She reached up and traced her fingers along his face, his mouth, then down to his neck. His skin quivered at her touch, his heart tipped at the solemnity in the curve of her lips.
“I’m not sure I can take much more of you,” she said softly.
“
You’re a dangerous man.”
Forever he’d remember the soft brush of her skin along the row of teeth that lined his neck. He’d done a lot, seen a lot, survived it all. Yet he’d never felt so powerless as he did against the power of her touch. “Not so dangerous,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over the curls wrapped around his fingers. “Careful. Controlled. That’s how I’d have described myself. Before tonight, anyway.”
She curled her fingers around his neck, urged his mouth down to hers
. “That’s what makes you so dan
gerous,” she whispered, right before she kissed him.
This time it was soft, and ach
ingly tender. The wave of affecti
on that swep
t
through him nearly took his breath away. He’d have given almost anything to see into her eyes the moment after she ended the kiss. And thought maybe it just as wise that he couldn’t. “I’m thinking careful and controlled are highly overrated,” he managed to say, around the lump of heart lodged in his throat. He wanted to say more, so much more, which was the very reason he didn’t.
The silence stretched out as she laid her head back on his chest. A thousand questions fought to be asked, but he knew if he asked the first one, he’d do whatever he had to, to keep her here until he asked the very last. That wasn’t what this was about. This was about her mystery man fantasy and him simply getting incredibly, undeniably lucky for one long, stormy night.
So there was no reason for a sense of despondency to
seep into him. Better to focus on the here and now. She was still in his arms, wasn’t she? No point in wasting the now, lamenting the inevitable later. Then he felt her lips curve against his chest, and the corners of his own mouth tipped up as well. “What?” he asked.
“Am I the only one who finds it curious that even when presented with a nice, soft bed, we still managed to do this the hard way?”
He chuckled. Leave it to her to bring things back around. “Generally speaking, I find it goes better when it’s hard.”
“Oh, har har,” she said, giving him a light tweak on the pec.
“Hey,” he said, flinching, then sighed when she kissed the spot. Right over his heart.
“So,” she said, quite conversationally as she toyed with the hair on his chest, “any reason we’re freezing our bums off on the floor now?”
“Other than the fact that you’ve zapped every last ounce of energy out of me, no.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault is it? Funny, I don’t remember being the one bucking like a wild man.”
He couldn’t help it, he was a man after all. He grinned in supreme self-satisfaction. “True.”
She laughed, then kissed his cheek before carefully disentangling herself from his lap. He reluctantly let her go, leaning forward to steady her as she slowly stood up.
“Why don’t you go ahead and use the W.C. while I find my clothes,” she said. But first she groped her way to the nightstand and plucked a few tissues from the box there and handed them to him. “
Here. I figure you’d want to…
”
He took them from her. “Yeah, thanks.” Condom disposed of, he scraped together the energy to stand up. He was well and purely exhausted, but he managed to
pull his pants up and stumble down the hall to the bathroom. He washed up at the sink, deciding he’d save the shower for the morning. Maybe he could convince her to conserve some hot water with him. He smiled at the image of her, all damp and warm, tucked back into bed with him, sipping tea and nibbling on a muffin or biscuit or whatever they ate over here as the sun came up. Talking, laughing, loving the morning away.
“Dream on, Morgan,” he told his reflection, once again fighting off the impending gloom he already knew he’d feel when she was gone.
He let himself back into their room, expecting she’d be waiting to use the bathroom. Instead, she was already curled up in the bed, the sheets and comforter tucked up under her chin. The dim light of the street lamp caressed her bare shoulder, played across the tangle of hair that splayed across the pillow.
The sight of her there had him pausing in the doorway. He so didn’t want this night to end. There was no use pretending otherwise. And ignoring it wasn’t going to make him want her less. He wanted more. A lot more. Not just more sex. More
…
everything. More her.
He quietly shucked his pants and slid into bed behind her. His instinct was to pull her back against him, nestle her in his arms. He was beyond exhausted by now, could barely keep his eyes open, and could think of nothing he’d rather do than sleep with her in his arms, enjoying the warmth of her, the life of her, for what time they had left.
And yet he propped his head up on one elbow and simply looked at her. Minutes ticked away as he studied her, thinking up and discarding one plan after another for extending their time together. He wasn’t here to get emotionally tangled up with someone. He was likely to get his emotions tangled up quite enough when he got to Ballantrae tomorrow. And if he wanted to keep his
job, he was on a flight back to Chacchoben in two weeks, no matter what. Even if he found a way to see her while he was here, it would only make it more difficult to leave her in the end. “No point in prolonging the torture,” he muttered.
And yet, he reached out and traced his fingertips down the length of her bare arm resting above the covers. Lifting one long curling strand of hair, then another, he let them wrap around his fingers, before finally giving in and leaning down to bury his face in the soft, silky mass. “I don’t even know your name,” he whispered against the soft skin at the curve of her neck.
She shifted against him, reached blindly for his arm and pulled it around her. As if she were used to sleeping spooned against someone.
And well she might be,
he thought. After all, what did he really know about her? She’d claimed she was single, but that didn’t mean much these days. He slid lower beneath the covers and tucked her up against his chest, burrowing his face into her hair. Wishing like hell he didn’t care who she spent her other nights with. She was his tonight, wasn’t she? That was all that mattered. All that could matter.
Fatigue, extreme jet lag, and the shocking resurrection of his sex life combined to pull him under almost instantly. He slipped an arm around her waist, tucked an ankle across hers, and let sleep claim him, knowing he’d still have the morning to figure things out.
Only when he opened his eyes hours later, weak winter light streaming in the quarter-paned dormer window, he was alone. He rubbed his palm over the empty bed next to him, already knowing he’d find it as cold as the air that filled the small bedroom. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to pretend he wasn’t reeling with crushing disappointment.
The room was small, with the ceiling slanting toward the gabled window. The walls were papered with striped
w
hite and rose patterned paper. The carpet was a faded rose and green that matched the stuffed chair that was tucked between an old armoire and a tall lamp across the room from the bed. His clothes had been carefully folded and laid on the cedar chest beneath the window. She’d placed a partly used bottle of shampoo, an unwrapped bar of soap, and a toothbrush on top.
Otherwise, there wasn’t anything left of her. He didn’t tease himself with the hope that she was just down below in the parlor, sipping tea and chatting with Helen over scones. No, she was gone. He knew it. Felt it.
“Well, you had the night with her,” he muttered. “No use being greedy.” A headache was forming behind his eyes even before he swung his legs over the side of the bed. At least he’d have one glorious memory of his time here. Considering what he’d be facing later today, he supposed he should thank her for giving him that much.
One thing he did know, he’d need something a hell of a lot stronger than tea. His stomach took that as a cue and grow
led quite insistently. Reluctantl
y, he stood and stretched, rubbing his palms over his rumbling belly. He had a long day in front of him, so he’d best get on with it. No point in dwelling on what couldn’t be.
He’d grab a shower and then find out where that cafe was that Helen had spoken about. While he was at it, he supposed he’d have to find out how he was going to go about getting his car out of that snowbank. Worst case was he’d buy a few shovels, and pay someone to drive him back and help him dig out. Maybe a few hours of hard physical labor would get his mind off of how he’d have preferred to spend his morning.
He pointedly didn’t look at the bed, or the wall where he’d taken her so fiercely mere hours ago. Instead he pulled on his pants and scooped up the rest of his clothes and shoes before heading resolutely down the hall to the mercifully empty bathroom. It wasn’t until
he was standing under a mos
tl
y hot spray of water that he thought to wonder what she’d done about her truck. His heart gave a little start when he realized she could s
ti
ll be up there, digging out herself. If he hurried, he immediately thought, already
rinsing himself off, then abruptl
y stopping. “Don’t be an idiot,” he counseled himself. “She left you with no note, no nothing.”
Her fantasy is complete. Let her have it and be thankful she chose you to share it with.
“Yeah,” he groused as he pulled a fresh towel out of the cabinet and scrubbed himself dry. “Be thankful.” And he was. “Probably better you’ll never see her again.”
Believing that was going to take him a bit longer.
He pulled on his clothes, caught off guard by the lingering scent of her on his sweater as he pulled it over his head. “Great,” he thought
morosely, even as he was secretl
y delighted that he got to keep a hint of her about for a little while longer. He hoped that didn’t make him too pathetic a figure. But what the hell did it matter if it did?
When he descended the stairs to the lobby, only pausing slightly on the second-floor landing, then shaking his head and going the rest of the way down, he found a tall, slender man hunched over the desk tucked beneath the stairs. He hadn’t noticed it the night before, but it had been pretty dark. And he’d been a lit
tl
e distracted. “Morning,” he said, by way of introduction.
“Afternoon, is more like,” the man responded, scribbling something down before finally glancing up.
Tag hadn’t even bothered to look at the clock this morning. “Really? Well, I guess I’m still on Virginia time.” The older gentleman, who Tag could only presume was Mr. Helen, smiled easily. “Best to let your body adjust on its own,” he said, quite congenially.
A case of opposites attracting,
was all Tag could think, trying and failing to picture a romance between this amiable gent
and the crotchety woman who welcomed them last night.
He had a shock of white hair that sort of erupted all about his narrow head. But his face was a soft, smooth pink, belying his age. His eyes were a watery shade of blue, but sharp for all they were faded. “Checking out?”
Tag smiled and pulled his wallet out. “Yes, I am.” He handed him the key. “Room four. How much do I owe you?”
The man’s smile faded as he took the key
and looked at the room number. “
Thought ye was one of the skiers,” he grumbled. He glanced back up, studying Tag as if seeing him in a new way.
Tag knew he wasn’t the most conventional-looking man, but the innkeeper wasn’t looking at his choker, tanned skin, or unruly hair. He was studying his face, as if sizing him up. Clearly, Tag had been found wanting.
Bemused, he allowed the man the less-than-polite silent inquiry.
“
Ye owe nothing,” the man said abruptly, before looking back down to what Tag now saw was a crossword puzzle.
“I beg your pardon?” Tag asked him, surprised.
He flicked him a glance, then put the tip of his pencil to his tongue before filling in another row of letters. “Bill’s been paid. Early this morning. By the young lass.”
Tag could have simply nodded, thanked the man and walked out. But it was obvious the innkeeper was upset about something. “Is there a problem?”
“No. What people do is their own business.”
Tag’s mouth quirked. Clearly the old man believed otherwise. “Very true. And we both very much appreciated your hospitality.”
Still working on his puzzle, he said, “We Scots are a hospitable lot.” He glanced up, caught his gaze from
the corner of his eye. “But then I gather you’ve already discovered that.”
Tag had wondered if one of
th
e other boarders, the man on the second floor perhaps, had complained about them. But now he realized it was something else entirely. They’d let Angus believe they were a couple, married even, and apparently Angus had said as much to Helen when he’d found them a room. So when his “wife” had checked out without him this morning, a
nd paid the tab, it had apparentl
y raised a few eyebrows. And lowered their opinion of him. Fair enough, he supposed.