"Are you hungry?"
"Would you like me to fix—"
They spoke at the same time. Austin recovered first. "Are you hungry?"
"A little. I could fix something, if you'd like. Is the stove gas or electric?"
He turned to glance at the range set into a granite counter. "The starters are electric, but the unit is gas."
"No problem. If you have another match, I can start it manually." She spoke briskly and walked over to the refrigerator. After pulling it open, she glanced at the contents. "What sounds good? There are a couple of steaks, some salad, a—"
Something warm brushed the back of her hand. She gasped and jumped back. The refrigerator door slowly swung shut.
Austin stood close enough for her to see the hairs on his chest and the slow thudding pulse at the base of his neck. She had the most incredible urge to plant her mouth there and taste his skin.
She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from yelping her embarrassment. What on earth was wrong with her? She hadn't had more than a sip of his doctored coffee, so it couldn't be the alcohol. Maybe standing out in the rain had left her brain waterlogged.
"You don't have to cook for me," he said.
"I don't mind. It's the least I can do after all the trouble I've been."
"Far be it from me to interfere with a woman on a mission of mercy." He stepped back and motioned to the refrigerator. "Help yourself."
She worked quickly and efficiently. He directed her when she needed to find a bowl or a pot, and within twenty minutes they were eating dinner.
While she'd been cooking the steak, Austin had set the table and opened a bottle of red wine. She sipped cautiously, not wanting the wine to loosen her tongue. She was already in too much danger of saying something stupid. Heaven knows what would happen if she got drunk!
They chatted about mutual acquaintances in town and the children. She forced herself to concentrate on his words, rather than on the way the candlelight made his skin glow like burnished gold. He'd pulled on a shirt, but hadn't bothered to fasten it. She didn't want to say anything and have him do up the buttons, but it was hard not to stare.
"What about you?" he asked, pouring her another glass of wine. "Why are you taking care of other people's children instead of having a half dozen of your own?"
"What makes you think I want children?"
He raised one eyebrow. Gosh, she really wanted to know how he managed to do that. The storm had decreased in fury, but the lights hadn't come back on yet. The candlelight slipped shadows across his face, making his expression impossible to read.
"You're the type," he said. "Are you telling me you don't?"
"I do." She pushed her fork around her plate. "It just hasn't worked out that way."
"Still waiting for Mr. Right?"
For the first time that day, she could meet his gaze without thinking anything improper. She shook her head. "Not exactly. Mr. Right died."
He'd raised the wineglass to his lips, but now he set it down untasted. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you. It's been a while, so I've recovered. I'll never forget him, of course. Wayne was—" she smiled "—nothing like you."
"I'm not surprised." His expression was unreadable.
"I don't mean that in a bad way."
"I never thought you did."
She wasn't sure if he was angry or simply making conversation. It was easier to assume the latter. "Wayne and I met in college. He was bright, funny. He looked like a big blond bear, but he was sweet and gentle. We got engaged, but I wanted to put off the wedding until I had my masters degree. We'd set the date and everything, but three months before the wedding, he was in a bad car accident. A year later he died."
"Must have been hard on you."
A polite remark most people made. Funny, but she had the feeling Austin really meant it. "It was. About a year and a half after I lost him, I moved here. Like I said, I'll never I forget him, but it's getting easier."
Most of the time. Without wanting to she remembered the way Wayne had looked in his hospital room and the expression on his face when the doctor had told him he would never walk again, would never do all the physical things he'd so loved. She remembered his pain when the doctor had gently explained he would never be "a man" again. Wayne hadn't been able to meet her eyes. He'd never cried in her presence, but she'd shed enough tears for the both of them.
It was her greatest regret, she acknowledged to herself.
She would have married Wayne, anyway, and had that last year together, but he didn't want to. He told her he wouldn't saddle her with someone who was less than a man. He'd sounded so bitter that she'd never brought up the subject again. But it had lingered in that hospital room like an unwelcome third party. He'd never said the words, but she knew he blamed her.
It was her fault. She'd been the one to hold back. While they'd dated and been engaged, they'd played and loved like any young couple, but they'd put off going all the way until they were married. Because she'd asked him to. There had been so many wonderfully sensual things to do together that she hadn't minded not consummating their love. Until it was too late and she'd found out their love would never be expressed in the ultimate act of sharing. She would never marry the man she loved, never carry his child.
All the years they'd spent together, she'd guarded her virginity, ready to give it as the most precious gift a bride could bring her husband. In the end, Wayne had died hating her for keeping herself from him. Her innocence had mocked him, reminding him of what he'd lost, of what he could never have again. It mocked her, as well. She was an anachronism. A twenty-nine-year-old virgin who had saved herself. For what? Her "gift" was a reminder of all she'd lost. It no longer had meaning. She wanted it disposed of and forgotten.
"Hmm?" She glanced up and saw Austin staring at her. She blinked several times. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking."
"About Wayne?"
She sighed. "Yes. It's difficult losing someone like that. "There were so many unresolved issues. I wanted to explain it all to him, but he wouldn't listen. I can't blame him. It was my fault."
She stopped talking and realized Austin didn't have a clue what she was going on about. He nodded encouragingly, giving her permission to continue, but she couldn't. What was she supposed to say? Gee, Austin, I'm really upset because my late fiancé and I never went all the way. I'm a twenty-nine year-old virgin and I'm sick of it. Want to help me out?
Her line of thinking should have shocked her. It didn't. Which meant she was in more trouble than she'd thought.
She didn't know how long she'd been quiet, but suddenly she became aware of a tension in the room. It was a subtle vibration that seemed to reach deep inside of her, warming her from the inside out, causing her pulse to quicken and her skin to tingle.
She glanced across the table and saw Austin watching her.
His gray eyes glowed in the candlelight. His irises were the color of the storm. Stubble darkened his cheeks and jaw, shadowing the lines of his face, making him look more dangerous. He inhaled deeply. The slight movement caused his caning to catch the light. The gold glinted sharply, once again making her think of pirates and treasure, of captured women and forbidden love.
It was becoming difficult to breathe. She told herself it was just a foolish reaction to being in the same room with the object of her crush. Maybe it was because she'd been thinking about and missing Wayne. Or it could have been the result of her exhaustion. Since the fire, she hadn't had a decent night's sleep or a moment's rest. When she hadn't been scouting for supplies, she'd been figuring out a way to approach Austin about borrowing his house. She still found it hard to believe he'd said yes. He didn't have to. A lot of people would have turned her away, citing problems with noise, potential destruction or insurance. So many people nicknamed him the devil, but he'd been very nice to her. In fact—
"Stop looking at me like that," he growled.
She stiffened, startled by the anger in his voice. "Like what?"
"Like I'm some damn noble prince riding in on a white horse. I'm not anybody's idea of a hero, and if you think I am, then you're worse than a fool."
He drained the last of the wine into his glass, then slammed down the bottle. "The storm is already almost over," he said, glaring at her. "In the morning the road will be dry enough for you to drive out of here. If not, I'll dig out the damn car myself."
"You swear a lot," she said without thinking.
"You don't swear enough."
"I don't swear at all."
He grimaced. "That's my point. We have nothing in common. I like my women experienced and easy. You're not either."
She was too shocked to blush. She stared at him. "Wh-what are you talking about?"
He leaned over the table far enough to grab a handful of her hair. He wrapped it around his hand twice and then pulled her close, until their mouths were millimeters apart.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Rebecca. Believe me, I, of all people, understand the appeal of what's forbidden. But I'm one man you shouldn't try to tame. I'm not interested."
She flinched as if he'd slapped her. Before she could control herself, her eyes filled with tears. Her face grew hot, then cold. She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly in his grasp.
"Damn it all to hell," he muttered. "I'm not trying to hurt you. You're not my type. More important, I'm not yours. I'm no Wayne whatever-his-name-was who helped little old ladies cross the street. I'm a selfish bastard. And I do mean bastard, lady. In every sense of the word."
She studied his mouth as he spoke, feeling the sweet puffs of his breath on her face. He was being cruel in a good way. She was sure in time she would be grateful. For now she just wanted to crawl under the table and die. Or have him kiss her. Despite his taunting words, her body was reacting to his closeness. She wanted to scream in frustration. She was too old to have a crush on a man.
She drew in a deep breath and gathered what little dignity and strength she had left. "Austin, I'm sorry if I offended you. I didn't—"
She never got to finish her sentence. He pulled on her hair, dragging her that last millimeter so that their lips touched. Mouth to mouth, he held her in place, not moving, not breathing, just touching gently, firmly, erotically.
Involuntarily her eyes fluttered shut. Heat poured through her as if someone had doused her with sun-warmed rain.
Her toes curled and her fingers gripped the edge of the table. When she thought she would go mad from the bliss, he moved his head slightly, brushing her lips. More heat, fiery heat, flared between them. She gasped for breath. His tongue reached out and touched the tip of hers. Before she could melt in pleasure he released her and rose to his feet.
She sank back in the chair and listened to the thundering of her heart. Her hands were shaking, her breasts felt inflamed, that secret place between her thighs throbbed painfully. She didn't dare look at him. What if he hadn't felt the same reaction?
She caught her breath. What if he had?
Without saying a word, Austin stood up and stalked across the room. He opened the armoire and pulled out a pale garment, then walked back to her. "Here," he said, tossing it to her.
She grabbed the item, then stared at it. A man's T shirt, she thought. But what—
"It should be big enough for you to wear to bed."
She stared at him.
He cursed again. "Alone. Damn it, Rebecca, stop it. It's late. You're tired. You take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. In the morning you'll be out of here, and we'll pretend this never happened. "
She didn't point out that it was still quite early. She was too curious about what the "this" they were to pretend never happened was. What had happened between them? A brief kiss? Or something she hadn't realized? She drew her eyebrows together and wished she were a little more experienced at the whole man-woman thing.
"I don't want to go to bed yet," she finally blurted.
"No one is asking your opinion," he said sharply. "You're reacting to the situation and probably to the trauma of the fire earlier this week. It doesn't have anything to do with me, and I'm not going to be responsible for your regrets come morning. I might be a bastard, but I'm not a complete jerk."
Now she was really confused. She dropped the T-shirt on the table and rose her feet. After tightening the belt of her robe, she shoved her hands into the deep pockets and looked at him. "I don't know what you're talking about. One minute we're having a nice conversation about our lives and the next you're kissing me, then sending me to bed."
He circled around the table until he was standing in front of her. They stood close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. She supposed she should have been nervous or afraid, but she wasn't. Despite what everyone said, deep inside, Austin Lucas was a nice man. Only someone nice would donate his house to needy orphans. How was she supposed to resist him?
"I'm not your damned fiancé," he said, his eyes flashing like the storm.
"I know."
"That's my point. You want me because I'm different, and dangerous. You want me to help you forget. You want me to be the exciting bad thing in your life. You want me in your bed."
She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd slapped her. How had he guessed? Had she been that obvious?
"I–I don't want you," she stammered, knowing she was blushing and praying the candlelight was faint enough that he wouldn't see the color flaring in her cheeks. All her confidence disappeared like smoke in the wind. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and held her in place.
"Did you hope I wouldn't see what you were thinking?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
She moaned softly, shame joining embarrassment.
"Did you imagine I couldn't read the fantasies, Rebecca, that I didn't notice you staring at me, wanting to touch me, wanting me to touch you?"
It was worse than her dream about showing up naked at church. She felt as if someone had stripped her bare and was now mocking the pitiful being she was inside. Her soul felt raw, scourged by the sharp edge of his words. She had to get out, run away and hide. He was laughing at her. Making fun of her. She wanted to die.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to turn away. Tears threatened. She blinked them back, but it wasn't enough. One rolled onto her cheek. "Just let me go. I'll never bother you again."
He released her arm, but before she could step away, he placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her close.
"Damn you, Rebecca Chambers, don't cry. I warned you I was a bastard. Why couldn't you have listened? I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. I want you to understand that I'm nothing like the man you think I am. There's nothing good in me. Forget me. Find another Wayne and have babies…"
His gentle words washed over her, easing some of her exposed rawness inside. His body was warm and hard, offering shelter and comfort. She sniffed back her tears until he touched her hair. The tender stroking of his palm on her head was more than she could stand.
Her sob caught her by surprise. Her whole body shook. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to get control. "I–I'm not usually like this. I think it might be the f-fire and everything…"
"I know. It's okay. You cry as much as you want."
She didn't want to cry at all, but she couldn't seem to help herself. His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her safely in his embrace. His heartbeat was steady against her cheek. She cried for all she'd lost, for the children's fears and her own. She whispered her concerns, about lying alone at night and wondering how she was supposed to keep it all together. She confessed that the responsibility scared her sometimes, but she kept on because there was no one else.
When the sobs had faded to sniffles, she became aware of the fact that her mouth rested against the bare skin of his chest. He was damp from her tears, yet still warm and smelling faintly musky. Through the thickness of her robe his robe she could feel the length of his legs, but little else save his heat. His hands moved up and down her back with long, comforting strokes. His chi
n rested on her head and he spoke quietly to soothe her.
"You must think I'm a fool," she said, knowing she should pull away, but not wanting to.
"No. I think you're very special. I'm sorry I said anything I didn't want to hurt you. I was trying to make you see that I'm not anyone's idea of a fantasy lover."
"I don't want a fantasy."
His hands grew still.
She raised her head until she could stare at him. "You're right, Austin. I do—" she searched for the right word "—think you're attractive, partially because you're nothing like Wayne. But I don't have a romantic fantasy about you. I don't know you well enough to be picturing home and hearth." She swallowed hard. He'd apologized to her, but she was the one who'd started the whole thing. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. If I'd known you could tell what I was thinking, I would have thought about something else."
His gray eyes flickered with some emotion she couldn't read. His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I wasn't complaining," he said. "I was trying to explain why I was turning you down. I won't deal with your regrets."
"And if I promise not to have any?" she asked without thinking.
"Rebecca." His voice was a low growl. She felt it vibrate in her own chest and realized her breasts were plastered against him. She thought about pulling away, but didn't. A wave of courage surprised her. She might never have this chance again.
In a way he was perfect for her. As he'd pointed out, he wasn't interested in a relationship. She'd already figured that one out on her own. He was wild and experienced. She would never choose to fall in love with someone like him. Which was what made him so safe. She was a twenty-nine year-old virgin, and she needed a man to fix that. She'd recently started dating, but had always broken things off before they got serious. She didn't want to have to explain about her condition. She'd tried twice and both men had stared at her as if she were a two-headed snake. Being a virgin at her age said something about a person, and she didn't like what it said about her. She'd been saving herself for Wayne and then he was gone. Her gift had no meaning, save a painful one. It reminded her of what she'd kept from him. She wanted it done away with.
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