Speaking of Love

by Ophelia London

  Finally, she looked up at him, pushed back her hair, and nodded—for real, this time. Maybe he should call her awesome badass more often. It fit her. Well, not now, per se, but usually.

  After taking her hand—that was clamped to his bicep like iron—and sliding it off his arm, he gave her one last nod and started down the dark hall. Before he’d gotten three steps, she whispered, “What’s the signal?”

  “Caviar.” He was rewarded with one of her snorts.

  A few more steps and he knew the scratching wasn’t coming from inside the walls. It was right in front of him. At that end of the hall, there was a chair and a deep, leather-covered box meant for the tossing in of magazines and newspapers and his grandmother’s crossword puzzles. He could see a shadow inside of it now, and he heard rustling. After he raised the bat for ready, he turned his chin slightly and whispered, “Caviar.”

  When the overhead light came on, it was pretty anticlimactic. There was definitely something inside the box, something scrambling and too small to climb out on its own.

  “Do you see it?” he heard Mac hiss, still at her post by the switch.

  Rick took a step forward and peered in. He exhaled and lowered the bat.

  “Yeah,” he said. His voice carried more disgust than it should. “It’s a squirrel.”

  “A what?” He heard her bare feet pad toward him. She was probably close enough now to see it, too.

  “Yeah.” He nudged the box with his foot. The thing went berserk, running around in a circle, clawing at the sides of the tall box. It must have sprained something when it fell in— otherwise, those things could really jump.

  Rick did not like squirrels. Sure, they were fuzzy and whatever, but when he was twelve years old, at this very cabin, Madison, his golden retriever, was bitten by a rabid squirrel and had to be put down. It was the toughest loss in Rick’s young life, and he hadn’t had a dog since. This squirrel didn’t look rabid, but still, Rick felt his fingers curling around the bat, wanting to embrace his caveman instincts and smash the thing’s brains in. Who knew, maybe this was the great-great-grand-evil-spawn of the one that bit Madison.

  As he took a step forward, the bat twitching in his hands, he thought of Mac, standing right behind him. She was a crazy, passionate animal lover, and would most likely flip out and never speak to him again if he hurt it, even if there was the slight possibility that it was injured and Rick was really doing the humane thing by putting it out of its misery. But would he be able to explain that to Mac? The thing didn’t look that hurt. Definitely not worth the risk.

  The thought of upsetting Mac affected him more than wanting revenge for his childhood pet. He should probably just take the stupid thing out to the woods and let it go, then call the property manager tomorrow, make sure to patch any holes in the roof.

  Maybe Mac would want to see it before he let it go, maybe even pet it. Yuck. Rick didn’t happen to find fuzzy rodents with dead, shark-like eyes particularly cute, but she probably would.

  “Here,” he said, reaching his hand back to pull her forward. “Come see the—”

  Just then, the squirrel jumped, its sharp little claws hanging over the edge of the box, its black eyes wide, its nose twitching.

  “Kill it!” Mac shrieked, grabbing for the bat.

  The squirrel lost its grip and fell back into the box. Smart squirrel.

  “What are you waiting for?” Mac was pushing him toward the thing, trying to get him to raise the bat.

  “I’m not going to kill it,” Rick said, then he couldn’t help laughing. Some bleeding heart she turned out to be. “It’s just a squirrel. I’m taking it outside.”

  Mac wrapped her arms around herself, sniffed, and took a few steps back. It was then that Rick noticed what she was wearing. A white camisole that didn’t quite reach the top of her tiny black sleep shorts. Could those things even be called shorts? What was she doing running around like that in front of squirrels? He was about to ask her when he realized that he was in about the same state of undress: flannel pajama pants and nothing else. Mac seemed to realize this at the same time he did.

  “Um, I think I’ll…” He handed her the bat, bent over and picked up the box, making sure to hold it out far enough that the critter wouldn’t get any wise ideas.

  “Where are you going?” Mac asked.

  “Outside.”

  “Now?”

  Rick headed toward the stairs. “Unless you’d like to sleep with it.”

  “I want to check in to a five-star hotel.”

  And the badass was back.

  “Wait,” she said, moving closer. “What if it’s mad?”

  “I’m sure it’s furious,” Rick said.

  “No, I mean, like rabies. Is it diseased?”

  He made a face. “That’s why I’m kicking it out of my house.”

  “Wait!” she called again and then moved behind him. Rick didn’t say anything as she followed him down the stairs. “Where are you taking it?”

  Rick paused at the back door to step into some boots. “To the tree past the shed. Stay inside.”

  “Well, here.” She grabbed his coat off the back of the kitchen chair. “Put this on. You can’t go out there dressed like…” Her voice faded out, but she was staring in the general direction of his chest. With his hands unmovable, she draped the coat over his shoulders then backed up.

  “Thank you,” Rick said.

  She bit her lip and opened the door.

  “Stay inside,” he repeated from over his shoulder.

  “I know.”

  He smiled when he heard the defiance in her voice.

  It had stopped snowing, but it felt well below freezing with the wind chill. He was glad Mac had given him the coat. He made it down the stairs and around the corner, and then headed toward the shed.

  As he was about to set the box on its side, his gaze automatically moved to the light coming from the open door, two stories up, where Mac was standing just outside the threshold. He took a moment to look at her, at her shape, her size, the way her hair was blowing, the way he could see her big eyes even from this distance, and the way her camisole hugged the curves—

  “Dammit!” He dropped the box and heard the devil squirrel scurry through the snow and up the tree.

  “What happened?” Mac called out. “Are you okay?”

  He looked down at his hand. Luckily he wasn’t bit, just scratched. Damn mangy rodent.

  “I’m fine,” he muttered, bending over to dip the back of his hand in the snow. The cold felt good.

  “What are you doing? Rick?”

  When he looked up, she was halfway down the deck, leaning over the railing. He stood and slid his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “Nothing. I’m coming up.”

  He could feel her watching him all the way.

  “Did it bite you?” she asked when he got to the open door. “Should we go to the ER?”

  “What? No.” He kicked off his boots. “I’m fine. It’s a scratch.”

  “It scratched you?” There was horror mixed with appall in her voice. “Let me see.”

  Rick sighed and shrugged off his coat. Mac grabbed his right hand and flipped it over. “It’s the other one,” he said. She picked up his other hand and he watched as her eyes went wide. Then he was being tugged toward the sink.

  “Mac, it’s—”

  “Shut up,” she said, turning on the water and grabbing the soap. “It doesn’t look like it broke the skin, that’s good, but we need to wash it just in case.”

  Rick smiled. He quite enjoyed how she used the word we.

  He tried not to wince when she put his hand under the water. If she thought he wasn’t manly enough to change a tire, he sure as hell wasn’t about to so much as flinch over a scratch from an idiot squirrel.

  He watched as she soaped it and rinsed it three times, gently running one finger over the two-inch scrape. They were standing so close he could smell her hair.

  “I saw some ointment in my bathroom,” she
said as she patted the back of his hand with a towel. “Sit on the couch.” She headed toward the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Mac, there’s really nothing—”

  She whirled around. “Look.” She sighed, sounding exasperated and just a little anxious. “I saw this documentary about a man with a bite that… Just…let me take care of you—of this.” She shook her head. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” Rick said, not wanting to upset her further.

  He did as he was told and sat on the couch. He wished he had a shirt to pull on to be decent, but he wasn’t about to disobey her. For a moment, he thought maybe she was putting the moves on him. But no, that was a ridiculous idea, one he’d already gotten wrong once tonight.

  She was back about sixty seconds later, a little out of breath. En route to the couch, she grabbed a blanket off an arm chair and draped it across the back of Rick’s shoulders. He wanted to chuckle at such care but restrained himself.

  Mac sat down beside him. “Here.” She took his hand and placed it on her thigh. She was still only wearing her short sleep shorts, and Rick felt something stir in his stomach when he touched her skin. He looked up and watched her lowered eyelids as she concentrated on unscrewing the lid of a little yellow tube then squeezed a tiny dab of creamy ointment onto her index finger.

  With her free hand, she picked up Rick’s hand and balanced them palm to palm, his over hers. With the lightest tough, she smoothed a thin layer of ointment over his scratch. It might have stung, but Rick felt nothing but heat surging through his body.

  Even after the cut was covered, Mac continued to run a finger over the back of his hand. Just as his breathing went shallow, she pulled his hand up to her mouth, rounded her lips and blew a feather-light stream of air onto the back of his hand.

  His body went crazy.

  He closed his eyes and exhaled hard. Mackenzie… Mackenzie…was all his mind could think.

  When he whispered her name, all that came out was the second syllable: “kissss.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  For about one hundredth of a nanosecond, Mac thought that maybe she’d heard wrong. If she had, it was too late—her body was already in motion. She moved Rick’s hand two inches up and touched it with her lips. The tight roughness of his skin felt amazing.

  She heard Rick take in a shaky breath. She kissed his hand again, closer to the wrist this time. Other than another inhale, Rick did not react.

  Just like an hour ago.

  Part of her stubborn brain knew she had never been a glutton for punishment. She’d already thrown herself at this guy once tonight and ended up with a “you’re welcome,” the equivalence of a pat on the head. So why was she doing it again? Why couldn’t she bear to let him go?

  When she felt Rick’s hand slide forward in hers, she knew why.

  Like her life flashing before her eyes, she saw him sitting behind his desk at the newspaper, one hand running through his rumpled hair, wearing her favorite tweed jacket. She saw him opening a bag of Cheetos with his teeth and protecting her from a could-be-killer squirrel. She saw the light in his eyes when he told her that she should give a speech in front of the whole town. She saw him hovering above her as they’d wrestled in the snow, and she remembered how she’d felt when he’d kissed her earlier tonight.

  And then she knew. It wasn’t just pure, good old-fashioned physical attraction anymore. It was the way he helped her by not helping her and letting her make decisions, the way he trusted her to take care of them both. The way he made her laugh. The way she felt good just being near him. The way he was the best man she had ever known.

  But she wasn’t the one he wanted. Hadn’t he already made that clear tonight?

  The fact that she couldn’t have him, really have him, made her want to burst into tears. Perhaps sensing the oncoming breakdown, Rick leaned in and placed his lips against her forehead. Her entire body tingled with excitement, until she realized that a peck on the forehead was basically the same as a pat on the head. And she’d already had one of those tonight.

  She was about to pull away and save herself from any further mortification when Rick’s hands moved to the sides of her neck. She closed her eyes when he kissed her once more on the forehead and then once between her eyes. She was just about to exhale in pure bliss when his arms were suddenly around her, under her, scooping her up.

  She gasped quietly as she was pulled onto his lap.

  “You’re cold,” Rick whispered, tugging the blanket so it covered both of their shoulders.

  “No, I’m not,” she said.

  Rick took a hold of one of her hands and moved it up to his own mouth, kissing the back of it just as she had. “You’re freezing,” he said. “The fire is out.” He gestured toward the hearth. It was only red embers now.

  Her outer extremities might have been cold, but Mac felt a hot blaze shoot through her body when Rick wrapped his arms all the way around her, drawing her knees into her chest so his strong arms were hugging practically her entire body.

  She trembled involuntarily.

  “See,” he whispered, and there was a sexy tone in his voice that curled her toes. She shivered again when she felt his warm breath on her skin. “You are cold.”

  She pulled her cheek off his chest and looked at him. “I’m…not…” was all she could manage to say. “I’m…just…I’m…”

  “You’re beautiful,” Rick finished.

  That bubbly feeling that had been percolating under her skin all day was now a full-on wildfire. She almost couldn’t breathe. Rick leaned in and touched his forehead to hers. When she felt his arms begin to release their hold around her, she couldn’t believe it. He was about to leave her again. But then he reached up, took her face between his hands and pulled her in.

  The soft touch of his lips against hers sent that wildfire screaming through her body. She leaned into him, wanting the kiss to last forever, especially if this would be the last one. So far, Rick had been a one-kiss kind of guy. Mac knew this time she would not be able to handle that.

  When Rick’s hands slid down her arms, landed on her hips, and rotated her body around so it was facing him, Mac hoped this was not the end.

  He kissed her again, a long, deep kiss that she felt all the way to her spine, curling her backbone like a ribbon. She reached out and slid her hands under the blanket onto his shoulders. She felt his body react to the touch of skin on skin.

  His hand was at the back of her head now as he dipped her back, pressing himself to her. As he broke the kiss, they gasped in unison with such force that Mac had to stifle the inappropriate desire to giggle. When she heard Rick’s soft chuckle, she opened her eyes to find him grinning like a sexy angel.

  “Oxygen…” she panted, still hanging onto him, “…is good.”

  Rick lifted a lightning-fast grin, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her so close that she audibly lost her breath again. “Who needs oxygen?” he whispered.

  She didn’t even have time to smile before his lips crashed into hers. With her arms clasped around his neck, she changed her position on his lap so she was on her knees, her legs straddling him. His palms pressed into her back. Her head swam when she was suddenly scooped up again, her back flat on the couch. For a brief moment, she pictured them like this in the snow, when every limb of her body had been freezing cold. She felt nothing but warmth now as Rick paused above her, looking her in the eyes.

  She felt wonderfully exposed under his gaze, as if he was seeing deep into her soul to all that she was, all that she had hidden. She felt not a bit of the self-consciousness that she would feel with anyone else looking at her this way. She didn’t want to hide a thing from Rick. She wanted to open herself up completely like she never had before. She wanted to sit up and tell him everything.

  Then he was at her neck, and she forgot all about talking. His hot mouth moved from her ear to the tender notch where her neck and shoulder met. Mac shivered in delight and held the back of his head.

&n
bsp; When she tried to roll so she could get her leg wrapped around him, they started to slide.

  Neither of them fought the pull of gravity as they slid to the floor in a heap.

  With Rick’s arms still securely around her, Mac landed comfortably on his chest. They paused to laugh together for a moment, locking eyes again, sharing that wonderful openness one more time.

  Mac’s heart pounded. Like a magnet, she lowered her mouth to the side of his neck.

  Rick exhaled softly, his fingers tangled in her hair.

  When he rolled her over, weighing her down, she completely lost herself.

  “Mac,” he whispered over her mouth, his breath was hot and sweet and intoxicating. “Should we go—”

  “Yeah.”

  “To my—”

  “Yes.”

  After just one look and the hint of a fiendish grin, Rick rose to one knee and scooped her up. She gave a little gasp, blurry with passion and need and something else that she couldn’t name. He kissed her again, the back of her head cradled inside the crook of his elbow. The next thing she knew, he was climbing the stairs, their mouths still sealed together.

  Relief like she’d never known washed over her as her head hit the pillow. When he took her hands, intertwining their fingers above her head, her body arched to meet him. He greeted her with another spine-bending kiss. Her body curved around his, fitting perfectly.

  As he swept her hair back and moved to her neck, Mac opened her eyes, gripped Rick’s strong shoulders, and looked up. She could see the top tip of those tall windows, the ones she had admired earlier. Her mind flew back to when she’d imagined waking up in this very bed to that view…waking up with Rick at her side. She grabbed him tighter, sliding her hands lower down his smooth body, hardly believing that this was actually going to happen, just like she’d imagined.

  Why had it taken her so long?

  Because she was an idiot. A blind idiot for not seeing Rick for who he really was. Everything that had been holding her back all this time came rushing back. His father, his family, and background didn’t matter—she knew his heart now, and how kind and generous and real he was. The way she used to think how completely different they were because of his money seemed ridiculous now. Rick was a hard worker—she knew this about him, too. He wore jeans and no shoes and drove a broken-down truck that he loved. And her own cautious heart that she swore she would never open up again—was all his. She wanted to be inside him, all around him, to be absorbed into his soul.