by Monroe, Lila
And that she can have a sense of humor about all of this. With any luck, once I break the truth to her, she’ll see the bright side and treat herself to a weekend vacation, room service around the clock.
But when I finally turn off the highway, hours later, and drive through the snowy woods to the address, I’m in for an unpleasant surprise. Because James didn’t just send her three hours out of the city to a posh country lodge hotel. Nope. The address he sent me is for a deserted log cabin.
As in totally isolated, dark and bleak.
I pull up outside. Never mind creepy, this is serial killer behavior through and through. Did James seriously expect April to jump for joy over a stunt like this?
I look around. There’s no sign of April’s van, and when I knock on the door, there’s no answer, either.
“Fuck,” I say, helpless.
It’s still business hours, so I call the shop. Remy, her employee, answers.
“Tell me April canceled the bridal shower gig and is with you right now?” I ask hopefully.
“Uh, no. She left hours ago,” Remy replies.
Damn it.
The back of my neck prickles. She should have arrived here ages ago—or, I would have passed her heading back to the city in the opposite direction. Plus, it’s getting dark. The roads up here are narrow and somewhat dicey in daylight, but in the dark, they’d be downright treacherous. And April strikes me as capable in many ways, but an outward-bound nature enthusiast?
I’m guessing that’s among her skills.
So where the hell is she?
12
April
Remind me never to leave the city again.
Or, if I do, remind me never to leave the city without an emergency radio, snack pack, and snow tires.
I dig around in my purse for candy, a chocolate bar, anything, even though I know I’ll die of hypothermia well before I’ll die of starvation. Still, it feels like a huge triumph when I find a loose, unwrapped hard candy at the bottom. Buuuut . . . I’m still too grossed out by the lint and other questionable stuff stuck to it to pop it into my mouth. I take that as a good sign that I’m not really nearing starvation.
In fact, it’s only been about three hours since I’ve eaten.
Two if you count that huge coffee I guzzled on the drive.
But I am legit concerned about the cold. I’ve been stuck on this godforsaken road for over an hour now, waiting for a good Samaritan to come by. Of course my van breaks down in the middle of nowhere. And the middle of nowhere doesn’t have cell service.
How far can I be to the venue? I wonder. Tired of waiting, I jump down to the road, ready to hoof it. I’m tough, and hiking will warm me up. It’s only then that I realize the snow comes up over my sneakers. My thin, canvas sneakers.
Also, walking down a narrow old gravel road as it’s getting dark is a recipe for becoming roadkill.
I climb back in the van, now with wet feet. Well done, April.
As I shiver, I begin to wonder if insurance would cover it if I set my van on fire as both a beacon and for warmth. They’d applaud me for being so resourceful, wouldn’t they? Though torching the van would mean disappointing my client. Charred is not this season’s color choice for trendy brides.
Then I wonder which of the flowers I brought are edible. I grab my phone to Google it.
No cell service means no Google, April. Duh.
I could cry.
I swallow back my fear instead. Everything’s going to be fine, I tell myself, desperately hoping it’s true. Someone will come and loan me their cellphone and drive me to the nearest town to call a tow truck. Soon enough, I’ll be drinking a mug of something warm, regaining feeling in my toes again.
I see a flash of headlights on the road ahead. Yes! I jump back out of the van and brace in the middle of the road, shouting and waving frantically. “Stop! Stop!”
The car slows and pulls over. I rush over through the snow, just as the driver climbs out.
“April! Are you OK?”
My lack of food has clearly made me delirious, because the man sounds a lot like Seth. And looks a lot like Seth, too.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, concerned.
“Um, no?” I say, trying to process. “Just cold. But what are you doing here?” I gape at him in disbelief. “Did you sabotage my van?” I demand. “Is this one of your stupid meet-cute things?”
“No,” Seth answers quickly. “At least . . . not mine.”
I want to know what he means by that, but I also want to not freeze to death.
“Come on,” Seth says, gesturing to his car. “Get in.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice. I grab my bag from the van before I join him in his warm, cozy vehicle, practically swooning in relief when my butt hits the heated seat.
I press my hands against the blasting heat vents. “OK, now that I’m getting feeling back in my limbs, you need to explain exactly how you are miraculously out here on this road. Because it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence,” I say with a scowl. “But first, you need to get me to where I can use my cell to call my client.” I add, “Also, a bathroom would be appreciated. Very much appreciated.”
He nods. “There’s a place just a couple of miles away.” He pulls away from my van in the direction I’d been going. “But as for your bridal shower client . . .”
I narrow my eyes. “Wait, how do you know it’s a bridal shower?”
He winces. “Because there isn’t one. It was all a ruse.”
“WHAT?!” My screech echoes.
“But it wasn’t me!” he blurts. “I had nothing to do with this.”
“And yet, here you are,” I snap. Is this guy for real?
“James set the whole thing up,” Seth explains. “Without telling me,” he adds quickly. “Because believe me, if I’d known, I would never have let this happen. Ever.”
“So, wait a minute,” I say, trying to get my head around it. “I packed up my van with hundreds of dollars’ worth of flowers at the very last minute, drove all the way upstate, broke down and risked hypothermia so that guy could what . . . play a prank on me because I wouldn’t go out with him again? What did he do to my van?”
“I’m sure the van thing is a terrible coincidence.” Seth shakes his head. “But the fake customer thing was a ruse to get you up here for a romantic weekend.”
“OH MY GOD!” I cry. “That’s even worse! Like tricking me would make me feel romantic toward him? Does he realize how freaking creepy that is?! Do you?”
“I do,” Seth admits. “And April, I’m really sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t know anything until just a few hours ago. And I came straight out here to warn you,” he adds. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He seems to mean it, so I unclench a little. Also, it helps that I’m thawing from “block of ice” to “mildly chilled.” “So, why are you here instead of him?”
“He got stuck in surgery,” Seth explains. “Emergency appendectomy.”
I snort. “I’m not one to wish bad things on people, but thank God for that. Does he realize what a fucking creepy nightmare he tried to set up for me? This is how a horror movie starts. A bad one!”
“I know I keep apologizing, but I seriously had no idea he’d do something like this,” Seth says, pulling off the highway. He follows a winding road through the woods and pulls up outside a cabin. “Look, I understand if you’re totally creeped out right now, but James’s cabin should have a landline, at least,” he says. “I promise, I’ll get you back to the city as soon as possible.”
He looks so concerned and regretful, I relax. “I’m not worried about you going all psycho stalker on me,” I say with a sigh. “Do you think he has any food in there?”
“I mean, what’s a romantic weekend without carbs?” Seth cracks.
I smile. “Then lead the way. Because I need indoor plumbing, and stat!”
Seth fishes a key from under a hideaway rock and opens the cabin door. I step inside and find the light switch on the
wall.
“Whoa,” I say when the lights flood on. The cabin has clearly been set up for a romantic rendezvous.
“No kidding,” Seth says. “He must have had someone come and get everything ready.”
The fireplace is laid with wood, ready to be lit. There are glasses and a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket on the coffee table. Along with a box of chocolates and—how ironic—a vase of fresh roses. He pulled out all the stops. Except, you know, that one where he’s a decent guy who accepts that no means hell no.
“Well,” Seth says, turning toward me. “We may as well take advantage of it.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“I mean to eat and warm up and call around to find someone who can fix your van,” he explains quickly.
“You do the fixing, I’ll do the warmth,” I tell him, and I head straight for the bathroom.
To my relief, I find it’s fully stocked with bubble bath and plush robes, so I pamper myself a little. I sigh in pleasure when I step into the massive shower, my toes giving out their own sighs of relief.
And that’s when it hits me. I’m at a romantic getaway in the woods . . . with the exact man I would have chosen for the adventure.
Down, girl, I remind myself. I shouldn’t let my fantasies run wild. Seth’s already said he wouldn’t be kissing me again. This was a humanitarian rescue mission, nothing more.
I stay under the spray long enough for feeling to return to all my bits. I emerge, pruney and boneless, a while later, and I wrap up in one of the plush, fluffy robes.
“Is there a dryer in this place?” I call, stepping out of the bathroom. “Because my clothes are still frozen solid.”
“I think so, in the kitchen.” Seth is in front of a roaring fire, prodding at it with the wrought-iron poker. The coffee table’s been pulled near and set with all manner of . . . aphrodisiacs. Chocolate, fine cheeses, cherries, fresh figs, and, obviously, wine.
“Well, doesn’t this look foreplay-ey,” I quip.
Seth grins “I know. Sorry. James really committed to the whole seduction theme.”
“It’s fine,” I say as I sit on the rug at the table and reach for the wine. Because who doesn’t like a fireside picnic with a hot guy?
I take a gulp, enjoying the warm firelight and the wine. By the time we’ve moved on to the truffles, I’ve lost count of how many glasses I’ve had. So, yes, I’m warm and comfortable and maybe a little tipsy when Seth smiles at me over the table, offering me the last truffle.
“You have it.” I wave him off and watch him pop it into his mouth. His full, luscious, expert-kisser of a mouth.
“So, what’s your deal,” falls from my wine-loosened lips.
He stops chewing. “Huh?”
“You kiss me, and you seem to like it,” I find myself blurting. “Then you kiss me again, and seem to like that too. So what’s the problem here?”
He exhales. “For the record, you kissed me the first time.”
“Tomato, tomahto. You didn’t hate it,” I say, holding my eyes steady on his.
“I did not hate it,” he affirms, smiling.
“So what is it?” I take a gulp of wine. Is that fire getting hotter or what? “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“What then?”
“You’re off limits.”
I drink the last of my wine and put the glass down on the table a little harder than I intend. I shuffle a little closer to him. “Says who?”
“Hmm.” His eyes drift down to my mouth. “I don’t remember.”
“Well, I think my opinion on that matters more than what anyone else thinks,” I declare. “And I’m not. Off limits.”
“OK . . .” Seth says slowly. “Noted.”
I swallow.
“You have some chocolate . . .” Seth points to the corner of my mouth.
I try to lick it off.
Seth groans.
I freeze, my heart pounding. Our eyes meet in the firelight, and then—yes!—he’s slowly leaning closer, capturing my mouth in a perfect, sizzling kiss.
Ooh . . .
This time, it’s slow. Hot. Luxurious. God, I can feel it right down to my warm, curling toes: sexy and smooth and everything I’ve been longing for since the first time we touched.
Seth tips me back until I’m lying on the carpet, feeling his body slide against me. I reach up, exploring the muscles of his back, and how soft his hair feels under my exploring hands. And Seth’s hands are doing plenty of exploring, too: roaming over my hips and ass, caressing and squeezing, making me giddy at his touch.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my robe falling open as his hands move—
“We should get some sleep.”
What?
Seth sits up and gently releases me. “We’ve both been drinking. This probably isn’t a good idea.”
Damnit. It feels like a very, very good idea to me.
“I’ll sleep on the couch, you can have the bed,” Seth continues, getting to his feet . . . and then bolting for the bathroom before I can jump him again.
Double damnit.
I know I should appreciate the chivalry. I mean, yes, this is a weird situation we’re in right here, in the middle of nowhere. And of course, Seth is going out of his way to be the perfect gentleman, especially considering how, exactly, I wound up in this mess.
But still.
I want him bad.
I haul myself up and shuffle to the bedroom in defeat. Where I find yet more evidence of James’s seduction plans. I mean, yes, I do appreciate all the toiletries and even the cute baby-doll pajamas laid out on the bed, I just don’t want to think about what he was planning with them.
What Seth could plan, on the other hand . . .
I slide under the covers with a sigh.
It’s the sparks. Because there’s no denying there were sparks out there. Big, Macy’s Parade, Fourth of July sparks.
And holy hydrangeas, that man can kiss.
I roll over, restless, wishing I was back out there kissing him. Or better yet, that he was in here, kissing me.
And more.
Does he realize being so chivalrous just makes him sexier? Does he know I’m tangled up in knots in here, imagining his hands on my body . . . his mouth against mine . . .
Finally, I can’t stand it any longer. There’s no way I’m getting to sleep like this, so I get out of bed and step back out into the living room. There are blankets piled on the couch, but I don’t see Seth, until I hear beeping in the kitchen. I follow the sound. He’s taking a mug out of the microwave.
“What’s that?”
He looks up, sheepish. “Oh, hey. Just warming up some milk—can’t sleep.”
“Me neither.” I pause, suddenly feeling bold. Because I’m tired of skirting around the issue. We both know there’s something going on here, I just need to get Seth to drop the good-guy act long enough to make a move.
I take a deep breath. “I was . . . thinking.”
Seth stops. “About what?” he asks, and I swear his voice lowers to a sexy rasp.
“About you,” I say softly, taking a step closer. “And me . . . And why we’re not naked right now.”
Seth’s jaw drops. “I . . . Uh . . .”
“Can you think of a good reason?” I ask. I give him a flirty smile, even as my heart pounds with nerves.
Oh God, he better not turn me down now. I think I might just die of the shame.
But Seth’s mouth slowly stretches into a smile. He shakes his head. “No reason at all.”
“Good,” I say, as lust and relief and pure exhilaration wash over me. “We’re in agreement, then. Clothes, bad. So, what are you going to do about it?”
13
April
Luckily, Seth doesn’t need any more invitation, because he’s kissing me. Hot and deep and breathless, up against the counter so I can feel his body hard against me.
It’s amazing—everything I’ve been waiting for. I wrap my arms around him, savor
ing the taste, the touch, the whole hot package.
And speaking of packages . . .
I arch up against him, and Seth lets out a groan.
“Why don’t we move this down the hall?” he suggests, kissing his way down my neck.
“Uh huh,” I manage to murmur, rapidly losing my grasp of coherent speech.
He grabs my hand and leads me out of the kitchen, kissing me all the way as we stumble back towards the bedroom. When my legs hit the mattress, I pull him down on top of me, lying flat on the bed.
Seth breaks the kiss a moment to pull back. “I want to look at you,” he breathes, hands already sliding down my body. Damn, it’s hot the way he’s staring at me. I may just spontaneously combust. And just when I’m about to moan in protest, he kisses me again.
Yes!
Seth yanks my pajama shirt over my head. It’s barely off before his hands are on my breasts, kneading, his fingers pinching my nipples until I can barely stand it. “Seth,” I ground out against his lips, needing more.
He chuckles. “Patience.” But when I reach up to grab his neck, his pulse hammers against my palm. He gives me one last lingering kiss before his lips start moving down my body.
All the way down.
Oh my God.
He pauses to take each of my nipples into his mouth, sucking until I forget my own name. Then he continues his travels down, his intent clear when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pajama shorts. He tugs them down, his kisses continuing until his hot, wet mouth is covering me, licking, sucking, teasing. He’s making me wild as he expertly gets me aaaaaalmost there and then backs off. Maddeningly. I moan in frustration. Then he’s back, only to tease me again, easing away, when I’m right at the verge.
Soon, I’m mindless, begging, maybe even uttering death threats. I’ve never needed release so badly, coiled so tight, insane with desire for this man.
“I’m going to kill you,” I mutter, clutching the sheets.
He chuckles, teasing a fingertip inside my wetness. And then another.
