Romancing the Holiday (7 page)

Her fingers curled around his thumb just before they entwined with his. “What makes you think he tried?”

The conversation mattered but he couldn’t concentrate. He focused on the softness of her skin and scent of her hair. Standing just inches apart, he ached to pull her in close. Screw his workers and Travis and all the gossip that would fly around following the kind of hot, knock-your-breath-out-of-your-lungs kiss he wanted to give her. Only Travis coughing stopped Spence from taking that leap.

“You’re saying Dad didn’t give you the hard sell on marriage?”

She lifted her free hand and skimmed her fingers across his jaw. Those eyes sparkled with mischief as she touched him and talked. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. That much was clear from that sinfully knowing smile.

“Not everything is about you, Spence.”

He grabbed her wandering hand and pressed a kiss in the palm. “I refuse to believe that.”

Even with a nose red from the cold, her face reminded him of long, dragging kisses and rumpled sheets. His need for her roared, flushing his body with heat.

“Time to get back to work.” She dropped both of his hands and pushed off from the post.

He let her almost reach the door before he spoke again. “You were wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“All your talk about not knowing what you were doing with the campsite and the construction. That’s not what I see when I look at you.” He said it because it needed to be said. Because she needed to know.

She turned around slowly, as if each inch took a minute, until she faced him. “What do you see?”

“Strength and confidence. Small insecurities you let blow up until the warrior inside you takes over.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear when a gust of wind threatened to take it. “Because I ordered Travis around this morning and disagreed with you about a hundred times in the last two hours?”

“Because you know what you want and ask all the right questions to get it.” Because she fought him to keep him from taking over yet pulled back when it was smart for her to do so. If Spence didn’t know better, he’d say she was a master negotiator.

Her head tilted to the side and her silky hair fell over her shoulder. “Why, Spencer Thomas. If you keep these compliments up I’m going to think you’re a pretty decent guy.”

“That’s an outrageous lie,” he said with a wink.

“I’m going to walk away now thinking you’re about more than sex and business.”

That sunny smile had him reeling, so he decided to let her think whatever she wanted.

Chapter Seven

Lila wrestled her damp hair into a ponytail that night after a second full day of campground construction. On Spence’s orders, they left the area as darkness fell, even though she itched to stay longer. Despite the frozen feet and numb fingertips, the work ignited her excitement. The progress on the main cabin was noticeable. The place wasn’t livable by any stretch, but at least it had four walls and a solid floor now.

Once back in her temporary home on loan from Karl Thomas, the happiness that had fueled her all day wore off in wave after wave of uncontrolled shivers. Ten minutes under the hot shower spray removed most of the chill. Cranking the heater up and getting dressed did the rest. She wore gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt she usually hid under sweaters because it was a size too small and obscenely snug. Shopping in the bargain bin to save money post marital implosion, she wasn’t really particular about that sort of thing.

She walked into the family room at a near crawl with her thick socks rubbing against the hardwood floors and even that sucked up most of her energy. Every muscle ached. Every. Single. One.

Wielding a hammer, spending hours with her arms over her head working on the new window install, made her biceps thump. Just keeping her arms at her sides made her bite back a squeal. She stood by the recliner next to the fireplace and figured out bending didn’t feel any better than shuffling. Dropping back into the cushions might be the answer. She started a silent countdown to falling over but a sharp knock stopped her.

Half up and half down, she groaned as she stood straight again. Or as straight as she could get. She was pretty sure she wobbled as she skulked to the door, but she refused to find a mirror and check.

Wincing as she stretched up on tiptoes to reach the small window in the door, she saw Spence standing outside under the porch light, holding a box of something. That would teach her to skip a quick trip to the mirror.

She wiped a hand over her hair, trying to tame any wild flyaways, as she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

His eyebrow lifted. “Uh, hello?”

“Sorry.” She blamed the achy stiffness for her grumpiness but seeing him here, looking all tall, dark and perfect after twelve hours of labor and with a bed so close by, had her nerves jangling. Her stomach, the one part of her that was fine up until a second ago, did backflips.

She moved back to let him in and hissed when her leg refused to bend. Stupid traitorous body.

His gaze roamed over her, warming every inch, and hesitated for a few extra seconds over her tight shirt and the breasts outlined underneath. “Sore?”

There was no need to hide her muscle discomfort, as if she even could with all the moaning and bone creaking. “Barely able to stand.”

“You’re kind of leaning at a forty-five-degree angle.” He used his hand to act out the words.

Smartass.
“I guess you want to stand in the cold all night.”

“Did I mention how good you look all crooked like that?” He had the nerve to smile as he said it.

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.” With her hand wrapped around the door handle for balance, she stepped back and made room for him to come inside. “What are you lugging around?”

He shook the box. “I thought we’d do some more work.”

“Are you kidding?”
Please be kidding
.

He laughed. “Didn’t you get my text?”

The rich sound of his voice sent her head spinning. She’d heard him joke and seen him smile, but he wasn’t a guy who laughed easily. Hearing it now made her breath hiccup in her throat.

“I was in the shower,” she mumbled, not even sure if she’d said the words out loud.

He stopped on his way to the kitchen and faced her again. “Interesting.”

The tone brushed against her like a caress. Between the sexy grin and the husky words, her resistance, what little she had left, melted. “Why don’t you tell me what the text said?”

He lifted the box almost to eye level. “I have homemade chili and cornbread. Or did you zap a buffalo in the microwave for dinner?”

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Even buffalo sounded promising at this point. Lunch had been hours ago. “You’re hysterical.”

“Be nice to the man who brings you dinner.” He called the suggestion as he walked past the family room on the right and the small office area on the left, straight back to the kitchen at the opposite end of the small cabin.

Good grief, if he cooked on top of all his other skills, her remaining shards of control would shatter. “I prefer skeptical.”

He set the box down on the wood block across from the kitchen sink and went to the cabinets. In two seconds he had bowls out and spoons ready to go. “You’ve never had a man bring you a meal before?”

“I’m more accustomed to them taking than giving.”

“What?”

She sighed. “I said, not in a long time.”

Spence tapped a spoon against the block. “What kind of men do you date?”

It was a weird question coming from the mouth of her most recent date-of-sorts. This would be the perfect time to bob and weave. She’d been doing that since they met, ignoring anything personal and keeping all the information on other people and things instead of about her. But standing there in the cozy house, with the intoxicating smell of tomato and garlic zinging through her senses and his eyes all soft and caring, she gave in.

Letting him in scared her to death, but their lives kept intersecting and that had to mean something. “For the last three years, I dated the kind I was married to and no one else.”

The spoon stopped in mid-air with chili dripping off the edge. “What did you just say?”

She stumbled her way into the kitchen and stopped across from him, balancing her hands against the block and hoping this was the right time and right man to trust. “I’m divorced.”

The word hung there. She waited for the kick of pain to slam into her stomach, for the rush of excuses to fill her brain. Neither happened. Saying the word didn’t scare her this time. For months she let it define her—as a loser, a failure, unpretty and unwanted. Then she spent a few days with Spence and regained her feminine equilibrium.

“You’re married.” Spence hesitated over each word. His face had also turned an interesting shade of gray.

“Divorced.”

“Divorced?”

He seemed to be having a repetition problem all of a sudden. “Definitely, and it wasn’t one of those pretty no-fault ones. No, mine was a disaster and I’m still recovering financially, which is probably obvious from my lack of a home and near-empty wallet.”

Spence slowly lowered the spoon to the counter. His hand shook as he went. “Do you want to get back together with this guy?”

The reaction surprised her. She expected humor, not stunned surprise. “Hell, no. The love died almost from the start. I just fooled myself into thinking otherwise for years.”

“Why?”

The topic made the nerve at the base of her neck throb. She debated changing the subject until she took another long look at Spence’s face. His lips flat and his eyes so intense, it was clear her answers meant something to him. Still, talking about her failures and missteps was like having each word ripped from her. Ned knew an outline of the details, her attorney knew more, but the private pieces she hugged close and feared sharing.

She settled on an abbreviated version of the story, leaving out the betrayal and stealing. “Denial, I guess. I’d lost both of my parents and was desperate to create a family. I thought I’d found that with Stephen until he used our bank account to fund his gambling habit and left me to handle the messy clean-up.”

“I meant, why go to the hotel.” Spence held onto the edge of the block in a white-knuckle grip. “Were you married when we—”

He clearly didn’t understand the concept of divorce. “Absolutely not.”

“I hate the idea of—”

“The divorce was final and I was free for the first in a long time.” Maybe his weird reaction stemmed from his mother or from the kind of guy he was. She wasn’t sure.

Spence might like to pretend that he was this tough, no-strings kind of guy, but she’d watched him the last few days. He collected people. He ordered workers around, but he fought fair and took time to talk, to listen to concerns. She’d seen him hand one guy money then shrug it off when the guy tried to say no.

“You didn’t cheat,” she said, hoping put an end to this question.

“You mean
we
didn’t.”

“Right. I wouldn’t do that.”

The tension lines around his mouth eased as he grabbed two glasses and set them on the solid surface in front of him. “Good to know.”

“You believe me?”

“Are you lying?” With an economy of movement, he worked his way around the kitchen. From the refrigerator and back to the block, he had two bottles of water and a large pot out of the box, along with a block covered with foil.

She could barely boil water and he walked around the kitchen like he was born there. “No.”

“So, it’s all clear now.” The water glugged as he poured it into the glasses.

And here she thought they’d gotten their communication skills back on track. “Want to fill me in?”

“I was your divorce sex guy.”

Her gaze flew from his hands back to his face. “Is that a thing?”

He shrugged as he put a glass in front of her and lifted the other to his lips. “You used me for sex.”

“Was that ever in question?” As far as she was concerned, that was sort of the point...and mutual.

He treated her to his second laugh of the evening. “I mean to forget another guy.”

“Okay, that part’s not true. I was finding myself, not forgetting him.”

“I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“Doesn’t matter.” But to her it meant everything. Stephen had destroyed more than their marriage. He took her confidence and shook it like a little kid with a snowglobe.

Spence’s free hand went to his chest in what had to be the worst version of a poor-me act. “I feel violated.”

Relief flowed through her from every direction. Whatever worry or anger he had at her admission had morphed back into humor. His acting needed work, but at least she understood this version of Spence.

“After all this whining, this better be good chili,” she warned.

“You don’t even feel bad about using me, do you?”

“No.”

He scooped a heavy portion of chili into each bowl. “Wow, and women say men are tough.”

“I was in that hotel room and don’t remember you trying to leave. You seemed pretty excited about the three-day sex romp.” She pulled a bowl toward her. With her hands wrapped around the outside, she savored the warmth and enticing smells of food prepared by someone who could cook. “Did you make this?”

When she realized the only sound she heard came from the clanking of her spoon against the side of the bowl, she looked up again. He stood frozen, his food untouched.

“Go back to that sex-romp thing.” He emphasized each word as he spoke.

“No.”

“I really think you should.” He slipped around the side of the counter to stand next to her.

She’d seen this conclusion coming yet raced right toward it. “I’m thinking that wouldn’t be smart.”

“We’re overdue.” He took the bowl from her limp fingers and put it on the counter before she dropped it. One shift and he had her backed up against the butcher block as he stood between her open legs.

“I thought we were being neighborly.”

“Neighbors kiss.” His head dipped in close until his mouth hovered over hers.

“Spence.”

Those strong hands landed on her hips. “Tell me it hasn’t been playing in your head, that you haven’t wanted to kiss again and see if it was just the moment and the nice hotel, or if every kiss would be that way.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and pounded in her chest as if she’d just run a race straight uphill. This close, surrounded by him, touching him, feeling his warm breath blow across her cheek, her heart tumbled.

“Kiss me.” She whispered the words just before his lips touched hers.

Then he was there, all around her. His mouth crossed over hers, deep and demanding. This wasn’t a sweet peck. No, the kiss swamped her senses and sent a frying heat straight to her brain. His hands wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him as the oxygen seeped from her body.

She felt limp and dizzy and exhilarated all at the same time. The taste and scent of him, so familiar yet so incredibly new, zinged through her. Her fingers slipped into his hair as his kisses stole her breath. Tongue, lips, she tasted all of him, reveling in the way his hands sent a shot of heat spiraling through her.

When he pulled back, her balance faltered but his strong arms were there, holding and supporting her. His thumb traced her mouth as her breathing slowed to normal range.

He balanced his forehead against hers. “Well?”

She could barely breathe. “Nothing.”

“Me either.”

After steadying her, he let his hands drop and gave her a wink. “We should eat.”

She nodded but her mind only went in one direction—to him and the absolute assurance whatever they had wasn’t over.

* * *

Spence pulled into the open space in the driveway to the cabins early the next morning. Like, early enough that only Travis and one other guy walked the project. Before he could quiet the pounding in his brain, Spence slammed the gearshift into park and sat there fuming.

He’d left his father’s house tense and on edge last night. Dinner was fine and the kiss spectacular, but leaving her at the door had meant a long night without sleep. The memory of her had him standing under a lukewarm shower until he finally gave in, closed his eyes and fantasized about all he wanted to do with her.

Finding her gone this morning and not even waiting for him at the diner as he suggested last night before he left his father’s house, sent his already tenuous hold on his control crashing. It was an irrational and overblown reaction, but, damn it, that had been a hell of a kiss. If she was running from him, from what they could do together, he knew his fury would unleash. He’d never hurt her, never trade the job for sex, but that didn’t stop him from being ticked off.