by Brenda Novak
“Cierra?”
“Yes?”
“You’re still here.”
“Sí.”
“Why?”
“I do not know.”
She heard the water sluice off him as he stood.
“My heart, it’s pounding,” she whispered.
“So is mine. See?” Taking her hand, he placed it on his chest.
She wasn’t sure she could feel his heartbeat, but she felt warm skin covering hard sinew. Mesmerized, she let her fingers slide curiously over it, then up his neck to hold his face between her palms. Just touching him made her feel as if she was being consumed by liquid fire.
“Kiss me,” he murmured.
Don’t think. Let go. Just once. Rising up on tiptoe, she touched her lips to his and heard him growl deep in his throat. He liked the contact—and so did she. She felt him coaxing her to deepen the kiss and was soon thrusting her tongue as eagerly into his mouth as he was hers.
She wasn’t sure if he realized she was naked. He hadn’t touched her except to lightly settle his hands at her waist, which meant it wasn’t too late to slip away so that he’d never learn. As far as he knew, she could be in her bra and underwear, right? But she didn’t want to go. She allowed him to guide her between his legs as he sat down. Then he held her in place as his mouth moved to her breast.
He knew she was naked, all right. Despite the darkness, he must’ve seen her undress. Or maybe he’d heard the soft plop of her clothes when they hit the cement.
Instinctively, her hands moved to his head. She intended to push him away, to put an end to this before it went too far. But she’d overestimated her willpower. Instead of insisting he stop, she moaned at the sensations he brought to life and anchored him against her.
His mouth traveled up, licking the water from her neck along the way. Then he eased her down on his lap and, although it was covered by fabric, she could feel the part of a man that had no longer worked for Charlie.
Obviously, Ken didn’t have the same problem.
KEN WAS DOING EVERYTHING he could to hold himself in check. He’d thought he could pleasure Cierra without getting too carried away. What was the harm in some skinny-dipping? Kissing? Maybe even a little exploring? None—except he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Maybe we should think about this,” he said.
“No!” she gasped.
Laughing at her emphatic response, he lowered his head to look at her face. He had condoms in his room. Should he bring her there to finish what they’d started?
He was still trying to decide if his conscience would agree to it when she kissed him again. It wasn’t the most artful kiss he’d ever received but the simple sweetness of it seared him to the bone. With kisses like that, he doubted they’d make it to the bedroom. He already had one hand on her breast while the other searched for even more sensitive territory.
He’d just reached his goal when someone called his name. Cierra heard it, too, and went rigid. “Brent!”
“I’ll take care of it.” Setting her away from him, he whispered that she should stay there. Then he got out of the Jacuzzi and wrapped a towel around his waist before his brother could come looking for him.
“Brent?” he hollered as he walked out.
By now his brother was halfway across the gym. “I thought you might be in the tub.”
“I was just getting out.” Putting a hand on Brent’s shoulder, he steered him back toward the kitchen. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you for a day or two.”
“I told Mom about Cierra. She wanted to send some clothes for her, insisted I bring them right away.”
“Clothes from where?”
“From the store. Where else? She spent the entire afternoon shopping and loved every minute of it.”
“But…how did Mom know Cierra’s size?”
“I told her she was small.”
Ken knew how small. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her beneath his hands.
“If these don’t fit, we can take them back and get others,” Brent was saying. “Where is she?”
“She went to bed a while ago.” Which was true. Ken just didn’t mention that she’d slipped out.
“Good thing I didn’t knock on her door.” Brent pointed at the decorated tree. “She do all this?”
No way was Ken going to admit he’d helped. Brent would find it a little too amusing. “Yeah.”
“Looks nice. Where’d she get the stuff?”
“I brought it back when I went to town earlier.” “Really?”
Ken scowled. “What’s the big deal?”
“I didn’t think you’d decorate for Christmas, that’s all.”
“It’s not like I’m Scrooge.”
“No, not Scrooge. Just…I don’t know if I would’ve done it.”
“I thought Cierra could use the distraction.”
“Good idea.” He sounded impressed. “You locate the address you were looking for this morning?”
Figuring it was best to tell everyone the same story, Ken shook his head. “Nope. No luck.”
His brother clicked his tongue. “What are we going to do about her?”
If Brent hadn’t shown up so unexpectedly, Ken would be making love to her. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything except the feel and taste of her. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll hire her until we arrange something better, huh?”
Brent frowned at the floor. “You didn’t dry off very well. You’re getting water everywhere.”
“What? You’re Mom now?” He punched his brother in the arm. “I’m beat. See you in the morning.” He went to his room and stayed there until he heard the television go on and knew Brent was occupied with a movie. Then he crept back across the gym to get Cierra. Now that he’d had time to clear his head, he realized it’d been a mistake to touch her as intimately as he had. He couldn’t start dating again if he was sleeping with his housekeeper. What kind of a lecher would that make him?
As he opened the door to the Jacuzzi and smelled that first blast of chlorine, he was trying to decide how he was going to apologize and tell her about his change of heart.
But he didn’t have to say anything. Apparently, she’d already come to the same conclusion. When he got there, she was gone.
CHAPTER TEN
CIERRA BURROWED BENEATH the covers of her bed, seeking refuge and comfort. So much had changed in the past few months; she’d changed. She hardly recognized herself anymore. She’d come to America to get married. Instead, her fiancé had died and now she was staying in a remote cabin with the reincarnation of the handsome movie star she’d fantasized about for the past three months. But that didn’t mean she was suddenly going to live a fairy-tale life. She had to protect her heart, keep herself together and do whatever was necessary to survive. Her determination was all she had.
Her door opened slightly. “Cierra?” It was Ken, speaking in a low voice so Brent wouldn’t overhear.
Was it too soon to pretend she was asleep? She knew it was, and yet she didn’t want to discuss what had happened. She preferred to forget it, chalk it up to the general insanity and misfortune she’d encountered since her parents died. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Sí. I am fine.” Would he come in, expect to be welcomed into her bed, despite Brent’s presence?
She hoped not, and yet she had mixed feelings when he didn’t even try. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. It—it won’t happen again,” he said, and the door clicked shut.
A KNOCK AT THE FRONT door woke Cierra the next morning. She assumed Ken or Brent would get it but, when they didn’t, she began to wonder if, as their housekeeper, that was her job.
Climbing out of bed, she rubbed her eyes and checked the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was barely eight. Who would drive up to the cabin so early?
She put on her only pair of jeans, smoothed down Ken’s T-shirt, which she’d worn to bed, and ran her fingers through her hair to make herself as presentable as she co
uld in ten seconds. Then she hurried to the living room. She was just reaching for the door handle when she heard Ken behind her.
“Who is it?” he asked with a yawn.
“I don’t know.” She stepped back in case he wanted to answer it, but he stayed in the hall and motioned for her to go ahead.
A second later, she was facing Tiffany Wheeler, who was doused in the same perfume she’d had on at the diner. Her hair, makeup and clothing were as perfect as ever, too.
“Hi.” Tiffany’s smile faltered when she saw that Cierra was, once again, wearing Ken’s clothes, especially when she spotted Ken and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Cierra knew that, at first glance, it looked as if they’d been in the same bed. But she shouldn’t have worried that Tiffany might suspect any such thing. A second later, Ken’s ex-girlfriend shrugged and broadened her smile as if this couldn’t possibly be what it looked like. Ken would never be interested in someone like Cierra. Cierra had nothing to compete with.
“You’re getting all settled in, huh?” She spoke to Ken as though Cierra wasn’t standing there and held up the plate she carried so he could see it. “I made you some homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”
“Come on in. You caught me sleeping but I’ll grab a shirt.”
Cierra dutifully took the rolls and closed the door behind her.
“Place looks great,” Tiffany said while Ken was gone. “Did you do all this yourself?”
Cierra and Ken had done it together, but she didn’t think he’d want her to mention that. He hadn’t told Brent last night. She’d heard him say she’d done it all. “Sí.”
As Cierra put the rolls on the dining table, Tiffany noticed the nacimiento displayed between the couches and Ken’s chair and crossed over to it. “Oh! I saw this at Gerdy’s Boutique and wanted it myself,” she said, her eyes wide. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Maybe she’d get it someday. She wanted Ken, too, didn’t she? “Sí.”
Tiffany studied her for a moment. “You know, you have really pretty eyes. If you’d like to come over sometime, I’ll help you put on a little makeup. It wouldn’t take much. Your skin is already flawless. A bit of mascara on those lashes and you’d be stunning.”
Stunning. Cierra didn’t feel she could ever be stunning. Not compared to Tiffany. But she had to give Ken’s ex-girlfriend credit for trying to be nice. Or was Tiffany merely making it clear that she didn’t view Cierra as any kind of threat?
Mom thought you were perfect for each other. Brent had said that about Tiffany and Ken. And they probably were. They even looked like they belonged together. So what would one half of that equation want with a blue-collar illegal immigrant from Guatemala who had three sisters to feed?
Ken reappeared, looking as good as if he’d taken the time to shower. He hadn’t. He’d merely put on a pair of jeans with a sweater and house shoes, and combed his hair. But he didn’t need to do much. With his rugged face and muscular body, he was attractive no matter what. “How about one of those rolls?” he said.
“I will make coffee.” Cierra ducked out of the room as soon as she felt it was safe to do so without appearing rude. But the kitchen opened onto the living room and, even though they’d lowered their voices, she could hear Tiffany and Ken talking about her after she’d left.
“Your housekeeper is so sweet, Ken. How old is she?”
“I haven’t asked, but I’m guessing she’s about twenty-five.”
“How long have you had her? Was she with you in New York?”
“No. We met when I flew in to Boise.”
Cierra peered out through the crack in the door. Tiffany stood close to Ken, and touched his arm at every opportunity. “You’re lucky to have someone like her. It’s got to be nice having help. Does she cook?”
“She does. She hasn’t made a lot yet, but what she’s served has been terrific.”
“Mexican food?”
“Guatemalan.”
“You’ll have to ask her if she’ll teach me a dish or two.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“Awesome! That would be fun!”
“Hi, Tiff!” When Brent joined them, Cierra returned to the stove to prepare eggs and bacon. She wasn’t certain whether additional food was expected with cinnamon rolls, but she preferred to keep busy. That made it easier not to obsess about Tiffany.
“You drove all the way up here just to bring my bum brother some rolls?” Brent’s voice carried back to Cierra, but she knew Tiffany’s response wouldn’t be as loud. Wanting to hear it, Cierra tiptoed over to the door.
“Actually, I came here because I wanted to ask him a question.” She seemed a little nervous despite her usual confidence.
“What is it?” Ken’s face was filled with curiosity.
Tiffany glanced from Ken to Brent and back again. “Some of my friends, three different couples, are going skiing at Silver Mountain Resort tomorrow, then staying over at a cabin. I was hoping you’d be my date.”
Ken’s mouth dropped open. “Uh, that sounds good, but I’m not quite settled in—”
“I’ll be around to take care of what’s left,” Brent said. “Me and Cierra. Go, have a great time.”
Hands in his pockets, Ken cleared his throat. “Right, it’s the holidays, after all. So…sure, I’ll come.”
“Thank you!” Tiffany threw her arms around him, then hugged Brent. “Can you pick me up at my place first thing in the morning? Around six?”
“Sure.”
“Because of the storms, I think we should take your Land Rover, if that’s okay.”
“No problem.”
“I’m glad you can come,” she said, and started for the door.
“You’re not staying for breakfast?” Brent asked.
“No, I’ve got a lot to do today so I can be away from the flower shop. But enjoy the rolls. Smells like the coffee’s ready.”
“Thanks.” Ken showed her out, then turned back to his brother. “That came out of nowhere, didn’t it?”
“Are you kidding?” Brent replied. “You know Tiffany’s been waiting for you to come home for years. How can you be surprised?”
Ken didn’t respond.
“You’re going to have a blast,” Brent added.
“Yeah, should be fun,” Ken muttered.
Cierra hurried to the stove but could still hear Brent’s booming voice. “This is the beginning of the end for you, bro. You’re going to make the big commitment soon. I can feel it.”
Again, Ken didn’t reply, but Cierra agreed with Brent. Why wouldn’t Ken want Tiffany? What was there not to like?
Nothing. Tiffany had everything a man could want.
KEN COULDN’T HELP wondering what Cierra had thought of Tiffany’s visit. She wouldn’t look at him as she served breakfast, so he knew she’d heard their conversation. Was she mad?
She must think it was weird that, after saying he wanted to make love to her, he’d accept an overnight invitation from another woman. He knew it made him seem shallow and insincere, as if he’d attempted to use her, and he hated that. He wanted to explain that he’d only accepted Tiffany’s invitation because he didn’t want to embarrass her by refusing. The whole community had expectations for them that made him feel obligated. But maybe it was better to forget what had happened last night rather than address what had happened today.
Of course it was. Cierra didn’t expect anything from him. So why did it bother him so much that she might be upset? What was it about this dark-skinned beauty in her ill-fitting clothes that affected him on such a gut level? Was it just that she was different, unique, a challenge because of that damn pride? If so, he couldn’t be sure the attraction would last. He’d never met a woman he couldn’t forget with a little time. And Tiffany was…Tiffany was the woman everyone had always thought he’d marry.
“What’s going on around here?” Brent broke the silence.
Ken peered at his brother over the rim of his coffee cup. “Excuse me?”
<
br /> “You’re both so quiet.” He motioned to Cierra, who had her back to them as she loaded the dishwasher.
“I think we’re all tired.” Predictably, Cierra said nothing. She was blending into the background again. But Ken knew her feelings weren’t as neutral as she pretended.
Brent slapped the table. “You should be jazzed, man!”
Ken couldn’t bring himself to agree, because he wasn’t. “It’ll be okay,” he said with a shrug.
“Why are you acting so weird?” Brent asked.
A knock interrupted them, relieving Ken of the need to reply. Someone else was at the door.
“Hey, if that’s one of Tiffany’s friends coming to invite me, I’m in,” Brent said, and jumped up to answer it.
Ken followed him into the living room. But it wasn’t one of Tiffany’s friends. It was Russ.
What could their father possibly want now? Ken had already caved in and given him some money just to get him to stop asking.
“What’s up, Dad?” Brent asked.
“Not much.” Taking off his baseball cap, Russ shook the snow from it onto the mat. “I just came up to meet the new housekeeper.”
Ken thought he must’ve misunderstood. Had Russ just mentioned the housekeeper? How did their father know about Cierra? Ken certainly hadn’t talked about her. He’d figured the fewer people who knew, the better, at least until he could decide what to do. “Did Gabe say something?” he asked in confusion.
His father pulled his cap back on. “No. Stuart Baker showed up at the bar last night complaining to everyone who’d listen that you’d stolen his future wife.” Russ laughed as he said it, but Ken didn’t find it funny.
“He what?”
“Who’s Stuart Baker?” Brent asked.
No one answered him.
“He was pretty pissed about it,” Russ went on. “When he wouldn’t quit bitching about you, we nearly went at it. I told him I’d know if you had a woman up here. But he was so adamant, I began to wonder. Especially when he said you should learn to keep your pants zipped or someday you’d run into someone who’d make you sorry you didn’t.”
