by Kim Amos
“Bingo,” she said, though the shelf was near the garage’s roofline, at least five feet up. Even if she found a chair, she wouldn’t even be close to reaching them. With a ladder and a rake, however…
Willa darted toward an old metal rake hanging on the wall, and pulled it free. More dust plumed, and her eyes began to water, but she wiped them and kept looking around. She knew she’d seen a ladder. And sure enough, there it was, buried under bundles of old chicken wire. With the handle of the rake, she rolled the sharp wire away, leaving the ladder exposed.
In the humming light, it wasn’t hard to tell the wood was rotted. It was soft and moist—but still holding together. The bottom rung was damp and shredded, but everything above that looked okay.
Or if not okay, at least—passable. Sort of. While she wouldn’t choose this ladder if she had an alternative, the truth was that she’d be on the rungs for mere moments. Just long enough to knock the gloves off with the rake and climb down. Willa eyed the wood determinedly. Surely it could hold her for a few seconds.
She heaved the ladder to its tottering feet, and spread it into its classic inverted V shape. Chips of old wood rained down, landing in her hair, on her clothes. Ignoring them, Willa placed the ladder under the shelf. She only had to climb three rungs at the most. Not counting the first, which was really just shredded bits.
No problem.
With the rake in hand, Willa placed her foot on the second rung and tested it with a little weight. She felt it give slightly, but then hold. Slowly she added more weight until all that was left to do was grab the sides of the ladder and haul herself up. Taking a deep breath, she did just that, and smiled when she found herself supported. “All right then,” she said, placing her foot on the next step.
It held, too. This was going to be a piece of cake. She could already see the gloves, and with just a few more inches, she could swipe them off their tin can perch and be done with it.
Just then, a shadow darkened the mouth of the garage. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
The gravelly voice shook the inside of Willa’s bones. She paused, trying not to let Burk see how much he affected her. His presence was ten times more dangerous than the ladder, thanks to the way her hands were now shaking. “I just need some gloves. They’re up there. I’ll be down in a sec.”
“Get down now,” he said. “That ladder isn’t safe. Jesus, it looks like it’s rotting.”
“It’s fine,” Willa protested as Burk took a step closer. “I need five more sec—”
Just then, the stays on the ladder snapped, separating the sides of the inverted V from each other. With her counterbalance gone, Willa began to pitch backward. The rake clattered to the floor. Horrified and falling, she twisted, trying to land on a leg or shoulder and not her head. She cried out, simultaneously bracing herself for a fall on the hard concrete.
Instead, she landed with a thud against Burk, who grunted as he caught her. Broken pieces of ladder splintered every which way as his arms wound around her.
Willa was too startled to mind the way he swore angrily. His eyes were aflame—and if she hadn’t been so surprised, she might be alarmed at the fury there. If the terror of the fall hadn’t been so startling, she would have loved to relish the feel of his chest, the closeness of his skin against hers, the way the heat from him warmed every part of her.
“Where are you hurt?” he demanded. Willa tried to breathe normally, to tell him she hadn’t been injured, but her words came out as if she’d just been at track practice with Audrey.
“I’m…all…right.”
And then, as if she weighed nothing more than what she had in high school, Burk lifted her and threw her over his shoulder. Her chin was against his back—her ass near his face. Willa grunted in protest. Whatever he was doing, she didn’t need it.
“Put me…down,” she demanded, her breath still shaky.
“No,” he growled.
Willa’s blood pounded with every step. “Burk. What are you doing?”
He ignored her, his long strides eating up the ground from the garage to the house.
Her anger building, she pounded the small of his back with her fists. “Goddamn it, set me down,” she yelled as best she could with her lungs still recovering from the fall. “This is not okay. You have no right—”
Whack. Willa’s mouth opened in a silent O of fury. Burk’s hand had come down directly on her rear.
He’d spanked her!
So she did the only thing she could think of. She raised her hand and spanked him back, as hard as she could. “Two can play this game!” she cried as he threw open the back door and stepped inside.
The work crew immediately stopped what they were doing to stare at their boss—with the owner of the house slung over his shoulder. Willa’s blood pounded. She had never—ever!—been treated this badly by someone she’d hired. And here she was, looking like a fool in front of the biggest crew she’d ever written checks for.
She felt Burk’s chest expand as he took a breath. “Back to work!” he bellowed to his crew.
Even half upside down, Willa could register how they responded like an army battalion. They returned to their scraping and painting and hauling as if nothing were amiss.
Burk stormed through the kitchen, then rounded the banister and took the stairs two at a time. Willa’s muscles tightened as she realized where they were going: her bedroom.
She clenched her fists, wanting to be outraged that he was carrying her upstairs like some maiden in distress. But her fury wouldn’t—couldn’t—overcome the pulse of excitement suddenly beating in her.
Not even the fact that Burk’s crew was probably already speculating about the two of them could numb the thrills prickling her skin. She took a breath, but it only resulted in Burk’s pine-and-citrus scent filling her head. With her cheek resting against the cotton of his shirt, she could feel the heat from his skin through the fabric. She wondered if he could feel her own heat—the way it spread through her, flaming her desire.
Suddenly Burk was rolling her away from his body, tossing her on her bed. She landed with a jolt on the same full-size mattress that had been there since they’d lost their innocence to each other so many years before.
She blinked. Her indignation returned in a blistering wave. “You have no right!” she cried, trying to sit up. “That was the stupidest, most meat-headed thing—”
“Enough.” The single word was spoken in a quiet, dangerous voice. Willa’s words stopped in her throat. Burk’s face was dark with anger, his muscles strained with emotion.
He leaned over her, his blazing eyes inches from hers. Willa’s breath caught.
“You asked for my help,” he said, his tone gravelly and low, “and I agreed to assist you. But if you flit around recklessly, getting into things, then I—”
“Flit? Since when do I flit?” First of all, it was her house. And second, she didn’t need a lecture on top of everything else.
“This home is old,” Burk continued, his enraged pulse visible in his neck, “and you can’t just put on your explorer hat and race off to any dark corner you like. You could have been seriously hurt.”
It was then that Willa saw the fear alongside all the anger in Burk’s eyes. It was just a shift—a small change—but it was there. He was scared for her. Her stint on the ladder had frightened him.
Because he cares, she thought, her heart pounding.
“I…” She tried to think of something to argue with, something to say, but her mind had gone blank.
“Find me the next time you need something from the garage,” he growled, his barrel chest heaving. He pulled back, standing to his full height above her. Willa trembled on the bed, willing her brain to kick into gear. He was going to leave if she didn’t stop him.
“What if I need something that’s not in the garage?”
He ran a distracted hand through his ebony hair. “Well, then find me for that, too. The point is—”
“What if it’s
not in the house?”
His head shifted ever so slightly. She lost sight of the freckle underneath his right eye.
“Where else would you need something?”
Willa sat up. Her hands were shaking so much she had to clasp them together.
She needed to proposition him now. The only problem was, she was struggling to find the words. She was also having a hard time getting past the fact that there were wood chips in her hair and dust on her skin. And never mind the fact that they were surrounded by the décor of her childhood bedroom. The same butterfly border ran along the top of the lavender-colored walls, now faded and peeling. The same books lined the white case in the corner, now yellowed with age. The same basket with the same pink flowers rested near the window, now dusty and moldy. It had been a beautiful, lavish room for a teenager back in the day. These days, it was just old and tired, and Willa wanted so much to explain to Burk that she was sorry for all of it—for the way she’d left him, for the way she’d left this house, and wounded everyone around her.
Where had all her brazenness gone? Unclasping her hands, she did the only thing she could think of—she reached out and placed her fingers on the bare skin of his arm. The world flickered for a moment, shifting from the charge between them.
Burk’s dark blue eyes darted to her fingers, then back at her face. His lips—such a steady line—broke just slightly.
“I might need you,” Willa said, hating the breathy notes in her voice. She wished she could be more forceful. More demanding.
She flattened her palm on Burk’s skin. She could feel the soft hairs of his forearm, and the knots of muscle just beneath the skin.
Burk didn’t say anything, but his sharp jawline flexed.
“It doesn’t have to be anything complicated,” Willa continued, feeling a flush creeping up her neck. “Just us. Here and now. Nothing but the present.”
She sucked in a breath as Burk inched closer. “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice impossibly low.
Willa almost smiled. He would make her spell it out. His breath was hot on her skin. She feared she would melt into a puddle right there.
“You and me,” she replied, her insides shivering. “Let’s put something else between us besides the past.”
Burk leaned in so far that she was forced to lie back onto the faded bedspread. His hands came to rest on either side of her head. His eyes stormed like a thousand blue waves. He kneed her legs apart, and she gasped as he eased himself lower.
“Like this?” he asked. “Is this what you want between us?” He shifted so she could feel the thick hardness of him. She closed her eyes at the shower of sparks that ignited her flesh.
“Yes,” she murmured. “That.”
She traced the sharp line of his jaw, loving the sensation of his rough stubble under her fingertips. He shifted again, pressing harder this time, and she tilted her head back.
Burk’s mouth immediately found the soft skin just above her collarbone. He placed his lips there, working his mouth upward. His stubble rubbed a delicious coarseness along her skin.
By the time he reached her lips, Willa was nearly aching. Oh God, she thought, I’m undone and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.
He paused so long before putting his mouth on hers that Willa finally opened her eyes. He was right there—all fine lips and high cheekbones and dark hair. The rugged handsomeness of him made her chest hurt.
“I’m good at this part,” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But I can’t say I’ll be good for much else.”
Willa tilted her hips up just slightly, pressing against him. “That sounds just about perfect to me.”
Burk groaned, and met her thrust with one of his own. Willa shuddered with the hard pleasure of their grinding.
“So you want to bring this thing into the here and now?” he asked, his lips just inches from hers, his hot breath tickling her skin.
“Oh, yes,” she replied, her hands flattening on the broad expanse of his back. “Very much.”
His smile vanished as he bore his mouth down on hers in a kiss so searing, it left her seeing stars.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Monday, October 1, 10:10 a.m.
The roaring passion thundering inside his body was clouding Burk’s thoughts. Had Willa seriously just propositioned him in her old bedroom, and had he really just accepted?
The primal drumbeat of his heart pulsed the truth, hammering harder as she emitted hot, breathy whispers underneath him.
Underneath him.
Holy Christ, was this really happening?
The creep of the shadows in her old bedroom was all so dreamlike—he might have believed his imagination was on overdrive, except that the real darkness was where his body fit against Willa’s. They were perfectly contoured puzzle pieces, blocking out all light. And he might doubt her solidness beneath him, he knew, if he wasn’t already flat-palming her ribs, running his hands along her sweet-smelling skin, and lifting her shirt over her head.
Her top free, Burk took in the curves of her flesh, and all remaining doubt about what they were doing vanished. Her lovely breasts molded perfectly to the contours of her plain white bra. It wasn’t the searing pink or leopard-print pattern of the women he was used to. It was practical. It was so unlike the Willa he remembered that he grinned.
Willa turned her head away when she saw his reaction, and he realized she must think he was laughing at her. His muscles tensed. He would never make fun of her exquisite shape, her beguiling scent—all the things that were so uniquely her. Especially not when he’d told himself he’d forgotten all about them, when in reality he’d just locked them away for twelve years. Now they were out of the cage of his memory, threatening to overtake him.
But instead of saying any of that, he lowered himself and took her mouth, driving himself headlong into the feel and taste of her. She responded eagerly, wrapping her legs around him, plunging her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer still, as if she couldn’t bear to have even an atom of space between them.
Reaching behind her, he deftly unhooked the bra and threw it to the side. Her exposed breasts were twin mounds of perfection—pale and rosy-tipped—and he cupped them in his calloused hands. They felt fuller than he remembered—more womanly and sensual somehow. He had never seen a more exquisite pair. Willa breathed a soft “Oh!” as he delicately squeezed each nipple. They hardened underneath him, perfect rosebuds on her skin. He lowered his lips to one sweet peak, then another, sucking gently.
He pulled back briefly, needing suddenly to stare into the depths of her green eyes. Willa met his gaze fully, but he could see she was blushing.
“What?” he asked, palming one breast.
“I’ve—I’ve gained weight. You don’t have to pretend I haven’t.”
The tension in his body returned again—a painful tightness he didn’t altogether understand. Why would she think she was anything but beautiful? He wondered angrily if someone in New York had made her self-conscious. If so, it was criminal. Her body was a series of lush curves any man would want to lay his hands on.
But all Burk could do was shake his head. “No,” he growled, lowering his head to the rounded flesh of her belly, running his tongue along her skin until she moaned.
Willa’s hands dug into the skin at his shoulder blades. “Your shirt,” she said huskily, “off.”
He left her skin for a moment in order to whip off his shirt and toss it to the ground. Willa pressed her chest against his now bare one. The feel of so much skin on skin had him coiled with desire.
Her fingertips left a wake of fire along his skin as she traced his muscles—from his chest to his shoulders, down his arm and back again. Finally, when he couldn’t take it, he crushed her beneath him with another kiss.
Her hands left his skin to fumble with his pants. “I can’t—get the—”
Burk lifted his hips so her fingers could slide between them and undo his jeans. She shoved them down, and
he kicked them off.
Her hand found the hardened length of him immediately. The spark of her fingers against his sensitive flesh was so intense he nearly recoiled.
“Mmm.” Her voice was husky with an emotion he couldn’t place. “Yes.”
He worked his lips along the underside of her lovely jaw, while she stroked him in long movements that threatened to shatter his composure. He was going to lose himself in her touch alone. It would be like high school all over again when he tried so desperately to control himself but wound up with wetness in his jeans instead.
Grabbing her wrist, he removed her hand from his penis and pinned it behind her head. With his other hand, he unbuttoned her pants and worked them downward. She shimmied and twisted underneath him until her clothes were in a pile at her ankles.
Burk raised himself so he could see the impossible expanse of Willa Masterson. Back in her bed. With him.
The naked length of her brought to mind cream and sugar and sweet fruit. His mouth watered, imagining the taste of her—everywhere.
Willa bit her lip, seeming to shrink from his gaze. Embarrassed, he realized again. He could feel his brows knotting with confusion and frustration. He wanted desperately to tell her how lovely she was, how much he wanted her, but his throat was closed shut. Burk Olmstead didn’t talk that way to women.
Ever.
So instead he took out his fury on her body, parting her legs and finding the center of her quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes went wide as he plunged a finger into her wet depths. “Oh,” she breathed, tensing.
Burk’s heart constricted. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to enjoy her, to languidly kiss and press and thrust against her—hearing her moan and cry out and whimper—for the rest of the afternoon. Only he found himself rubbing her center with hurried strokes that left them both wanting. Willa’s eyes were dark with confusion. What was he doing? It was too fast, too hard—and they both knew it.
