On Temporary Terms

by Janice Maynard

  There was no warning, no preparation for this confrontation. Her heart shredded and her stomach shrank. He was too close. She felt raw. Exposed. “No apology needed,” she croaked. “It was a difficult few hours.”

  He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “You saved my life last night, and you don’t even know it. But I let it go too far.”

  “There were two of us in that bed,” she snapped. “Don’t play the noble hero. It was no big deal.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re angry.”

  Maybe so, but not for the reasons he thought. She scrambled for composure. These next few days would depend on her ability to keep things light. “Neither of us meant for anything to happen last night, Duncan. Let’s call it extenuating circumstances. You didn’t take advantage of me. I don’t want your apologies. Still, my firm will be handling your grandmother’s probate, so it’s probably a good idea for us to establish some boundaries.”

  “I agree.” His tone was formal, his gaze frosty. “On another note, we didn’t use protection. You should know that I’m in good health.”

  Abby’s face flamed. Never in a million years had she imagined herself in the midst of such a conversation. “As am I,” she said. “It was an unfortunate lapse, but I’m on the Pill for other reasons, so pregnancy isn’t a worry.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes.”

  Despite the negative tenor of their conversation, he still stood in the vee of her outspread knees. Though he wasn’t touching her, they breathed the same oxygen. He ran a hand through his hair, betraying possible frustration. “I’ve spoken to my family.”

  “How did that go?”

  “They were shocked, of course. And sad. No one is ever prepared for the fact that goodbyes are sometimes not an option.”

  “What happens next?” She hopped down from the counter, forcing him to step back. Without waiting for permission, she began putting away the food Lara had brought.

  “I have a problem,” Duncan said. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She closed the refrigerator door and stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I told you Granny wanted to be cremated.”

  “Yes.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense. Grandda is buried in the cemetery in town. There’s a plot beside him. People want to pay their respects at a funeral, both former and current employees. Some of them worked for my grandparents for decades. Why wouldn’t I have a traditional funeral so her friends could say goodbye?”

  “Do you have any idea why she mentioned cremation? Was there some significance to having her ashes scattered on top of the mountain?”

  “I don’t think so. If I had to guess, I’d say she wanted to make things easier for our family. No funeral, no problem. Or maybe she was simply trying to be economical.”

  “Old people get that way sometimes, even when they have nothing to worry about financially.”

  “Yes. They do.”

  “Well, at the risk of seeming disrespectful, I’d say what matters is the choice that feels right to you. She’s gone. You’re here. If you think a traditional funeral is the way to go, then do it.”

  He nodded slowly. “I will.” His expression lightened. “Thanks, Abby. I hadn’t expected all these decisions. It’s a lot. I don’t want to make a mistake. I want to honor her memory...hers and Grandda’s.” Before she could stop him, he reached out and pulled her into a bear hug. “Thank you for being here with me.”

  Seven

  Duncan used his gratitude shamelessly as an excuse to touch her again. Abby was right. They couldn’t carry on an affair under the circumstances. But God, he wanted to feel her in his arms again.

  He stroked her hair, but other than that, behaved himself.

  Last night had taken him to the depths and then at the last moment, thrown him a life raft in the form of sexy, curvaceous, kindhearted Abby Hartmann. Even now, the memories made him hard. He released her reluctantly. “I have to go to the funeral home at one o’clock to view the body. I picked out a casket online this morning, and the dress shop in town sent over a fall suit that Granny would have liked. I wanted her to have something new. But there are a few other things that require my attention. Come with me. Please.”

  “Of course.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, visibly uncomfortable. “I’ve taken a week off from work, Duncan. I want to help you any way I can.”

  “But not sleep with me.”

  “Of course not!”

  He smiled wryly. “Just making sure.” Tormenting Abby was one of the few pleasures he had left. Besides, he still wasn’t sure if she was an angel come to save him or a cagey lawyer with her own reasons for hanging around. He wanted to believe she was innocent and pure, but he could swear she was keeping secrets from him, and that raised all sorts of red flags. “I’m starving,” he said. “Let’s see what your friend brought us.”

  Over a home-cooked meal that was better than anything he had tasted in his entire life, Abby grilled him.

  “What will you do with the house?” she asked.

  He took a sip of water and grabbed another chicken leg. “I don’t know. But whether I sell it tomorrow or a year from now, it has to be cleaned out. My grandparents weren’t hoarders, but they were married for a long, long time. There are closets and cabinets and drawers...” He shook his head, shuddering. “Brody and Cate helped Granny get started with some of it, but they barely scratched the surface. It’s going to be a mess.”

  “Do you feel like you have to deal with it personally? For sentimental reasons?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all. A few months ago, Granny gave Brody and me some mementos of our grandfather. Beyond that, we’re guys. We don’t care about dishes and such. I think the best thing is to take all the clothing and linens to charity and then have a big estate sale.”

  “I could help with emptying the drawers and closets and bagging up the things to give away.”

  “And I’ll have to do Grandda’s office myself.”

  “Is a week enough time?”

  “I think it will have to be.”

  Abby didn’t press about the business, and he was glad. By every standard, he should be relieved that he could sell and walk away. But somehow, now that his grandmother was gone so suddenly, it didn’t seem that easy.

  When the meal was done, they cleaned up the kitchen in silence and put the food away. He touched her arm. “The funeral is going to be tomorrow afternoon at two. I didn’t see any reason to wait. Sunday afternoon is a time most people are free.”

  “Makes sense.”

  He played with a strand of her hair, unable to keep away from her despite his best judgment. “When it’s done, let’s go to Asheville overnight. To that big, fancy hotel I’ve heard about. We’ll have a nice dinner, relax and come home on Monday to tackle all this.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes huge. “You’re asking me to go away to a hotel with you?”

  “We could reserve two rooms.” But he didn’t want to...

  “I’m getting very mixed signals from you, Duncan.”

  He grimaced. “I know.”

  “Funerals are grueling. You’ll need a break afterward.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Her gaze searched his face as if looking for answers he couldn’t give her. The whole situation was screwed up. It made no sense at all to get further involved with Abby. The only reason he had come to Candlewick in the first place was for his grandmother. Now, that reason was gone. Complicating matters further was the reality that Abby’s legal firm would push the idea of selling the business immediately. Duncan needed time to process what he had lost.

  Abby sighed, leaning into his chest for a brief moment before stepping away self-consciously and puttering at the sink. “Lara brought me a suitcase of clothes and other necessities. I think I’ll shower and
change. I’ll be ready whenever you want to leave.”

  She escaped, leaving Duncan to realize that she had never actually said yes to the Asheville idea.

  * * *

  Viewing his grandmother’s body turned out to be much more heart-wrenching than he had expected. She seemed even smaller in death. Abby stayed at his shoulder the entire time—at one point, slipping her hand into his.

  He squeezed it. “She was a formidable lady. She and Grandda let Brody and me stay with them for several months when our parents divorced. She gave us sympathy and support, but she didn’t coddle us. That was the Scots in her. She knew we had to be tough in a tough world.”

  He turned suddenly and looked down at Abby. “I’m sorry. This must bring back memories of losing your mother.”

  She shook her head. “No. I was too young. But I will admit to having a distaste for funeral homes. Something about the smells and the creaky floors and the guys in suits. Maybe we should do the whole Norse funeral-pyre thing and put our loved ones on flaming boats and send them out to sea.”

  “You do realize that Candlewick is in the mountains.”

  “It’s a metaphor,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder for a brief moment. “Work with me, Duncan.”

  He bent and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “I love you, Granny. Godspeed. Give Grandda a big hug from Brody and me.”

  The funeral home employee stood several feet away, discreetly waiting for his cue to close the casket.

  Duncan hesitated. Watching that lid go down was not something he wanted to witness. He gave the man an apologetic glance. “We’ll step outside if you don’t mind.”

  In the hallway, he felt oddly dizzy. He hadn’t signed on for this. Running Stewart Properties was one thing. What did he know about giving his grandmother a proper send-off? What if he did something wrong?

  Abby dragged him to a nearby chair. “Sit.” She handed him a bottle of water. “It’s going to be okay, Duncan.”

  “Aye.” He took a long swig, draining half the container. “I suppose it is. But when?”

  Afterward, there was more to be done. All of the paperwork had to be finalized, the flowers ordered, a brief obituary written for the online listing, the Presbyterian minister nailed down for the words of committal and the burial scheduled for immediately after the brief service.

  When they finally walked out of the funeral home into the bright autumn sunshine, Duncan felt as if he had gone three rounds with the old bully from his school back home. That huge, blustering kid was the one who taught Duncan to be light on his feet and how to take a blow to the face and keep going.

  Looking back, those days were sweet and simple compared to this.

  * * *

  He barely remembered driving up the mountain.

  Now, each time he had to return to his grandmother’s house was going to be painful. The echoing silence. The memories.

  Abby dropped her purse on a chair in the foyer and eyed him with an assessing gaze. “What do you want to do? Get to work? Take a nap? Channel surf in front of the TV?”

  He rolled his shoulders. What he really wanted to do was take Abby to bed. His hands trembled with the need to touch her and feel her warm curves against him. “If you’re up for it, we could climb the mountain. I haven’t been up to the top since Grandda died.”

  “I love that idea. I went there once with a date a million years ago. We were both in high school. He wanted to impress me. We climbed a fence and ended up in poison ivy. You can imagine the rest.”

  Duncan laughed, as she had meant him to... “Hopefully, today will be more uneventful.”

  They changed clothes, grabbed a couple of water bottles and set out. The sun hung low in the sky, but they had plenty of time to get back to the house before dark. Years ago, Geoffrey and Isobel had built a trail all the way to the top of the mountain. They owned several hundred acres of pristine forest. When Duncan sold everything, what would happen to this peaceful wilderness?

  The thought troubled him, though it wasn’t really his problem.

  Abby was in great physical shape, but he had to adjust his stride to accommodate her vertically challenged legs. She wore khaki shorts, a white cotton shirt tied at her waist and tiny leather hiking boots that made her look like a very sexy mountain climber.

  He tried not to fixate on her legs. Or on the peeks of her stomach where her shorts and her top separated. The day was hot. She started out with only two buttons undone on her shirt. By the time they made it to the summit, a third one was loose. He liked his odds. Especially when tiny droplets of sweat rolled down between her breasts. He could almost imagine tasting each one.

  They found the old weathered bench that had been there forever and flopped down, breathing hard. In front of them, a swath of treetops had been cut out, framing a postcard vista of the town of Candlewick far below.

  Abby drained half of her water and wiped her mouth. “I’d forgotten how stunning the view is up here.”

  The view was definitely stunning, but it was closer to home. The woman beside him far outshone the scenery. Duncan found himself hot and horny and desperately conflicted. He was going back to Scotland very soon. Before—when he’d known he was here in North Carolina for at least two years—he had entertained the possibility of a relationship with the smart, sexy lawyer. The attraction was definitely mutual, and Abby was unattached.

  But how fair was it for him to use her sympathy and her generous heart and her gorgeous body to help him through a bad time and then walk away?

  When Abby stood to shoot a few photographs with her smartphone, Duncan stayed where he was and brooded. If Abby’s boss had his way, Duncan would exit this experience a very wealthy man. He could take a share of his money back to Scotland and invest in Brody’s company, perhaps become a full partner. Is that what he wanted?

  Abby turned back to him and smiled. “Say cheese.” He frowned, but she took the shot anyway. “Something to remember you by,” she said lightly.

  Had she said it on purpose? To let him know that she knew? They might have blistering chemistry, but their timing sucked. Not to mention the possibly/probably unethical fact that Abby’s boss was going to oversee the disbursement of Isobel Stewart’s estate.

  When she sat down again at his side, he flinched and put another few inches between them. His mood was volatile. Her nearness was a provocation he couldn’t handle in his current mental state.

  Abby sighed. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he lied with a straight face.

  She leapt to her feet and paced. “You’re all alone, Duncan. You have a gargantuan task ahead of you, even if you only consider the house and not the business. Your brother has a brand-new wife and an even newer baby. He’s in no position to help you with this. From what you’ve told me of your father, he’s far too self-absorbed to drop everything and support his younger son or deal with actual work.”

  He cocked his head. “What are you trying to say, Abby?”

  With her hands on her hips, she faced him, cheeks flushed, rose-gold curls tumbling in the breeze. “I’m the only friend you have at the moment. You need me. And I want to help you. But we have this thing between us. It’s awkward.”

  “You told me pretty clearly to keep my hands to myself.”

  “I may have been wrong about that,” she said, her expression hard to read. “Or at least unrealistic. Before your grandmother died——when you and I were flirting with the idea of a temporary fling—you were going to be a resident. I was worried about my career. About gossip. But you’re leaving Candlewick now...or at least you will be soon. As long as we’re discrete, I can’t see that anything we do or don’t do is anyone’s business but ours.”

  Again, he got the impression she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. What was she hiding? What was her endgame?

&nbs
p; “I’ve never been a man who uses a woman for sex.”

  “What do you call it if the woman is using you in return?”

  His head snapped back in shock. “Excuse me?”

  Abby gazed at him with a wry, self-mocking smile. “I’m not writing a fairy tale here, Duncan. I live in a small town with an extremely limited dating pool. It might be nice for me to enjoy a liaison without worrying about repercussions when it’s over. You’re like a yummy homemade dessert from a local bakery...with a definite expiration date stamped on the box. You’ll be going back to Scotland sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we could fool around.”

  He gaped at her. “You’re propositioning me?”

  “I’m sorry if that offends your alpha male sensibilities.”

  To be honest, it kind of did. He had wanted to pursue her...to convince her. “I’ll have to think about it,” he said, sounding stiff and pedantic even to his own ears.

  “Fine,” Abby said. “You do that.” Her eyes flashed fire, and her face turned beet red. “I’m going back to the house.”

  She set off down the trail at a breakneck pace. He was so shocked by her offer and his own stupid response that it took him several minutes to jump up and follow her.

  The woman was fast. He’d give her that. They were almost back at the house before he caught up with her, and that was only because a branch had gotten tangled in her hair. She was cursing and pulling and—if he wasn’t mistaken—about to cry.

  “Steady, lass,” he said, sliding his arms around her from behind and stilling her flailing arms. “You’re making it worse.”

  She froze. He held the branch steady with one hand and used the other to separate her hair from its prison, one strand at a time. Then he cupped her face in his hands. “I’m sorry, sweet Abby. You took me by surprise.”

  She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s no big deal. I misread the situation. I’m going home now. You can let me know when and if you need assistance loading boxes and filling garbage bags.”