The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine

by Kate Angell

  Jack knew what she meant. He often judged women by Chloe’s very long ruler. Asked himself if he’d rather spend time with the woman, or with Chloe, to gauge his interest.

  Guess who was always the winner?

  He continued to rub the line of her jaw. “This is a problem.”

  He had no idea why he’d said that. He hadn’t meant to say it. Actually, he didn’t want to talk about it. What he really wanted was to pretend that they could go on like this forever. Even though it was a lie.

  She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. When we meet the right people, we’ll choose them. We just haven’t met the right people.”

  It was a good, logical, sound reason he wanted to latch on to. But he couldn’t, something stopped him, but he didn’t know what or why. “The thing is, Chlo, do we ever really let it get that far?”

  An array of emotions—worry, concern, and finally fear—flashed over her features. “What are you saying?”

  He needed to stop this. Pull away from her. Change the subject and forget the strangeness that suddenly had sprung up around them. “Nothing. I don’t know.” He tightened his hold on the back of her neck and he thought he detected the slightest of tremors. “I don’t want to be the cause of your unhappiness.”

  She rose to tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek, twining herself around him like a cat, before whispering in his ear, “You’re not. You are my happiness.”

  Out of nowhere, rushing through him like a speeding train, desire crashed into him, so strong and fierce it almost brought him to his knees.

  What the fuck?

  He did not think about Chloe this way.

  That was off-limits. Had always been off-limits.

  She slid back down his body and he gritted his teeth to keep his spontaneous lust in check. She leaned back and he looked down into her face. His attention settled on her mouth and stayed.

  Her lips parted on a little gasp.

  He had the overwhelming need to kiss her. To know what that goddamn mouth would feel like under his.

  The moment caught. Held. Suspended.

  A tension he’d never allowed to take root permeated the air between them.

  Her fingers tightened on his arm, her chin tilted.

  He grasped her waist. “Chloe.”

  Her breathing kicked up. She blinked. Then blinked again, confusion etching in the knit of her brow. “Jack.”

  Sanity rushed over him.

  What in the hell did he think he was doing?

  The tension cleared from the air, and with silent agreement they pulled away.

  Both of them kind of laughed. A strained, uneasy sound.

  She waved her hand. “Anyway, it’s no big deal. I’m over him.”

  He nodded. “He wasn’t good enough for you anyway.”

  She grinned. “We’ll do better next time.”

  “That we will.” He looked back over the water. “What time does the party start?”

  “Five, but it’s an open house–type deal, so we can go whenever we want.” She raised her hand against her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun. “We should probably get back and relax before we get ready.”

  “Good idea.”

  He needed to get out of this fresh air so he could clear his fucking head.

  Chapter 5

  What was that?

  Chloe had no idea what to make of the scene down by the lake. Or why she’d suddenly been struck with a serious case of the hots for her best friend. It was like one second they’d been going along fine, like normal, the silence comfortable. Then—POW—instant tension.

  She was 99 percent positive he’d experienced the same thing.

  His arms had tightened around her, his eyes had darkened, lingering a bit too long on her mouth. There’d been a fraction of a second when she’d thought they were going to go at it like a couple of crazed, wild animals.

  But as quickly as the tension seized control, it evaporated. Leaving behind an unpleasant awkwardness.

  Now they watched television, both as far away as humanly possible from each other without falling off opposite sides of the bed, staring too intently at the game show flickering across the television set.

  They weren’t relaxed.

  His body appeared as rigid as hers.

  She swallowed hard. What should she do? Ignore it?

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. Ignoring it seemed the smart course of action. If they ignored it, by the time they got ready for the party they’d be back to normal, the strangeness forgotten.

  She frowned. The words felt like they were bubbling in her throat, pressing against her lips to get out. It was the oddest sensation. She pressed her lips together. Counted to ten.

  All she needed to do was wait until it passed.

  The desire to confront the issue didn’t abate. She started again, counting to twenty. The longer she repressed the urge to talk, the more insistent the desire became.

  The pressure grew in her chest.

  When she could finally stand it no more, the words burst forth, flying from her lips with a force that surprised her. “What was that? Out by the lake?”

  He jerked, his head snapping toward her.

  They looked at each other.

  She gulped.

  Suddenly the space on the bed between them became entirely too inviting. A flash of an image flooded her mind. Them, rolling across the bed, their legs entwined, him on top of her. Pressing into her.

  She wanted to attack him. Devour him. The longing to turn that image into a reality was almost a compulsion.

  It was the most disconcerting thought she’d ever had.

  Not even as a teenager, in the throes of puberty, had she felt like this.

  She flushed, and vaulted off the bed, moving to one of the sitting chairs that lined the bay window.

  Jack’s brows furrowed as she settled into the chair, crossed her leg, and her foot started to bounce. He picked up the remote that had rested against his flat stomach and pressed the OFF button, plunging the room into silence.

  He blew out a long breath. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Some of her tension eased; at least he wasn’t going to deny it.

  She laced her fingers and did her best not to fidget. “I’m not imagining things?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not.”

  She smiled. “One of the things I like best about you is that you don’t ever play the ‘you’re a crazy girl’ card.”

  “Never.” He sat up, propping his back against the headboard. “Okay, let’s approach this practically.”

  “Yes, let’s.” It was worth a try. Even though she wasn’t feeling particularly practical right now.

  “We had a moment.”

  “We did.” She paused, thinking through the events of the afternoon before saying, “Here’s my best guess. Amelia Rose put thoughts into our head. We went outside, talked relationship stuff, and well, you are a man and I am a woman.”

  “Makes sense.” He nodded his head, his face easing in relief.

  “It happens.” Sure, never quite like that, but it did happen.

  “And, let’s face it—neither of us is hard on the eyes. There’s bound to be an occasional slip.”

  They’d never had a slip before, but she wanted to build this story. Because it seemed like everything had changed since they’d walked out of that parlor. “Exactly. I’ve noticed you’re good-looking before. And your body isn’t bad, either.” His body was spectacular.

  “The same goes for you.” He straightened. “I’ve noticed you that way before.”

  “When?” The word left her lips like a speeding bullet and she sounded way too eager.

  He shrugged. “I don’t have them written down on my calendar or anything, but I’m sure I’ve thought you looked hot every once in a while.”

  “Me too. I mean, you are hot. Okay, then, it happened. It was some strange thing, and now it’s over. Right?”

  Don’t look at his mouth. Don’t look at h
is mouth.

  She looked anyway.

  Once, drunk at her own bachelorette party, Cheryl Hanigan told Chloe that making out with Jack was better than any sex she’d ever had in her life. That she practically came just kissing him.

  And Cheryl had made out with Jack at least ten years ago. Which meant he’d only have improved in time. With practice. She thought of his strong, steady hands as he worked on people in life-or-death situations.

  What would it be like to have those capable hands roaming over her body? Playing with her breasts, stroking her—

  “Chloe!” Jack’s voice boomed through the room, shaking her from her erotic thoughts.

  She blinked, straightening. “What did I miss?”

  He raised a brow. “Really?”

  “I . . . um . . .” The heat crawled up her neck. “Got distracted.”

  “Sure you did.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Did you bring running clothes?”

  She nodded.

  “Maybe we should go for a run to help burn off this excess energy.”

  She jumped up. It might work. “Good option.”

  There was a knock on the door and she ran toward it like a lifeline. “I’ll get it.”

  She flung it open and Aunt Iris stood there holding what looked like a dry cleaning bag. She held it out to Chloe. “Your costumes, dear. I forgot to give them to you.”

  “Great,” Chloe snatched them. “Do you want to come in?”

  Please come in. Please, please please.

  Aunt Iris waved. “No, I have to help with the party. But you two have fun.”

  And then she was off, scurrying down the hallway, leaving Chloe alone with her best friend.

  She closed the door and turned around, leaning against the wood.

  “Costumes?” Jack asked, his tone wry.

  “Yeah.” She tried to smile and flutter her lashes like she normally did, but feared it kind of died a sudden death mid-charm. “Didn’t I mention that?”

  “You conveniently forgot.” His voice was dry.

  “Sorry.” She held out the bag. “You’re not going to be happy.”

  Jack shook his head. “Why don’t I like the sound of this?”

  “Experience?” she quipped.

  He laughed. “What are we?”

  What was so funny at the time, now seemed like a fate worse than death. She swallowed past her dry throat. “Tarzan and Jane.”

  “Absolutely not.” He stood up in a huff she would have found hysterical an hour ago, but now she couldn’t help thinking was kind of hot.

  The way he prowled across the room.

  Stalked.

  His muscles flexing.

  His jaw tight and hard.

  He stopped in front of her, and she jerked her attention away from his body.

  Oh God, what was wrong with her? She was so confused. She needed to get away from him.

  He held out his hand.

  She looked down at it blankly. “What?”

  “The costume. Let me see it.”

  She handed it over. Trying to ignore the shiver of lust at his voice.

  Help. She needed help.

  He ripped off the plastic wrap and held up the scraps of material. “Absolutely. Fucking. Not. I did not go to four years of medical school to dress like a porn star.”

  The costumes were obscene. They might wear more clothes in porn.

  Her costume was a skimpy loincloth that would barely cover her ass, and a bikini top. She’d look like Jane Fonda right out of Barbarella.

  His was worse. A scrap of tan suede fabric and nothing else.

  Normally she’d be on him, talking him into it, convincing him how much fun it would be. How he’d drive women wild. But she couldn’t do any of that.

  Because all she could think about was what he’d look like practically naked. How she’d have to stare at his bare chest all night. What if she licked him? What then?

  What was Aunt Iris thinking?

  She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to wear it.”

  “I won’t.” He tossed the offending costume on the chair. “Neither will you. I will not have you traipsing around half-naked for the whole town to see. And that’s final.”

  Oh no, he did not! It didn’t matter if she’d been struck with some weird case of hyperlust, there was no way he had the right to boss her around. She was her own woman. No man, especially Jack, told her what to wear.

  Her brows rose practically up to her hairline. “What did you just say?”

  His expression flashed as he waved an angry hand over the minuscule piece of fabric. “You cannot walk around like that.”

  “Why ever not?”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know why, goddamn it, you just can’t.”

  She opened her mouth to scream at him, and then stopped herself. They were about to fight. They never, ever fought. She held up her hands as though warding him off. “What are we doing?”

  He dragged a hand through his hair, and his shoulders slumped. “I . . . shit. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I can’t explain it, it’s like I don’t want to say these words but they keep popping out anyway.”

  That was exactly what had happened to her. What in God’s name was going on? She put her hand on the door. “Let’s take a moment to ourselves, okay?”

  “Maybe that’s best.” His voice was so soft it scared her.

  She twisted the handle. “I’m going to take a walk alone. After we’ve had a chance to clear our heads, we’ll be back to normal.”

  A shadow passed over his expression. “Chlo?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I think I should find another hotel room.”

  Her gaze flew to the bed, and her mind filled with them tumbling, sweaty and naked, on top of it.

  The thought strangely defeated her. She nodded. “That’s probably for the best.”

  Chapter 6

  Jack sat on the edge of the bed in the now-empty room.

  He was fucked. Screwed six ways till Sunday.

  He’d called every hotel room in a fifty-mile radius and there wasn’t one single room available. Not one. Apparently Halloween was the biggest weekend of the year in these parts and everything was booked.

  He had two choices: Sleep in the car. Or sleep in this room.

  With Chloe.

  Two hours ago sleeping in a bed with Chloe had been no big deal. Earlier, she’d curled up next to him as though it was nothing. He’d run his hands down her back and it had been perfectly normal.

  But now, out of nowhere, the thoughts that pummeled his brain were illegal in most states. Carnal, illicit, dirty images of her and him and that bed stormed through his mind and made him stupid.

  Had he really ordered her not to wear that costume? Had he really been that dumb? Why had he even had the thought in the first place? He didn’t get possessive over Chloe. He didn’t tell her what to wear or how to look. Even if he was involved with a woman, he wasn’t that kind of guy.

  But it was the other thought lingering in the corner of his mind that really gave him pause. His actions had pretty much guaranteed she’d be strutting around that party dressed like a fantasy. And he didn’t know if he could make it all night watching her.

  So what in the hell had possessed him to say that?

  The truth was, he had no idea. It was like he’d been taken over by a very stupid demon and the words had been flying out of his mouth before he could process them.

  He blew out a hard breath. He needed to get this under control.

  He picked up his phone and called Nick Jasper to talk some sense into him. Because Jack swore he was going out of his mind.

  There’d been a moment, there at the end, when he’d almost pounced on her. He’d wanted to press her against the door, restrain her wrists, and devour her.

  What a mess.

  He pressed the CALL button and his friend answered on the second ring. “Hey.”

 
“I’ve got a problem,” Jack said as way of preamble.

  “Having work withdrawal already? You’ve only been gone five hours. Give it some time,” Nick said, amused.

  Nick worked with Jack in the ER. They’d started within two weeks of each other and had become fast friends. Nick also had the advantage of living in the town on the opposite side of the hospital, which meant Jack didn’t have to worry about any leaks back home where gossip spread like wildfire. Nick had also met Chloe, so he didn’t have to explain their complicated relationship.

  “Not work. Chloe.” Jack scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

  “What could be wrong with Chloe?” Nick asked, his voice careful.

  Did he really want to say this out loud? He’d already called, so he was committed. “She’s fine. I am not.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  Jack cleared his throat. “I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I can’t stop thinking about doing terrible things to her.”

  Nick laughed. “What trouble has she caused now?”

  “I don’t mean that.” Jack lowered his voice and glanced around the room. “I want her.”

  Silence.

  The numbers on the alarm clock ticked over.

  When Nick still didn’t speak, Jack asked, “Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah. What do you mean, you want her?”

  “I mean we showed up here, everything was fine. Normal. We got our tarot cards read by some strange woman, we ate cookies, and since I left that room I cannot stop thinking about getting Chloe naked.”

  “I see.”

  Jack blew out a frustrated breath. “That’s it?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me it’s stupid. Talk some sense into me.” Jack shook his head. “I know it’s crazy, but it’s like a compulsion. I don’t think I can resist her. And it’s not just me. She’s been struck, too. We talked about it, kind of, but then I ordered her not to wear a costume and she left. And I’ve called twenty hotels and there’s not one room.”

  Muffled noises sounded from over the line.

  Jack frowned. “Are you fucking laughing?”

  The laughter boomed, and Jack held the phone away while Nick howled like a hyena. When he was finally under control he said, “Sorry. But, come on, you’ve got to see the humor in this.”