by Cate Masters
To appear busy, he poked at the logs in the fireplace. The flames leapt higher, and he crouched to stare into the fire. He should be used to it by now—everyone else had a family to share the holidays with. Everyone except him. And Joss. His awareness of her heightened. Each time he tried to dredge up a memory of Karen, the vivid image of Joss in the kitchen blotted it out. He shouldn’t sit here. He should go home, but if he did, Joss would be left to clean up by herself.
As if in a dream, he moved to the kitchen doorway. “Need any help?”
Dishes and food warmers crowded the counters. She flashed a humorless smile. “No, I’m fine.”
Then why didn’t she sound fine? She sounded upset. He moved closer, needing to do something, anything, to soothe whatever pained her.
She fumbled containers into the fridge. “Why don’t you go relax? You’re welcome to put on a CD, maybe sit by the fire. Before you go home.”
He didn’t want to do any of those things. He stood dangerously close, fighting the urge to touch her hair, run his hands down her back.
With wide eyes, she averted her gaze, her body tense as she moved to the sink, picked up the towel and dried a glass. “It’s supposed to dip into the twenties tonight, so if you need to get going now, then—”
He slipped the towel from her hand. “I live three minutes away.”
“Oh. Right.” She turned toward him, opening to him. To the possibility of him. “The snow…”
Only inches away, the heat from her body cleaned the slate of his mind. He operated on impulse. On need.
In a breathless rush, she asked, “Did you enjoy your meal?”
“Mm hmm.” Every course of the meal brought his taste buds to life as never before. He traced her collar bone with one finger.
“Eric…” She inclined her head toward his hand.
The motion, slight as it was, spurred his pulse faster. At hearing her murmur his name, his heart revved in his chest like a race car engine ready to explode at the starting line. “Don’t send me away. Please.” He touched his lips to her forehead, then her nose.
Her breath smelled of coffee and cranberries, and a hint of lavender. “You’re making it difficult to…”
His mouth hovered near hers, just out of reach. “Don’t say no,” he whispered.
The honey gold of her hair caught the light, and she appeared illuminated from within. Parting her lips enticingly, she searched his face.
It wasn’t a no. It was enough of a maybe that he closed the space between them. He shuddered with tantalizing release as her soft lips and sweet-tasting tongue moved against his. She pressed against him, driving him wild. Years of pent-up need rushed through him, and he crushed her to him, his hands in her hair, then along her waist and thigh, wanting to know every curve, every inch of skin.
At a banging on the door, she jerked away, breathless.
“Mrs. Gibson?” A man stood outside.
Whoever it was, Eric hated him for interrupting.
Extracting herself from his embrace, she smoothed her hair and opened the door. “Yes?”
A strange kind of happiness filled Eric when her voice shook.
The man shifted on the step. “I’m here to pick up the food.”
“The food?” She held a hand to her head.
“Yes. For Second Harvest.”
“In the snow?” She leaned out the door in amazement. “Oh, it’s stopped.”
He frowned. “Flurries never bothered me. Now, the food?”
Flurries? Eric peered out the window. The snow had stopped as mysteriously as it had begun.
“Yes. Sorry, I’ll get them for you.” Joss rushed to the counter, where the half-full aluminum containers sat. “Give me one minute.”
“It’s not ready?” the man whined.
“I’m sorry, dinner ran late and…” Her breath strangled. “Oh, never mind.” She whirled into action.
“I’ll help.” Eric scraped the stuffing into the tin. He maneuvered around her, anticipating her needs by handing her bowls, taking away empty ones. Together, they topped the tin containers with a foil lid and stacked them in a box.
The man grumbled a thank you and left.
With a sigh, she leaned against the counter. “Next year, I’ll know to be ready for him.”
“I hope he doesn’t serve it to the homeless with the same scowl.” He wanted to move closer, back into her arms, but wasn’t sure how to span the distance. “It’s generous of you to donate leftovers.”
Her eyes bright, she sounded breathless. “We’d have been eating turkey sandwiches for weeks otherwise.”
“It’s very nice.” Already said that. Hell.
She turned. “I should finish cleaning up.”
He caught her arm and twirled her, pinning her against him. “Can’t it wait?” He wasn’t sure he could. Once he’d tasted her, his appetite grew ravenous. Maybe he’d never get enough of her. He had to find out.
* * * *
Joss’s arguments fell away. He radiated heat and need, crackling along his skin like an electric storm that sent vibrations to her core.
“Joss.”
His low voice rumbled over her like thunder. The whisper burned along her nerve endings like tequila, at once loosening her inhibitions and tightening her insides. She ran her hand up his neck and into his hair. A dangerous motion, possibly self-destructive, like throwing herself into the fires of Hell. At the moment, she wanted to risk the burn of his fire. The intensity shone in his eyes. Penetrated her skin wherever he touched. Rather than the scorching she expected, his warmth proved surprisingly pleasant, and she wanted to burrow deeper.
She clung with the desperation of one drowning. She gave herself over to the cresting wave crashing over her head. Risky as it was—anyone could have walked downstairs, come through the back door, or seen them through the window—she didn’t protest when he reached beneath her skirt and scooped her up to the counter. In clumsy haste, she unzipped his trousers and wrapped her legs tightly around his thighs, urging his upward thrusts from his tiptoe stance. His urgent whispers, constant murmurs of her name, brought her to a quick climax. Soon after, he clutched her tighter yet, and his body shuddered against hers. Through his dampened shirt, his heart pounded against her chest.
His breaths deepened and slowed. “Are you all right?”
The question—his concern—surprised her. Touched her. “Yes.”
With a shy smile, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “It was uh, quicker than I would have liked.”
“For me too.”
“We could go to your room.” He eased away to meet her gaze, his intensity concentrated on her. “I’ll try to make it last longer next time.”
Her stomach clenched. Next time. There couldn’t be a next time. There shouldn’t have been a first time. “No, I can’t.” What if they found out? Her head still reeled from trying to absorb all the family history. She couldn’t chance becoming involved with anyone right now.
His hand stilled at her waist, and he drew further back. “Right. You’re probably exhausted.”
“Yes,” she lied. She wouldn’t sleep a wink.
“I could help you finish up.”
Sending him away would be easier if only he would stop acting so nice. One hint at all the strange goings on in her life, and he’d disappear in a hurry. “It’s better if I do it myself.” Less dangerous for him should an Underworld spy lurk outside. And the sooner he left, the less chance her family might spot him too.
When she heaved a strangled breath, his smile faded.
Easing away, he said, “Right, I’ll go.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Much as she wanted him to stay, he was safer to leave. With his vibes still so unsettled and chaotic, she doubted he could handle much more. Yet, anyway. Better to take it slow.
He kissed her, brief, warm, and all-enveloping. “I’ll see you.”
Unable to bring herself to repeat th
e words, she nodded. “Good night.” She fought the urge to call him back when he hesitated at the back door.
Time. She needed time to think. It had happened so quickly, sweeping away her reason. Her sanity, apparently.
With his hands on her skin still vivid in her mind, she went to bed.
* * * *
Driving the short distance to his place, Eric couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t planned to make love to Joss. It simply had happened, as naturally as if they’d done it thousands of times before.
In his imagination, they had. He’d never expected to be so lucky as to experience it for real.
Pulling his truck to a stop outside the door, he sat for a moment. Heat washed over him, reliving her touch. He’d never dreamed it would be so amazing. Desire so intense, it burned away any thought except to have her, every bit of her. He couldn’t hold her close enough, get deep enough inside her.
So why had she pushed him away?
Stepping out of the truck, he stood rooted, staring at the inn. He should go back to her, right now. Clear up whatever misunderstanding had upset her.
Turning to the truck door, he ducked when something swooped near his head. “What the—” Each time he attempted to get back in his truck, black creatures flitted close. He waved to drive them off. More and more surged out at him.
“Get away.” He swung harder. Glancing up, ice filled his veins. Their tiny faces resembled Sheree’s. The same upturned nose, the same red lips, the same beady eyes.
Their screeches echoed through the darkness, oddly sounding like laughter. The creatures swarmed, pressing him toward his back door. Tugging his jacket over his head, he crouched and sprinted inside. Wings beat at the glass after the door closed behind him.
“Get lost!” His yell had zero effect. The creatures flew in a chaotic mass, flitting crazily. The black mass of bodies blocked his view of the inn. Not until he moved away from the door did they disband into the night.
Try as he might to conjure the warmth of Joss’s embrace, her beautiful face, the only one who came to mind was Sheree. Frustrated, he went to bed. Each fleeting thought of Joss only brought an angry screech at the window.
Chapter 6
Footsteps on the stairs, and Taz’s subsequent whining at the door, convinced Joss to leave her bed. Each day, she awoke and rose at the same time, drowsiness leaving her almost as fast as her eyes opened. Normally, she wouldn’t spend the night reliving a man’s touch, his skin moving along hers, moving inside her. Her body heat rose at the memory, causing her to push away the blanket. After it faded, cold crept back, and she burrowed into the covers again. More alarming was the fact it had actually happened. He’d given her no warning, no indication he’d thought of her romantically, but when he came into the kitchen, she knew exactly what he had in mind. Only one thing.
How long had he considered it? Not long, she guessed. An inkling, maybe, when he bought the flowers. Beneath the intense desire rising in waves like heat on a summer blacktop and propelling him toward her, she caught a vibe of something else—surprise. As much as her own.
So why did it happen? And why had she let it? Especially after what Aunt Lydia and Gram had revealed about her father? And John? A shiver coursed over her.
Taz sniffed at the door and waited with a look of expectation.
“Be right there, sweetie.” After throwing on jeans and a sweater, she shuffled out. No one in the front or dining rooms, so she continued on to the kitchen.
Maybe Kyle had come home after all. Not even a phone call to let her know he wouldn’t make it. Of the evening’s surprises, her son’s absence should have come as the least unforeseen, yet it cut deep. She’d nearly forgotten till now. How embarrassing.
Gram sat at the kitchen island cradling a mug with the string of the tea bag hanging over the side. “Good morning dear. Did you sleep well?” The twinkle in her eye indicated she already knew Joss’s night had been a restless one. Hopefully, she didn’t suspect the details.
“Yes, how about you? Were you comfortable?”
“Absolutely. The mattress is perfect, not too firm nor too soft.”
“Wonderful.” She hoped her grandmother wasn’t embellishing to boost her spirits. “I better start the coffee. The others should be up soon.”
“The inn’s progressing nicely. I’m so glad to see you moving on with your life, dear. I worried about you.”
“Grieving is a process. It may have taken longer for me, but there’s no set standard for how long we mourn.” She hated to compare herself to Gram, who’d functioned normally within a year of burying Grandpa. Outwardly, at least.
“Oh, I know. I knew you’d recover fully when you were ready.”
“I wish you’d put more faith in me.” Her grandmother instilled a strong ethic in Joss since she was a girl to triumph over any challenge.
“It wasn’t a question of having faith in you, dear.”
The click of heels preceded Lydia’s entrance. “What wasn’t a question of faith?”
Joss sighed. Now she was outnumbered.
“Morning, you beautiful ladies.” Annie’s cheer suffused the awkwardness. “No Black Friday shopping today?”
Joss probably should have. She was awake early enough, but Black Friday shopping never appealed to her. Consumerism embodied in mass hysteria, killing family traditions.
“No. I’d hoped to hear from Kyle, but…” She shrugged.
Annie’s mouth dropped open. “No word? Did you try his cell?”
“Yes, I left a few voicemails. He’ll call when he wants, I suppose.”
Lydia raised a penciled brow. Her lips barely moved as she murmured, “He’s a bit too much like his father.”
Joss held back an argument. She’d never revealed her family quirks to her son.
Annie bustled into action gathering breakfast ingredients. “Thanksgiving was a wonderful success, don’t you think?”
Joss held her coffee beneath her chin to absorb the warmth of the steam. Nothing quite so steamy as last night. “Oh, yes.” If Annie only knew. “How’s Tammy?”
“Fine. She must’ve sampled too many appetizers, and shouldn’t have followed up with three helpings of dinner.” Annie wrinkled her nose. “How strange about the snow, huh? The way it came down last night, I would have bet a hundred dollars we’d have inches on the ground. Plowable snow. And today, nothing. Like it never happened.”
“Yes, very strange.” Many forces conspired, it seemed, to get her alone with Eric. What—or who—she wondered, glancing at Gram and Lydia. Moot questions. She’d learned long ago not to inquire about such things.
Tilting her head, Annie’s piercing gaze broke Joss’s fog.
“You’re not very talkative today,” Annie said. “I thought you’d be as excited about yesterday as me.”
“I am excited.” She sure was last night. “I’m burnt out, I guess. Not used to the hubbub yet, after three years alone.” Lying didn’t come easily to her, and she was sure Annie read her like a bad book.
Gram merely smiled. Oh, no, had she heard the commotion?
Of course not. Her grandmother didn’t need to hear. She simply knew. She always knew. In cahoots as usual, the tilt of Lydia’s head, the wicked curve of her lips, alerted Joss to the fact both understood, somehow, what had happened.
Annie’s forehead creased in concern. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?” Emptying pancake ingredients into the mixing bowl, Annie prattled on. “Owning a business where you come in contact with so many people can be a problem. They bring their germs here and sometimes leave them behind to share with you.”
“I’m fine. I think I hear some guests. Let me go see if they need anything. I warned them last night how addicting your pancakes are.” Anything to get away from the scrutiny of Gram and Lydia.
A mischievous smile lit Annie’s face. “Let’s hope they’re enticing enough people will come back for them.”
“Yes.�
� Some addictions, she hoped, weren’t contagious.
No more innuendo crept into the conversation. After finishing breakfast, Joss tried Kyle’s cell again. His sleepy voice muttered something like, “Hello?” in an agitated tone.
Relief washed over her. “Kyle. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine.”
Anger tightened her nerves. “Why didn’t you call me?”
He groaned. “Sorry Mom. We hit this freak snowstorm on the way home, so crashed at a friend’s. Weird, because we usually get snow at State College before here. Then I couldn’t find my cell until it rang this morning.”
Right, she wouldn’t want them driving in snow. “I was worried.”
“I wish I could stop over. My ride’s leaving today. I’m on his schedule.”
Stop over? She wanted to hug him, tell him he’d always have a home with her, even though he’d never stayed at the inn. Their old house was less than twenty minutes away. Maybe she shouldn’t have sold it. But then she wouldn’t have moved on with her life, either.
“I was hoping to see you.” She sighed. “I’m glad nothing’s wrong. You’ll come for Christmas, though, won’t you?”
“Sure.” His voice softened. “Gotta go. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Saying it aloud released the twisting tangles in her heart. No need to worry.
The inn guests left, and she said goodbye to Lydia and Gram. Despite having Charlie and Annie for company, the house was too big and empty.
* * * *
For days, she tried not to think of Eric. And failed. Thoughts of him flew at her vividly, and surprised her at every turn.
To occupy herself, she dug out the Christmas decorations. Too few to fill the inn, unfortunately. Joss would have to add to the collection next year. The cost of upcoming renovations weighed heavily in the budget, and the work she planned for spring would figure greater than the small amount they’d already accomplished. She’d splurge on a huge tree for the front window.
