Breaking Her No-Dating Rule

by Amalie Berlin

  “No. You’re unconventional and not at all materialistic. I respect that.”

  “That’s not what I’m getting at. I’ve been places. And I’ve seen suffering...” She stopped and swallowed, those expressive brown eyes letting him know she relived those bad memories when she recalled them. “I’ve learned that the people who survive, they’re the ones who remember pretty quickly how to find joy in life. The others might keep living for a little while, but if they give in to the tragedy that has hit them, part of their soul dies. And soon enough they die too. Your body can’t continue without your soul.”

  “I’ve heard the sayings. A burden shared is a burdened halved. All that. They’re nice ideas...but do you expect me to go and tell those people jokes and make them laugh?”

  “God, no. The last thing they needs is to think you’re not taking this seriously. You have other resources, though. If you take joy where you can find it, that doesn’t diminish your worry about Jude, or the unfounded guilt you’re feeling because he’s out there and you’re not. It’s okay for you to smile, and even if I protest about you teasing me about my belly-dancing, it’s a good thing. And not only do you need it, but it’s like an alternate fuel source. Good feelings can keep you going so you can actually get out there and look as long and hard as you need to in order to find him. You need it.”

  “Like I need hugs?” It was hard not to agree with her when she was standing right there, somehow making him feel better.

  She nodded, and when he smiled rewarded him by lifting her sweater and the other layers she wore beneath it. His gaze dropped to the soft little tummy and he watched her slowly roll through the abs, activating one at a time to produce an undulating wave that...wasn’t even a little bit funny but still made him feel good.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE TOP OF his snow suit was still open, and while the branded insulated clothing she tried ever so hard not to covet might keep him warm, where it stood open down the front heat poured off him. She could probably go outside in her ridiculous clothes and survive the terrible winter if she cuddled up with the man.

  For a second she remembered that the cold had hurt him, though. He wasn’t invulnerable. In fact, she was increasingly certain that he was more vulnerable than he could even admit to himself.

  She dropped her sweater and stepped forward, taking the opening given to slip her arms inside the suit with him and wrap them around his waist. Just one more hug. One more squeeze. One more pressing together of two bodies in need. He wouldn’t mind...

  It took Ellory tilting her head back and chancing a look up at him to make sure he didn’t actually mind, though. His arms had come round her.

  What she saw on his face made her belly flutter and her heart race—terrified and excited. He had that look, the one that split time equally between her eyes and her mouth. The man was going to kiss her again, thank all things holy. She wasn’t out on this ledge by herself, the idea appealed to him too.

  He had been to her room, had seen the disarray that went with her everywhere, had had a glimpse of the chaos she was currently swimming through, and he still wanted to kiss her.

  Maybe.

  He might be looking at her mouth but he was taking his sweet time about it.

  Another look from eyes to mouth, and now the kind of frown someone only used when they were either concentrating or...

  “If you have to try this hard to psych yourself up to kiss me, then forget it!” She let go, pulled her arms from the warmth inside his suit and made to step around him—using his belt loops again, though this time to keep from falling since he had her blocked in.

  Before she got her first foot placed, his hands were in her hair, catching her head as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. His fingers, which had just a hint of roughness, massaged the back of her neck and sent goose bumps racing down her arms, neck and chest.

  The first kiss had been good. An appetizer, a bite snuck from dessert before the main course. But this meeting of the mouths sent a tremor racing even more potent than the first streaking through her. If she bathed in champagne, Ellory couldn’t imagine a more potent eruption of tingles dancing over her skin.

  Instinctively, her fingers curled into the loops she’d snagged and she pulled closer, using him as an anchor.

  She didn’t even have the will to make excuses regarding her abandoned resolution. All she knew was the heady pleasure of soft lips contrasting with the light scrape of stubble, the strong arms that had wound around her, and heat.

  He tasted even better than he smelled—better than anything she’d ever had in her mouth. Sex and chocolate, yes, sinful and decadent. But there was no hint of the indolence of Sunday morning now. Some time in the first heartbeats after his lips had touched hers, an urgency had taken them both.

  His tongue stroked against hers, deep in her mouth, and her belly clenched. Desire licked through her, so strong it was all she could do not to tear the suit off him, get her hands back on that firm, glorious male flesh.

  Firm and demanding, his hand slid under her sweater, seeking skin, fingers splaying across the small of her back. He felt it too.

  She was ready to rip her clothes off, his clothes off...permanently swear off clothes! All she knew was that she’d never had a kiss bring her to life before. Make her forget her problems. More importantly, she’d never had a kiss turn her on without her actively trying to get turned on by it...and picturing kissing her daydream man in her head.

  She opened her eyes, hoping to see that intention mirrored back at her, but the room was completely dark.

  The power had gone out.

  “Told you,” she whispered, pulling his head back down so that she could punctuate the words with a soft little kiss. “Lights went out, or I went blind.”

  *

  He chuckled against her mouth, even though he knew he had to stop this. After one more kiss... Sliding his hand out from beneath her sweater—where it had no business being anyway—he wrapped his arms fully around her, crushing her soft body to him, soaking up every sensation, every piece of information he could before he gave up kissing her...

  She wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was a distraction...and a comfort he didn’t deserve. It was unjust, at least right now. Maybe after the storm passed, after they had found the man and returned him to his loved ones alive...maybe he could pick up this raging attraction again. After he earned it.

  He lifted his head, swallowed, and slid his hands on her shoulders so he could put her away from him a little bit. “How are we going to get out of here without stepping on your garden?”

  His reason for coming to her room had been... “And the snow suit!” He cleared his throat, glad she couldn’t see him yet. And that he didn’t have to see her. The passion he’d glimpsed on her face the first time he’d given in to temptation and kissed her was almost too much to bear. The power being out now was a blessing. “Where’s the snow suit?”

  “Under the bed.” She sighed the answer and crawled onto the bed at his side. “Stay there until I get the light.” Apparently she’d picked up on his shifting mood. Which would make things easier.

  Some clatter followed, and then the sound of cranking as she wound the eco-friendly lantern and cast the room in blue LED light. “Go sit down, I’ll get it out. I’ll bring it to the fireplace suites with us, but I am not wearing it unless we lose the fireplaces. It’s really itchy and bulky and ugly.”

  Anson stepped over a few of the shallow sprout trays, made his way to a chair and sat to watch her crawl under the bed and carefully drag out a canvas duffel bag, somehow managing to keep from upsetting anything in this kooky ecosystem she’d built in her room.

  When she righted herself, her cheeks glowed once more. He’d have said it was exertion that had caused it if she looked at him anywhere but the eyes.

  Embarrassed.

  That hadn’t been his intention, though considering the way he’d dragged her to her room and questioned her ability to d
ress herself...okay, maybe he could understand the feeling. “It can’t be that bad.”

  She shrugged and dragged it toward the door.

  Rising from the safety of his chair, Anson took two big steps over the Ellory obstacle course until he stood in front of her, making her pause in her exit, and once more wrapping himself in that fruity floral cloud, and grabbed the massive duffel bag at their feet. “I’ll carry it.”

  *

  After dropping off Ellory’s duffel in the suite next door, Anson entered the one saved for him and Max and found the big furry Newfoundland lying by the fire some thoughtful person had already lit, trying to keep ahead of the cold. His faithful companion stood and ran to meet him, tail wagging.

  “So this is where you’ve been.” He talked to his dog a lot. After he crouched and gave the big lover a good scratch, he found his way to the sofa and sat, leaving Max to return to the fire. As great as he was in the snow, he loved a fireplace.

  Anson couldn’t blame him, but after the trip to Ellory’s room he knew one thing for certain—she gave out more heat than gas logs.

  And he had no right to that heat.

  On his last round to check on the rescued, Chelsea had shown him a picture of Jude. An engagement photo. Two smiling people with the future shining in their eyes...and he hadn’t had the heart to ask her anything else about her missing fiancé.

  He didn’t need more motivation to want to find the man. So much of this situation echoed his own wintery nightmare. What he wouldn’t have given for the fire in those days when he’d been so cold he hadn’t wanted to move at all. The gaps between his snow suit and his skin had allowed the heat to build in pockets, and those pockets left the second he’d moved and the material had pulled tight.

  All his hope had filled these small spaces, and all it had taken had been a muscle twitch to dispel it. Right now Jude was holding onto a thread of hope growing thinner and more brittle with every frigid breath he’d drawn since this morning.

  A knock at the door brought him back to the present. Max lifted his big shaggy head and looked at the door. A couple of sniffs of the air and the search dog’s big tail began beating the carpet.

  No calls had come through on the radio, so it wasn’t an emergency. He’d like to ignore it. Go to sleep. God, he was tired...

  Anson peeled himself from the sofa and made his way to the door. Max beat him there.

  “I see how it is.” He ruffled Max’s ears and pushed him back so the door could swing open.

  Ellory stood behind a stack of sprout trays, arms straining to carry them. Her warm brown eyes met his over the spring-green shoots, and she smiled. He couldn’t see her smile, but he saw the apples of her cheeks bunch and merriment in her eyes.

  She kicked the duffel bag he recognized, and the stuffed thing flopped through his doorway to land on his feet. Heavy. Big. It took up as much room as at least two of his suits. Max sniffed the hell out of it.

  “I need to bunk with you,” she said, the strain from carrying the trays down several flights of stairs and long corridors showing in her voice.

  Anson grabbed the bag and hurled it further into the room, then grabbed the edges of the bottom tray to relieve her of her portable garden.

  “No. Your shoulder is hurt. Just move.” She refused to let go, but since the way had been cleared she stepped forward to come in.

  “No,” he repeated back to her, and lifted, forcing her to let go. Once they were in the room, he placed the trays on the counter. Which was when he noticed two other bags swinging from her shoulder. She didn’t travel light...

  She closed the door and dropped her bags.

  “Let me guess,” he said, looking at the sprouts. “You’re here because you changed your mind about that belly dance.”

  “Nope.” Ellory looked the tiniest bit guilty then. “I can’t bring myself to have a wasteful fire all to myself. And no one else would understand if I brought the sprouts and crashed in their pad. They’ll be ruined if I leave them in my unheated room. I don’t really know anyone else well enough to include them in...this. And...well, you kissed me. You like me. I like you.” Max barked at her. She hadn’t paid him any attention yet, and he wasn’t having it.

  “And I like you too, Maxie.” She caught his front paws in the chest and roughed up his ears with the kind of affection usually reserved for someone’s own pet. “I’m sorry I left you out. Go and tell Anson you want me to sleep over! Go tell him!” She pointed at Anson and Max dutifully ran to him, tail wagging hard enough to clear a table, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Happy panting.

  “What about your resolution?”

  “I’m not asking you to marry me, Anson. I’m not even asking you to curl my toes and make me forget that my enviro-OCD is out of control again, or whatever else is wrong with me that made me think coming home would fix it.” Edging around the sofa, she dropped her other bags on the floor and took a seat there in front of the fire. “I just want to share space. And maybe I’d like to spend some time around a wild man who puts his fist through walls...and his dog.”

  As soon as she said the word “dog” Max came and flopped down on her, then rolled so he was on his back and his head propped on her thigh, all but demanding belly rubs. Anson briefly considered doing the same thing to her other thigh, but having it known that his dog had better moves than he did was just too much for his ego to handle today.

  “Max clearly wants you to stay.” Anson wanted her to stay too, he just wasn’t into admitting that right now.

  *

  “We should move the bed over by the fire.” Ellory didn’t sit yet, but Anson did.

  “It’s not that cold in here. For people dressed better. You should put on your suit.”

  During the hour since Anson had kissed her lips and made her feel like she was drowning in champagne Ellory had devised a plan.

  Or, well, she’d un-devised part of her plan. The whole point of her resolution had been to remove distraction and give herself the attention she’d normally pay to a relationship, so she could work on herself. Figure out what was wrong with her. Figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Traveling was getting old. She wanted to settle down, but she didn’t want to lose her ideals in order to build a life.

  Tearing off Anson’s clothes and dragging him to bed wouldn’t change any of that. It wouldn’t solve her problems. It wouldn’t make them worse. If anything, it made her more acutely aware of the fact that they were waiting for her. And they would still be waiting for her when the skies cleared and the power came back on, and Anson was no longer stranded here with her.

  “Or we could go to bed and be warm under the blankets. I brought my quilt, it’s really warm and snuggly.” Temptation lit his eyes, but was chased out by that deep scowl she’d come to loathe. “Or you could go to sleep by yourself and I will go spend time with Mira and the patient guests. She’s come down, by the way. You’ve got some free time to sleep if you want it. You look like you need it, and if you aren’t into chasing away demons for the next few hours in the manner we’d both enjoy, then you should sleep.”

  She thought a second and added before he could protest, “Better now than when the storm clears and you have to go back out after Jude.”

  “No argument here.” He untied his boots, kicked them off and stripped out of the suit as he walked to the bed.

  Ellory watched until he was under the blankets in his thermals, at which point Max gave up his spot by the fire and went to curl up on Anson’s feet on top of the fluffy duvet.

  After she spent some time making sure everyone got fed, she’d get some sleep too.

  On the couch. She’d already made enough moves on the man. The next move was his.

  *

  Ellory awoke after a long night of lumpy sleep on the couch, burrowed beneath her quilt with her head propped on one of the cushions and Max panting in her face.

  “Good that you woke up. I think Max was about to wash your face. With his tongue,” Anson said from whe
re he sat, using her duffel stuffed with the snow suit from hell like a beanbag chair in front of the fire.

  The dog’s tongue was exactly the last thing she wanted on her face this morning. But after the way the night had gone, and the fact that she was sleeping on the couch when she’d much rather have been sleeping beside big warm Anson...well, Ellory didn’t wake up feeling chipper.

  Rolling over so she faced the couch back, she pulled the quilt over her head to block out the smell of dog mouth and ignored both of them.

  When the power had gone out, Mira couldn’t be kept out of things any more, so in theory Ellory didn’t have anything to do this morning. No duties to perform, nothing to organize. And as guilty as it made her feel to be glad about that, she figured she’d probably handled things as well as she could for as long as she could. Two straight days of organizing and keeping everything under control was too much responsibility and decision-making for her.

  Besides that, yesterday had felt like it had been weeks long.

  And today still felt like yesterday, however that worked out.

  The smell of food filtered through the quilt now that Max wasn’t breathing on her face. Eggs. He was making eggs somehow. Could you cook with gas logs?

  She closed her eyes tighter and tried to ignore the scent.

  Her stomach growled.

  “The storm is still going.” Anson spoke again, apparently not satisfied with her attempt to cocoon herself away from all contact. “But the kitchen staff brought up breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast.”

  So he hadn’t cooked.

  But someone else had. Someone she wasn’t mad at. Someone whose food she could eat.

  She was mad at Anson? The realization startled her enough to bring her up out of her quilt.

  She took inventory. A frown, but nothing teary going on in the eye department. A desire to hide out, sleep some more and guilt him over his great sleep... A martyr complex about her own sleep, which had been anything but restful.

  She was mad at Anson.