“Were you hurt last night?”
“I’m fine.”
That wasn’t exactly an answer. “The fight sounded awful.”
“Did it?”
She nodded.
He cocked an eyebrow at her as he cracked an egg into the pan. “Have you seen a lot of fights?”
“Not really.” At the Indian camp she’d been kept sequestered and her cousins had been careful to keep her away from violence those first few years. She’d been very fragile.
“I see. Well, rest assured, I wasn’t hurt.”
She wasn’t assured, because the nagging sense that there was more than what was before her eyes just kept prodding her.
“How do you like your eggs?” he asked, clearly changing the subject.
“Over easy, please.”
She silently counted as the eggs sizzled. When she reached twenty, she began to twitch. He was leaving them too long.
“I don’t mind cooking breakfast.”
“I’ll let you cook lunch.”
She pushed the chair away from the table. “Let me at least work with that dough.”
He turned quickly. “No. You just sit there and wake up. Your eggs are almost done.”
“I’m not used to sitting.”
“Then we’re even. I’m not used to spoiling.”
Spoiling? He was spoiling her. “Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say to that.
That’s what you do for people you love. You spoil them with little things.
She froze, coffee cup in hand, bread halfway to her mouth, staring at Isaiah’s back as her own words came back to her. Did he love her? He couldn’t love her. They hadn’t known each other long enough. The spot on her shoulder burned.
He’s been watching you for a year
, the mocking voice from inside said.
He could be infatuated with you seven ways from Sunday.
She waited for the nervousness to come that always accompanied a man’s emotional interest, but with Isaiah, it just wasn’t there. Maybe because he was so clueless as to what he was doing. Or maybe it was because he was so sincere in what he did. But whether he cared for her or loved her, he’d gone to a lot of effort this morning to make sure she felt special. She wished she knew why. And that she could trust the reason he gave, but she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t, but still she asked again, “Why did you let me sleep in?”
He shrugged. “You were tired.”
“So were you.”
“I don’t need much sleep.”
“You need more than you’re getting.”
“So do you,” he countered.
“How would you know?”
“Your scent.”
As fast as the answer came out, his face closed up.
“Are you saying I stink?” she gasped.
His “no” was tight.
“What did you mean?”
He scooped the eggs into a plate and brought them over. The plate settled on the table with a faint click. His gaze met hers. “Let it go.”
She did, not only because he was a bit scary when he looked that intense, but also because her stomach rumbled just then. She was actually quite hungry. She could always come back to the subject later. And it was awfully sweet of him to try spoiling her.
She caught his hand before he could step away. “Thank you.”
He looked down at her hand on his. Tension arced between them. The spot on her neck tingled. His eyes narrowed. She saw in his eyes, before he made a move, that he was going to walk away. She didn’t want that. No one had ever spoiled her before. It deserved a better ending than a fight and a threat. She stood, bringing her body up against his. Sliding her right arm up his chest, she pressed. He went still, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—got hotter than a summer day and steamier than an August night.
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“No, but it’s a pleasant one.”
For a heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to push her away. Humiliation built, but then his arm came around the small of her back and lifted her into the descent of his mouth.
She held her breath, waiting, anticipating, wondering. Could it be as good as before? And then she didn’t have to wonder anymore. His lips touched hers gently—once, twice—tender touches that were enough to tease, but teasing wasn’t what she wanted.
She didn’t recognize this man bustling around the kitchen. She didn’t recognize herself, sitting there, letting him take care of her. She needed to know that he was still he and she was still she. Parting her lips, she touched her tongue to his lower lip, tracing as lightly as she could. He made a sound like a growl and his grip switched to the back of her head and he was pulling her toward him.
Oh yes, she gripped his shirt in her hand. This she remembered. She parted her lips, accepting the thrust of his tongue, shivering as he made that rumbling noise in his chest that was as sexy as all get-out. Passion swept over her like a runaway wagon as he kissed her like there was no tomorrow. As if he might never see her again. He kissed her as though she were the only woman on the earth, the only woman for him. And she kissed him back the same way, because in truth, she couldn’t imagine another man touching her. But when he let her go and stepped back, holding her up with his hands on her waist, he didn’t smile.
“Your breakfast is getting cold.”
She huffed and pushed at his hands. “The rest of me is pretty hot.”
He looked startled and then shocked.
“The bread needs tending.”
She sat and grabbed her napkin. “Second place to a loaf of bread.”
He turned around, that same serious expression on his face. A quick glance down showed that he wasn’t unmoved. He caught her looking. She blushed. “What do you expect, Isaiah, when you’re nothing but a tease?”
He came back, those long legs of his making nothing of the distance. His finger hooked under her chin, tipping her face up, revealing her hurt and embarrassment. And likely her desire. His thumb smoothed over her lower lip, and his eyes, shadowed with a pain she didn’t understand, met hers. “You’re second place to nothing.”
14
FOR A WOMAN WHO WASN’T SECOND PLACE TO ANYTHING, she was spending a lot of time playing catch-up. Addy adjusted the apron around her waist and pushed her hair off her temple. Today was just another example of the frustration she’d been enduring all week. As usual, Isaiah had not woken her up, and as usual, despite her best intentions, the alarm clock was mysteriously missing from her bedstand, and she’d slept in. And if Isaiah hadn’t ignored her the rest of the day, she would have enjoyed the spoiling he lavished on her in the morning. The extra sleep, the baked goods, a pot of coffee and tea, not to mention the way he always left her kitchen exactly how she liked it. But for all his efforts, he wasn’t giving her the one thing she needed. Him.
She sighed and lifted her blouse away from her body. The day was going to be a scorcher. Being hot and sweaty just added to her misery. She touched the bite on her shoulder and played with tendrils that escaped from her bun. Maybe she’d read too much into that morning when Isaiah had kissed her hotly enough to burn the soles of her shoes. Maybe it’d been pity and not lust that had had Isaiah telling her she was second to none. Maybe he’d heard the rumors that always floated around town about her. Maybe he’d decided another woman would suit him better. Because he hadn’t touched her since. Not once. That was not acceptable. If she wasn’t going to marry her first stable choice, then she needed another candidate. And she’d already decided Isaiah was it.
She gave the loaves of bread, so neatly lined up on the counter, a shove. They didn’t make a sound, absorbing her anger rather than satisfying it. Damn it.
Humid air swept the room as the door opened.
“Morning, Addy girl.”
Reese. Try as she might, she couldn’t put any cheer into her return greeting. As far as she could see, nothing was going to make today better than yesterday. “Morning.”
“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed again?”
She straightened the loaves she’d disturbed, unable to tolerate the disorder. “I woke up just fine. It’s when I got to the kitchen that things went downhill.”
He came up beside her and pushed one of the loaves askew.
“Why not just tell him you don’t want him baking?”
Isaiah’s baking wasn’t the problem. His baking and then disappearing was. “You’ve seen the man. Do you want to be the one to tell him that he can’t do what he wants to do?”
Reese snorted and grabbed a coffee cup. “I’ll give you that he’s a big son of a bitch, but you have an advantage I don’t.”
“And what would that be?”
He smiled and motioned with his hand. “Curves.”
She snorted. “Not enough for him, apparently.”
Reese sighed. “Not that I want to see you with the likes of him, but there’s nothing wrong with your shape.”
“Uh-huh.” She took a cup for herself. “That’s why I have so many suitors lined up outside my door.”
“The lack of suitors might have something to do with your temper.”
“Or my lack of chastity.”
Reese’s perpetual good humor disappeared in a flash. “Has someone said something to you?”
“Not to my face, but I’ve heard the whispers over the years.”
Reese’s smile had vanished. She almost didn’t recognize the man looking down at her with such cold purpose. “Tell me who.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because killing people won’t stop the gossip.”
“I think you underestimate the impact of a few corpses being lined up.”
Addie walked over and got the coffeepot. The talk would never stop, corpses or not. “I think you underestimate human nature.”
She put the pot on the table.
“I thought you preferred tea.”
“There are days when coffee has its place.”
Reese held out a chair. “Because of Isaiah.”
What was the point of denying it? “Yes.”
“He’s not what you think he is.”
She sat. “So you keep telling me, but if you’re not going to elaborate, you might as well stop hammering that point.”
“So who’s been bothering you?”
“No one.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m just being foolish.”
“Foolish how?”
Addy felt like rolling her eyes, stomping her foot, and maybe just slapping her cousin. He might love her, but sometimes he just didn’t understand that though she was his cousin, she was also a woman. “Did it ever occur to you that I might like to be courted? That I might like to go to dances? That I might like to have a man bring me flowers and say silly improbable things in my ear while we walk in the moonlight?”
“Uh . . .”
“Never mind.” She poured herself some coffee before handing the coffeepot to Reese. “I can see from the expression on your face that it hasn’t.”
“I’m sorry, you just don’t seem the type.”
“There’s a type? Being female isn’t enough?”
“You’re just so self-contained, so always in control.”
“I know. But sometimes I get silly like every other woman out there. And sometimes I want the same things every other woman wants.”
“You talking children?”
She almost choked on her coffee. “I’m still working on the courting part.”
“I thought you were sweet on that Matthew guy.”
He was being deliberately obtuse. “Tell me, Reese, if a girl wanted to get your attention, what would she need to do?”
“Oh I don’t know, maybe tell a joke when I’m near. Wear a pretty scent. Maybe put her hair up in a cute way.”
Good heavens. Her cousin was easy. “That’s all it would take?”
“Truth be told, men aren’t all that complicated, Addy girl.” Reese took a sip of coffee and his expression went from amused to astonished.
She groaned. “Not you, too.”
“What?”
“Everything that man touches comes out perfectly.”
Reese chuckled. “What can I say? That’s good coffee.”
“I taught him how to make it.”
“Then it must be galling that his tastes better than yours.”
“It does more than that.” She got up and grabbed a loaf of cinnamon bread off the counter. Plopping it down in front of them, she handed Reese a knife. “Try this.”
She waited impatiently while he went through the ritual of cutting, buttering, smelling, and tasting, and then finally chewing. She wanted to slap him when his expression melted to bliss. “Darn it.”
“I’m sorry, honey, but your student has the magic touch that takes your wonderful to fantastic.”
It wouldn’t gall so much if Isaiah took that magic to her bed, but for some reason that he wouldn’t share, Isaiah was keeping his distance.