“Shit,” they both said in unison, then caught each other’s gaze in one of those frozen moments in time. They had company. They remained unmoving for another agonizingly long moment, waiting to see if the truck—judging from the height and breadth of the beams—moved on, or stopped. The instant the arcing beams of light swung to a stop, they both burst into a frenzy of action, each of them struggling to put on the clothes they’d just fought to get off. Elbows and knees connected, hair tangled, both of them were panting and swearing.
“Wait, wait,” he told her. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’m closer to being dressed. I’ll put my coat on and get out, see what’s what. You take your time. I’ll make sure no one looks in here until you give me a signal.”
Normally she was the one who jumped to the fore when things went amiss. She liked calling the shots.
Easier to place trust in the outcome of things that way. So it was a surprise to her that rather than argue with him, she felt an almost overwhelming wave of gratitude and affection. Of course, the fact that her panties were tangled around her knees and her jeans were half inside out might have played a small part in that. The sound of a heavy truck door slamming shut only served to underscore her appreciation. “Thank you,” she said, never more sincere. “If necessary, I’ll lower the window a wee bit, or toot the horn or something.”
He was already jamming his arms into his coat, his jeans and sweater already back on. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll come right back.”
“Everybody all right in there?” came a shout. From the tenor, it sounded like a man.
“Slide closer to that door,” he instructed with amazing calm. He put his hand on the rear-door handle closest to him. “Snow’s likely to blow in when I get out. Sorry. I’d climb back up front, but I’ll be lucky if I can walk upright at the moment as it is.”
She couldn’t stop the sudden splutter of a laugh, then caught his responding grin and paused in her renewed grappling with her clothes long enough to reach out and briefly touch his face. “We can still take care of that, you know.”
He just wiggled his eyebrows, making her laugh again, which quickly turned to a squeal as he swung the door open and ducked out as fast as he could. The door slammed shut immediately, but snow and bone-chillingly cold air managed to seep in anyway.
“Hi there,” she heard him call out. “Thanks for stopping. Hope we didn’t cause you any problems staying on the road.”
With the extra room, it didn’t take long for her to put her clothes back on. It wasn’t until she’d pulled on her sweater, only to have it hang from her like a sack, that she realized he’d grabbed the wrong one. For all his calm assurance, hadn’t he noticed the snug fit? She clamped a hand to her mouth and giggled, hoping he’d buttoned up his coat. The driver of the truck might wonder at the rows of flowers stitched about the neck and waistband of the sweater his rescuee was wearing.
She pulled her coat down from the seat ledge behind her and shrugged into the still-damp parka. Bracing herself, she pushed out of the backseat and into the snowstorm once again.
The truck was a big lorry with wheels half the size of the compact she’d just spent the better part of the last hour romping in. The driver was no small man himself. He was older though, judging by the furry white eyebrows, and the paunch that was noticeable even beneath his heavy coat spoke of few missed meals.
“I dinna have a hook with me, lad, so I canno’ tow you out,” the older man was saying. “But I can give ye a lift to the next village if you’d like. At least you and the missus,” he nodded his head toward her as she stepped in closer, “can spend what’s left o’ the night in comfort. Helen Stewart runs a boardinghouse in Calyth and I’m sure she won’t mind being rousted up to get you folks setded for the night.”
Maura smiled at his assumption, wondering how he’d come to that conclusion given there were two vehicles stranded here. Only upon looking across the road to where her truck was stuck, she realized he likely hadn’t noticed. It was nothing but a misshapen lump now with a white flag sticking out the back. She remembered how he had stalked off with the other half of his torn T-shirt and realized he’d tied it to something in her truck and stuck it in the snow as a marker.
Just then he slid his hand into hers and pulled her closer. “That would be fine.” He glanced at her. “Okay with you, honey?”
Now what game were they playing? Whatever it was, she found herself smiling and nodding. “Aye.” She turned to the truck driver and extended her free hand. “Thank you for yer help.”
His eyes lit up. “Ah, a Scots lass.” He glanced between them. “Are ye both from around here then?” They looked at each other and she knew there was no reason to let the man think anything other than the truth. They were two strangers, stranded by happenstance and a run of bad luck. But pretending to be otherwise was more fun. And harmless, really.
She smiled at him. “Just traveling through. Showing him a bit of my homeland, as it were.”
“Ah,” he said, apparently not curious enough to care for more details.
Maura was disappointed. She had no idea why the game appealed, but it had. She’d been prepared to embellish, to be fanciful. And she’d been a bit curious to hear her “significant other’s” side of things as well. Oh well, at least they’d be out of the storm and removed from possible monoxide poisoning. The question was, by the time they got to Calyth, would her partner in adventure wish to continue their night of anonymous debauchery? She found she wasn’t quite ready for it to be over yet. And not just because they’d stopped before the best part She was liking him, her nameless, rogue lover. It was all nothing more than a random fling, they both knew that, but there was nothing to say it couldn’t last just a tad longer, was there? Sure she had to get back to Ballantrae and face the mountain of worries waiting for her there. Not to mention the memories of Jory and Priss in her bed.
It was that latter part that decided her on doing whatever was necessary to convince her shag mate to continue their romp, at least through morning. Any longer and it would likely get awkward anyway.
The driver had them both tucked up snug in the bench seat, with her in the middle. The cab smelled of coffee and stale pipe tobacco. It wasn’t altogether an unpleasant smell. It reminded her of her Uncle Niall and the mornings she’d come downstairs and listen as he railed on about this parliament issue or that farming inequity. When she’d been younger, she hadn’t cared so much about the topic of the day, she’d just enjoyed the flair with which he ranted on about them. She’d always thought he’d missed his calling. He should have sat in the House of Lords. Lord Niall Sinclair, fifteenth laird of clan Sinclair of Ballantrae, could have debated with the best of them in Parliament. Wouldn’t he have fancied that?
The truck rumbled down the mountain and she let the pleasant memories wash through her and her eyes drift shut as the men chatted amiably. She must have fallen asleep, because it only seemed like moments later that she was being gently roused. She blinked and yawned, and pushed away from that wonderful chest she’d been nestled against.
“We’re here.” He nodded toward the front windshield.
She sat up, stifling another yawn. “I’m sorry I drifted off on you.”
His smile was just for her. “It’s been a hard night.”
She managed to swallow a snicker as she caught the twinkle in his eye. “Aye, that it has. Happily,” she said quietly, “it’s not over yet.”
He slid his hand into hers as the driver appeared on their side and opened the door. He stepped down first and levered her down beside him, those big, confident hands of his easily commanding her hips. She worked at keeping the images of those hands on her hips, and how confidently they’d steered her earlier. And how she hoped they’d be steering her again shortly.
“I’ve spoken to Helen,” the driver was saying. “She’s waitin’ on you inside there.”
Maura collected herself and turned to face him. She held out both hands and took his, warmly shaking it. “Than
k you for your rescue, kind sir,” she said with a smile and a little curtsy.
He might have blushed a little. “Och, ’twas nothing. Glad I could help.” He looked past her and tipped his hat. “Enjoy yer stay in the Highlands, T.J.” He grinned. “But next time, have her bring ye in the spring, aye?”
“T.J.” smiled, nodded. “Will do, Angus. A pleasure making your company. If you’re staying on tonight, I’d be happy to buy you breakfast in the morning.”
“Thank you, but I’m no’ so far from home. The wife is waiting on me.” He tipped his hat again. “You’d best be getting inside before yer covered in snow again.” Then he was around his truck and climbing up in the driver’s seat.
They ducked under the narrow awning of the inn, but stayed there long enough to wave him off. She’d barely registered their surroundings. Angus had called him T.J. Apparently her rogue lover and their Good Samaritan had had quite a lovely chat on the drive down the mountain. Part of her was undeniably thrilled with this added tidbit of information. And yet another part of her wished she hadn’t overheard it. The less she knew, the easier it was to maintain the fantasy… and discouraged her from forming any more than a fleeting affection for the man.
“Shall we?” he asked, holding the door into the narrow row house.
If he was aware she’d picked up on the driver’s slip, he apparently wasn’t going to mention it. She barely had time to glance about as they stepped inside the tiny foyer. She’d driven through Calyth before, but as she rarely had cause to head south into the Cairngorms, usually going up to Inverness instead when she needed something, she’d never stopped here before. It was hardly even a village proper, with only the scant row of buildings lining the main road. But as long as it boasted a spare room with a bed, she’d be more than happy.
“Come in, come in,” came a gravelly voice from the dim recesses across the landing. Startled, both Maura and T.J. peered into the gloom behind the staircase that stretched upward in front of them, and took a tentative step forward.
“Didn’t Angus say the owner’s name was Helen?” Maura whispered, leaning closer to T.J. as they shuffled forward.
“Maybe she sent her husband out to meet us.”
Just then a small, stooped woman scuffed her way into the narrow pools of light provided by the matching pair of sconces positioned on either side of the closed panel doors, set in the wall to their left. Probably leading to a little parlor, Maura thought.
The older woman—Helen, their hostess, she presumed—was rail thin and sported an amazing rat’s nest of steel gray hair piled high on top of her head. It added at least another half foot to a frame that still only managed to come up to Maura’s chin. She stopped in front of them, having to crane her neck up to look them in the face. Maura couldn’t help but wonder how the old woman balanced such a thing on her skeletal neck, but was saved from further ruminations when their hostess spoke again.
“Angus said ye’d be needing a room.” That rough-as-gravel voice coming from such a small frame was just as startling the second time.
Maura wondered just how many cartons of ciggies a person would have to smoke to create such a sound. She resisted a shudder at the thought. “Yes, ma’am, if you’d be so kind,” she said.
Helen wore a housecoat patterned with faded roses and overlarge slippers on her feet. She peered first at Maura, then at T.J., through tiny eyeglasses that perched precariously on the end of her bony nose. If she found T.J.’s less-than-conventional appearance off putting, she didn’t let on. Although how one could tell, given her generally pinched expression, Maura couldn’t say.
“I’ve only one room left. Skiers, ye know,” Helen announced flatly. “You’ll have to share the W.C. with the other boarders.”
“That’s fine,” T.J. said. “We really appreciate this.” He pulled out his wallet, but the old woman waved it away.
“Settle up in the morning.” She held out a room key, then motioned up the staircase. “Second landing, to your right. You’ll have to carry your own bags as the mister is already snoring. Ye’d think he ran the place all himself for all he drops off like a stone at half past ten.” Maura felt a smile tug at her lips, and when T.J. bumped shoulders with her, she knew he’d been amused as well. She didn’t dare look at him for fear of bursting into a snort of laughter.
He took the key and sketched a slight bow. “We appreciate your hospitality. We can see ourselves to the room. Sorry to intrude so late.”
Helen merely jerked her chin in terse acceptance, then shuffled back beyond the gloomy recesses of the tiny foyer, down the hallway that stretched out behind the stairs. “There’ll be tea and scones in the parlor come morning,” she called back without pausing. “If you want more than that, there’s a shop on the other side of town that serves breakfast.”
“Other side of town?” Maura silently mouthed. “There’s hardly a town to have a side of,” she whispered.
Helen’s exit was finalized by the creaky opening, and quite definitive closing of a door somewhere in the distance.
“ ’Night, Helen,” Maura murmured, then glanced at T.J. and gave in to the snicker she’d been repressing. “Quite the character, isn’t she?”
“I happen to like odd ducks,” he said, a bemused, yet fond expression on his face. “Probably a case of like being attracted to like.”
Maura gave him a considering look. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
He turned away from the dark hallway and looked at her squarely for the first time since entering the place. His eyes were still cast in shadows, but the wild curls and sharp curve of his jaw as his mouth spread into a knowing grin tugged at something inside her. Something that should be simple attraction, but was somehow more complex than that. Despite their physical interaction to date, he was still a stranger to her. And yet she had this sense of a communal spirit between them.
He held up the room key. “Why don’t we head upstairs and I can clarify my feelings on the subject.”
It was clear the kind of communing he had in mind. Apparently he had a much more direct take on the basis of their attraction to one another. One she’d be wise to adopt.
Morning would come soon enough and her grand adventure would be over. She might as well get the most from it that she could, right? Besides, given what she faced at home, it would likely have to hold her over for some time to come.
She slipped the key from his fingers and gave him what she hoped was a suitably saucy wink. “Why don’t we, indeed?”
Chapter 9
With a wink and a very promising smile, Maura took off up the narrow staircase. Tag didn’t need any further encouragement. The carpeting on the stairs was worn, but muffled their footsteps adequately. Or so he hoped. All he needed was Helen storming upstairs in her bed slippers, wielding a cane and that harsh voice. He wasn’t sure which he’d fear more.
He caught her on the second-floor landing, snagging her sleeve and pulling her back around so she banged up against his chest. He let the weight of her push him into the corner and tugged her tightly into his arms. Finally, was all he could think. Like it had been eons instead of a measly few hours since he’d had his hands on her.
“Why is it we always have too many clothes on to suit my needs?” he murmured, enjoying the flash of her dimples. Did odd things to him. Made something in his chest shift. And a few not so odd. Like making him go hard instantaneously.
“I believe you’re the one wasting time here,” she noted, not trying in the least to wiggle free.
“Wasting time, am I?” He lowered his mouth until it hovered just over hers. “Is that what this is?” He took her in a slow, deep kiss. He’d been too impatient in the car, too aware of the cramped surroundings and the serendipitous nature of their rendezvous to settle down and appreciate every taste, every touch. Now they’d made the conscious decision to continue, and with all the room in the world at their immediate disposal. Just not all the time.
And he found he wanted to use what little th
ey did have to imprint her on his every sense. He wanted to remember exactly how she tasted, the scent of her, the texture of her skin, the feel of her hair brushing his face and her fingertips skating across his back.
Mostly he wanted to remember how she kissed him back. Possibly one of the things he enjoyed most about her. She didn’t wait for him to lead, but neither did she take over. What she did was engage herself fully, immersing herself in the moment with no hesitation, no censorship of emotions. It was a little intimidating, especially for a man who by nature tended to guard his emotions, control his actions. Yet it was also intoxicating, possibly for the same reasons. She made him want to act with abandon.
So far she’d been pretty damn successful.
The result though, was that merely kissing her took him places that actual sex with anyone else never had. It made him hunger, filled him with a voracious need that had him puzzling over how it was he’d gone so long without experiencing anything like this.
He knew the answer to that, in part anyway. He’d spent his life studying ancient civilizations… and largely avoiding contact with those in the current one. Even so, he wasn’t a monk. And yet, he’d never felt anything remotely as powerful as this. Maybe it was because she so effortlessly drew him out of himself, that had him behaving in a manner he otherwise never would. Or maybe it was just her.
Or maybe he was simply delirious from lack of sleep.
She slipped her hands beneath his coat just then, and skimmed her palms beneath the snug knit of his sweater. Sleep was going to have to wait a bit longer.
“Nice flowers,” she murmured against his lips, and he could hear the smile in her voice. In fact, he couldn’t imagine her without that thread of humor lacing her every phrase.
Catch Me If You Can Page 11
