by Skye Jones
Oh, no. I refused to head down the path of anxiety and neurotic thinking again. That’s what got me into my booze-fueled mess in the first place. I slid the lock into place, deciding I liked the extra layer of security it offered, even if it was only cosmetic.
I pulled my clothes off and slipped under the covers in my underwear. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I shut my eyes and forgot all my troubles.
Pain. Blinding, bright pain throbbing behind my eyelids. I opened my eyes and groaned. Light from the open curtains made me wince. I never fell asleep with the curtains open—what had I been thinking? And then the events of the previous evening came rushing back to me, and I realized that a stranger, a rather hot stranger, slept in the next room. If he hadn’t already gone home.
I owed him one, big-time. He’d rubbed circles on my back while I puked, for God’s sake. Who did such a thing for a woman they hardly knew? I glanced at the clock and squinted in shock at the numbers. Only half seven in the morning, a.m. but I was wide awake. Thirsty and achy, I needed coffee and juice.
When I stepped out of bed, my head pounded harder, and I added paracetamol to my must-have list of immediate necessities. I opened my case, stashed in the wardrobe, and pulled out a strappy top and some soft joggers. I told Humphry to stay and slid the lock back. I peeled the door open, not wanting to wake Adam if he still slept, and closed it softly behind me.
In the hallway, I crept past his room and headed for the bathroom, where I took a superquick shower with my hair up in a topknot. I took the time after, though, to smooth on some scented body lotion and to slick on some lip gloss and a coat of mascara.
Then I headed out and toward the kitchen. Once there, I decided to make some food to go with my much-anticipated coffee. My stomach still felt raw, but I was also hungry and feeling more human after my shower. I had bacon, eggs, mushrooms, and sausages in the fridge, along with salad stuff, so I decided to use the tomatoes too and make a full English breakfast.
Twenty minutes later, I plated up. Then I put the plates in the oven to keep them and their contents warm for a few minutes. I served up some fresh coffee, already a mug down myself, and headed toward Adam’s room.
I knocked but got no reply. So I knocked again, a bit harder this time. Still no answer. I pushed open the door and froze. Adam lay sprawled over the bed, his body only covered by thin sheets. He’d obviously kicked the thick duvet off in the night. His legs were splayed under the sheet, one straight down, the other bent at a ninety-degree angle. His arms were up by his head, bent with his hands open on the pillow above him. The sheet pooled around his waist, letting me see the full glory of his naked chest.
I stared in awe at the sight before me. His body, so big and strong against the plain white sheets, tempted me beyond belief. Everything about him screamed power, even as he lay in a relaxed state.
Not sure what to do, I moved into the room and placed the coffee on the bedside chest of drawers, and then I leaned forward and tapped his shoulder.
Adam jolted, and his eyes shot open. I smiled at him in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. He looked kind of wild there for a moment.
He blinked a couple of times and then smiled at me.
“I tried knocking, but you didn’t hear me.”
He frowned at me and then brought his hands up to his ears. He took out two earplugs and popped them to one side. Well, it explained him not hearing me knock.
“Sorry, what did you say?” He yawned, and even doing that, he looked gorgeous.
In fact, this morning, sitting up in bed with his big, brash body on display and his rumpled hair, he looked so delicious I suddenly fancied him for breakfast. How did a guy in his forties maintain such a physique? I longed to paint him. I loved life drawing, but never had I been lucky enough to have a model with Adam’s stunning build.
Realizing I gawped at him, I shut my mouth and smiled. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear me. Why the earplugs?”
“The noise of the sea bothers me.”
I listened, but I barely heard it from within the four walls of the cottage.
“I’ve got sensitive hearing.” He must have read my mind.
I shrugged and pointed to the steaming mug on the side.
“I made you coffee, and there’s breakfast waiting in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
“I’m famished.” As if to back up his statement, his stomach rumbled.
“I’ll see you there in a moment.”
I exited the room to give him a chance to get dressed.
In the kitchen, I busied myself setting places at the table and getting the condiments out. The little holiday cottage came well equipped, and I placed ketchup, brown sauce, and mayo on the table alongside the salt and pepper.
Adam came strolling into the room, and once more, I had to close my mouth. He wore the same clothes as last night, sans the jumper. In its place, he wore a T-shirt that fit tight across his chest and even tighter around his biceps. I couldn’t help but compare him to my ex-husband.
Roger possessed an average build and was only five foot eight. He’d developed a potbelly, too, as he grew older. Not that I ought to talk, not with my own darling little pouch. I nearly patted my stomach, but I stopped myself in time.
I needed to stop perving on Adam. He would not go for a woman like me in a million years. I pictured him with some stunning, classy, supermodel type. A woman who looked like Cindy Crawford and who did something exciting and cultured for a living.
In fact, he was so far out of my league, I should stop being all nervous and awestruck around him and simply enjoy him as a friend. The moment I decided this, I felt more relaxed in his company.
He sat down on one side of the table, and I used gloves to get the loaded plates out of the oven. I’d popped some bread into the toaster, and I took it out and placed it on a large plate in the center of the table.
Once I sat opposite Adam, he grabbed a slice of toast and loaded it with butter. Hmm, maybe not as much of a health freak as I’d thought. Maybe he came by his amazing body from work. He’d mentioned something the previous evening about working or living in an eco-commune.
I took a slice of toast too, but I applied a hell of a lot less butter. He cut into his bacon and took a forkful. “Perfect. Crispy, but not ruined into a blackened mess.”
“I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to bacon. I can’t bear it undercooked.” I shuddered.
“Me neither. Something else we have in common.”
I glanced at him and he winked, sending my heart into a somersault. I didn’t think I’d ever sat with such an attractive man. Maybe I ought to introduce him to Diane. I bet they’d hit it off like a house on fire.
I got my brain into gear and answered him. “Other than crime novels, you mean?”
“More than that.” He chewed on his food and swallowed, chasing it with a sip of orange juice and then dabbed at his mouth. Nice table manners. “I seem to find myself at a crossroads, a bit like yourself.”
“Oh?” Color me intrigued. I liked to hear about other people having midlife crises of one sort or another. Made me feel less despairing about my own. Did that make me a bitch? What did they say? Misery loves company.
“Yes. I mentioned the eco-commune to you, and it is something I’ve been closely involved with for many years. I run it. But things are changing. I’m…tired.” He looked up, and his eyes clouded over. He scrubbed a hand over his strong jaw, where his stubble looked more like a short beard this morning. “I work nearly every day. It’s not a job as such…more of a vocation. My sons work alongside me also. They will take over one day. I think, perhaps, this day may come sooner than I’d anticipated.”
“Why? They won’t push you out, will they?”
“No. They’d never do such a thing. I wouldn’t allow it anyway. They won’t challenge me.”
Challenge him? Odd choice of words. In fact, some of the time he spoke like someone from another era but then reverted to talking in more modern vernacu
lar at others. He didn’t have an accent either. Not the local one most people did around the area, and I wondered if he’d been born elsewhere and moved here.
“So why will the day come sooner than you thought?”
He gave me a measured look. “Because I want a change. Christ! I’ve not admitted this to anyone before. You’re really easy to talk to, do you know that?”
Was I? I’d spent so long on my own, freaking out about everything, my social skills must be dire.
“You’re not judgmental at all. You listen. It’s refreshing.”
“Who am I to judge anyone? My own life is a total clusterfuck. It’s a mess of epic proportions. My husband left me. My kid left home to go to the other side of the world. I lost my job. I may lose my house. About the only good thing is Humphry…and my friend Diane.” Suddenly wanting to change the subject from my maudlin life, I gave him a cheeky grin. “You’re single, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
Wow. Wary much? His whole tone shifted to something more cagey and offhand when he answered me. The cheek of it! Okay, Mr. Gorgeous with the blue eyes and the dark hair didn’t have to make it quite so obvious how he disdained the idea of dating plain old me. I’d never show myself up by making a move on him, so he could relax. But he’d be perfect for Diane.
“I only wondered. If you ever want setting up, let me know. You’d be perfect for my friend, Diane. And she’s absolutely gorgeous. Look.” I rifled through my phone, suddenly determined to see Adam and Diane together. God knew why, as the idea of them holding hands, kissing, and other things made my stomach churn. Which made no sense, as I didn’t know the man, really.
I found a picture of Diane and held it up for him to look at.
Instead of looking at my phone, he frowned at me. “You’re trying to set me up? With your friend?”
“Erm…maybe. Yes. I mean, if you like her. But men always do. She’s stunning. Look.” I pushed the phone at him again, and this time he looked. He studied her picture and then looked at me.
My blood ran hot as his gaze crawled all over my face, eating me up, studying me. I hated to wonder how I must stack up. Me in my early morning glory, compared to Diane on a full glamour night out.
I took a sip of my coffee and tried not to feel self-conscious.
“You’re much prettier.”
I snorted, then choked. I grabbed a napkin and ended up spluttering coffee into it. Once I’d done making a show of myself, I lifted streaming eyes to see Adam watching me with a serious face.
“Yeah, right. Thanks for making me nearly kill myself via inhaled caffeine.”
He didn’t smile, though, but kept right on looking with those incredible blue eyes. “You don’t have much confidence in yourself, do you?”
I shrugged. “Suppose not. But I like to say I’m simply being realistic.”
“You’re a very attractive female.”
Female? Weird.
I liked how he tried to be nice, but come on, I looked ordinary at best. Something, some horrible verbal madness made me say it. “I’m ordinary. Dull. Average height. Average build. Plump, but not in that glorious way men love. I don’t have hips or a booty to die for. I have a belly pouch and fat arms. My face is nice but nothing out of the ordinary. I have brown hair. Brown eyes. Boring clothes. I’m…dull.”
Oh, my God! I sat back and died a little inside. Did I really go there? And now I sounded like someone digging for compliments. I must be a masochist or something. Why else sit before a man and give him a blow-by-blow shopping list of all my faults?
“About the only thing you said there in your little speech I hold any agreement with is that you have a nice face. It’s very nice. Nice is highly underrated. But you’re more than nice. You’re beautiful.”
I stood, shooting my chair back I moved so quick. I suddenly felt the need to move. I craved his male attention, but I also needed to shake it off, unsure of what to do with it. Certainly not when it came from someone as vital as the man seated opposite me.
“Are you finished with your food?”
He nodded and watched me as I bustled about the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and clearing the scraps from the plates. He didn’t offer to help. No, he simply sat there and watched me do all the work. I didn’t mind as such, but it meant I had to bear his scrutiny. I became superaware of his gaze on me. My skin prickled with the feel of his eyes sliding over me, taking me in.
After I’d finished clearing away, I turned to him. Determined suddenly to get my own space back and regain some equilibrium.
“Well, I need to go and get myself ready for the day. Thank you so much for last night. I hope the breakfast has gone some way to paying you back. I expect you’ve got lots to do yourself.”
I went to the door and held it open. My heart pounded as he pushed his chair back, slow and lazy, and walked toward me. Why did he unnerve me so?
As he neared, he slowed to a stop.
“Come for a walk with me later. I want to show you somewhere.”
“Oh, I’m not sure.”
“What? Too busy sitting here cataloging all your faults for the next few hours? Another day of neuroses lies ahead, eh?”
I flushed, and stupidly, my eyes prickled with threatening tears. “That’s not nice.”
“Neither is what you’re doing to yourself. Get out of your head for a bit. Come take a walk with me.”
“Why do you care?” I snapped. Not like me at all to be so quick-tempered. My behavior of the last twenty-four hours struck me as kind of odd, full stop. Out of character, somehow.
“You’re right. I don’t understand why I care, but I’ll stop right now if you prefer. Have a nice life, Pam. And you really are gorgeous.”
He bent his head to mine. My heart pounded so hard, I bet he heard it as I waited for the kiss. But his lips merely brushed my cheek in a dry peck. Then he straightened and headed out the door.
I closed the door, but the moment the wood snapped shut, something unfurled within me. A horrible, urgent feeling that I’d let someone really important walk away from me. Acting purely on instinct, I yanked the door open and rushed outside.
“Adam,” I called against the wind, and he turned around. “I’ll go for a walk with you. If the offer still stands, that is. I’d like it. Very much.”
He grinned and shouted back to me. “I’ll come get you in an hour.”
Chapter Three
I threw the fourth pair of trousers I’d tried onto the bed in exasperation. Nothing looked good. What did you wear for a stroll with a man as handsome as sin? Was this a date? I doubted it. Adam may be kind, but he didn’t like me as anything other than a friend. But then, he’d complimented me, hadn’t he?
Why did I even care? I couldn’t go through it all again anyway. Adam might like me. Perhaps, just maybe, for once in my life, I got the prince. But the prince wouldn’t stick around. It might be six months away, or five years. Or, as in Roger’s case, at the very moment I least expected it. But, sooner or later, Adam would walk away.
I liked him. Beyond his obvious physical attributes, he seemed like a nice guy. A decent guy. But also, not someone to be messed with. Take charge in a quiet way. A way much more powerful than those shouty, show-offy men who threw their weight around. Adam owned a ton of charisma, but he held it in check. He seemed calm, contained, but you sensed so much more power to him than he let you see. Like a banked fire you thought might roar into full flame at any given moment. Part of me wanted to do something to provoke him into unleashing his power a little. Maybe part of me wanted to get burned.
With such silly and dangerous thoughts ricocheting around my mind, I finally managed to get myself dressed and downstairs in time for the knock at the door.
I opened it, and there he stood. All six foot four or so of him. My eyes ate their way up his body, approving of his tight black sweater and his worn jeans. My own outfit consisted of a not too snug turtleneck that skimmed my hated belly but clung to my not bad boobs, a pair of boot-cu
t jeans, some sensible boots, and my pink jacket. Humphry would be wearing his blue lead today. I liked to switch it up for him sometimes. God help me if I ever got one of those little dogs that people carry around in their bags. I imagined myself dressing the poor creature in all sorts of accessories.
“You ready?”
“Yep.” I looped Humphry’s lead around his neck, and he stalked after me out the door. Humphry moved like a gazelle. A creature of grace and beauty. We really should rename the poor mite.
Once outside, the wind bit through the supposed weatherproof jacket, and I wondered if I needed to go back for a scarf. “Is it far?”
“About twenty minutes from here. So, forty minutes total.”
Okay, so we weren’t going to be out for hours. I’d manage.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I didn’t like surprises. Not generally. Not since I went a bit bonkers, anyway. I liked life to be orderly. To know where I stood and what came next. Control. I’d become the ultimate control freak.
Today, I decided to let go for once. To let Adam lead. And funnily enough, it felt safe to do so. Something about the man next to me made me feel secure. I loved the feeling. Normally, only a Valium chilled me out to this degree. It made no sense, the way his mere presence seemed to act as a balm to my soul.
Those kinds of musings were far too heavy, though, so I decided to make some light conversation.
“Did you know slugs have sex by wrapping around one another on a string of mucus and then using their large blue penises to impregnate one another? They’re hermaphrodites.”
Adam said nothing. He stared at me. Looked out to sea. Back to me. Then threw his head back and laughed. And it was glorious. Honestly. I could watch him laugh all day. All week. Hell, all year.
His teeth were white and even, and his eyes crinkled charmingly, but best of all, two deep dimples popped in his cheeks. If it weren’t so damned blustery and chilly, I’d have swooned.
