Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set

by Carolina Moon

  "Not a lot. I just need you to stay by the phone for a couple of hours, so that I can call you back. You're my alibi."

  "Alibi? What's going on, Mason?"

  "Well, there's this woman-"

  "Isn't that how it always starts?"

  "Shut up. She's out here on the lake, completely unprepared for the storm that rolled in last night. I'm trying to help her, but she's a little paranoid. She tried to kill me with a fishing pole earlier, and-"

  "Heheh. Sorry. Go on."

  "I left, but she'll probably starve if she doesn't have anything to eat."

  "Really? Lots of people go without food now and again, Mason. You sure there's no other reason? Like maybe, she's a hottie?"

  "I don't go for hotties, Wayne. Not the kind you're thinking, anyway."

  "You don't go for anybody. You're a monk."

  "She fainted earlier today because she was trying to ration what little she has, and I don't want her to accidentally kill herself. She's a little...scatterbrained, I think. Anyway, I'm going to take some food over to her, and I want to call you when I get back, just in case.... Well, just in case."

  "That's not a great alibi. You suck at being a criminal."

  "Yeah, I know. However, it's the best I can come up with at the moment."

  ***

  Crista felt like an idiot. She had found exactly one person who could help her out of this mess, and she'd attacked him. She flopped down on the sofa and chewed on her lip. Now what?

  Her stomach grumbled, and she realized that she felt a little sick. It was probably from hunger, but she wasn't sure what to do about it. She supposed that other people went hunting when they were in this sort of situation, but she didn't think the hunting would go much better than the wood-gathering. Besides, what would she hunt with? The hatchet? As far as she knew, it was still out in the snow somewhere, and she really couldn't see herself throwing it at a squirrel, or whatever.

  At least her fire was roaring again, and she was warm, thanks to him. Whoever he was. She'd seen the look in his eyes when she accused him of being a psychopath, and she wondered what was behind it. He wasn't really a crazy man, was he? He seemed sane enough - it was only her imagination that had gone berserk. He was only trying to help.

  Her stomach growled again. She had to eat something. She couldn't get the chili open, and she was afraid that the sweetness of the candy bar would make her sick. So. Crackers for supper. Yum.

  Night had fallen outside, and she padded through the cabin, amazed at the quiet. Flicking on the kitchen light, she sent silent thanks skyward that the electricity was still on. The crackers were on the kitchen table, exactly where she'd dropped them last night as she came in the door. Ripping open the bag turned into a wrestling match, and by the time she got them free, she almost wasn't hungry anymore. Stupid crackers.

  Her belly groaned again.

  OK, she was glad to have them. She dumped them out on the table and then arranged the little squares into stacks of ten. It was silly, but it took her mind off her predicament for a few minutes. She was dismayed to find that even if she only ate twenty crackers a day, she wouldn't make it through the week. She grimaced.

  Maybe she should try to hike out of here, at least to Maddie's store. Then she could catch a ride to the closest airport and home. What about her car, though? She needed it. There was no way she could leave it here.

  A gust of wind rattled the windows and sent a chill through the room, making Crista shiver. Just as she got up to pull the curtains closed, a heavy thumping and banging rattled them again. What was that?

  "Open the door."

  "Who is it?"

  She heard grumbling. "It's me. Mason. Open the door. This stuff is heavy."

  So, his name was Mason. A very nice name. Warmth spread through her body and sparked like electricity. Another human being!

  Swinging the door wide, she gasped. She knew he was there, but she couldn't see him behind the burden he carried. Firewood and bags hung heavy in his arms.

  "A little help?"

  She squealed with excitement and ran forward to grab some of the bags. As she did, though, she kicked one of her sneakers. Sharp pain shot through her toes and she fell forward, squealing for a different reason.

  She landed against Mason, and both of them went sprawling on the frozen wood porch. Landing with an 'mmph,' Mason, lying on his back, yelled, "What the hell?"

  Crista got to her hands and knees as quickly as she could, sure that he was going to wring her neck. "I fell. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but my shoes were-."

  He held up a hand to silence her.

  He took a deep breath.

  "Are you OK?"

  She nodded. "Are you?"

  He sat up slowly, nodded back at her, then put his head in his hands and just sat there. Finally he sighed.

  "Would it be alright if you went to sit by the fire while I brought in some supplies for you?"

  She nodded silently, got up from the frozen porch and went to sit.

  Thank god he was here. Thank god her little display earlier hadn't made him so mad that he left her to die.

  "I thought about hiking into town," she said, to show him that she wasn't completely helpless. She could think rationally.

  He slammed the door with one foot and carried the wood to her fireplace. "You could, but I don't think I'd do that if I were you."

  "Why not?" Surely he would be much happier if she were gone and he could go back to doing whatever it was he did out here, instead of dealing with her. And she would be much happier far away from him, where she didn't embarrass herself at every turn.

  What was it about the man that turned her into such a quivering mass of gooniness? While she was a little absent-minded and ungainly normally, his presence seemed to exacerbate her silliest attributes until she was nothing more than a fumbling idiot. Of course, he seemed so incredibly capable and solid that maybe she just felt that way around him.

  Or maybe not.

  "You'd fall into a snow bank again and freeze to death, for starters," he said, glancing over his shoulder and cocking one eyebrow as he stacked the wood neatly at one end of the fireplace. "You aren't the most graceful person I've ever met. Also, coyotes."

  "Coyotes?" she squeaked, hoping that she had heard him incorrectly.

  "Coyotes. They're a type of -."

  "I know what they are! They live in Montana?"

  "They live all over the U.S. by now. Where are you from, anyway?"

  "Houston."

  "You live in Texas and haven't heard about the problems that coyotes are causing the ranchers there? Do you live under a rock?"

  She resented his tone. "No, I live in a very nice but small apartment in downtown Houston, where nobody keeps livestock, as far as I know. I'm not a typical Texan farm girl, Mr...Mason. I'm also the head of the Houston Public Library system, so I don't often get out to see much of the wilder side of my state."

  He smiled, and she saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be stereotypical. By the way, my name is Mason Malone."

  "Crista Boone. Nice to meet you, Mr. Malone."

  He nodded, and conversation died for a moment while he went back to the door to take off his boots. She took a moment to appreciate him. Lord, he was sexy. His black hair was wet from the snow and curled around onto his forehead. He was wearing a blue flannel shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a white thermal that stretched across his chest, and blue jeans that sheathed rock-hard thighs. When he stood up again, she saw that he hadn't shaved yet, and the hair darkened his strong jaw in a way that definitely made him look dangerous, whether he was or not.

  Those brown eyes were just as gorgeous as she remembered from earlier, too.

  The air in the cabin was suddenly very warm, and he hadn't touched the fire yet. He's not your type, Crista. Remember? He obviously doesn't have a job, and he never associates with others like a normal human being. Keep your distance. No more mysterious bad boys for you.

  But she l
iked the way he walked through the place as if he owned it, sure-footed and quick, to restart her fire. She grinned at the analogy.

  "What's so funny?" he asked.

  Her face burned. "My mind was wandering. Sorry."

  He shrugged and went back to fiddling with the wood, and in a few moments he had a raging fire going. "Now. Let's get some food in you." He went back out to the porch and grabbed the duffle bag he'd dropped during their earlier mishap. I just grabbed a bunch of stuff, because I have no idea what you'd like. I'll just leave it here and head home. You'll be fine." He plopped it onto the table, sending her crackers scattering everywhere.

  Her heart squeezed, and she suddenly didn't want him to go. She wanted to stay with him, whether here or there. He was so adept and she...well, she wasn't. Not in this situation. She felt safe with him, now that she knew he wasn't insane.

  ***

  She jumped to her feet. "You aren't staying?"

  "No, ma'am. I thought I'd leave you alone, which I presume is why you came up here at such an odd time of year." He didn't want to leave her alone, he really didn't. He had seen the way she was looking at him, and those big blue eyes had drawn him in like a moth to a flame. Her lips had been slightly parted and moist, and it was all he could do to keep from swooping down to kiss her as he passed. Thankfully, his arms had been full of firewood, so he couldn't do anything about that impulse.

  You've been alone too long, Mason.

  "Besides, I've got to get back to my place and make a phone call."

  Her eyes lit up. "You have a phone that works? Mine died."

  "Landlines are still necessary out here in the boonies. My phone works fine."

  He could kick himself for even saying it, because he knew what would come next. He was trying to get away from her, trying to put some distance between himself and this woman who was stealing all of his attention. It was unhealthy. He'd been alone for too long, that was all. Maybe he would go home for Christmas, just for the company.

  "Can I use your phone?"

  He sighed. With her eyes sparkling and eagerness pasted across her soft features, he thought she was probably the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen - even in old jeans and that useless pink hoodie.

  A thought struck him, one that put his feelings on ice - a little, anyway. "Need to call the boyfriend?"

  "No! I wouldn't call him with a ten foot pole."

  "What?" He grinned.

  "Never mind." She looked annoyed now. "There is no boyfriend. I need to call my office and leave a message. If I'm going to be stuck here for a week, they need to know I'm alive."

  He didn't say anything for a moment. His cabin wasn't awfully far from hers, but with the storm blasting through the darkness, he didn't want her wandering around by herself. "You'd have to stay the night."

  After a moment, a blush crept up her throat and onto her face, and he knew she was thinking about that. Evidently he wasn't the only one who had been alone for too long. "Why?" she croaked, licking her lips.

  "Because if you try to come back alone you'll get lost or, once again, eaten by coyotes."

  "Don't wild animals usually avoid people?"

  "Normally they do, but when hunting becomes difficult for them, they get hungry and go after the slowest, clumsiest thing they find. I would worry about you."

  "Ha, ha. So walk me back home?"

  He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense to go out in this mess any more than necessary."

  Her shoulders slumped.

  "I won't murder you, I promise. And if I try, there are lots of fishing poles in the entryway closet."

  She rolled her eyes. "I said I was sorry...."

  "I know. Just giving you a hard time. Are you coming or not?"

  He was torn, waiting for her answer. He knew it would be a bad, bad idea to have her in his home, so close and warm and sexy and...." He also knew that he wanted to know about this woman, in spite of his vow to avoid the human race. He wanted to sit with her and talk about everything under the sun, watch her laugh and talk and relax. Hell, her body language alone was fascinating.

  "OK," she said. Then, "Can I grab a shower while I'm there?"

  He pictured her, naked in his shower, and gulped. "Sure."

  "Thank you. It's been too cold in here to shower, and we turned off the hot water heater, anyway."

  He nodded. "Grab what you need and I'll bank your fire so that the cabin will be warm when you get back tomorrow."

  The short trip around the lake was nerve-wracking. The drifts were two feet deep now, making them fight for every step. Every time Mason took a breath of air, it seared his lungs with cold and made his chest hurt, so he didn't even try to talk.

  Crista held onto his arm for dear life, making him feel protective. He'd given her his coat, and it was much too large for her, but she looked teasingly cute in it. She still wore that goofy hat, too, which only added to the effect.

  Stomping across his veranda to clear the snow from his shoes, Mason unlocked his door and ushered her inside. When she passed, he felt as if her aura was drawing him along behind her, if such a thing could happen. He sighed.

  She looked around his kitchen as she slipped her sneakers off, and then her socks. He noticed that her toenails were a delicate shade of pink. She must really like pink. Her feet had to be freezing, though. He sent her to sit by the fire.

  Sweeping up the snow that had blown in, looked up to see that she hadn't gone into the other room but stood watching him with an unreadable look in her eyes.

  "You OK?" he asked, reaching for the teakettle and filling it with water. "Want some cocoa?"

  She smiled slightly and nodded. "That would be good. Do I have time for that shower first, though?"

  The mental image flashed through his mind again, making his mouth go dry. "Sure."

  He showed her where the towels were, then came back through the house and spotted the binder laying on the coffee table. He snatched it up and carried it back into the kitchen with him, shoving it into a drawer before making their cocoa. He really didn't want to have to explain it to her.

  He sat down by the fire to sip his cocoa and wait. All he could think about was that she was less than ten feet away, on the other side of that wall, and naked. He felt his jeans tighten again, and shifted in his chair. It had been over a year since he had been with a woman, and it was showing. Not that he hadn't wanted to, but the events of his life before prison had made him second guess every move he made. He was careful, until now, to even be in the presence of a woman without witnesses around.

  And now? There was her. He could imagine hot water flowing down her body, along her generous breasts and hips to her pink-painted toes. Those long dark curls would be plastered against the small of her back, maybe coming to a point just above her....

  He sighed.

  ***

  Crista stayed in the shower until the water began to cool. It might have been the best shower she'd ever taken, she thought as she dried herself with the navy blue towel he'd offered her. It felt wonderful to be clean and warm and cozy again. Wrapping her hair in another, she looked into her little bag.

  All she'd brought to the cabin this week were the clothes she wore here, an extra pair of jeans, some fuzzy socks, and a long jersey to sleep in. The jersey was the obvious choice, since they would be going to bed soon, but it hit just about mid-thigh, and she wasn't sure if that was appropriate. OK, she knew it wasn't appropriate.

  She couldn't stand the idea of getting dressed again, though. She felt soft and warm and clean, and her mind recoiled at the idea of putting on rough jeans again. But could she get by with just the jersey? She decided to chance it. He was very much a gentleman, in spite of her fears, and she was pretty sure that the sight of her rather round body wouldn't turn him into a raging sex maniac. The lake diet obviously needed more than one day to work.

  When she walked back into the main room, he was poking at the fireplace and throwing a few more logs into the flames. She quickly took in
a wonderful glimpse of his very chiseled, very nice denim-clad behind before he stood and turned.

  She saw him swallow hard as his eyes travelled from her toes to her head and then slowly back again. She gulped. He looked...hungry.

  "Uh, can I have some cocoa now?"

  He met her gaze, and she could see the heat there. It made her hot, too.

  "Of course. I'll get you some," he answered slowly, but it was another few seconds before he took his eyes off of her.

  "I can get it. Did you make your phone call?"

  "Yep. All taken care of. Just had to get in touch with my brother about something." He followed her into the kitchen, not taking his eyes off of her. She could feel it.

  She could also feel her response, inexplicable as that response was. Heat tingled through her again, making her mouth dry and her breath quicken. Her heart felt clenched beneath her ribs. His gaze made her feel completely naked. It was a violent feeling, this swirling of sensations, and she wasn't used to it. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd never felt this way before.

  She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down, hoping to hide the uncovered lower half of her body. Maybe then he would stop looking at her, stop making her feel like he could eat her up. Stop making her feel like she wanted him to....

  "Here's your cocoa, but I'm sure you need something to eat, too. Want a ham sandwich? Ooh, wait. Better yet, if you don't mind leftovers, I've got some lasagna in the fridge. I made a pan yesterday morning, and there are always a lot of leftovers. How about it?"

  She took her cocoa and looked up at him. He was chattering, for heaven's sake, which only meant one thing. He was as turned on as she was right now, and trying to control the heat that was churning between them. She could almost see the desperation in his eyes as he talked, trying to distract himself.

  "Lasagna would be great," she said helplessly, searching his eyes as if looking for a life preserver. She gulped again and took a deep breath, and suddenly he was kissing her parted lips, flicking them with his tongue, asking for entrance. She probed back, melting into him as if she could never get enough, as if he were the only thing in the world. One of her hands came up to rest against his chest and, with a mind of its own, curled against the collar of his shirt, pulling herself into him.