A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance)

by Amber Leigh Williams

  “Sounds like a party,” he said. “Am I invited?”

  “After all you’ve done today, you can be the guest of honor.”

  “I hope I get to shower first,” he told her, glancing over his arms and chest. “Some guest of honor I’d make as is.”

  “Liv talked to the power company. They’re slowly getting everyone back online. It’ll be several more hours, I’m sure. But you can shower, if you don’t mind cold water.”

  “A cold shower sounds great,” he said, leaning back in the rocker.

  She tried not to think about him under the running water. Even more bare than he was now. She certainly wouldn’t mind being the one to lather his skin in soap and wash the grime of work away.

  Must be the heat. She could all but feel his slick skin beneath her hands.... She refocused her attention on the naked grove where the vegetables had been.

  “You couldn’t save any of them?” Cole asked.

  She shook her head. “They were too far gone.”

  “Will you start over?”

  An icy chill rippled through her, panic on its heels. She thought of all there was to do with what little she had. When it came time to replant, would Hanna’s even be here anymore? Would she?

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. Because she suddenly couldn’t breathe, she stood and gathered the napkins and glasses. “I’ll make some more lemonade.”

  “Three glasses were enough.” Before she could veer past him, he reached out and touched her arm. “The vegetables can be replanted. I’m just glad you’re still here.”

  Looking into his face, she felt every hour she hadn’t slept wash away and every worry on her mind sink to the backburner. Though worrying and planning would probably be smarter, the escape of him was too irresistible.

  He’d stayed. Through the storm, through the unease between them, he not only stayed with her—he comforted her. He stood as a buffer between her and the storm.

  And she was dangerously close to relying on his shoulder.

  She let her fingers fall against his, linking them for a moment before she wordlessly walked to the screen door.

  * * *

  VOICES CLAMORED THROUGH the inn, filling it with life and warming Briar’s heart. All the more because they were the voices of the people she loved most.

  Olivia lifted her tea glass as they settled around the dining room table. “A toast?”

  As the others mirrored the move, Briar frowned. “If I’d known we would be toasting, I’d have taken down champagne and flutes.”

  “Oh, hush,” Olivia chided through a beaming smile. “A toast to Cole.”

  “Me?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Yeah, you,” she said as the others fell silent. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a decent man around here to help. Thank you for all you did to get this place halfway back to rights and asking nothing in return.”

  “Cheers to that,” Adrian echoed, shooting Briar a look over the rim of her glass. After sipping, she set it aside and reached for the nearest bowl—leftover potato salad. “This looks wonderful, Briar.”

  “I’ll say,” Roxie cheered as dressed down as any of them had seen her to date in blue-jean cutoffs, a thin, sleeveless, button-up blouse and a bright bandana tied around her head. “It definitely beats another night of Jell-O and bananas.”

  “I love Jell-O,” Kyle piped up, mouth already full of potato salad.

  “This is hardly a scale up,” Briar muttered. “I just pulled it out of the fridge.”

  “You really need to learn how to take a compliment, Briar,” Roxie advised.

  Olivia groaned. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  “It is good,” Cole added, lifting his eyes to hers.

  She smiled, feeling warmed again at his praise. “Thank you.” Shifting her gaze to the others, she saw the winged looks shooting between them. Reaching for another bowl, she lifted the spoon. “Here, Kyle. You need green beans.”

  “Blah.” When Adrian nudged him with a telling elbow, he straightened, pouting. “Fine. I’ll eat them.”

  “Just a few,” Briar promised, spooning them onto his plate. “Did you enjoy the storm?”

  “Oh, yeah. It sounded like Twister. You know, the movie Twister?”

  “I think I’ve seen it. I bet you’re ready for school to start back up.”

  “Double blah.”

  Cole chuckled. “Typical boy.”

  Adrian rolled her eyes. “Let me tell you. In a perfect world, summer would last forever.”

  “If only,” Kyle grumbled. Looking to Cole, his freckle-dotted expression lightened several degrees. “Were you really a cop?”

  Alarmed, Briar looked to Cole to gauge his reaction. His smile didn’t waver. “A detective, actually.”

  “Like CSI?”

  “Not quite. I worked in Narcotics. Do you know what that is?”

  “The drug guys came to our school last year,” Kyle admitted, nodding sagely. “They brought the dogs. They were pretty cool. Did you ever work with canines?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “Plenty of times.”

  “What about undercover?”

  “I did a bit of undercover work,” he said with a laugh at Kyle’s undeniable curiosity. “It’s probably not as cool as what you see on TV, though.”

  “Did you ever shoot anybody?”

  “All right, that’s enough,” Adrian warned. “Eat your greens.”

  “I was just asking.”

  “It’s okay,” Cole assured her. “It’s the question kids ask the most these days.”

  “It’s all violence for them,” Olivia noted.

  Adrian slanted her a scrutinizing look. “Didn’t you tell me once that John McClane is your idea of the perfect mate?”

  “I’m a grown-up,” Olivia retorted, stuffing half a buttered roll into her mouth. “With needs.”

  “And video games,” Briar intervened, sensing that the conversation was headed south. “Kids are so into video games.”

  “The Kinect is my favorite gaming system,” Kyle told them. He turned to Cole again. “Have you ever played?”

  “No, can’t say I have,” Cole admitted.

  “Maybe you could come over sometime. I’ll take it easy on you, at first.”

  Adrian sighed. “Mr. Savitt has more important things to do than duel controllers with you. If you’re not going to eat the rest of that, why don’t you take it to the kitchen?”

  “I’ll take it,” Briar said, scooting her chair back.

  Kyle was already on his feet. “I’ve got it. Is there any ice cream, Briar?”

  She beamed, settling back into the chair. “You know there is. It’s homemade, too, just the way you like it. Want me to get it for you?”

  “I know where it is,” he said, carrying his plate through the swinging door and flashing Briar a grin.

  “Bowls are in the second cupboard.” She shook her head and looked to Adrian. “He’s growing so fast. How do you not just weep over him?”

  “I have my moments,” she admitted. “He’s only being chivalrous because he still has a mad crush on you. And Cole, please forgive him. He’s desperate for another Y chromosome around here. It’s from growing up without a real father figure.”

  “It doesn’t bother me at all,” he told her. “He seems like a good kid.”

  “Father figure or no, it looks like you’re doing a spectacular job,” Roxie agreed. “He’s wonderful.”

  “Thank you,” Adrian said, glowing a bit. “I like to think he’s mostly me.”

  “I wish you’d bring him over more often,” Briar told her. “Would anyone else like ice cream?”

  “I’m stuffed,” Olivia said. She held up a halting hand when Briar began to rise aga
in. “No, no, you sit. You’ve fed us. We do the dishes. Fair trade.”

  “Don’t be silly. This is my home.”

  “And we’re all family,” Olivia argued. “There’ll be no waiting on us, at least until the air-conditioning’s back on.”

  Resigned, Briar sank back down. “Whatever you say, Liv.”

  Olivia dropped a kiss to her head. “That’s right, cuz.” She winked at Cole as she carried her dishes out. “Whatever I say.”

  It didn’t take long after dishes were dry and put away for Olivia to pull Briar aside. The others said their good-nights to Cole, distracting him long enough for her to ask, “Did you pounce him?”

  Briar blew out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute. You were stuck together all night long in an empty house with half a dozen beds and nothing happened?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you it’s not like that?”

  “No, no, no!” Olivia squealed, raising both hands to halt the rational explanation. “For heaven’s sake, Briar! Didn’t you see the way he was looking at you over dinner? He’s all over you. Like something warm and gooey.”

  Briar winced. “That’s so not sexy.”

  “So you say. Stop using your head and start thinking with that thing the rest of us recognize as our libido!”

  “Now you’re just being crude.”

  Olivia gripped her arm. “It’s obvious that he wants you. And you need this. Admit it.”

  Nerves began to shred her composure. “I guess I could go upstairs and change really quick.”

  “When I leave with the girls, I’ll tell him that you need him for...I don’t know...some fixer-upper emergency,” Olivia contemplated. “He’ll haul ass upstairs to the rescue. You’ll open the door looking all sexified and voilà.” Olivia folded her arms, looking very satisfied with her new plan. “What do you think?”

  Briar gaped at her. “He’s seen me under the sink with tools. You really think he’s going to fall for that?” Better yet, did she really think she wouldn’t chicken out before he got halfway up the stairs to help?

  Olivia grinned. “I doubt he’ll be thinking about anything but what you two will be doing later.” She gave Briar a push. “Now go.”

  “But what if he—”

  “No,” Olivia intervened, raising her hands and backing away. “Don’t think. Just go. Be a temptress.”

  In her T-shirt and shorts, she hardly fit the bill. As she turned and numbly climbed the stairs, she fought to get back her vital hold on composure. But now that she knew there was a possibility she could be...well, not sleeping in a matter of minutes, it made her nerves recharge.

  Closing her eyes, she stopped to catch her breath and steady herself on the landing. Cole’s face instantly filled her thoughts. Over dinner, he’d been quicker to smile. The grin had complemented his narrow face so well. The creases were wearing into the corners of his eyes again. A shadow of stubble had cloaked the lower half of his face. He was more a man than anyone else she’d known before him.

  She might not fit the sexy bill, but he certainly did.

  Damn it, if she was going to be a temptress, she had to make a better effort. After ascending the stairs to the third level, she closed the door and, safe in the confines of her bedroom with the hurricane lamp glowing at the bedside, she stripped to her skin. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she frowned at her appearance.

  She hadn’t put any sunscreen on before going out under the blazing rays today. Her arms, shoulders and cheeks were tinged bright red. The rest of her looked far too pale. How could she live on the water and not have some semblance of a tan?

  She put on the closest thing she had to lingerie—a pair of skimming silk underwear, and a thin nightgown. Not at all comfortable with the hem floating around her upper thighs, she pulled on her robe and tied it tight.

  She heard the knock on the door and her hands fumbled. Trying to remember how to breathe, she smoothed her hands over the skirt of her robe and made her way slowly to the door.

  As she closed her hand over the knob, something buzzed along her nerve endings. Excitement. A straight shot of thrill that wove its way into her blood and heightened her anticipation.

  Pulling in another steadying breath, she yanked open the door.

  It snaked out in an unstable rush at the sight of him. The candlelight complemented his features as well as a smile did. Her lips tingled, eager to cruise along the rough surface of his jaw.

  His eyes, dark and knowing, skimmed from her made-up face over her cloaked shoulders and down to her bare calves, ankles and toes. “You almost look ready for bed.”

  Not even close. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside so he could cross the threshold before she changed her mind and shut the door in his face.

  His hands slid into his pockets when she slowly turned to face him. “Liv said you needed something?”

  “Er...yes.” She brushed a hand over her hair, looking around. Her eyes latched on to the kitchen sink and she gestured him that way. “It’s clogged.”

  He walked to the kitchenette on the far end of the living area. Following him, she crossed her fluttering hands over her chest.

  “Do you have any Drano?” he asked as he inspected the sink.

  “Nope. No Drano.” What now? she thought frantically. Where was that little devil when she needed it?

  “It seems to be draining just fine,” he deduced, running water into the sink. “Are you sure it’s clogged?”

  “I guess not.” When he turned off the water and held his hand over the sink to drip-dry, she automatically reached for the dishcloth next to the stovetop. “Sorry.”

  “It’s no trouble. Sinks can be tricky. Particularly when they’re old.” He turned to her. With the table at her back, she was suddenly very aware of the few inches between them. As he finished drying his hands with the checkered dishcloth, his eyes locked on hers, darkened as they took a journey over her face.

  Feeling as if she were standing over a pit of fire, she swallowed. “Are you hot?”

  His eyes took their time roaming her face, the line between his brows deepening. Finally, he said, “Yeah. I am.”

  Knowing very well he meant something else entirely, she felt the answering boil in her blood. By God, she needed him, much more than she had originally thought. Olivia was right. She did need this, and she refused to think anymore. Nodding her decision, she closed the little bit of distance between them, fingers lifting to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

  She heard the quick snag of his breath. Lifting her eyes to his, she gauged his reaction. Clearly speechless, he watched her with conflicting levels of need and something else she couldn’t quite define. Determined to vanquish whatever else it was, she raised herself on tiptoe and met his mouth with hers. The clash was hot. It felt like a brand. Claiming him. She was claiming him for herself. It was about time.

  Just as her hands began to skim over the hot, chiseled expanse of his chest and the taut, smooth skin that stretched over it all, she felt his fingers close around her wrists. He tugged her away, making a noise deep in the back of his throat caught between longing and frustration. “No,” he said. “No, Briar. We can’t. I can’t.”

  The air shuddered out of her as his rejection hit her like a punch to the stomach. “I’m sorry. I thought... Olivia said you...” Raising her eyes to search his face again, she didn’t expect to find the pain she saw in his eyes. She raised a hand to his cheek. “Cole, what’s wrong?”

  He hissed out a breath, lifting his hand to the back of hers. “This isn’t right. I shouldn’t.”

  She remembered that night in the downstairs kitchen not so long ago when he had pulled away. The same look had haunted his expression. The same pain had lurked like phantoms in his eyes. She’d assumed he’
d pulled away out of some maddening form of chivalry. Not now, she determined. She’d felt his searing need in his kiss. He wanted to be with her as much as she wanted him. “There’re two of us here. And, I’m sorry, but you don’t get to decide for me this time.”

  “Briar—”

  “No,” she said. “You’re trying to be the honorable man. I get it. And it wasn’t very long ago that that would’ve won me over. But not tonight.”

  “Easy,” he said, steadying her with a hand on her waist.

  “You stayed. You stayed through the storm. For me.” She watched his eyes clear and focus on hers, the doubt washing away as he looked at her, really looked at her. Something there in his deep, dark gaze answered back, acknowledged her words. His grip on her wrist loosened, no longer restraining, and his thumb smoothed over the hammering pulse point just beneath the surface of her skin.

  She surged forward. “I know you care for me and you don’t want to hurt me.”

  He sighed, lowering his brow to hers so the tip of his nose brushed hers. “I don’t.”

  “Cole, it’s been a long time since I’ve believed in something. Really believed. But I believe in you now. I believe in us.”

  “Briar...”

  She kissed him, deep but soft. When she pulled back, she looked at him, hoping she’d vanquished some of that phantom pain. His lids remained closed over his eyes, but the muscles of his face were no longer taut. Lifting her mouth to his again, she took it deeper, a bit darker. “Touch me.”

  He answered, shooting straight past tenderness as the restraint she sensed beneath his skin broke in two. His body pressed against her fully as his tongue finally answered the longing flick of hers. He jumped to the pace she set without question, his touch sliding across the planes of her shoulders and up the column of her throat to frame her jaw.

  The ache welled up and seared her. Desperate to appease it, she arched against him, only managing to break open a whole new chain of emotions. Ravenous need squeezed so tight around her, she shook. She wanted every piece of him. Despite timidity, despite everything, she wanted the hard, driving length she felt under his jeans inside her. “Touch me,” she begged again.