“Are you going to start them up again, the charters?” he forced himself to say before he said something else he might regret.
“I don’t have a license. James did all that. I’ve thought about selling the launch, but I think I’d be better off to simply hire someone to take charters for the lodge again. I know it would increase our guest traffic. It’s on the list of things to do—the very long list.” She sighed. “Well, dinner’s ready. Are you coming inside?”
Sam wished he could hold on to the moment here a little longer, but he knew the temperature would drop rapidly once the sun was gone. “Sure.”
Erin took control of the stroller and wheeled Riley back toward the house. Sam followed slowly in their wake.
* * *
She was just doing her rounds, checking the downstairs of the house to ensure that everything was all locked and secure for the night, when she noticed the library light was still on. Erin popped her head around the door and smiled at Sam, who was seated in a deep leather button-back chair by the fireside, a book open in his lap, but his attention fixed on the flames cavorting merrily over the logs in the fireplace. She’d lit the fire after they’d finished their meal as a sudden chill had invaded the air. The flames’ cheerful brightness was a strong contrast to the solemn set of his face.
“Everything okay?” she asked. “I’m about to turn in, but can I get you anything before I go?”
“Sit with me for a while, Erin. It’s still early.”
Erin was torn. Despite his apology, she still felt the caustic sting of his curtness earlier today. It made her wary. Besides, she had enough on her plate right now and certainly didn’t want to make things even more complicated by falling in love or anything silly like that.
Falling in love? What on earth was she thinking? She was still newly widowed. Granted, her marriage had been strained for some years before James had died, the love wrung out of it rather than strengthened by their attempts to have a family, but she still owed something to James’s memory. He hadn’t been the perfect husband she’d fantasized about when she’d planned her future as a teenager, but he’d still given her so much. All she’d ever wanted was a real home and a family, and thanks to James she had a beautiful house and a perfect son. She’d always be grateful to him for both. Sam had given her nothing but heated surges of attraction that reminded her how long it had been since she’d really felt like a beautiful, desirable woman....
She gave herself a mental shake. No, she couldn’t justify her crazy reaction to a handsome man. Especially one she’d known little more than a few days. She was better than that. Stronger than that.
If only to prove to herself that she could overcome this…this ridiculous hormonal allure, she found herself seated opposite Sam.
“Good book?” she asked in the silence that suddenly opened between them.
He flicked a look at the tome on his lap, almost appearing surprised to find it there. He laughed, the sound making her gut clench. He didn’t laugh nearly enough and the sound of it warmed her to her core.
“To be honest I couldn’t tell you if it’s good or not. I grabbed it off the shelf and opened it and that was about all.”
Erin laughed with him. It felt good to be relaxed in his company.
“Not a huge amount of popular fiction in here,” Erin commented, letting her eyes slide over the many hardback and leather-bound covers. “How’s your own book coming along?”
“Slowly. It’s more of a manual, really. My firm designs and develops software.”
“Sounds exciting,” she said drily.
“It’s definitely not, which is why I’m in here rather than back upstairs where I should be working.” He sighed deeply. “I would normally have done this at home, but there are too many reminders.”
“Your wife?”
“Yeah, Laura.”
“Pretty name.”
“Pretty woman. She would’ve given anything to be a mother, like you.” He raised a hand and rubbed his eyes. “I blame myself for her death. It’s not something I find easy to live with.”
Erin stiffened in her chair, her breath frozen in her chest. “Surely you’re not respons—”
“I was driving the car when we were broadsided—it was my fault. I ran a red light because we were late for an appointment. No, I was late, so I tried to make up time.” His voice was bitter and angry.
Erin didn’t know what to say in the silence that stretched out between them. What could anyone say when the facts were stated so baldly? She jumped as a log of wood suddenly snapped, sending a shoot of sparks up the chimney.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, carefully placing his book on a side table and getting up to stand by the fire. “I shouldn’t be off-loading to you.”
“It’s okay,” Erin said.
“No, it’s not. I have tried to deal with it, to come to terms with what I did, the choices I made that day. I still can’t believe I was so stupid, so bloody reckless and arrogant.” His hands balled into fists at his sides.
“Are you succeeding in dealing with it?” she asked softly.
She could see the muscles in Sam’s jaw clench tight for a moment before he spoke.
“Most of the time. She just deserved so much more, y’know? I put my business first for most of our marriage. I certainly did so that day. If I’d just delegated one small thing, and left the office on time, she’d still be alive today.”
Erin rose to stand beside him, placing one hand on his forearm. Beneath her touch she felt his muscles were tense—his rage against himself a palpable thing.
“You can’t say that. Anything else could have delayed you that day. Any number of things could have come up.”
Sam gave her a twisted smile. “You’re a fatalist then?”
She shook her head. “I just think that some things simply happen. Questioning them after the event is futile. We can’t turn back time, no matter how much we want to.”
“And the future? Do you think we can change what’s going to happen there?”
There was a note of desperation in his voice that pulled at her every instinct to comfort, to offer solace from whatever demons rode him.
“I don’t know,” she said after a small hesitation. “I’d like to think we learn from our mistakes, something at least.”
“Yeah,” he said brokenly. “Me, too.”
He still sounded so lost and unhappy, as if, even though he’d said the words, he didn’t really believe they were true. Erin didn’t stop to think. She lifted her face to his, her lips slightly parted, and kissed him.
His body jerked, as if he’d received an electric shock, but almost instantly she felt him begin to relax. He angled his head slightly, the better to return her kiss, she realized, and his hands slid around her waist to her lower back, pulling her into him. She went willingly, not allowing herself to think about how wrong this was. All she could think about was how right he felt and, when he opened his mouth to deepen their kiss, how right he tasted.
Her body, so long dormant—attuned only to her most basic needs of survival and to those of her infant son—began a slow burn. Her hands slid up Sam’s arms, feeling the muscles that were so taut with anger a moment ago, loosen and soften under her touch.
When he pulled her hard against him, she felt a jolt of pure sexual hunger spear through her, and she knew he felt the same way. The hardened ridge of his arousal pressed against her mound and she let her instincts override the last bastion of good sense as sh
e flexed against him.
Her entire body roared to life with need for him, for his touch, for the heavy male weight of him. When he shoved his hands under her T-shirt, she quivered with delight as his long fingers stroked her skin. She arched her back, pressing her hips against him once more. Sam’s lips left her mouth, tracing a new path along her jaw and the cord of her neck. She shivered again as she felt the slightly rough rasp of his unshaven cheeks on her skin, and welcomed the feel of it.
He made her feel vital, female, desirable. When his lips traveled back up her throat and recaptured her mouth she moaned, parting her lips to give him free access to the soft, moist depths. His tongue gently swept her lips before probing deeper.
And then, suddenly, awfully, it was all over. Sam’s hands pulled hers from behind his neck and dragged them down. His breathing labored in his chest, his eyes glittered like rain-washed slate. He let her go and took a step away. She wanted to protest, to reach for him again. To relive what they’d just shared, but it was all she could do to stand on her own two feet without collapsing.
“We shouldn’t—” he started.
“No! Don’t! Don’t say we shouldn’t have done that,” she said as firmly as she could. Summoning every last ounce of strength she possessed, she smiled at him and said, “It was right, for us, at the time. Let’s leave it there, shall we?”
She couldn’t bear to hear his denial. To have him reduce what they’d just shared to a mistake. She turned and forced her legs to move, to take her away from him and from the temptation he offered.
So much for proving herself better than her hormones.
Six
Erin was a jangle of nerves by the time she reached her rooms. She paced the floor of her living room, back and forth, almost wearing a hole in the carpet before she made herself sit down and take stock of what had happened.
She’d never been so forward before in her life and her behavior both shocked and thrilled her. Even thinking about it now, she didn’t regret for a minute what she’d done. But did Sam?
She hadn’t wanted to hear him say they shouldn’t have done what they did, but the words still echoed silently in her head. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe she had taken advantage of him, his grief. Now there was a turn around from the typical, she thought. Wasn’t it supposed to be men who took advantage in that way?
She shook her head at herself. She was so wound up now she’d never get any rest, at least not unless she found some way to rid herself of the tension that held her in its grip. Maybe a deep, relaxing soak would help. Erin drove herself to her feet. She’d check on Riley and then draw herself a bath. She was almost sorry to see he was still sound asleep in his crib—his little fists flung wide on either side of his head. Her heart clamped hard on the surge of love that swelled within her. She loved him so very much. Would lay down her life for him, without question.
How could any mother not feel the same way about their child, she wondered. This fierce protective instinct was as natural to her as breathing. Not for the first time, Erin wondered why her own mother had not been prepared to love and protect Erin the way Erin was prepared to love and protect Riley. The old familiar pain of rejection plucked at her, tearing away her hard-won confidence and belief in herself.
Had she really been so very unlovable that her own mother had screamed at her, over and over, that she’d wished Erin had never been born? Erin bit hard on her lip to stop the sharp cry that built in her throat. She closed her eyes and dragged an uneven breath into her tortured chest.
Even her own husband hadn’t loved her as she’d yearned to be loved. They’d slid into marriage because it was convenient, not out of any burning passion for each other. Was that it? Had she craved the wildness of passion? The sheer indulgence of giving in to want and need, and to hell with the consequences? Was that why she’d taken the opportunity to kiss Sam Thornton tonight? A man she barely knew? A paying guest under her roof?
From the moment she’d first seen him she’d been aware of a visceral consciousness of him on every level. He made her feel alive again. It was an intoxicating sensation, frightening and exhilarating at the same time. She was attracted to him on so many levels she almost felt dizzy with it. Kissing him had been crazy—wild. And she wanted to do it again. Kiss, and everything that came next. Did that make her a bad person? She had no answers.
Erin let herself out of Riley’s room before her uneasy presence disturbed his sleep and went through to her bathroom. She twisted the old faucets open over the deep tub and let the water run; a cloud of steam soon filled the air. Somewhere in the vanity unit she had some relaxing bath crystals. They’d been a farewell gift from a guest a few years ago and she’d shoved them in there, meaning to use them one day. Well, if she ever needed relaxing, now was the time.
She shoved aside some old bathroom supplies. She really needed to clean out in here one of these days. Another job to add to the bottom of her ever-increasing list of things to do, she thought with a sigh.
A black case fell with a clatter to the shelf below, knocking over a collection of old bottles of lotion and sunscreen. Erin lifted the case, ready to shove it back where it came from, but her hand stilled as she touched it.
James’s toiletries bag. The one she’d brought home from the hospital the night he’d passed away. What on earth had she been thinking, putting it back in here? She pulled the small black leather case out of the cupboard and yanked the zipper open, exposing the contents. Her heart almost shuddered to a halt in her chest. A toothbrush. More important, James’s toothbrush. Finally, she had something with his DNA. A way of proving, once and for all, that he, and not some stranger, was Riley’s father.
Erin stood, put the case on top of the vanity and quickly turned off the taps before going into the kitchen to find a zip-seal plastic bag to hold the toothbrush. When that courier pack arrived tomorrow she wanted to be sure she could send it straight back out again. Then all her immediate worries would be solved.
* * *
The next morning, as Sam made his way downstairs to the kitchen, he felt like a bear with a sore head. Last night had been madness. A delicious madness that had left him feeling frustrated and torn and racked with guilt. Kissing Erin Connell had been yet another betrayal to rack up on his list of failures to his dead wife. And yet, if it had been so wrong, why had Erin felt so very right in his arms? Why had the taste of her been so enthralling, so addictive? Why had he wanted more?
Pushing her away from him had been one of the hardest things he’d had to do in over a year. He’d wanted her with a need that went so deep he wondered how he’d be able to continue to stay here and still keep his distance. Yet the prospect of leaving was even more abhorrent to him.
Her parting words rang in his mind, over and over. “It was right, for us, at the time.” At the time. And what about the next time? And the time after that? Would he be capable of saying no? Did he even want to? Sam resolutely pushed the unanswered questions to the back of his mind, but they kept shoving right back to the fore.
It was time to be honest. He wanted Erin Connell. Wanted her in the way a man wants a woman. The first question was, did she want him just as much? If her response to him was any indicator she certainly did. But even more important, could he bear to live with himself if he followed up on the mixed feelings that clouded his every waking thought?
When he got to the kitchen he hesitated in the doorway. The room was empty, the benches cleared. A note sat on the worn kitchen table.
Good morning, Sam, I set your breakfast choices out in the main dining room. –Erin.
The main dining room? The giant room that, although very tastefully appointed, was best suited to a gathering of ten to twenty people? She was avoiding him, obviously. Maybe their kiss had rattled her more than she’d wanted to admit to his face. He smiled grimly. Well, he’d see about that. Sam limped to the dining room, where chafing dishes were set up on the old-fashioned sideboard. He heaped a plate with scrambled eggs, hash browns and strips of bacon, poured himself a generous mug full of steaming fresh coffee, and just as determinedly limped back to what he’d begun to think of as his seat at the kitchen table.
He was just finishing his coffee when Erin came through from her private rooms, sealing a large courier pack she was carrying. She started when she saw him at the table, almost dropping the package.
“Oh, you surprised me,” she said, tightening her grip on the packet and turning the address to face her. “Is there a problem in the dining room?”
Sam shook his head. “Not at all. I just prefer to eat here.” He hesitated and gave her a steady look. “Unless you have any objections, that is?”
“No,” she said cautiously. “I don’t mind. I just thought you’d prefer a bit of distance, after…”
He caught her hand and held it in his own. Her fingers were long and delicate, her nails short and practical, but he remembered full well how that hand had felt pressed against him, how those nails had bitten through the fine cotton of his shirt and into his skin, the sensations her touch had sent coursing through his body.
“After our kiss?” he said gently. “Don’t worry. You were right about it being what was right for us, right then. I think we’ve both been through the wringer and we both deserve a bit of comfort. Thank you.”
He let her hand go and saw the way she curled her fingers tight before flicking them out loosely again. Did her skin tingle the same way his did? Had a shot of something intense and instinctive rocketed through her as it had him? Even now he was semi-aroused just looking at her. Her breathing was rapid, her chest rising and falling in a way that was almost mesmerizing. Her soft full lips fell open, as if she was on the verge of saying something but had forgotten already what it was she wanted to say.
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