“That was a joke.” He shook his head and brought her suitcase to the side of a twin bed. Another one, identical to the other from the pine frame to the patterned wool blankets, stood closer to the window. The same lacquered logs throughout the house climbed the steeply pitched walls. “The bathroom is right through the door. It’s Jack-and-Jill style with the office, but I have my own downstairs so it’s all yours. Do you want to turn in, or change into something warmer and come downstairs for a glass of wine?”
Wine sounded perfect, but she wasn’t sure if a glass of wine was all he had in mind. And with the images of him devouring her common sense, she’d be game for more. There had always been something about the way he looked at her, something more than friendship. At least she’d thought him a friend until he showed where his loyalties lay. Funny how everyone was loyal to Chris, and he lacked loyalty completely.
Oh, she needed a drink, needed to erase her near miss of a wedding day again. But not with Scott. She cleared her throat and tried to clean out her cluttered mind. “I’m so tired I’ll be asleep in minutes.”
He nodded. “Sleep well, Marissa. I’m downstairs if you need anything.”
She watched him go and sighed in relief. Tension crackled in the air whenever they got close, an awareness that she never knew what to do with. She prided herself on being in control, but Scott Zimmermann had always caught her off guard with his knowing green eyes and naughty smile. They would spend hours talking through classes they took, news events, and even politics without the need to turn it into a contest or debate. He had an ability to look at things for perspectives she didn’t see, had helped her broaden her view of the world. He was the only person who’d ever told her she was smarter than them, and meant it as a compliment.
Something besides common interests had drawn her to him, something she hadn’t been in a place to examine or explore. Even spontaneous celebratory hugs during basketball games had felt different with him than with anyone else. Too often she’d woken up hot and sweaty from a dream where Scott had tossed her inhibitions aside and taken her places she’d never go. Guilt had clawed at her every time because she’d been engaged to Chris since she was seventeen.
And then at twenty-one, Chris had left her at the altar, a church full of friends and family, with the heartbreaking admission that she’d never been enough to satisfy him. She avoided thinking about that day, but the wedding and being here with Scott brought it all back. He’d been there, watched her world crumble. The entire team had known the truth about Chris’s hotel room hookups, but she’d never considered any of the other players her friend. Just Scott, who she could talk to and laugh with and trust. Or she’d thought she could until he hadn’t tried to at least warn her, never thought to lessen the blow by telling her the truth in private, instead of in a public display. He hadn’t been her friend at all, and that betrayal lingered like a scar. Always there, plain as day, no matter how much she’d wished it was different.
First thing in the morning she’d have him take her back to the lodge. With some distance, she’d be able to stop thinking about that horrible time and get back to the life she’d built. Her ordered, controlled, peaceful life.
The wind howled, a strong gust stoking the flames of the fire. Scott rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned toward the hearth. He’d been sitting on the couch, watching the snow begin to fall and the fire dance with the wind, for over an hour. Having Marissa Clarke in his cabin held more temptation than he’d ever admit to.
Attraction had always simmered between them, but there’d always been a reason not to turn up the heat. There had been moments tonight where he’d thought she might be interested in more—in the truck when she’d agreed to try and move beyond their past, when her beautiful face had lit up with wonder upon seeing the cabin, and when she’d clung to him in the dark. When the lights came on there’d been a moment when she’d looked up at him and desire sizzled between them. The slightest touch could set it off. And just like she used to, she turned away.
Back then she’d been engaged to someone else, but now they were both free. Upstairs in her room she’d looked at him and a surge of tenderness, yearning, and hunger flowed through him. But maybe what he thought he sensed from her was simply an echo of his own desperation, a longing for what never could be.
A crack sounded in the distance, followed by the electric whine of the power going out. He rose and tossed two more logs on the fire. Without central heat overnight, he’d need to prop open Marissa’s door. He stood at the hearth, his hand on the mantel, and prayed she’d be asleep when he went up.
A shuffling noise came from upstairs, followed by the whisper of her door opening. He turned as she stepped to the railing, wearing nothing but boy-short panties and a T-shirt, her features glowing in the light from the cell phone she clutched in her hand. She’d taken her hair down, deep auburn waves curling around her shoulders.
“Did I blow a fuse or something?” She stood there like a fantasy come to life. Every muscle in his body tensed. Anticipation, longing, and passion burned through him.
“The storm knocked out the power line. It happens up here. They’ll fix it tomorrow.” He shifted his stance, hopefully hiding his reaction to her sleepwear. Because, damn.
“Do you think they’ll fix it before we have to head back to the lodge?”
Not a chance. And if the snow kept up all night, getting her back to the lodge would be quite the adventure. “Why don’t you try sleeping? In the morning I’ll fire up the generator and it will be like the power never went out.”
“Why not do it now?” She rubbed at her shoulders, and yeah, she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Because it’s loud. And most people sleep when it gets dark.” And did other things he wanted to be doing with her.
“You’re not sleeping.”
She had him there. “Leave your door open when you go to bed. The fireplace can heat the whole house.”
“I can’t sleep in the dark.” Her normally round eyes narrowed with uneasiness.
“There’s a flashlight in the nightstand. Just leave it on if you need a light.”
“I don’t sleep with the light on at home, but it’s so dark here. Like the abyss, or deep space. And when the wind hits the house I think it’s going to blow it down.”
“Would you rather sleep downstairs in my room?” The idea of her in his bed rocketed his libido into the danger zone.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
It was the best damned idea he’d ever had. “Try and get some rest, Marissa. An hour ago you were so tired you were about to fall asleep.”
“I have so much adrenaline flowing through me that only a long run would burn it off. My sleep window closed. We have to be up and out of here pretty early, so I might as well wait it out.” She sighed and tapped her phone screen, refreshing her flashlight app. “What are you going to do?”
Stare at my ceiling and wonder what you’re doing. “I’m going to bed. I’ll finish my wine and build up the fire so the place stays warm. But if you want to share the fire, you’re always welcome.”
“Should we head back to the lodge before the storm gets worse?” She gripped the railing like she needed to hold it in place.
“This cabin has survived over a hundred years of storms. We’re safer here than we would be driving back to the resort. Doesn’t that mind of yours ever shut off?”
“That’s what makes me freaky smart.” The hand on her hip, the sassy shake to her head, and the teasing way she grinned down at him were classic Marissa.
“Sugar, you graduated college before you were legal to drink. You took summer classes because you wanted to, which is a sign of a truly sick person.”
She smiled wide and it hit him again just how much he’d missed her. Her sigh revved the engine of his sex drive. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
3
No way in hell was she staying upstairs alone, in the dark. Marissa gripped the railing a
s she made her way downstairs, where the fireplace gave the room a warm glow. As a kid she’d been terrified of the dark, the power and heat cut out for reasons other than a storm. She’d thought she’d moved past the fear, but out here darkness swallowed everything, so black the flashlight app on her phone didn’t stand a chance.
Coming downstairs had nothing to do with Scott, or the firelight licking the honed muscles of his bare chest. Or how her tummy did a little shimmy when he looked at her. Nothing to do with the post-wedding loneliness people blamed for unintended hookups. This was practicality, plain and simple.
“Are you coming down here for wine or . . .”
“Sure. A glass or two might help me relax and then we can go to bed.” The blush stung her neck as soon as she realized what she’d said. Again. “Go to sleep, separately.”
He tried to hide his laugh as he poured her a glass, then picked up his own. Her heart squeezed. He’d been waiting for her. He handed her the glass, their fingers brushing and sending enough electricity through her to light up the whole damned house.
He clinked their glasses together. “To old friends.”
“And new beginnings.” She sipped the warm red, letting the rich berry flavor play on her tongue. Few things in life were better than a lush Oregon pinot. “This is delicious.”
“Why do you sound surprised?” He sat on one of the couches, leaving plenty of room for her to join him. But when it came down to it, she chose the next couch over. Overthinking had her going two steps forward and one step back. Plenty of guys called her a tease for it, but it wasn’t deliberate, just her brain working overtime to keep her from getting hurt or embarrassing herself.
“I thought most guys like you drank beer.”
“Guys like me?” He leaned back and crossed one pajama-clad leg over his knee.
“You know, rugged, athletic. Dudes.” She took another sip and wondered if downing the glass would keep her from putting her foot in her mouth again.
“Dude.” He dragged the word out and then shot her a grin that had her shifting in her seat. “I have beer in the fridge if you want it.”
“I prefer wine. I’ve done some tasting classes so I can suggest wines to serve at events I’m running. A fruity Oregon pinot has become my go-to, especially when we have out-of-state visitors.”
“What kind of events?” He stretched an arm across the back of the couch. She could sit right there, put her feet across his lap while they talked. Like they did this on the regular. She craved that kind of coziness, someone to share her life with.
“Executive roundtables, corporate training, product launch parties, employee events, that kind of thing. I’m an assistant right now, but once my boss gets promoted I’ll move up.” And then her salary would inflate enough for her to relax as she made out her bills. No more scrambling to make things balance, cutting corners and calories to keep everything paid up.
“So you get to control the entire event.”
“Right. I like being able to make things just so and impressing people with what we can pull off. A lot of little things come together to create something big. When an event comes off well, I feel . . .” She paused, searching for the right word. “Appreciated.”
He gave a nod like he actually got it. “I think that’s why I like owning the shop so much.”
“The shop?” She wanted to keep him talking, to be with him in the easy quiet just a little longer. She wasn’t going back upstairs tonight, and she didn’t want to be alone just yet.
“I own a sporting equipment store in town. We rent, sell, repair, that kind of thing.”
“I thought you were a tour guide because you arranged tomorrow’s hike. Today’s actually.” She finished her wine, wishing it had calmed her nerves. She eyed the bottle on the coffee table, craving another glass but not wanting the world to get so fuzzy she forgot why she knew better than to cross the line him.
“We have all kinds of tours, from beginner to experienced. When we started I wore myself out doing two a day. Now, I only take people out on tours I want to do. Next time you’re here, I’ll take you on one. Cross-country skiing, lava tube caves, or maybe snowshoeing.”
“Whoa there. I am never going to do any of that.” After growing up on the coast, she couldn’t even picture herself stomping through the snow. Or a cave. That’s where bats lived.
“Really? Not a cold weather person?”
She shook her head. “I’m good with cold weather, so long as I have a blanket, cocoa, and a good book.”
“In the summer we do canoeing, kayaking, stand-up paddle boarding, hikes—if it’s an adventure, we have it.” His voice shifted when he talked about work, serious with undertones of pride. “It’s impossible to be in the shop and not be inspired to get out and do something. Before we took over the place I’d never considered rock climbing or wild mountain bike runs.”
“So that’s why you look like that.” It made sense, how he maintained an even more athletic build than when he’d been playing. All those different kinds of sports built distinctive sets of muscles, creating a physique she couldn’t stop admiring.
“Like what?” Scott leaned forward, his forearms on his knees and that bone-melting grin spreading across his face.
“Oh my God, did I say that out loud?” Marissa froze, not even breathing as she realized what she’d done. Last time it could have been an innocent slip, but this broadcasted what she was obviously focused on now.
“You did indeed.” He didn’t seem at all bothered by her Freudian slip, confident as ever as he set down his wineglass and lifted the bottle. “More wine?”
“Yes, please.” Maybe after another glass she wouldn’t feel so mortified. In contrast he seemed comfortable in his skin, in his life. What she wouldn’t give to know how that felt. She feigned that confidence to the world, but inside she was nothing more than a hamster on a wheel, trying to outrun her insecurities.
He took her glass and filled it, but instead of handing it back he held it up. “Come here.”
Oh, she was tempted. Tempted to do something reckless and wild that she’d most likely regret. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t think. Come sit with me.” His deep voice washed over her like a hot shower, relaxing her muscles and her nerves.
She wanted to be closer, to keep him talking until she fell asleep. Forcing this physical distance between them didn’t make her feel any more at ease. She took a deep breath and crossed to where he sat, settling herself on the opposite end of the couch.
“Thank you.” He held out her wine, giving her another devastating grin when she took it.
“This whole situation makes me anxious.” She drowned the butterflies in her stomach with a fortifying gulp.
“I can tell.” He tilted his head toward her and lowered his voice. “What has you so keyed up?”
“Wedding exhaustion, Christa’s drama, having the power cut out.” They all made great excuses, but none of them was the reason. Her emotions had always been jumbled around Scott. Emotions she had no right to feel. She’d ignored whatever it was between them and boxed him into the friend zone. It worked back then, but now there was no engagement to keep her from acting out what had been swirling in her head since he sat down next to her at the reception.
“The wedding’s over, we both escaped our freeloading friends, and you don’t need electricity to sleep. You’ve got to unwind a little. Give me your feet.” He set his wineglass on the table and patted his lap.
“My feet?” What in the world?
“You’ve been in heels all day. It’s the least I can do.” His smile was honest and she couldn’t find anything suggestive in his tone. “I’ll give you a foot massage and you can try to slow your mind.”
“What’s the catch?” She shifted to place her feet in his lap, just like she had imagined earlier. It would be rude to decline his offer. Rude and a legit reason to have her woman card revoked.
“Why do you think I have an ulterior motive?” He rubbed his han
ds together, then set his heated palms on her feet.
Her entire body shuddered at the contact, the heat of him searing her nerves and warming places that had no business being interested in a foot rub.
“Too cold?” He rubbed his hands together again. This time she reined in her response when he touched her, which made her more keyed up than before. He took one foot in his hand and started pressing his thumbs along the arch. Her stomach tensed and fluttered, and it was all she could do not to spill her wine.
“What turned you into a foot rub expert?” He had skills, no doubt about it.
“Mountaineering.”
“I don’t even know what that is.” He pressed hard on a spot just above the ball of her foot and a day’s worth of tension from walking in heels released.
“Climbing mountains.” He shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned. “My brother and I got this wild hare about summiting Kilimanjaro.”
“The tallest mountain in Africa?” His firm touch eased the tension in her arches, but didn’t ease the tension building inside.
“That’s the one. And because neither of us wanted to be the one who backed out, we spent a year training for it. Mostly here in the Cascades, but we made sure we could handle Hood and Rainier.” A smile shone on his face, though he never lifted his lips. “I liked the challenge of it, but my feet did not. One of the guides taught me about pressure points and it saved the trip.”
“If you see him again, thank him for me.” She’d barely been out of the state, so climbing mountains on other continents seemed dangerous and exciting.
“Her.” Was that a smirk on his lips?
“Of course.” He outmatched her on so many levels. He’d been everywhere and done things she’d only read about. And then there was his bedroom experience, which had been legendary back in college. By now it had probably grown to epic proportions. While hers was more of a short boring novel with a lot of blank pages at the end.
“Please tell me you’re jealous.” His hands stalled as he grinned over at her like that had been his goal all along.
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