by Beth Ciotta
Luke had a vivid vision of Rae, barefoot, pregnant, and baking cupcakes in his kitchen. A week ago the thought of any woman in that condition going all domestic in his home would have sent Luke running for the hills. He kissed the back of Rae’s hand. “I’ll walk you to your room.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
* * *
Rae’s brain churned like mad during the walk from the icy parking lot to her fourth-floor suite. Today had been close to perfect.
Luke had made sweet love to her, he’d asked her to be his girl, he’d included her in his family’s traditional weekly dinner. Her random anxiety attacks aside, she’d started to believe they were a real couple with a real future. Especially when he held her hand or when they kissed. He’d kissed her a lot today. He’d kissed her in front of his family. A sweet brush to her cheek. Still.
She’d practically floated through the latter half of dinner. There’d been thirteen of them in all, fourteen if you counted the furry guy, Brewster. Daisy and Vince, Dev and Chloe, Jayce and Rocky, Monica and Leo, Daisy’s sister Rose and her husband Spike, Luke and Rae, and Nash, who didn’t seem to care a whit about being the only loner.
Rae had found herself sucked into animated discussions and debates and a bit of town gossip. She’d smiled more in that hour at the lively dining room table than she’d smiled in ages. She’d laughed, too. She couldn’t believe Luke had actually asked her if she’d had a good time. Did he think she’d faked it to be polite? At one point she’d pinched herself. Somewhere around when dessert had been served, a split second where she’d felt so comfortable, she felt like one of them. The family she’d always dreamed of. The kind of family featured in Hallmark movies.
Not one dinner ever with her own “family” could compare. Conversation hadn’t revolved around one person—Olivia. It had involved everyone, including Rae. It was the exact atmosphere she wanted for her child and now, more than ever, she wanted things to work out between her and Luke. Rae wanted it so bad, surely something would spoil it.
That phone call about Luke’s dad had reminded her that life has a way of kicking you around. There was never one challenge in a day, but many. Tomorrow Luke would be miles away dealing with a family crisis. He’d have to leave the Shack in someone else’s care. He’d probably worry about his staff and patrons and general business the entire time he was away. One thing she admired about Luke was how hard he worked and how much time and care he put into making the Sugar Shack one of Sugar Creek’s hot spots.
While Luke was juggling balls and hashing things out with his dad, Rae would be tackling important business matters and pushing herself past deeply ingrained personal issues—like her intense dislike of superficial attention. Tomorrow marked the return to reality. In her mind, she heard the first rip of her and Luke being torn apart. It made her ache all the more to prolong the illusion of this day.
Heart racing, Rae slid her key card into the locking mechanism. Click. “I suppose you need to get home to pack.”
“I can throw a few things into a duffle tomorrow.”
“You’ll need to talk to Anna or someone about maintaining the Shack.”
“I can call later tonight.”
With the door partially cracked opened, Rae turned. “Would you like to come inside?” She yanked him in by his jacket collar before he had a chance to answer. They kissed with the same intensity of the kiss that had launched the fated shag against the wall, peeling off their coats, their scarves, without breaking contact.
Rae came up for air. “I thought about this, you, all day.”
“Same here.”
“Why are we wearing so many layers?” she asked as they continued to peel away clothing.
“Ten below out there with the windchill factor.”
“Hot as hell in here with the horny factor.”
Luke smiled at that. “Come here.” He swept her off her feet, whisked her across the room, and gently tossed her on the bed.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said as he unlaced her boots.
“I’ll have to give you something to look forward to for when I get back. A sampling of things to come.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” After peeling off her jeans, he flipped her over on her stomach.
She expected an erotic entry from behind, she was primed, but instead she felt the dizzying assault of feather-light fingertips trailing down her bare back. Tickling. Teasing. He skimmed lower, to the small of her back. Circling. Soothing. Then she felt a tug on her thong, felt the fabric sliding over her skin, down her legs, past her ankles.
Naked. She was naked.
Luke was naked, too. Straddling her now, tracing his fingertips over her shoulders, down her arms.
“Want to see you,” she said.
“Not yet.”
He repeated his initial path down her back, over her butt. Goose bumps prickled every inch of her skin as she shivered with erotic delight. Blissful torture.
Then it got worse.
He shifted down, parted her legs, trailed his fingers over the back of her thighs then—oh, God—over her inner thighs. Skimming up and down. So close to the part of her that ached most to be touched. But he didn’t touch her there. Not for the next ten minutes. Or maybe it was only ten seconds. She had no concept of time, let alone rational thought. Her vocabulary had trickled down to four words.
Touch me. Take me.
Wait. That was only three words.
Then she felt him flick her nub. Once. Twice.
Rae exploded. She actually screamed into the thick comforter as Luke fingered her to a blinding orgasm.
“Ah, Reagan,” he said in a husky voice as he rolled her onto her back and rained kisses over her belly. “That was too easy.”
“Easy?” She was supposed to hold out longer? Was he mad? She was still catching her breath when she felt him push off the bed. She knew his mind. “No condom. I want to feel you. The real you.”
“I thought you’d be concerned.”
“About what?”
“I’ve been with a lot of women.”
“Oh, that.” She forced herself up on her elbows and drank her fill of his stark naked body. She ached to explore every plane, every ridge. “Are you clean?” she asked bluntly. She didn’t know how else to handle this and she wanted to move the conversation along. Actually, she didn’t want to talk at all. Especially not about the other women in his life. She knew they existed, but she didn’t want them in their bed.
“I’m clean.”
“Come here.” She reached out and grabbed Luke’s arm, yanked him down on the bed. She pushed him onto his back. “I’ll have to give you a sampling of something to look forward to for when you get back.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” She kissed her way down his magnificent torso—every plane, every ridge. She teased him with feather-light brushes of her lips and an occasional hot flick of her tongue. She wondered if the ritual was working magic on him the way it was on her. The more she savored and dominated the greater her desire to be taken.
He groaned when she took his hard shaft in her hand, tensed as she stroked, gasped when she took him in her mouth. She didn’t have a lot of experience, but that didn’t mean she was inexperienced. She knew what to do and by Luke’s reactions she knew she was doing it right. The crazier she made him, the greater her excitement.
Then he shifted, and in a heartbeat, he had her on her back. “Keep that up,” he said, “and we’ll be done too soon. I need to be inside you, Reagan.”
She parted her legs and crooked what she hoped was a teasing smile. “Who’s stopping you?”
The tip of his shaft grazed her slick folds as he gazed into her eyes. “I think I need to spend the night.”
The man was mesmerizing, but she somehow found her voice. “Have some other things to share, samplings to hold me over until you get back?”
“Got a dozen or so tricks in my repertoire. Y
ou?”
“Not so many. But I could make some up.”
He arched one brow. “I’m definitely spending the night.”
And with that he plunged deep—the first stroke of heaven.
TWENTY-TWO
“Daddy, I’m f-f-freezing!”
Sam’s eyes flew open. Not that he saw too much. It wasn’t pitch-black in his bedroom, but it was pretty damn dark.
He instantly knew three things. His daughter was standing beside his bed, the sun was on the verge of rising, and, holy hell, it was cold.
“Da-deeee!”
“Hold on, honey.” He grabbed his Blackberry from the nightstand. Six fifty a.m. Eleven degrees. Outside anyway. Inside? Not that cold, but fricking cold. “Must be a problem with the heater, Mina. Let Daddy check.”
“But—”
“Go wake Ben. We’ll get a head start getting ready for school. I’ll make pancakes.”
She hugged her favorite teddy bear tight to her chest and frowned. “Don’t wanna go to school.”
“Mina—”
“Too cold.”
“Okay.” Sam had already thrown off the covers. He slept in boxers and a tee. He used to sleep in the buff, but that didn’t seem right now. Not when the kids could walk in unannounced at any hour. The privacy talk he’d given them had faded from their memories, since he didn’t have the heart to enforce it. He squinted down at his daughter. “Why are you wearing a boa?”
“The feathers keep me warm—like a bird.”
“And the sock monkey sock cap?”
“Wool keeps me warm—like a sheep.”
“Ah.” He plucked her off the floor—teddy bear and all—and onto his lap. “How about I hug you warm—like a daddy.” He squeezed his daughter tight, his heart bouncing when she giggled.
“Can I sleep with you Daddy?”
“I need to check the furnace, sweetie. But go ahead and crawl in.” He lifted the covers. “I warmed it up for you.”
“Yaaaaay!”
“Dad.”
Sam flicked on his bedside light while pulling on sweats and a hoodie. He glanced toward the skinny silhouette hovering on his threshold. “Yes, son?”
“I think the furnace is on the fritz.”
“I think you’re right. Want to help me check it out?”
Ben shrugged. “Sure.”
Sam didn’t miss the reluctance in Ben’s tone, but he didn’t take offense either. “Be right back,” he said to Mina then guided his son down the hall and the steps, flicking light switches along the way. Ben followed in sullen silence. Ben wasn’t intrigued with mechanics or carpentry. Instead of building stuff or fixing stuff, he liked to make stuff up. He was more of an intellectual, a dreamer. He preferred brain-buster electronic games as opposed to outdoor sports. A bit of an artistic nerd, Ben spent his spare time reading fantasy books or doodling anime characters in one of his many sketchbooks. Sam didn’t mind, but he knew Ben took some heat at school from some of the other boys. Going on nine, he was short for his age and on the puny side. And Ben was quiet. Painfully quiet. Unlike his chatty, effervescent sister.
For over a year now, Sam had been pushing Ben to try new things. Even if he didn’t like tinkering with engines, it would help to know how they worked. No interest in playing football? Fine. But if he understood the concept and rules at least he could offer an educated opinion when cornered by his sports-minded classmates.
As they hit the first floor and headed toward the basement, Sam reflected on an incident a few months back. He’d been stoked when his son had contributed several ideas for a jungle gym Sam had started building for a local playground. But when Sam had invited his son to help with the actual construction, Ben had looked at a hammer like it was an object from Mars. Still, Sam felt compelled to teach Ben a handful of basic survival skills. Every man should know how to change a flat tire or how to swap out a fuse. Or in this case, how to reignite an extinguished pilot light, which is what Sam assumed was the problem with the fritzed furnace—and it was.
“Luckily,” he said to Ben, “this should be a quick fix. See here? We lost the pilot light. Must’ve been a draft. First thing we’re going to do is turn this gas valve to off. See?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now we wait three or so minutes then switch the valve to pilot setting. See here? Three positions. On, off, and pilot setting.”
Hands thrust in his hoodie pockets, Ben nodded.
“Next step. Hold a lighted match to the pilot opening while pushing the reset button on the pilot control panel.” Sam pointed. “This button here. Hold that button in until the pilot flame burns real bright, then set the valve to the on position.” He glanced over his shoulder, swallowing a sigh because of the bored look in Ben’s eyes. “If you ever forget,” Sam said, “there’s a list of directions right here. Most manufacturers provide an instruction sheet.”
Ben leaned forward and squinted at the posted directions. “Has it been three minutes?”
Sam smiled a little, moved by his son’s feigned interest. He then went through every step just as he’d described.
“It’s not working,” Ben said after Sam’s third attempt.
“No, it’s not. Valve must be clogged.” Sam didn’t bother explaining this part. Ben was shivering and Sam was suddenly anxious to check on Mina. He nabbed a roll of wire from his workstation and got down to business. Unfortunately, nothing he tried worked. Which meant they had a faulty thermocouple or worse.
“Now what?” Ben asked as he pulled his hood up over his ears.
Sam rose and guided the boy upstairs. “Now we dig out the space heater and call a professional.”
“Want me to start breakfast while you do that stuff so we’re not late for school?”
“I promised Mina pancakes.”
“I’ll get out the Bisquick. Can we add blueberries?”
Sam’s heart ached as he squeezed his sensitive son’s shoulder. A boy who preferred libraries and kitchens to garages and work sheds. “Sure.”
Two hours later, Sam was on his way to the Rothwell Farm. He’d dropped Ben at school. He’d tried to drop Mina at school but that didn’t go so well. For the first time this year, he’d totally buckled and given in to her desperate sobs. He just didn’t have it in him today to deal with the guilt and misery of deserting her in a place she didn’t want to be. No sitters were available and Mina was being especially clingy anyway. He could take her home, but that would mean huddling in front of the space heater until the repairman showed and that wouldn’t be until late afternoon. Besides, Sam had promised Harper he’d come over early to work on her kitchen. It was the one room, aside from her bedroom, that she used a lot and there were some safety issues.
“Remember what I told you,” Sam told Mina as they rolled into the driveway. “Daddy’s here to work.”
“Okay.”
“Miss Day is a busy lady, so leave her be.”
“Okay.”
“I stocked your backpack with a mess of movies and cartoons, three books, and your Miss Kitty color set, so you have plenty to keep you busy.” He pointed to the ratty teddy bear Mina had dolled up in a pink dress and tiara. “And Princess Pinky to keep you company.”
“We’ll be good, Daddy, don’t worry.”
Sam smiled across the seat at his daughter. He’d bundled her up against the cold—coat, scarf, gloves, thick leggings, and insulated boots. She’d accessorized by topping her sock cap with a tiara and augmenting her pink wool scarf with a purple-feathered boa. She was cute as a button, but she was also a handful. Deep down Sam acknowledged that maybe part of the reason he’d buckled and brought Mina on the job was because she’d work as a buffer between him and Harper. He’d put in a few hours yesterday, working on her stairway. They’d pretty much kept to themselves—him sanding and varnishing wood, her yakking on the phone and flipping through entertainment channels like a celebrity news junkie. But whether they were inches apart or in entirely different sections of the house the sexual tensi
on between them raged. Sam figured the presence of his daughter would diffuse that tension—one way or another.
Harper answered the door dressed in clingy activewear and her phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah. I got it. I know. On it. Have to go. What?” She held one finger up to Sam, holding him off for a minute. He was used to her doing that, not that he liked it. “I’m supposed to be on a short holiday, Martin. Okay. Fine.”
Sam took in her appearance as she ended the call. Her thick hair was pulled in a high ponytail and an iPod was visible in a sports armband. She wasn’t sweaty or flushed so Sam assumed she was preparing for a workout and not just finishing up. He struggled not to admire the way her formfitting attire accentuated her curves—although he was beginning to think she’d turn him on even if she was draped in a gunnysack. He held her gaze, acknowledged the mutual sparks, then the glitch when Mina moved out from behind Sam and into Harper’s view.
“Hi,” Mina said.
Harper tucked her phone into her waistband and raised a lone brow. “Hi.”
“This is my daughter, Mina. Mina, this is Miss Day.”
“Don’t worry,” Mina said. “I won’t bug you. I have movies and Princess Pinky to keep me busy.”
“It’s been an unusual morning,” Sam said.
“Our furnace is on the futz.”
“Fritz, honey.”
Mina sighed, shrugged. “Fritz. Futz.”
Harper’s other brow rose. “Nice tiara.”
“Daddy bought it for me.” Mina leaned a hard right, peeking past Harper. “This place is haunted, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Seen any ghosts?”
“Not a one.” Harper moved aside and waved them in. “Let me know if you do.”
“You betcha!” Mina rushed forward, dragging along her bear and backpack.
Harper stared at Sam, pressing her hand to his chest. “Cute kid, Rambo.”
