Soaring on Love

by Joy Avery

  “Good evening, sir. Welcome to the De Lore Hotel. Will you be staying with us this evening?”

  “Ah...” Shit. Spit it out, Lex. Say yes, she will. Say it. His gaze slid to Tressa. When she rested her hand on the door handle to open it, his heart raced. Don’t do it, man. Don’t do it. “Actually, no. Maybe another time. Thank you.” The window rose and he pulled off, leaving the man standing there.

  Roth swiped his thumb back and forth against the steering wheel. What in the hell are you doing? This woman of all women should not be in your back seat. And taking her to the cabin? The cabin’s your sanctuary.

  A significant thought occurred to him. What about the nightmares? His past had a way of haunting him in his dreams. All he needed was to wake up screaming at the top of his lungs. It would scare the hell out of Tressa and embarrass the hell out of him. An occurrence like that would break two of his cardinal rules: never show vulnerability and always maintain control. He’d learned a long time ago that being vulnerable got you hurt and losing control made you rash.

  Her being at the cabin with him period would break the third: always wake up alone.

  Two days. He could handle two days cooped up with the woman he’d dreamed about, fantasized about since the first day they met. Two days. No problem. Hell, it wasn’t like he could actually make a move now anyway. That would be a shit thing to do. She was vulnerable, grieving and probably out for a little sexual revenge.

  The last point gave him pause. Sexual revenge. A woman scorned was capable of anything, right? Well, he’d never played the role of the rebound guy, and he wouldn’t start now. Not even for Tressa. That alone should keep his libido in check.

  “Thank you, Roth. I promise I won’t get in your way.”

  He met Tressa’s tender gaze through the rearview mirror and his heartbeat kicked up just a notch. Oh, you’re already getting in my way. Influencing him to make bad decisions, testing his resolve, reminding him how it felt to crave something unattainable. “You’ll like Silver Point,” was all he said.

  Roth swiped his thumb back and forth across the steering wheel, lost in his thoughts. This was the stupidest thing he’d done in a long while. Reckless, even. He couldn’t be alone with Tressa. Yes, he had self-control, plenty of self-control. But this would require a whole lot of self-discipline.

  His eyes slid to Tressa, who’d been watching him through the mirror. For a split second, he didn’t regret pulling away from the hotel. Her eyes slid away, and after a short time, his did, too.

  Four hours later they arrived at the cabin on the hill, as the townsfolk often called it. He popped the SUV into Park, then glanced back at Tressa. She’d fallen asleep two hours into the drive—or had pretended to be to avoid having to talk.

  His insides did a shimmy watching her. She really was asleep now, because in the stillness, he could hear her soft snores. As far as bad decisions went, bringing Tressa here was the Grandfather Mountain of poor judgment calls. He just hoped it wouldn’t backfire in his face.

  * * *

  Tressa assumed Roth’s gentle touch was only in her dreams until his voice penetrated her slumber, and she realized he was trying to wake her. She cracked her eyes and squinted to focus. His handsome face slowly materialized. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked in a groggy voice.

  “A couple of hours. Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”

  She took Roth’s outstretched hand, the spark giving her the jolt of energy she needed. Gravel crunched under her feet as she stepped out of the vehicle. One of the first things she noticed—excluding the bone-chilling cold—was the quiet. No horns. No traffic. No bustling.

  Yeah, this was the perfect place to rejuvenate her soul. Being here would be good for her. It would give her the time she needed to think and clear her cluttered thoughts. Inhaling a deep breath, she blew it out slowly. Already she felt...free.

  The only light radiated from the full moon. She tilted her head and scrutinized a sky so clear it could have been a flawless oil painting. And the stars... Had she ever seen them twinkle more brightly?

  And then there were the oversize trees. She performed a slow turn. Trees, trees and more trees surrounded them. Roth hadn’t exaggerated about the privacy of this location. Not a single soul would be able to hear them scream if they were attacked.

  The quaint cabin caught her eye. What it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. Built completely of logs, seven steps led to a nicely sized wraparound porch. A cobblestone chimney protruded from the roof. Several hours ago she would have tingled at the idea of her and Roth cuddled intimately in front of a wood-burning fireplace. Not now.

  Roth startled her when he draped his coat over her shoulders. He’d obviously changed out of his suit at The Underground because now he wore a thick black sweater, jeans and a pair of black mountain boots. Despite her current state of mind, she could still appreciate how devastatingly attractive he was. “Thank you. I’m freezing.” She shivered for effect.

  “We can go into town in the morning and grab you some clothes. I’m sure you don’t want to wear this the entire weekend.” He fingered the thin fabric of her jumpsuit. “Regardless of how beautiful you look in it.”

  Disappointment flashed on Roth’s face that suggested he regretted saying the words. Regardless, the compliment brought a lazy smile to her face. “It’s gorgeous. Your cabin. Thank you again for bringing me here with you. I won’t get in the way.”

  What she really wanted to say—ask actually—was why had he seemed so reluctant to bring her here at first, and what had changed his mind? But she decided against it. She was just happy she wouldn’t have to be alone.

  “Thanks. Like I said, it’s not much, but I love it.”

  Tressa opened and closed her mouth several times.

  “Ears popping?” Roth said.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s the altitude. You’ll get used to it.”

  Moving to the back of the vehicle, Roth removed a bag and a large black case she assumed was his saxophone—Juliette—before they made their way inside, out of the cold. Or so she’d thought. It was as cold inside the cabin as it had been outside. Possibly a degree or two colder. She pulled the wool coat tighter around her shoulders.

  “I believe it’s warmer outside.”

  “I’ll build a fire,” Roth said. “It shouldn’t take it long to warm up in here.”

  The interior wasn’t at all what Tressa had expected. A mocha-colored leather sofa and a matching chair sat in the living area. Several pictures of airplanes hung throughout the room. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall above the fireplace. A bookcase packed with books sat in one corner. Was it for decoration, or did Roth enjoy reading?

  Her eyes trailed to the kitchen outfitted with all stainless steel appliances. A small dining area seamlessly melted the space together. A set of stairs led to what she assumed were the bedrooms. This was nice. Really nice.

  The sound of the fire crackling curled Tressa’s lips. It took her back to when she was a child and winters spent at her grandparents’ house. Good times. Roth’s voice faded Tressa’s memories.

  “Unfortunately, there’s only one bed, but it’s yours. I’ll camp out on the sofa.” He patted the plush-looking piece. “We’re highly acquainted. I’ve fallen asleep in her warm arms many nights.”

  “No, Roth. I can’t let you do that. I’ll take the sofa. No argument,” she said when protest danced in Roth’s mesmerizing eyes. “Truly, it’s fine.” No way would she inconvenience him after he’d been so kind as to bring her here.

  After a few seconds of scrutiny Roth shrugged. “Okay, but you’re going to hate me in the morning.”

  As if that was possible. The perplexed look he gave her rattled her a bit. What was he attempting to decipher? How she was holding up? Why she’d wanted to come here with him? Would she be okay? She did
n’t know the answer to any of it.

  To end his exhausting scrutiny, she said, “Please tell me you have food in this place. I’m starving.”

  “Yes, we do. I have someone who looks in on the place for me. When I let her know I’m coming, she always stocks the fridge.”

  She?

  Jealousy was the last emotion Tressa expected, but a hint of it crept in. Could this have been the mystery woman he’d intended to spend the weekend with before she’d come along and derailed his plans? Was it selfish that she didn’t regret spoiling his rendezvous? Yes.

  “Well, let’s just see what she brought, shall we?” If nothing else could, cooking relaxed her. It’d always been her first love, with nursing a close second, of course.

  “In a minute. But first—” he captured her hand and angled his head toward the sofa “—let’s sit a second.”

  Tressa studied their joined hands as they moved across the room. A simple act of kindness should not have felt so damn good. A soothing sensation tingled in her palm. At the sofa, Roth released her hand and guided her down, taking the spot next to her. The way he eyed her made her feel as if she’d sneaked the last piece of key lime pie, and he was simply waiting for her to confess before he had to accuse her.

  Tressa straightened her back to give some semblance of strength. “Is everything okay?”

  He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and intertwined his fingers. “You tell me.”

  Tressa arched a brow. “I...don’t...know what you want me to say.” Though she had a good idea he wanted her to mention something about what had taken place at The Underground. She’d hoped to avoid discussing her disastrous engagement party, but it seemed she wouldn’t get off that easily. Couldn’t he have waited until morning when she’d got a decent night’s sleep before he approached the thorny subject?

  “You’ve had a rough evening. If you—”

  “I’m fine, Roth,” she said, pushing to her feet. Subtlety obviously didn’t work with him.

  Before she could stalk away, he captured her hand again. This time he didn’t let it go when she sat. His large hand completely swallowed hers, but she loved the feel of his warm flesh caressing hers.

  “You keep saying you’re fine, but I don’t believe you.”

  “And I’m not trying to convince you.” Instantly, she regretted being so callous. But dammit, she didn’t want to discuss what had happened between her and Cyrus. Especially with Roth, of all people. She was hurt, embarrassed and still processing it all.

  Her cruel tone appeared to have little effect on him. That same sympathetic expression remained on his attractive face. They stared at one another for a long time. Roth refused to turn away, and so did she. It felt as if he were trying to peer into her soul, but it was too dark for him to see inside. Beyond his strict and unwavering gaze lingered compassion. Mounds and mounds of compassion. And a hint of pity.

  Tressa bent to the idea and turned away. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Roth.”

  “I don’t. I feel sorry for the bastard who didn’t recognize what he had.”

  Tressa brought urgent focus back to Roth, her eyes lingering briefly on his mouth before climbing to latch onto his draining gaze again. Was he the reason she wasn’t feeling the all-out dismay Cyrus’s betrayal should have caused her? She was hurt—and angry—but she also felt something else. Relief.

  Roth’s cell phone vibrated and she flinched. “You should get that,” she said, seeing her opportunity to escape this overwhelming and confusing moment.

  Without even pulling the device from his pocket, he said, “It can wait.”

  After a couple more seconds of buzzing, either the call rolled to voice mail or the caller hung up. Tressa couldn’t help but wonder if it was the woman Roth had planned to spend the weekend with. Before she’d dozed off on the drive up, Roth had sent several calls directly to voice mail. A part of her was happy to be here, away from her own problems, but another part of her felt guilty for potentially causing some for Roth, and for ruining his plans. Even if the idea of him making love to someone else bothered her more than it should have.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Roth. I truly do. But I don’t want to talk about it now. I just... I just want to get through the night. I just want to get through the night,” she repeated.

  Roth brought her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. It was the most intimate and soul-stirring move he could have made. The energy delivered through the sensual and delicate act sent a shock wave of desire sparking through her system. Everything about being there with Roth felt so right and so wrong all at the same time.

  Chapter 3

  When Tressa had volunteered to whip something up, it didn’t take long for Roth to discover that they had two totally different definitions of the term. While he’d suggested preparing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—to which she’d laughed hysterically—Tressa had taken the reins and created a spread that looked as if it belonged in a magazine for culinary professionals.

  How in the hell had she managed to turn generic grocery items—a block of cheddar cheese, a can of Southern biscuits, beef hot dogs, thin-sliced pepperoni, club crackers, kettle chips and French onion dip—into a work of edible art? She truly was amazing in the kitchen.

  “Wow. This looks scrumptious,” he said, his growling stomach loudly approving. “A nurse and a chef. How in the heck did that happen?”

  “I grew up watching my family help others. My father was a policeman, my mother a teacher. I had aunts, uncles and cousins who were firemen, clergy, counselors, doctors, lawyers, you name it. If there is a position out there geared toward helping people, one of my family members held it. Now, my love for cooking...I got that from my Poppa. My grandfather,” she clarified and beamed with pride.

  Roth envied her, envied anyone who’d grown up surrounded by family. As a youngster, he’d dreamed of growing up, getting married and having a thousand kids. Somewhere along the way, that vision had faded. Tressa’s voice snatched him out of his thoughts.

  “Do you mind if we eat in front of the fireplace?” she said.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  After arranging everything on the brown shag rug, Roth returned to the kitchen for two hard black cherry lemonades. It’d actually been Tressa who’d introduced him to the drink. He usually went for the harder stuff—whiskey—or the occasional beer. With her feminine wiles, she’d convinced him to try the sweet beverage when they’d both been at Alonso and Vivian’s place at the beach. He’d got hooked. On Tressa and the drink.

  Roth recalled that beach trip. Watching Tressa wade through the water in an ocean-blue bikini, her skin glistening under the rays of the sun, had been torture in its most pleasurable form. On several occasions he’d wanted to ignore the fact that she was seeing someone and seduce the hell out of her, but he’d resisted. Looking back, he wished he had taken a risk. Maybe it would have spared her some heartache.

  “Earth to Roth.”

  Tressa’s voice pulled him back to reality. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Yes. I asked if you could bring some napkins.”

  Roth grabbed a stack of napkins off the counter and fanned them through the air. “Got it.” He passed her one of the bottles, then eased down next to her.

  Tressa eyed him curiously. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah,” he repeated when she didn’t look convinced. “I drift sometimes. Growing up in foster care, I rarely got privacy. Sometimes escaping inside my own head was my only refuge.”

  Damn. Why had he shared any of that? His past was typically something he kept to himself. Not because he was ashamed of it, but because the second people learned he’d been a foster kid, they showered him with unnecessary sympathy. He hated that with a passion.

  “I was a foster mother to
a six-year-old once. Jamison,” she said absently. “I’ll never do it again.”

  “Wow. That bad, huh?”

  Tressa grimaced. “God, I made that sound so harsh and insensitive. Let me clarify. I wouldn’t do it again because I grew so attached to him in the short time he was with me. Watching him leave was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I cried like a baby for days.”

  He’d picked up on Tressa’s nurturing side the first time he’d met her. It was one of the things he found so attractive about her. Nursing was the perfect profession for her. “Why didn’t you adopt him?” Roth asked out of curiosity. She seemed to have cared for the child.

  Tressa stared into the crackling fire. “I wanted to.”

  “Cyrus? Is he why you didn’t adopt Jamison?” Roth wasn’t sure why he’d come to that conclusion, but when Tressa faced him again he knew he’d been spot-on. He hated the man even more.

  She slid her gaze back to the fire. “Pathetic, huh?”

  Roth wanted to say something encouraging, but he couldn’t find the words. Growing up, every single day he’d wished for someone to care enough to want to adopt him, but it had never happened. But Tressa could have been the answer to the prayers Roth was sure Jamison said every night. She could have saved him from the hell of the foster system. But instead, she’d allowed that bastard Cyrus to convince her to send Jamison back into...hell.

  Anger swirled inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was geared more toward Cyrus or Tressa. He took a long swig from his bottle.

  “After two weeks without the sound of Jamison’s laughter, I realized the mistake I’d made. I contacted the agency, but I was too late. A family was interested in adopting him. I know I should have been ecstatic he’d found a permanent home. I was and I wasn’t.” She shook her head. “I had no right to be upset. I’d had my opportunity and blew it. I was being selfish. Which is typically not me, might I add.”