by T. F. Walsh
She thought fifteen minutes would give her plenty of time, but when Rey shouted, “Now!” she looked at her pile of snowballs and its smallness distressed her. Imagining a huge pile of ammunition inside Rey’s fort, she shouted back, “Five more minutes!”
“No way!”
She peeked over the front wall of her fort and a snowball flew right at her face. Squeaking in alarm and delight, she ducked and watched it slam into the tree behind her.
“You’re dead meat, Rey! You hear me?”
“How could I not?”
She grabbed a handful of the icy snowballs she’d hurriedly smashed together and flung them indiscriminately over the fort wall, not even looking to aim.
“Ow!” said Rey. “You’re in for it now!”
The snowballs flew crazily for several frenzied minutes. She screeched and he hollered, she laughed and he let out great howls of mirth. She barely missed his head; he came within inches of hitting her square in the face with a slushy projectile. Finally, emboldened by laughter and adrenaline, she slipped out from behind her fort, then darted across the snow to sneak behind his fort and dump her last three snowballs down the back of his shirt.
He howled in protest and grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her. “I don’t even have a decent coat and you do that to me?”
Immobilized against his strong chest, she could do nothing but look up into his laughing face. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right, I’m not.”
“Then neither am I,” he said, and kissed her.
His lips were icy cold but the inside of his mouth was warm, his tongue hot as it stroked against her lips. She opened to him, pressing hard into his heat. Snow and cold forgotten, she sought only that warmth, that union. His mouth on hers, soft and mobile, his tongue pressing softly against hers. He pulled her close, his hands sliding down her back.
She clutched at his coat, so absorbed it was a few long seconds before she registered the cold, the wet. As she pulled back, he ducked forward, his mouth still seeking hers even as she ended the kiss.
“You’re soaked,” she said. “We should get you inside.”
He dipped his head one more time toward her, and when he missed, he smiled a little and said, “Yeah. My shoes are full of snow and my jeans are soaked.”
“You’re going to catch pneumonia.” Fighting the reluctance of her entire body, she took a step back. Her hand sought his, unwilling to break the connection totally. “Come on. I’ll make you some hot cocoa.”
• • •
So here she was, taking care of him again. It had been unsettling the first time but he was starting to get used to it.
She’d led him into the house by the hand, as if he were a little boy, or a newly discovered beau. He preferred the latter. The simple act of holding her hand felt so profound right now. The kiss had been better, but perhaps it had been too much to expect right now.
“Get into some dry clothes,” she suggested. She closed the door behind them and grasped his coat by the collar, helping him out of it. He kicked off his cold, soggy tennis shoes and padded in wet socks into the living room. Pausing by the fire, he held his hands out. The heat felt good on cold, stiff fingers. He stood there for a few seconds, letting his joints loosen in the warmth before he started to unbutton his shirt.
“Think you could help me out of the rest of this?” He hazarded a look back toward the kitchen, where Joely was stirring cocoa powder into mugs of milk.
She gave him an arch look. “I think you can manage to undress yourself.”
“I don’t know. It’s harder to get stuff off when it’s wet.”
“Don’t push it, Rey.”
She didn’t sound nearly as irritated as she could have. He smiled and yanked at his jeans. The wet denim was heavy and tried to cling to his skin. It really would have been easier with Joely pulling on the cuffs. But she was right. He was capable of undressing himself. He was also capable of doing it right in the middle of the living room, where she couldn’t miss it.
He was down to his underwear—also wet, and clinging like cellophane to all his manly bits—when she came in with the mugs of cocoa.
“Did you want some privacy?” she asked, looking directly into his eyes.
“Why?” He took a mug from her hand. “There’s nothing here you haven’t seen before. Hell, you’ve had your hands—not to mention your mouth—all over everything I’ve got. What’s the big deal?”
She blushed and turned away, but not before her gaze flicked downward for a split second. She swallowed and looked back up, and he felt momentarily repentant for flaunting himself at her. But only momentarily. “I haven’t agreed to this thing about you being my husband again,” she informed him. “And I think you standing naked in my living room is a little more husband-like than I’m ready for at the moment.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m not naked.”
“Close enough.” Setting her cocoa on the end table, she stuck her hand in his suitcase and produced a pair of briefs. “Here. These are dry.”
She threw them at him. He caught them. “Thanks.” But when he set down his own cocoa and started to peel off the wet underwear, she turned her back on him and walked back into the kitchen.
He shook his head, disappointed. Oh, well. One step at a time.
He pulled on his jeans and went to see what she had found to do in the kitchen. But she wasn’t doing anything—just standing looking out the window, into the snow-filled side yard. He stepped up behind her, almost close enough for his bare chest to touch her back, but not quite.
She turned her head slightly toward him, just enough to acknowledge his presence but not far enough to look at him.
“That was fun,” she said.
He nodded. Her shoulders shifted just a little, as if inviting his touch. Hoping he was reading her signals right, he eased an inch or so closer and settled his arms around her waist. She settled back into him. He closed his eyes and let his cheek fall against her head, breathing the smell of her hair. So sweet, so full of memories, just that flowery shampoo smell almost brought tears to his eyes.
“What made you think of it?” she went on.
He was so surprised and gratified by her acceptance he almost missed the question. Opening his eyes brought him back to reality, where he could concentrate. “I was going to build something romantic. I don’t know, a giant snow-heart, or a couple of snowmen holding hands.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Apparently I lack snow-sculpturing ability. My fort was the beginning of the heart, plus what was left after the first snowman fell down. Then once I had one fort it seemed like I should build another one.”
She laughed. “How untalented do you have to be to lack snow-sculpturing ability?”
He chuckled against her hair, unoffended. “It’s one of those balance things, I think. You possess unlimited sculpturing ability in all forms, therefore I’m not allowed to have any ability in any form.”
She turned around to face him. Her hands curled against his bare chest as she looked up into his eyes. “Yeah, but snow?”
“What can I say?”
Her lips seemed to beckon him with the curve of their smile. He wanted so much to kiss her here in the warm kitchen, to relive the moment they’d shared outside in the snow. But he didn’t dare. Not just yet.
Later. Later, he promised himself, he would do more than kiss her. He would cup her breasts in his hands and kiss them, let his fingers remember every soft, warm inch of her skin. He would find all the beauty he remembered in the heat of her body’s most secret places. And never again would he forget the preciousness of those moments.
Right now, though, he just looked into the depths of her blue eyes. “We used to have a lot of fun together.”
It was a risk, he knew, and when her smile turned sad, he began to wish he hadn’t taken it. “Yes, we did.” She shifted back a bit, partially breaking the contact between them.
When she spoke again, her voice had gone edgy. “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets their heart broken.”
She slid away from him, out of his half embrace, and retreated to the living room. He took a long breath, her departure dropping a weight onto his formerly buoyant heart.
One step at a time. Should he go after her? He wasn’t sure. He wanted to, but something made him think he should err on the side of caution this time. He opened the refrigerator instead.
• • •
The problem with this house, Joely thought, was that it just wasn’t big enough. Sure, there was enough room for her furniture, and some books and clothes, but not even close to enough room for six feet of pheromone-producing male.
She sat on the couch and pulled her knees to her chest, making herself as small as she could. Defenses in place, she peered into the kitchen.
He was rummaging through the refrigerator, apparently looking for sandwich ingredients. The muscles in his wide, bare back moved and rippled under his skin. Just the shape of his shoulder blades aroused her. She chewed on a fingernail.
She had two choices. She could fight this tooth and nail, out of fear, or she could take a leap of faith and see where it took her. Which was the right choice? She honestly had no idea. And it was so hard to think when he was in there flaunting his beautifully constructed chest.
One thing she knew for certain—he was spending another night on the couch. Even that wasn’t quite far enough. She felt like she needed some distance, so she could make a rational decision.
Was there such a thing as a rational decision in this situation? She wasn’t even sure about that. This wasn’t a business decision—it was a matter of the heart.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t at all sure she could trust hers anymore.
Chapter Six
The next morning, she found him shivering again in the kitchen, pouring freshly brewed coffee into a mug. At least he was dressed this time. “Good morning,” he said when he saw her. “Want some?” He gestured toward the coffee.
“Sure. Thanks.” She went to the table and sat. This was nice, actually. Nice to be waited on for a change.
She watched him pour the coffee, then he sat across from her at the table, pushing her cup toward her. He curled his hands around his mug, letting the steam caress his face. He was still shivering.
“Cold?” she asked.
He shuddered. “You really should turn up the heat a little.”
“You really should wear some pajamas to bed.”
He made a face. “Pajamas are for wimps.”
“I wear them.”
“You’re a girl.”
“I see.” She smiled and sipped her coffee, watching him desperately clutch the heat of his mug. “I’m not shivering, though.”
“All you have to do is turn the heat up.”
“Heat’s for wimps.”
His eyebrow quirked, his mouth compressing as if holding back a smile. “Touché.” He swigged down the last of his coffee and went back for more.
She watched his retreat into the kitchen, focusing on the way his jeans hugged his rear end. Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about his staying the whole month. His citified, pretty-boy genes couldn’t take it in the mountains.
“It’d be a lot warmer if we’d been in bed together,” he said then, and she rolled her eyes reflexively as he leered and poured more coffee.
“We’d just be that much colder now. It’s like getting out of the hot tub when it’s snowing outside. It feels twenty degrees colder because you’re already so warm.”
His eyebrows rose. “You have a hot tub?”
“Yes, I do.”
His sober nod spelled danger. Something was going on behind those gray eyes. He was hatching some kind of plan. “Sounds nice,” was all he said.
She decided to let that rest, for fear of putting other thoughts into his head. Let him work out his seduction scenario on his own. “I have to be at work in a half hour. What do you want to do?”
He gave her a wicked grin. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean.” She barely repressed the urge to roll her eyes. “You can come with me, or stay here and try to drive down to the shop later. I can leave you directions.” Rey had never been much for driving, though, city boy that he was. She was half afraid he might end up in Shawnee if he tried to drive to the shop by himself. Or Utah.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Are you sure? It might be just as dull at the shop.”
“Maybe, but there are other places within walking distance of the shop. I can snoop around what passes for downtown if I get tired of hanging out with the pots and jewelry. Plus I can follow you in my rental car, so if I get too bored I can come back here or take a drive or something.”
“That’s fine.” She stood, drained her coffee mug and set it in the sink. “I’ll be ready in a bit.”
He wanted to follow her into the bathroom and watch her morning routine. He’d always enjoyed watching her put on her makeup. He liked the funny faces she made when she applied her mascara. But he had some things to get ready, too. He finished his coffee and toast, found eggs in the refrigerator and started a couple frying on the stove, then headed into the living room. His laptop was ready to go, already folded up in its case. He checked the outside pocket of the case for his digital camera. His USB drive was in another pocket, and he also had power cables for the computer. All set. With luck, he could get some work done while he was out, provided he could stay under Joely’s radar.
The eggs were just the right side of done when Joely emerged from the bathroom, her porcelain skin even lovelier under a light application of cosmetics. He took a moment to absorb the sight of her, then turned back to his eggs.
“We have to go,” she told him, coming into the kitchen with her giant purse slung over her shoulder. “You don’t have time to eat those.”
“No problem.” He snagged two more pieces of bread from the loaf and dumped the eggs out of the skillet between them, making a sandwich. “I’m ready.”
She smiled a little, and he was encouraged to see the softness in it. “I forgot you need more than toast in the morning.”
“I’m a big, strapping man. I need protein.”
She laughed. He grinned and followed her out the door.
• • •
From behind the counter, Joely and Perry watched Rey as he studied the merchandise in the front jewelry cabinet. He was squatting on the floor in front of the case, and the position did such marvelous things to his thighs and buttocks that it was hard for Joely to concentrate on Perry’s earnest advice.
“Don’t stand there drooling at him and ignoring me and tell me you don’t still love him,” Perry finally said, in half-mock exasperation.
“Lusting after him and loving him aren’t the same thing.”
“I’m sorry, hon, but that’s not lust.” Joely looked at her in surprise. Perry shook her head with a tolerant smile. “There’s something in your eyes I’ve never seen before.”
“Really? What?”
Perry nodded sagely. “Fear. And lust, my dear, does not inspire fear.”
Rey straightened and turned toward the shop’s high, wide back window, giving the women a view of his clean profile.
“Look at him,” Joely muttered. “He’s not even that good-looking. I mean, look at his nose. It’s huge.”
“Is he in proportion?” Perry’s eyes twinkled lewdly.
Thinking about the wet cotton briefs and what they had failed miserably to conceal, Joely nodded. “More or less.” She sighed again, then shook her head. “I can’t throw him out. Not now. There’s too much—” She broke off, unwilling to face the emotion her words had begun to evoke. “I have to give it a chance.” Rey stepped closer to the window, and Joely looked at Perry. “Do you think it’s the right thing to do?”
“I think if it weren’t, you wouldn’t be agonizing over it so much.”
“You might be right about
that.” She crossed her arms firmly over her chest. Just then, Rey turned his head to look at her and smile. She smiled back, but she knew it looked forced, and her brow refused to unbeetle.
But her soberness only made his smile widen. He knew, she thought. Somehow, he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, and he knew what decision she’d made.
Well, good for him. That would save her having to actually tell him. Inexplicably angry, she wheeled and huffed into the office, slamming the door behind her.
• • •
Rey couldn’t help laughing a little at Joely’s vehement departure. He hadn’t been able to hear what she and Perry had been saying, but he’d known damn well they were talking about him. Joely was, he knew, agonizing over what could have been a simple decision. Keep him or kick him out. Yes or no. Why did it have to be so hard?
He wasn’t being fair, though. He’d come out of nowhere, asking more than he should have. If he hadn’t been so desperate to get her back, he never would have forced himself on her like this. But living without her had been like living without part of his heart. He needed her back, and it was hard for him to imagine she might not feel the same way.
In any case, it looked like she’d made her decision. He was going to get his probation period. The next question was, how far to push it? Did he dare imagine he might be able to get her into bed tonight? The thought made him weak inside. It had been nearly eighteen months since the last time they’d made love—his fault, for ignoring her those months before she’d finally packed up and left. And he hadn’t touched another woman since the last time he’d touched Joely. His body hurt with his need for her. It was all he could do to keep standing there, nonchalant, smiling now at Perry, then returning his attention to the gorgeous sweep of scenery out the wide window.
“It’s pretty up here,” he said, nodding toward the window, surprised his voice sounded normal rather than strangled and tortured.
“Yes, it is,” Perry said. Something tight in her tone made him look at her. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was regarding him with one eyebrow cocked. “If you hurt her,” she said, “I’ll kill you.”
