Leslie Kelly, Jennifer LaBrecque Read online

  The closed door muffled his voice, but she still jumped when he asked, “How long does it take to pull on a T-shirt?”

  She wasn’t a happy camper. Had he put a move on her, she wouldn’t have been pleased—honestly, she wouldn’t have. But she’d wanted him for months. And so, it bothered her that he’d walked in to find her naked in his bed and instead of stripping down and joining her, he’d merely suggested she get dressed. That didn’t do much for a woman’s ego, now did it?

  She wasn’t sure who she was more put out with—him for not wanting her, or her for being put out with him for not wanting her the way she wanted him. And wasn’t that a confusing mess? She marched across the room and threw open the door. “Dressed.”

  His eyes dropped to her chest and the heat he awakened inside her flared into a freaking bonfire as his gaze lingered. It was as if he touched her through the thin fabric and her nipples pearled into even harder tips. Her mouth went dry and her heartbeat set off like a trip hammer at the expression on his face.

  He didn’t say a word, but stepped around her without touching her. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled open the closet door. In less than a minute, he was back, thrusting a pair of cotton pajama pants with a drawstring waist and a sweatshirt at her. “Put these on in the bathroom while I change into dry clothes in here.”

  Who did he think he was, ordering her around? “I don’t have to—”

  He interrupted her again, narrowing his eyes. “I’m trying very hard to be a gentleman. Trust me when I say you and I don’t need to be in the same room when you’re only wearing a T-shirt. So go into the bathroom and put these on. Now.”

  A shiver chased down her spine at his commanding tone. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t totally immune to her either. She took the clothes from him and ducked into the bathroom, even as she heard his bedroom door click closed behind her. A crazy smile curved her lips. And indeed it was crazy, madness in its finest moment.

  Jake had sent her in here to cover herself from head to toe because he was as attracted to her as she was to him. She knew it without a doubt. He wanted her. It had been in his dark eyes and his peremptory tone.

  She stepped into his pajama bottoms. They were nothing more than thin striped cotton, but they were his and she felt a frisson of arousal at the brush of his clothes against her. She cinched the drawstring into place and bent down to roll the pants up several times until she could walk without tripping. Then she pulled on his University of Georgia hoodie.

  She glanced at herself in the mirror, finger-combing her short blond hair into place. His sleep pants swallowed her and his hoodie fell halfway to her knees. She bit her lower lip but it still didn’t stop her smile.

  She was covered from head to toe but now, more than ever, she looked as if she’d just crawled out of his bed. And she had. The only problem was that he’d never been in there with her. And that was good. Wasn’t it? Absolutely. She even nodded at her own reflection. But he wanted to be in bed with you, the insidious voice of temptation whispered into her ear, otherwise he wouldn’t have given you so many clothes to put on.

  And therein lay the road to true madness. But she knew that madness would taste sweet indeed.

  JAKE STRIPPED OFF HIS clothes but couldn’t seem to look away from the rumpled bed. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to join her there. He’d wanted to climb up on that mattress, slip beneath the covers and see if her curves would fit as perfectly against his body as he suspected they would.

  He pulled on dry underwear and a clean pair of jeans. It wasn’t every day that a guy walked in and found a woman he desperately wanted but couldn’t have naked in his bed. At least it was a first for him.

  Certainly he’d been attracted to women who wanted more than he was willing to offer. It had never been a problem. They’d gone their separate ways and both moved on. But Goldie Dawkins had been an unscratched itch from the moment he met her. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his head, but the last place he expected to find her was in his bed. Damn it, she’d been so sexy, so cute with her tousled hair and outrage, clutching his sheet, her shoulders gleaming alabaster in the overhead light’s glare.

  Jake tried to zip his jeans and discovered that wasn’t going to happen right now. He traded them for a loose pair of sweats that did nothing to hide his reaction to the evening’s events. Right. He picked out the loosest, longest T-shirt in his closet and pulled it over his head. That was better. And having her covered should help. At least he hoped it would help, because neither one of them was going anywhere tonight.

  He scooped up his wet clothes and opened the bedroom door. Goldie exited the bathroom at the same time and they were face-to-face in the tight, close quarters of the dark hall. It was like being thrown into the middle of a storm. Every sense went on heightened alert. Her gaze tangled with his, her eyes widening. She moistened her upper lip with the tip of her pink tongue, and Jake wasn’t sure if he could even remember his own name.

  Her scent, not her perfume, but her uniqueness, teased him. He longed to trace the soft, feminine curve of her cheek, to memorize the fullness of her lips with his fingers before following the same path with his lips. She looked away first.

  “So…um…” She glanced down at her clothes. “Better?”

  “Much.” He didn’t make it a habit to lie, but now seemed to be an occasion that demanded it. No, it wasn’t better. He wanted to toss aside his wet clothes, step forward until she was pressed against him intimately, bury his hands in her hair, and lose himself and his conscience in the taste and texture of her mouth.

  Instead he deliberately stepped around her, opened the bifold doors that hid the stacking washer/dryer and tossed his clothes into the washer. “Why don’t you grab your clothes off the front porch and we’ll throw them in, as well,” he said. The sooner she was fully clothed in panties and bra and everything else, the better.

  She nodded but instead of moving, she stood there, dammit, in front of him. “If you want, I can strip the sheets off your bed and we can wash those, too? Or I can just change them if you have extra linens.”

  The cabin was a weekend retreat—they kept minimal stuff here. One pair of sheets per bed. “There’s no extra linens, but don’t worry about it. I’ll sleep in one of the other bedrooms or take one of the recliners in the den.”

  She set her chin at a stubborn angle. “Absolutely not. It’s your room and if anyone is going to sleep elsewhere, it’ll be me. I can sleep in Chad’s room or Scott’s.”

  It was one thing to think of her in his bed and another altogether to think of her in either one of his brothers’ beds. The very idea made his gut clench. Over his dead body would she sleep in Scott or Chad’s bed, even if they weren’t here. “No.”

  “But, I—”

  He didn’t know what she was going to say nor did he give a damn. She’d picked his bed and while he might not join her there, like the donning of a horsehair shirt, he wanted her there with a desperation that didn’t bear scrutinizing too closely.

  He cut off her argument by closing the gap between them and cupping her chin in his palm. Her skin soft and warm beneath his, he tilted her face up. Her mouth, with the soft bow of her upper lip and the fullness of the bottom, issued a siren’s call. Just one kiss…one taste of her lips, one measure of her tongue against his. Her lips parted in invitation. He dipped his head. One kiss to satisfy them both. But one kiss would never be enough.

  He raised his head and released her at the same time she pulled away.

  “Goldie—”

  “Jake—”

  They spoke at the same time, each halting and then trying again.

  “I should—”

  “You should—”

  Again, they spoke at the same time. They laughed, breaking the sexual tension that had gripped them both. “Ladies first,” Jake said.

  She stepped around him and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was just going to say I needed to get my clothes.”

  He r
ealized with a start that it was raining harder than ever now, the drops dancing against the tin roof with resounding pings. “Right.”

  She walked to the front door and he followed her. She might need a hand. When she opened the door, he suddenly noticed the temperature had really dropped. The weather could be cold up in the mountains, even in May. In the dark yawning beyond the light spilling outside the door, an owl hooted in the distance.

  “Jake, did you move my clothes?”

  “No.” He stepped into the space behind her and her body heat drew him closer still. In a combination of cold weather and hot woman, his body tightened, his blood quickened.

  “They were…right there.”

  The wood was still dark from the wet pile, which was markedly missing. “Fester,” he yelled out into the dark night. “Damn raccoon,” he muttered, circling her arm with his fingers and pulling her back inside. He closed the door, blocking out the night and the chill. “You might as well forget it. You won’t be getting your clothes tonight.”

  Amusement sparkled in her blue eyes. “Let me get this straight. You have a clothes-stealing raccoon named Fester?” She laughed, low and husky, tilting her head in disbelief.

  She was dead sexy and seriously challenged his resolve. “I don’t have him. He’s just here.” Moving away from her while he still could, Jake crossed to the fireplace and dropped to his haunches. “He’s been around for a couple of years.” He began to lay a fire. “Typically raccoons only steal shiny stuff or food, but Fester’s a freak and he’ll make off with anything that’s not tied down. He’s a pack rat in a raccoon’s body.”

  Goldie propped herself against the cabin’s log wall, watching. Jake struck a match and the kindling caught fire. That was precisely how he felt in her presence—like kindling coming into contact with a bright flame.

  “Is he named after Uncle Fester on The Addams Family?” she said.

  He glanced over his shoulder, in surprise and admiration. “Not a lot of people get that.”

  “I was a total Addams Family junkie when I was in high school.” Her laugh held a note of self-consciousness. “I think I saw every episode on Nick at Nite. I loved the interplay between the oddball family, especially Morticia and Gomez. In its own way, theirs was a fairy-tale romance.”

  Jake pivoted and stood. “I can’t say I ever thought of it as romantic, but okay. Who was your favorite character?”

  Goldie didn’t hesitate. “Morticia. You?”

  He nodded and grinned. “Morticia.” She was hot. He waggled his eyebrows in a Gomez imitation. “Do you speak French?”

  “Do you smoke a cigar?” she lobbed back instead, playing off the Morticia/Gomez reference. A hint of a wicked smile that did crazy things to his blood pressure played about her mouth.

  “Only when I’m too drunk to know better.”

  A frown bisected her forehead. “How often is that?”

  He supposed that didn’t sound so good. He laughed. “Only once in college. A group of buddies, cheap bourbon and even cheaper cigars is a bad combination. I was sick for days.” Jake winced and it was Goldie who laughed then, but it held a note of commiseration.

  “Been there, done that. Once was enough.” She shook her head. “But it was those cheapie mini fast-food burgers instead of cigars. I haven’t touched the bourbon or the burgers since.”

  She moved to stand in front of the fire, holding her hands out in front of her. “The fire feels good.”

  And quick as a flash, it happened again. One minute they were laughing about The Addams Family and bad college bourbon experiences and the next, he was caught up in whatever this was between them. All he could think about was how good she would feel in his arms.

  “Considering it’s dark, raining and cold, you can forget about finding your clothes tonight.” And he needed to forget about anything other than putting some distance between them. “You might as well go back to bed.”

  “Thanks to you, I can’t. When you flipped on that light and yelled, it woke me right up. I couldn’t sleep now if my life depended on it.”

  He could guarantee that his brief glimpse of her breasts crowned with rosy tips would render him sleepless tonight, as well—and for many nights to come. His entire body tensed at the memory, some parts more tense than others.

  “Suit yourself. I’m going to watch TV for a while and get a bite to eat. I’m hungry.” Namely for her. It would be in her best interest to go to bed now.

  “Let me make you something. It’s the least I can do since I ate your wings and drank your beer.” There was a teasing note in her voice. He guessed he had sounded a little like an ass when he’d said that.

  Jake paused, feeling as if he was balanced at the edge of a precipice. He should tell Goldie to get behind a closed, locked door and not come back out until the light of day when they could locate her clothes and he could haul her back to wherever she wanted to go. Did she have enough sense to know just how damn sexy she looked standing barefoot in front of the fire, wearing his oversize mismatched duds, her hair tousled from having been asleep in his bed? He damn sure did. Which was why instead of sending her packing, he found himself saying, “That’s not necessary. I’m used to fending for myself. But you could keep me company in the kitchen.”

  She smiled and suddenly, he felt the same sensation he’s experienced when he’d wrestled competitively in high school, when he’d found himself pinned to the mat by an opponent. Done for.

  4

  HANGING OUT WITH JAKE in the kitchen was about the dumbest idea she’d had in, say, a couple of hours, ever since she’d decided to climb naked into his bed. She was bright enough to recognize a flashing caution sign when she saw it.

  She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that hightailing it to his bedroom and parking her butt there, with the door closed, until tomorrow morning was the optimal plan. Goldie always rolled with the optimal plan. Except now. Her good sense had picked a heck of a time to play hide-and-seek. But knowing what she should do and doing what she wanted to do had turned out to be two different things.

  As dangerous and pointless as it was, she wanted to spend time with Jake. When she was around him, everything inside her felt all tangled up, hot and jangled and wanting, but gloriously alive, nonetheless.

  She followed him into the kitchen and perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. There was nothing suggestive or sexual in the way Jake leaned into the refrigerator and then emerged with butter, cheese and milk in his hand. Nonetheless, the entire situation was disturbingly, arousingly intimate—the fire, his clothes against her bare flesh, the elemental act of making a meal.

  It felt far more like they were two lovers on a weekend getaway than two business acquaintances temporarily stranded together. Of course that could have a little something to do with the fact that she’d lost herself in those dark eyes of his from the moment she’d first seen him. Even though she’d known she couldn’t have him, at least not on her terms.

  “Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich and soup?” he said.

  She wanted something, but it wasn’t that. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

  “So, how’d you wind up here at the cottage? You never said earlier.” He pulled a can of chunky tomato soup from the cupboard.

  While Jake poured the soup and a cup of milk into a saucepan, Goldie told him about her early arrival, her hike, the lack of cell phone service, the tornado warnings and Lauren’s invitation to stay at the cabin.

  As she rambled, all she could notice were his hands and arms. Good grief, he was fine. His hands were well-shaped, his nails blunt and trimmed. A shiver ran through her at the thought of those hands and his mouth moving against her skin. Dark hair sprinkled his forearms and his biceps bunched distractingly beneath the worn sleeves of his T-shirt as he worked at preparing the meal. She’d noticed it earlier, too, when he built the fire.

  Heat spiraled through her, heat that had nothing to do with the crackling logs in the fireplace or the gas stove. This heat was all m
an-generated. One man in particular. She forced her attention back to the conversation. “Lauren said no one would be here this weekend.” It was the Malone brothers’ cabin, but he had some explaining to do, as well. “I thought you were out of town on business.” Oh, no. That sounded as if she kept up with what he was doing and she most certainly didn’t. “I mean, that’s why you weren’t part of this meeting in the first place.” And it was time for her to shut up. She was one sentence, possibly two, away from babbling.

  “I was in New York but caught an earlier flight when my meeting was cancelled.” The stove sat opposite the breakfast bar and he turned his back to her to put the sandwich in the pan. Goldie’d never been a big fan of a man in sweats, but Jake wore them extremely well. Broad, masculine shoulders, strong arms, sweats riding low on his hips. It was as if he was inviting her to slip her hands beneath the loose edge of his T-shirt and discover whether he actually had chest hair. The very thought made her glad she was sitting. She didn’t think her legs would support her.

  He turned back around. “Chad told me the cabin was stocked but empty.”

  On the stove, the buttered bread sizzled against the pan’s heat. She knew just how it felt. “I’m sure finding wet clothes on the front porch was a surprise.”

  He grinned as he flipped the sandwich over. “Not nearly as much of a surprise as when I turned on the light in my bedroom.”

  …and I found you naked in my bed.

  He didn’t say it, but it hung there between them. Goldie sat snared by his dark eyes, mesmerized by the desire burning in them, desire that echoed her own want. Speaking of…

  “Jake.”

  “Yes?”

  “I think your sandwich is burning.”

  “Dammit.” He flipped it onto the plate and grimaced. “Good thing I like mine well-done.” He poured the soup into a bowl and propped himself against the counter, then picked up the sandwich, which was all crispy on the outside but gooey and melted on the inside. Uh-huh. That’s exactly how she felt. She knew she was in terrible shape when she started identifying with a grilled cheese sandwich. Pathetic. She shook head. He’d said something but she’d totally missed it because she was so distracted.