From the kitchen, she hazarded a nervous glance in Shane’s direction, then exhaled softly when she saw he hadn’t been disturbed.
Running water gushed like a waterfall in the stainless steel sink as she filled the kettle. Setting it on the stove, she turned the burner on high.
Hardhat nudged his empty water bowl, then, when she didn’t respond right away, pawed it until it turned over with a solid clunk.
“He’s good at getting what he wants.”
She jumped and slowly spun.
So much for hoping he’d stay asleep.
Her breath seemed to wobble in her lungs. Her sensual images, combined with the oh-so-sexy reality of him made it impossible to breathe.
Casually, he leaned one shoulder against the wall. His hips were cocked to one side, his dark T-shirt was untucked and alluringly rumpled, his jeans were softly wrinkled and his feet were bare. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
“Thought I’d have the tea I didn’t get earlier.”
“Me, neither,” he said, honesty cutting through her defenses.
She braced herself near the sink.
“I heard you get out of bed, then heard you open the door and walk in here.”
“But I tiptoed.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Hardhat pushed his dish closer to her. Grateful for something to do, she picked it up. When she’d filled the bowl, she bent to put it on the floor, then froze when she stood up and met Shane’s gaze.
No longer cold, his eyes were warm, shooting a molten sensation through her. “Would you like a cup of tea? There’s enough water for both of us,” she said breathlessly, unable to separate the Angie who still loved him from the Angela who’d left him.
She prayed he’d refuse, hoped he wouldn’t.
“You paused by the couch.”
“Because Hardhat got up.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Yes.”
He said nothing.
“No,” she admitted reluctantly but truthfully.
“You wear the same perfume.”
“Chanel No. 5.”
“But you don’t use the same shampoo.”
“You’ve noticed?”
“Angie, I’ve noticed every damn thing about you since you got here.”
She folded her arms across her middle, then forced herself to relax when she realized she’d dragged her clothes a couple of inches up her thighs.
The teakettle shrilled. She hoped it would shatter the intimacy, but it didn’t.
She dropped a tea bag in a mug, then splashed hot water over it, pretending he wasn’t there.
“Tell me why you couldn’t sleep,” he said, dragging a chair away from the table, then sprawling on the seat.
At first glance, he appeared relaxed. Then she realized there was nothing casual about him. His right hand was on the table, curled into a fist. His right foot was planted on the hardwood floor and his spine rested rigidly against the chair’s back. He could be on his feet in a fraction of a second.
“Tell me,” he repeated softly.
She took honey from a cupboard and drizzled it in her cup, rather than giving the bottle a good squeeze.
“You’re stalling,” he said.
She put down the honey bear, but stayed where she was, halfway across the kitchen from him. Safer that way.
With the toes of his left foot, he pushed another chair away from the table in silent invitation. He was still waiting.
Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since he walked in the room, and now it hammered even harder. “I don’t know how to act,” she admitted, reluctantly taking the seat across from him. They were too close, she was too aware of his broad chest, the sinews of his forearms, the hurt in his eyes.
“I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of you,” he said. “I don’t want to remember the good times.”
“For me, they happened yesterday. I’m the same woman who loved you, but somehow I must be the same woman who left you. I can’t believe that I feel this way about you if I walked out back then.”
Leaning closer to him, she said, “I was thinking of that night we went to the county fair and you gave me this aspen leaf. My dad gave me a Jaguar for my high school graduation, but I walked away from that. This,” she said, curling her hand around the pendant, “was why I walked away.”
His brows drew together skeptically.
“I know you don’t believe me. But I’ll tell you this much, Shane. If I could turn back the clock to that day, I’d make sure you knew I loved you.”
“Love isn’t enough.”
She had to ask, didn’t want to, but she had to know… Licking her lips, she asked, “Is there someone else for you? Is that why you stopped me from touching you?”
“No. I stopped you before we ended up making love.”
She glanced at him through half-lowered, shy lids. “But what if I wanted that, too?”
“That’s not fair to either of us. You don’t have a memory, and I have enough for both of us. I hope I have enough integrity not to take advantage of you.”
She quickly stood. Her head spun and the world wobbled. Shane was there in an instant, holding her tight. Desperately she grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt, feeling the solidness of him and breathing in his scent.
“You okay?”
“I keep forgetting about my accident.”
Something pulsed, something honest and pure. “Me, too,” he said softly.
She didn’t know how it happened, didn’t question it, didn’t try to stop it.
She responded completely to his kiss, holding nothing back.
The first touch of his tongue to hers made her knees weaken. He pressed a palm against the curve of her spine and, with the other hand, supported her neck. Her own hands crept higher, wrapping around him. She dug her fingers into the midnight darkness of his hair and pulled him in closer.
Moments later he deepened the kiss.
She couldn’t think, and nothing mattered except for the fact she was in his arms, where she belonged.
Slowly he ended the kiss, pulling back and holding her at a distance until she regained her equilibrium. She pressed trembling fingers against her swollen lips.
“Go to bed,” he said again, this time hoarsely. “And for heaven’s sake, lock the door.”
Five
What had he ever done to deserve this kind of torture?
Yesterday he’d had all the answers and his life was neatly compartmentalized. He worked all day, building his firm. In his spare time, he worked on the house. He got on with his life, content without love or emotional entanglements. No complications, just the way he liked it.
Until she barged in.
Now blood thrummed, demanding a release.
The storm must have frozen his brain cells. That was the only possible explanation for him kissing her, holding her, caring about her.
The bedroom door closed and locked. Mercifully.
Hardhat, after cocking his head to one side, abandoned his master and went into the living room, stretching his canine body in front of the hearth.
Shane dragged a hand through his hair.
Five years ago, Shane promised himself he’d never have her in his arms again. That intention had lasted right up until he had the chance.
The storm still snarled outside, and the only thing that was melting was his resolve to punish her for the sin of leaving him.
He’d claimed her lips and her responsiveness had chipped away at his hardened heart. And in that instant, the fact that she would inevitably walk out on him again didn’t matter.
The woman sleeping in his room wasn’t the same one who’d left him. Five years ago, she’d been head-turningly pretty. But now her face had character, little lines that spoke of hurt, but also compassion, and her lips were fuller, more inviting.
Older, more mature, more sure of herself, she intrigued him. Her eyes were deeper, bluer, and life’s experiences lingered there.
He
shouldn’t care about anything but getting her healed and on her way.
But he did.
Damn it, he did.
Standing under the shower’s hot spray, Angie tried to forget last night’s wonderful kiss.
She opened her eyes, wanting to banish the images. It didn’t work. She hadn’t been able to escape him in sleep, couldn’t do it in the shower.
She lathered and rinsed her hair, wincing when she accidentally rubbed the cut on her forehead. At least the pain was a reality check, reminding her of what she’d lost.
Angie stayed in the shower until the hot water heater had nearly run out. Then she spent the next half hour getting dressed, fully aware that this was his masculine domain. It bore his presence, his damp towel, his razor, everything that was personal and intimate…. She dried her hair and tried to ignore the sounds he made and the scent of freshly brewed coffee.
Finally, deciding she was an adult and that she could pretend the kiss hadn’t happened, she joined him in the kitchen.
Hardhat ambled over to be petted, and Shane slowly turned, coffee mug in hand, hip leaning against the counter. The top two buttons on his shirt were unfastened, and she saw a scattering of darkly matted chest hair in the opening. “Morning,” he said, his voice rough with a sexy scratch.
Her heart missed a beat.
Last night’s abandoned mug sat on the table, instantly taking her back to the intimacy they’d shared, despite her decision to pretend it never happened. Hardhat nudged her with his nose and she dutifully scratched behind his ears.
“Phones are still out,” Shane said. “Snow’s still falling and blowing, and I haven’t heard a plow.”
She swallowed deeply. “So you’re stuck with me for even longer.”
“At least another day.”
She didn’t know what to think, how to react. “Are you hungry?” she asked, desperate to find something to do that would dispel the knot of tension in her stomach. She figured if she stayed busy, thoughts of her honest response couldn’t haunt her.
“You offering to cook?”
“It’s only fair.” She crossed the kitchen and opened the freezer.
“What are you looking for?”
“Frozen fruit…strawberries, blueberries, something on that line.”
“Unless Sarah’s home on break, this is a bachelor pad.”
He was right. Two boxes of premade pizza, a package of hot dogs, a pound of hamburger meat, a couple of steaks and a tray of ice cubes were the only things in the freezer. She nibbled on her lower lip. “Do you have eggs?”
“Yep. And milk and potatoes. Maybe some ham from the deli.”
“Can I hope for baking powder?”
He opened a cupboard and emerged victorious. “Sometimes Sarah gets cravings for sweets.”
He hooked a foot in front of the other and watched, interestedly. “What are you making?”
“Crepes.” Aware of him intently watching her every motion, she asked, “Never seen a woman cook before?”
“Not you.”
“But I’m a good cook.”
“You didn’t used to be.”
She exhaled slowly, trying to think, getting a headache and finally sighing in frustration.
“Must be another talent of yours that I don’t know about.”
“There must be a lot we don’t know about each other,” she said.
“Guess we’re learning.”
The air around her sizzled, making it difficult to breathe. Concentrate, she told herself. Breakfast. “Will you slice some ham into thin pieces?”
She drizzled the batter into a hot frying pan and quickly rotated it to form the thin pancake. She had to reach in front of him for the plate of ham, and Shane didn’t move out of her way, unnerving her. “Do you want to set the table?”
“Am I making you nervous?”
“No.” She looked over her shoulder. “Yes.”
He chuckled softly but said nothing.
She should have been unable to relax with him halfway across the room. Maybe if a renegade part of her didn’t yearn to throw herself into his arms and unbutton the rest of his shirt the way she used to, it might have been easier.
Finally, the crepes made, she carried the skillet to the table.
“What do you take in your coffee?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.”
He poured her a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, then offered her the handle. Their fingers glanced off each other’s. Then their eyes met. As if a match had been held close, something flared in the rich, green depths of his.
“I’m not sorry for kissing you last night.”
So much for pretending it never happened. She looked away quickly.
“Are you?” he pressed.
“How could I be?” she asked softly, taking the cup and putting it down before she spilled it all over herself. She sat down, then wished she’d chosen another spot when he pulled out the chair right next to hers. “It’s what I wanted.”
“What if I were to do it again?”
“Given how you feel about me…” She looked at him and honestly said, “And how I still feel about you, you were right to stop it before it went any further.”
Now that he’d mentioned the kiss, every nerve ending was on alert and her blood hummed in her veins. She was aware of him, and in her mind, they’d only made love yesterday. But inviting intimacy was asking for trouble when her memory returned, when he saw her as the woman who’d left him.
They ate in silence, and Angie was unable to swallow more than a few bites.
“You were right,” he said. “You are a good cook.”
After scraping her leftovers into a very happy Hardhat’s bowl, she offered to clean the rest of the kitchen if he washed the dishes.
It only took her a few minutes to realize she should have sent him away instead of asking for help.
Their bodies touched several times when she carried dishes to the sink, and her insides leaped with awareness.
He rolled back his sleeves to reveal dark hair and tanned skin.
She caught his scent, that of the mountains and untamed power. Years of hard, physical work had honed his body to muscular tightness. “Do you still have your firm?” she asked, more to distract herself than anything else.
How little she knew him now, but how well her body remembered him.
He nodded as he dried the frying pan. “Masters Construction is alive and well. I don’t get on-site as much as I’d like. I’m too busy running the place.”
“So you have employees now?”
“A dozen or so.”
“I always knew you’d be a success.”
“Did you?”
“I could feel it,” she admitted. “I knew a lot of men who were content to coast through life, driving the cars and joining the clubs their fathers had earned for them. But you… I admired your determination, your dedication to Sarah. I knew you’d be the best at whatever you wanted to do.”
He looked as though he was going to say something, but then changed his mind. He stacked a plate on top of another.
“And Sarah—how’s she?” She was rambling, but better that than noticing the way their fingers touched every time he took a dish from her.
“Getting good grades. First person in the family to go to college. I’m proud of her.”
“You should be.”
“She used to ask about you.”
Angie looked at him, startled. Finally finished with the dishes, she pulled the stopper from the drain and dried her hands on a kitchen towel.
“She looked up to you. She never knew her mother, and she liked that you cared.”
“I did. I still do.”
“Sarah missed you almost as much as I did.”
Her heart twisted again. She and Sarah had been close. Angie and Shane even took her on a few of their dates rather than leaving her home alone. Sometimes Shane had wanted a break from raising his sister, but Angie had rarely minded Sarah’s company.
As an only child, Angie appreciated Sarah’s unconditional love. And in leaving, Angie had destroyed that, too. Just what had her actions cost him and his family? “I’m sorry,” she whispered, laying her hand on his, then squeezing gently.
“Angie—”
She rose on tiptoes, not thinking beyond the moment, and threaded her hands around his neck. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “For everything.” As atonement, she kissed him. At first, he didn’t react, then he kissed her back, his tongue tasting, testing hers. Within seconds, he took over, deepening the kiss as he explored her responses.
Leaning her against the sink, he maneuvered them so his hand could cup her breast.
Heat flooded downward from her stomach, and she softly said, “Yes.”
He snagged the hem of her T-shirt and drew it off, ending the kiss long enough to pull the cotton over her head. Cool air hit her skin, only to be replaced by his warm hands.
Her knees weakened, and he caught her, sweeping her from her feet and carrying her into the living room. Their eyes met and held for a second as he placed her on the couch. He knelt on the floor, facing her.
His gaze swept up her body, lingering on her breasts, barely covered by her lacy bra.
Here, now, at least his icy veneer had cracked. Maybe, with time, she could melt it entirely.
“Make love to me.”
“Angie—”
“I know what I’m doing, what I’m asking for. Make love to me, Shane.”
With his thumb, he stroked her lip. She opened her mouth and caught his thumb, curling her tongue around it and sucking.
He groaned.
Eyes closed, Angie leaned forward again, burying her hands in the thickness of his hair.
His mind resisted, wondering what the hell he was doing, thinking of making love to his ex-wife, but his body responded as it always had.
Lack of desire had never been a problem between them. From the moment their fingers had first touched when they’d shaken hands to the instant their bodies had joined on their wedding night, sparks had arced between them.
One Snowbound Weekend... Page 5
