desire won out over reason. She reached up to free the strands.
Black satin slid over her fingers. The stubble on his jaw grazed her wrist. She touched his cheek, ignoring the sirens in her mind. Wrong or right, this connection mattered more than her next breath.
Jace's eyes grew sleepy, seductive. He mirrored her action, his palm rough against her cheek. So easy. So natural. So simple to move the one short step into his arms.
Thunder rumbled low. The sky darkened, breaking the spell. As much as she longed to do otherwise, She moved back. "Sounds like your hour's been cut short."
Jace seemed indecisive, hesitant even, like what had just passed between them had confused him as much as it had her. Like he couldn't put a name to the thick tension in the room without calling it what neither of them wanted. Involvement, attraction, the beginning of attachment.
Lightning flashed. Jace blinked, stepped back. "We'd better get going. Water damaged furniture isn't likely to bring the price I have hanging on those pieces."
If they were going now, she needed to get dressed. She headed for the stairs. "What pieces are you delivering today?"
"I've got a shaker table and six chairs. Plus, the cradle."
Eden stopped on the first step. The cradle? He was selling the cradle? Of course he was selling the cradle. This was business, after all. Still she didn't think she could bear to see that particular piece sold. Why, she couldn't say. But since when did hormones think with logic?
Turning, she pressed her fists against the small of her back. "On second thought Jace, I don't think I'm up to the trip. Maybe you could stop by and pick up my order?"
He frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Let me get the list." They walked into the shop. Eden grabbed the slip of paper and handed it to Jace. "Marian can double check the items, but she should have them ready. You don't have to stop by on your way back. Just bring them over tomorrow." She pulled open the front door but didn't step out.
"If you're sure."
She nodded.
"Okay. Thanks." Jace jogged to his truck, climbed into the cab and was off with a wave.
Eden gripped the door. She watched the Ford as it turned from Main onto Highway 37. Then she went back inside to spend the rest of her day feeling sorry for herself.
It was definitely an eat-a-worm day.
Table of Contents
LOVE IN BLOOM
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Copyright
About The Author
Also by the Author
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Alison Kent, Love in Bloom
